A Message From God: 1917

THIS is a good word for 1917. God help us to live up to it. There it lies before us — the Great Deep of human need. We have our choice; we can roam along the shore, and watch it, philosophize about it, play with it with our idle pebbles, build our sand castles by it; we can sleep on the pleasant shores of ease, lulled by its mighty voice — or we can launch out into the deep, and serve our God upon its waters. Which shall we do this year? Some may say, “We have toiled since the War began, and now we want to rest awhile, we want leisure to ground our boats, and mend and dry our nets.” This was what the fishermen were doing by Genneseret when Christ was here. He knew all that they had done, but He was going to bless their lives by making them do more. And so He got into their boat, associated Himself with them, came into their lives and work, and gave the command, “Launch out into the deep and let down your nets for a draft.” He took command. Simon may have thought he knew the business of fishing best, and so he says, “Master, we have labored through the whole night and have taken nothing.” All his skill and practice had been in vain that night. Simon knew a good deal about fish, but he had to learn a good deal about himself. And oftentimes we toil through nights of opportunity, and waste our strength for naught. We can but say as we mend our broken nets of failure, “My service is barren and unfruitful.”

And then the Master comes. He takes up the broken threads of our lives, tangled by our incompetency, and He straitens things out for us, that comes into our works and gives His sweet commands. He helps us mend our nets. Simon knew that the One who gave the commandment was the Messiah, and in spite of his bitterness of his own failure, he says, “At Thy word I will let down the net.” “At Thy word.” The path of obedience is the path of blessing, and so it proved. “They enclosed a great multitude of fishes, and their nets brake.” Oh! may we go fishing with the Master this year. May we have Him with us in our lives and in all our work. Yes, as we look together to the coming days of 1917 shall we say “We will not go fishing without Thee, for Thou alone canst make us fishers of men.” “Without me you can do nothing.” Nothing, Lord! Our boats and nets are no good without Thee. We own it in Thy presence, Lord. In Thy mercy take all we have and bless us in the taking. We would go into the great deep of human need with Thee this year. Five million British soldiers, Lord. We would go to them with Thee. Millions of French, and Italian, and Russian soldiers, Lord. A great deep. We wait Thy word to let down our nets in these mighty waters.

May the Master call us all to launch out into the deep this year. Does my importunity weary you? As long as I am here, with the need so real, I must let the want, be known. When my service is done and I am gone, I shall trouble you no more, but while I am here, with my work before me, I must plead for these precious souls.

Calling for Volunteers

Look at the picture on our cover. Volunteers are wanted to do some perilous deed for France. All want to go. To call for volunteers means a response from the whole company. Eagerness and entreaty on every face. Each one saying, “Here am I, send me!” The work is dangerous, almost certain death — but it is for France, and everything else is forgotten. The same spirit animates our British soldiers as well.

Splendid heroism, you say; such men deserve to be victorious. For flag and country they give their lives freely.

Oh! how it shames us as Christians. If every Christian in the Army, and out of it, were as eager to work for Christ, what wonderful work would be done.

The prophet Isaiah heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send and who will go for us?” He was a man who had seen the glory of God, whose sins had been forgiven, and he cried, “Here am I, send me.” God called for volunteers, and he was ready and eager to go. Are you?

The following story speaks of one who put God first: —

Safe in the Arms of Jesus

He was only a timid lad of eighteen, but three years previously he had given his heart to Christ, and had commenced to witness for Him in the world. Friends who knew him intimately spoke continually of the sweet and gracious disposition he possessed, and when he joined the Army they wondered what effect the new conditions would have upon him.

After a few months on Salisbury Plain, during which time he witnessed for the Saviour, he was sent to France, where at the base, with its strange surroundings and many temptations, he still kept close to the Lord. While at the base he found two comrades, both Christian lads, who were earnestly desirous of following Christ through the darkest battlefield, and proving Him to be the Faithful and True. The three were happy together, and good fortune permitted them to work in the same place, so that when the move forward was made they were not separated.

With boyish hearts they pressed on, entering into the strange and novel experiences with the healthy zest of youth, and when the time came for them to enter the trenches, it was with no fear that they obeyed the summons. Like true Christians they possessed the heart of a lion. Their comrades thought them a trifle “pie,” but the honest witness of a Christ-controlled life made all opposition impossible. On the eventful day of which I write, our forces were attacking the enemy’s stronghold with good results, and the three boys knew that in a few minutes the summons would come to get over the parapet, and make a dash to the enemy’s lines. Calling his two friends, the lad of eighteen said: “We have to go over in a minute or two, and one of us may go down; let us have a word of prayer before the word goes round.” Whereupon the lad simply, and in a few hurried sentences, commended his comrades and himself to the merciful arms of Jesus.

A moment later the attack began, and even as the three went over the parapet the boy whispered to his comrades, “Safe in the arms of Jesus.” Hardly had the rush commenced than one dropped by his side, and a moment later the other, while he pushed on without his chums. When he wrote home to his mother he tried to describe the desolation and loneliness of that moment when he realized that the two comrades, who shared a like precious faith, would be with him never more on earth.

Does anyone doubt that the prayer before the attack was abundantly answered? For the two who fell only tumbled into the everlasting arms of the God who was their refuge, while the boy who rushed on ran in the joy of Jesus Christ. And although the lad is not yet nineteen, nervous and sensitive to the last degree, he has shown himself a true saint who walks the world and runs the field with Christ. When I tried to comfort his mother, for whom the bloody push has meant many a sleepless night, I told her that the lad’s creed was ample for all his needs; for he knows — what some of us have yet to learn — that whether he sleeps or wakes, whether he runs or falls, he is safe, ever safe, in the loving arms of Jesus.

T.W.R.

Our Real Need This January

Real heart-aching need! Need that will not be denied. My daily, hourly want is Testaments. Please send me one thousand. Appeals from every quarter for the Word of God. Letters just come are before me.

Pte. W― says: —

“I am on the Lord’s side, and I am praying for everyone that is in the Camp.”

We will pray also.

Pte. W. N― writes:—

“I have just seen one of your handy pocket Testaments, and I am sure they are the right book for any man to possess, either at home or on service. Please send me one.”

There are tens of thousands who feel as he does. We must send one to all.

Pte. T. M― writes: —

“I am now writing to thank you very much for the Bible. I received it while I was in hospital. If I am not asking you too much I should very much like you to drop a line to my mother to cheer her up a bit, as she is always thinking of us.”

Yes, the blessing of Christian mothers in England will rest upon you if you help to send the Word of God to their soldier sons. Again, a private writes: — “I received your Testament, and it is what I have been wanting ever since I have been in France.”

A Chaplain's Letter

I was greatly cheered by receiving the following letter from a Chaplain in — Camp, a day or two ago: —

“Dear Sir, — One of our men has given me one of your post-cards. He had also sent one to you, and was charmed with the New Testament he received. I cannot tell you how the soldiers appreciate the gift of a neatly bound New Testament, especially on the eve of their going to the Front. I would like to have a great number of yours distributed among the men of our battalion. If you could-send me a number of post-cards I would be glad to give them to the men, who ‘would appreciate the gift of a Testament, or if you would send me the Testaments and post-cards I would have each fill a card to be seat to you. With thanks in advance, and with high appreciation of the work you are doing to give our soldiers the word of God, Yours in the Master’s service, —. —, C.F.”

"I Very Much Want to Go to Heaven"

“Many thanks for your Testament. I will do the best of my ability to read it and take the words to my heart, as I very much want to go to heaven. I have tried to do what is right, but I am very sorry to say that I cannot master it yet, and I shall be very grateful to you if you would give me some more advice, so that I shall be able to travel on the straight road.” — T. W. B —, Shoeing Smith.

Please read the last page of this number of “Message,” and may God open your hearts to help. A dear friend who has given before cheers me by sang, “By His bounty we are able again to send you one thousand Testaments — my wife and child and self. We still pray the work may be maintained, even increased. — T.D.”

Oh! the blessing to be able to help now. May the blessing of God rest upon every gift and every giver, for Christ’s sake.

If any soldier reading this “Message from God” has not a khaki Testament to fit his pocket, I will send him one at once if he will write to me. I will send packets of post-cards, which are sanctioned by the War Office authorities, for distribution in any Regiment if someone who wants to serve God in the regiment will write to me for them. These cards, if filled in properly and posted, will ensure a Testament being sent to the sender free.

France for Christ

God wants volunteers now to help evangelize France through her soldiers. Think of it! Millions of French soldiers waiting for Testaments, and none can hinder them from having them. Comparatively few in England realize the splendid opportunity that lies before all God’s people to give an eternal blessing to France through her soldiers. For months I have prayed that our work might embrace the French soldiers to the same extent as it does the English. There were many difficulties in the way, and there are now, but if God calls for volunteers for France we must respond.

I have just received from the printer our first post-cards for the French soldiers. This is the post-card. When you have read it, show it to the first French soldier you meet and ask him if he would like one to fill in. Let the “entente cordiale” be cemented by the Word of God.

THE POSTCARD

“The Firs,” Denmark Road,

Exeter, Angleterre.

For 30/. we can send a Testament to one hundred soldiers at the Front (English or French), post free. Will you send one hundred? The Scripture Gift Mission have most kindly given me a grant to help the work. We have had some of our Khaki Booklets translated into French for this work: —

“What God says to His Soldiers”

“The Sin against the Soldier and the Saviour”

“Soldiers Face the Truth”

These can be obtained of the Publisher or Editor of this Magazine at the same prices as the English editions.

His Mother's Text

Miss Sandes, that great worker for God among soldiers, tells the story of the conversion of a soldier in one of her Irish homes. A lady went into the guard-room to invite men to a gospel service. On leaving she repeated the text: “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up; that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” With a few kind words she left. The words pierced one soldier’s heart. On “sentry go” that night they brought to him the vision of his dear old mother, sitting in her chair by the fire, with this, her favorite text, hanging on the wall by her side; As he looked at the sky he seemed to see in letters of fire the words, “Your mother’s heart is well nigh broken.” He knew how she prayed and wept over him, her wandering boy. He had never answered her last letter. Next day he was asked to go to hear Major Whittle preach. He went, and the text was: “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up; that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have eternal life.” When the preaching was over, thoroughly broken down and in “dead earnest,” he went into the inquiry room and was saved. He sent the good news home, and the mother’s heart rejoiced because her prayers were answered. Oh! soldier lads with praying mothers, may their prayers be answered for you. Seek your mother’s Saviour now.

The Last Song

“To hear them sing,” says Principal R —, speaking of the British soldier, “is an inspiration. Their choice of hymns is swift and sure, for they care only for those that matter... those that are melodious with faith and hope and victory in. Christ. They are up against realities and need nothing short of a Holy Father and a triumphant Saviour gloriously hymned... Never shall I forget that hut crowded with men singing, ‘Peace, perfect peace,’ while the guns boomed, and the machine guns rattled, and the song swelled triumphantly amid the short pauses of the guns. When the stanza,

‘Peace, perfect peace, death shadowing us and ours,’

was reached, I could only look through an open window to see striding up and round the corner of the hill in the gray dusk, a working party of silent, steel-helmeted men, armed, with shovel and pick-axe, mining tools, and wire tools, or with rifle, on their way to ‘No Man’s Land,’ to repair breaches and dig trenches. This is at all times nerve-straining and-perilous work; but as, with fine stride, they swept over the top of the hill, the strain that followed them was a full-throated and triumphant,

‘Jesus hath vanquished death and all its powers.’”

Said another soldier, “There will be new faces in heaven tonight, for a number here have been paraded for a raiding party, and we never all come back. Let us sing ‘Forever with the Lord,’ and they sang it and meant it.”

Sentenced to Death

READER! Has it ever been your experience to have to be on guard over a prisoner sentenced to death? Can you picture the anguish of heart and sorrow to know that at any moment you may see your prisoner taken out to die. What of the prisoner? What can be his state? Comrades! as sinners we are all under the death penalty — “the soul that sinneth it shall die” — until we accept Jesus Christ as our Saviour, the One who died for us, who on Calvary’s cross bore our punishment, so that by believing in Him we shall prove how true the words are, “He gave Himself for us.”

I had last year, while corporal of the guard, charge of a prisoner. He had, by a F.G.C.M., been condemned to be shot for being asleep on duty — facing the enemy, yet asleep. I remember I spoke to my comrade about Jesus Christ, and asked him if he had been asleep to his eternal destiny as well. I shall never forget his answer, “I wish I could blot it out.” Ah! many a sinner, thinking of his sins, has said, “I wish I could blot it out,” but there is a Saviour-God who says, “Come now, and let us reason together: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isa. 1:18). He only can blot out your guilty past, and He does it, the very moment you believe that Jesus died for you.

“He took the guilty culprit’s place,

And suffered in his stead.

For man―O miracle of grace

For man the Saviour bled.”

In one of my spare hours, after praying with him, I asked him to accept Jesus Christ as his Saviour, and to let his future be in God’s hands. I shall always remember his cry, “To be shot like a coward, how can God save me?” But God could and did, and in that guard-room we got down on our knees, and he asked God to forgive him, and if it was His will to intervene in the sentence that had been passed over him. Afterward I heard him tell one of the guard that whatever the issue was, he would trust God, and he believed that Jesus Christ was his Saviour. I continued to pray for him, and the next day had the joy of escorting him to the orderly room, there to hear the news read out to him — that he was reprieved from death and sentenced to three years’ hard labor. When we got back, we prayed that he might do it with his own regiment. Again God intervened, and the sentence was deferred for three months, and during one of our attacks last year, 1915, he proved his worth as a good soldier of the King, and a worthy soldier of the King of kings, for before he died he had done all he could to carry one of his wounded comrades to the trench over a bullet-strewn area. When dying he knew he had received the two pardons — one for being asleep on duty, the other for the sins of his life.

Reader! do you know Jesus Christ as Saviour? Have you taken Him as the only way by which you can get pardon for all your offenses? Jesus died to save you. Jesus loves to help you in His name, I ask you to be reconciled to God. “For now is the acceptable time, now is the day of salvation.” Would you do as my comrade did, trust Jesus and let the issue be with Him? You may not be waiting to be taken out to be shot, but you are under condemnation, “for he that believeth not is condemned already,” but to as many as received Him, to them He gave eternal life. May you trust Him now.

LANCE-CORPORAL J. ROBERTS.

P.S. — My comrade is dead, and I have never told his story until the other night at our last billet, but I may have no other chance to write it, and it was a wonderful answer to prayer. “He was only a salt seller in the streets,” he said, “of what use am I to God?” but I’m glad that though he only lived two months after his trial, he was a brave soldier.

God Never Refuses

GOD never refuses, man does, but God’s love is so set on man that He never refuses to help a poor sinner who comes to Him and asks for mercy, or for salvation, or for guidance, or help of any kind. Seek— find. Ask — receive. Knock — opened. Cry — helped. Call — answered; and many other words of loving hope may be written. These will suffice to prove our God never refuses. I was led to think of this yesterday when a dear, anxious mother met me and said, “I have something to tell you, our dear son is accepted at last; he has been refused and refused ever since the War began, but now he is accepted, and he is full of joy. From the first day War was declared he offered to go.” Only think what pain it must have been to be refused but in going to God and asking for forgiveness, He never refuses. Our Lord says, “Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out.” It is quite true, you, whoever you are, you have only to ask for salvation and He will give it to you directly, and He will keep you moment by moment if you will only believe and trust Him. You have no goodness of your own — just take Christ’s goodness and put it on (see Rom. 13:14). It is quite free and for nothing. Having forgiven your sins, He gives you His grace, justified freely. He refuses you nothing that you need.

A dear soldier wrote saying, “I have been a sinner, but now I am trying to do better.” “Poor, dear soldier,” I wrote back, “you cannot do anything to save yourself. All our doings are nothing worth, but take Christ’s goodness which He gives you, and take His hand, and He will keep you.” God never refuses His grace, which is sufficient for each and all. Directly we have received His grace we should begin to work for Him and strive to bring others; tell others of His love, or try to help others to begin to work for Him.

It was only yesterday a stranger was introduced to me. He said, “Is A. L. a relation of yours?” “Yes,” I replied, “one of my nephews.” “He and I were both at Cambridge together, and he asked me to preach in the open air. I said I could not. ‘Come along,’ said he, ‘you can at any rate give out a hymn or read a verse from the Bible.’ And then soon after he got me to speak a few words, and so it went on by degrees. Now I have been a missionary for years in India.” So, dear readers, do let each one of us do what we can to tell others how God never refuses to save, and how God will help each saved one to work for Him.

This puts me in mind of the beautiful incident in Bishop Tucker’s life. As a young man he was a brilliant artist, and one day, painting a picture of the miseries of the heathen, the Holy Spirit put this thought in his heart, “Why paint pictures of the heathen? Go and tell them the way to God.” In due time he went to Uganda and became its Bishop, doing splendid work there for twenty years. God will help each one who asks that he may glorify Him.

There is one word more I want to say: God never refuses, but you may. “See that ye refuse not Him that speaketh” (Heb. 12:25). When God says by His blessed Son, “Come unto Me,” oh! do not refuse. Come and welcome.

EMILY P. LEAKEY

"That Will Do"

“False worship is on the increase; false creeds and false prophets abound. Indeed, as we see, there never was a time when the devil had so many preachers to delude our fellow countrymen.”

A Higher Critic told a congregation in the West End of Glasgow, “The old gospel of our grandparents is out of date. We must have the message of the twentieth century.” That Sunday evening a young man, who had gone with a sin-burdened soul, came away disappointed — there was no salvation in that “intellectual” sermon to meet his need. On the way home he passed an open-air gospel service, and heard this sung: —

“Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood

Shall never lose its power,

Till all the ransomed church of God

Be saved to sin no more.”

“That will do; that’s not out of date,” he said to himself, and, receiving Christ by simple faith, he has proved the old gospel to be the power of God unto salvation. He now sings:

“I will believe, I do believe,

That Jesus died for me,

That on the cross he shed His Blood

From sin to set me free.”

A Pint of Good English Beer

A corporal to whom a Testament had been sent at someone’s request, wrote back and said, “A pint of good old English beer” was more in his line. Our dear friend, Miss Leakey, writes thus about it: —

This is the wish of a certain Lance-Corporal. He wrote to say a pint of good old English beer would be much more in his line than a Testament. I have no doubt it would please him better, because he evidently knows nothing about the “living water” that is written about in the Word of God, so he cares more to gratify his poor, perishing body than for food for his now neglected but precious, never-dying soul. So, dear reader, I hope you will, with me, join in praying that this soldier may be led to read the Testament sent him and be brought to know the Lord Jesus Christ, who says, “If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink.” — E. P. LEAKEY.

A Text Misapplied

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).

Christ’s love was greater far. He died for His enemies. “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8).

UPON A LIFE I DID NOT LIVE,

UPON A DEATH I DID NOT DIE,

ANOTHER’S LIFE, ANOTHER’S DEATH,

I STAKE MY WHOLE ETERNITY.

"I Am Not Going to Forget Him Now"

This is what a Tommy said to me: “We had been working some thirty or forty feet below the surface, mining, when the Germans began shelling our trench. I was standing at the mouth of the tunnel when a shell whizzed past my head and exploded. I was struck in the head with pieces of the shell. When I recovered myself I crept over my dead comrades in a dazed condition, then a sergeant found me and dragged me to a place of safety. Ah! sir, that sight I shall never forget. A deep sense of the power of Almighty God came over me, but, thank God, I am spared.” I asked him, “Did you ever think of these things before?” “Not much,” he said, “but there we do think about it. It is there men pray and read the Word.” As he said this he showed me his Book, and its condition convinced me that he had made great use of it. “We would rather sing hymns than songs there. I remember before going to a charge at Neuve Chapelle I felt that if I was killed there was no hope for me, for I knew I was a lost sinner, so I, with many others, was soon on my knees, and God answered my prayer, and I am not going to forget Him now.” I said to him, “Were you not told by some preachers there that if you died in battle you were all right?” “Yes,” he replied, “but I don’t believe that any honor upon the battlefield can ever meet my need as a sinner; nothing but the sacrifice and blood of Christ can avail for me.” So saying he left me to go back to the Front for the third time.

J. S.

The Sunset Hour

It will soon come for us to usher in a day of unimagined glory. As the shadows fall about our feet we are waiting for the dawn. We say to our Lord and Master, “Abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.” And

“In secret love the Master to each one whispers low;

I am at hand, work faster! Behold the sunset glow!

And each one smileth sweet, who hears the Master’s feet.”

B.M.

But He comes in to tarry with us. He knows how much we need Him in the “sunset hour.” He has brightened the way; He will glorify the end. And the end must find us bringing sinners to His blessed feet and telling out the story of His wondrous love. He stretches out His wounded hands over every battlefield. He says to us, “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.” This is His command. We can go with every Testament we send, and we must send. And when we leave the world with empty hands, may we enter heaven with “many sheaves.” O God of the New Year, keep us true to Thee! Thy willing servants, may we “glory only in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

I look up to heaven and I say, “Christ is coming!” I listen for the “shout” that shall call us home, “the archangel’s voice,” “the trump of God.” He may come any moment. I am ready, thank God, but what of these? I look towards the battlefields where souls are rushing into eternity, and I say, “Oh! my God, save those souls.”

“Then, with a rush, the intolerable craving

Shivers throughout me like a trumpet call:

Oh, to save these! To perish for their saving,

Die for their life, be offered for them all!”

HEYMAN WREFORD.

What Do You Owe? What Will You Give?

CHRISTIAN, you owe Christ everything. He paid your debt of sin by dying for you. He gave you, a bankrupt sinner, all the treasures of heaven, saying, “All things are yours, for ye are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s.” He gave you rest from utter weariness and peace from depths of woe. He gave Himself for you. He who was rich for your sake became poor, that you through His poverty might be rich. You owe Him fealty of heart and soul, for He has said to you, “I have redeemed thee, thou, art Mine.” What do you owe your Saviour? No heart can think — no tongue can tell.

What will you give Him? Do you say “He gave me salvation; I will give what I can to save others; my gift shall be the measure of my appreciation of what He has done for me”? Christ said the widow’s mite was more than the rich man’s gold. She gave all that she had. Of another, Jesus said, “She hath done what she could.” What will He say of you?

A Testimony From the Front

I MET yesterday a dear Christian friend just returned from the Front. He stopped me in High Street to speak about his son who had been dangerously wounded. He said, “I want to encourage you in your work. I have seen men dying at the Front like flies without the Word of God. If I had £100,000 I would spend it all in sending Testaments to the soldiers.”

This is the testimony of an eye-witness of the need we are trying to do our little to meet. It is not an armchair comment, but the heartfelt words of one whose soul has been moved by what he has actually seen and heard. Look out upon the battlefields with me now — see brave men there lying dead by hundreds — and as you gaze upon them try to realize that only twenty-five men out of every hundred has a Testament. “Dying like flies without the Word of God.” Their dead eyes stare upward to the heaven above them as if to call God to witness that no one had given them His Word. Will you give me 100,000 Testaments to send them at once? As you read your Bible to-night in the comfort of your home ask God how many copies of His Word you shall, help to send to the Front. Listen to this letter just received from “somewhere in France”: —

“Dear Sir, ― I was fortunate in finding one of your postcards containing your generous offer of a Testament. I have desi ed one for a long time, and have endeavored to buy one. But we are unable to get into the large towns, and at the villages an English Bible is out of the question. I have the battered remnants of a paper-covered New Testament, but it is now too war-worn to be of further service... I am not enclosing postcard as it is too muddy. My address is Pte. L. McA —, etc.”

A Prison Chaplain writes: ― “Can you let me have about 100 Testaments for the English in prison. I know they would be appreciated and used.”

A Chaplain in the Grenadier Guards asks for postcards to give his men so that they may send for Testaments.

"I Cannot Get Enough"

An earnest worker at the Front writes: —

“Can you send me another dozen parcels as soon as possible, as I have plenty of men in, and I cannot get Testaments enough?” — M.C.C.

Reading Testaments in the Trenches

“Dear Sir, — So many thanks for sending on the Testaments, also the postcards. I have given away some of the cards... I have seen more reading lone here from these nice books than I have ever seen before. When we are in the trenches and are not busy out come the little Testaments, and they start reading them, and I must really and truly say that these books are of great value to us all.” — Lee-Corpl. A. H.

A Postcard in a Wood

A private writes: — “I thank you for your kindness in sending me the Testament. I think a lot of it, and shall always carry it in my pocket. I have been “somewhere in France” for the last eleven months. I found the postcard I sent to you in the wood. I am trusting in God that I shall have a safe return back to my wife and seven dear little children.” — J. M.

Could Not Get a Testament

A private in No. 3 Canadian Hospital says: — “Dear Sir, I asked for one of the Testaments, and I could not, get one anywhere, so I have got one of your postcards that I had given me before I went away into hospital from the regiment; so I thought I would write and ask you if you would send me one if you had one to spare. I have been away from the regiment about a fortnight, and the man I asked for the postcard was the doctor of the battalion, and he gave me the one I am sending in this letter.”―PTE. A. G.

A Christmas Present for God

The following touching letter has reached me: —

“Dear Sir, ― I and my sister are living together, as our husbands are away in France, and at the Front. We were talking about Christmas the other evening, as to whom we could give presents, and we had been reading your book, “A Message from God.” We read there of the need for funds to send out parcels of Testaments and books for the soldiers, and I said to my sister, “Why not give God a Christmas present?” She replied, “The same thought has just crossed my mind,” so we are sending you five shillings each. My little daughter is nearly seven, and she heard us talking, and asked if she might send her weekly money — being sixpence — to the soldiers. So I am enclosing a ten-shilling note and sixpence in stamps, trusting God will use them for His own honor and glory, and I trust you will be greatly blessed in your good work. It is a time when all ought to be up and doing. — Yours, F. B—.”

A Traitor to Christ

A solemn letter has reached me from Mr. J. J. R. Short, in which he speaks of the “soul-snaring” teaching among our soldiers, of which he has, as he says, “first-hand knowledge.” Let him tell the story: ―

“Mr. and Mrs. H― whom I know intimately, had a son, aged eighteen, in the Artillery. In June last Mr. H― came home one Sunday evening and told his wife that the speaker had said that some were preaching at the Front that if a soldier died fighting for his country he would go to heaven: Mrs. H― was greatly upset, and declared she would write to her boy at the Front that very night, and tell him once again that the only way he could be saved was by believing on the Lord Jesus Christ. That letter was sent— was received by the son and acknowledged.

“Early in July Mr. and Mrs. H― received official news that their son was wounded, and soon after came the further news of his death. The parents, in their grief, were very anxious to learn all particulars of their son’s death and place of burial, and, above all, as to his state of soul, so they wrote to the Captain of the Battery. He most kindly wrote back particulars of the lad’s wounding, and such other information as he knew, adding his sincere sympathy with them in their loss, and encouraging them about their son’s future state, ‘because of the opinion expressed by their chaplain in a sermon.’”

The following is the extract of the Captain’s letter: ―

“I think your fears about your son’s future state are unfounded. I heard a very good sermon out here in which the chaplain said that he personally had no doubt at all that all men who voluntarily enlisted to fight for their country and who got killed would go to heaven, as in whatever way it was looked at it is the supreme sacrifice of a man. This has been a great comfort to me personally and ought to be to many others.”

There could be no comfort to the sorrowing parents in this letter. The awful part is that this chaplain and others should be at the Front using their wonderful opportunities in promulgating “doctrines of devils” instead of the truth of God. How will these traitors to Christ face Him in eternity? They are denying on earth the need of His cross and His atoning work.

Ah! the need, the terrible heartbreaking-need, of the Word of God to be put into every soldier’s hand; it is the only antidote to this poison from hell. We can say, thank God, with all our hearts, as we think of the sinner’s need and the Saviour’s love.

“Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood

Shall never lose its power.”

No, it will never lose its power. Twentieth century blasphemy will not alter God’s eternal purposes. Man may seek to bury John 3:16, but the power of its abiding glory will bless millions yet. I solemnly declare, my reader that I rest my soul for all eternity upon the finished work of Christ. I rest my hopes of heaven on the fact that He is there Who once bore my sins in His own body on the tree. I want no other way to heaven than Christ the Way. I want no other door to salvation than Christ the Door. I want no other name than the Name of Jesus — no other work than His finished work. I am content, yes, my God, well content with what Christ has done for me. He is my Saviour, and there is no salvation apart from Him. Those who despise His finished work, as the chaplain did of whom the captain wrote, will one day hear the Lord Jesus say, “Behold ye despisers and wonder and perish.” ‘God can have no pity on men who do despite to His Son, and set at naught His precious blood.

Saved Through Christ

Two Letters from The Trenches

The following letters were written by a private in the 3rd Battalion of the Worcestershire Regiment, who had been brought up in a godly home. They testify, amongst other things, that a blessing attends the faithful bringing-up of a lad by God-fearing parents. In the hours of solitude or peril the remembrance of such a father and mother, their instructions and their example, came with power and had an influence for good.

The letters also show how free is God’s gift of salvation. Many instances are given in Scripture of the wonderful simplicity of a soul’s conversion. Two are in Acts 16. Lydia “attended unto the things which were spoken by Paul”; and to the Philippian jailor it was said “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” In each case there was an obedient faith in a message that came with divine authority. So it had been with the writer of these two letters, The consistent and earnest testimony that his parents had given to Christ as a sinner’s Saviour was used by the Holy Spirit for his conversion last autumn; and soon after midsummer of this year he received a severe shell-wound in the forehead, and fell asleep in Jesus on the 20th of July at the Hospital in Boulogne.

It has been thought well to publish the letters in their simplicity, hoping that many who read them may profit by their testimony.

R. I. B.

BRITISH EXPEDITIONARY FORCE,

FRANCE, 1916.

MY DEAR MOTHER AND FATHER, — I thank you both for your kind letters, which I was very pleased to get. I am quite all right and in good health and spirits. I have the discomfort of being “crummy,” but that is a mere item; I think the Lord will pull me through all right. I have been in the trenches twice, and am just going again. I am doing as you Say, Dad — looking to Jesus for help. Your book is very good; I have read it through. If you have any more, send them, please. I see a lot of evil around me, and I hate it. To my idea, it is through this continual sin of the world that this War is allowed to continue. Jesus has a motive in allowing this War — it is to rouse the people up to see their wickedness.

When I think, dear Mother, of this lot, my heart grieves for you; because if anything, happens it is you and Dad that has the pain, not me. Life is soon taken. It is those at home I feel sorry for, but you can rest assured that if anything happens to me the Lord has chosen it.

I always really had the inclination to be a Christian, but worldly things have kept me back. But this time I can see the awful wickedness of remaining sinful, and I believe the all-merciful God has pardoned me. I look to Him for life, as your book says, Dad. And when I think things over, you ought to rejoice, because I shall go with Grannie and Lottie; you remember they both called for me.

Dad, I am pleased to the bottom of my heart that you always gave me Christian advice; your labor has not been in vain after all, because I am your son in Jesus. Good-bye,’ Mother and Dad, for the present. I will write you as soon as I can.

BRITISH EXPEDITIONARY FORCE,

FRANCE.

MY DEAR FATHER IN CHRIST JESUS, ―I have just received your letter, and am just longing to answer it. You ask me how the grace of God came to me. Well, it was like this: I had been in a wood behind the trenches, where we got gassed a bit by the Germans; so I began to gather my thoughts towards God, and wondered if He would permit all these poor fellows to be gassed. I kept striving and prang, and asking Him to make me His child and to help me to go through this ordeal without fear. When we got in the trenches it was dark at night, and the order came to us to stand by and fix bayonets, as we expected an attack from the Germans, who were only a few yards away. I could, as it were, feel myself in the charge, and perhaps a — bayonet through me. I said to myself. “I will and mean, to have sure hope, and not to die when my heart was not right with God.” A passage came to me as it were, “He that repenteth and believeth on the Lord Jesus Christ from the heart, shall be saved.” So I kept praying and pleading, and looking for some sign of any change. But after I had so kept on, I seemed to want to cry with joy — so pleased was I. Something seemed to say to, me, “You are saved! Enter thou into the Kingdom of God!” And then I knew, as sure as there is a God above, that I was saved. And I now feel, and shall always feel, happy and contented, knowing that the Spirit of God has entered into me. I would stake my life that I am converted. I would rather believe there is no war on, than think I am otherwise than a child of God. I would like to be there with you to try and explain more fully to you. The happiness and contentment I have in my soul is wonderful! How wonderful the Word of Jesus is! My heart’s desire is to point and show others the way. Oh, I pray that N― will turn, also I―, and A―. Tell them all how I reached God, and how they can do the same. I know you and Mum have, but I want to hear it of the others. Good-bye, Dad and Mum, till we meet again. Our meeting is sure. So what a happy consolation! — Your son in Jesus, SAM.

I have a multitude of other letters, but I must refrain. You can read many similar ones in December “Message,” for God is working. In Miss Sandes’ story of her life in Ireland among the soldiers she speaks of her friend, Miss Marie Fry. When Miss Fry was dying this was her last request to her sorrowing father: — “Father, the one thing I have which I value most in the world are my letters from the soldiers; you will always keep them; by and bye we shall meet many of the dear fellows who wrote them with Jesus.”

And then to her friend she says, “Elsie, I have a parting verse for you; it is this, ‘Let us not be weary in well doing, for in due season we shall reap if we faint not.’”

Yes, these soldier letters are precious indeed to me. If I were to get weary of the work, they would spur me on to greater endeavor. We shall reap, we are reaping now. We are tuning our souls for the harvest songs of eternity. In the grand review of heaven a host of our soldier friends will be seen; in the roll call of glory they will answer to their names. “He calleth His own sheep by name” (John 10:3).

I want you to read the last page of the “Message,” and send me what you can for my soldier friends this month, and God will bless you.

HEYMAN WREFORD.

"Well, Jimmy Was Ready"

Jimmy Kerwood of the Royal engineers, came to Buxton in the autumn of 1915 for the necessary period of training ere going to the front. He was a quiet, consistent Christian young soldier, having left a godly home and a praying mother in a village near Oxford, and during his stay in this town he endeared himself to all who came in contact him. He had the inestimable privilege of having as his special “pal” in the same company a bright, young Christian, Sapper E. O. Pullen, saved in the Salvation Army, in Chalk Farm, and together they sought to live before their comrades so as to commend the gospel they loved to preach.

In consequence, Sapper C — A — came to the gospel meetings, “Because,” he said, “Jimmy is Christian, and it is his consistent life that made me accept his invitation to the meeting.” Jimmy and Pullen were the speakers that night, and both spoke with liberty and power, and, thank. God, some stepped on to, and into, the Rock of Ages.

On 27th January, the order having come for their company to leave for France, they entrained with others and went off to the Front, and in a short time were billeted in a barn about three miles in the rear of the firing line. On Sunday evening, 6th February, a little company of eight young Christian soldiers (Jimmy and Pullen among them) met for prayer and Bible reading, and had sweet converse together over God’s Word, after which they commended themselves and their dear ones to the God of all grace in this awful time of war and bloodshed. About 8:30 p.m. they turned in at the billet, and ten minutes later two shells burst through the roof of the barn, killing seven and wounding many more. Pullen, who was about six yards from Jimmy and without a scratch, rushed at once to where he was, to find him on his knees, his open Bible before him, dead — killed instantaneously whilst praying. The Lord had taken him to higher service. What a translation! His comrades, one and all, bore testimony, and said, “Well, Jimmy was ready.”

They buried him with full military honors in a quiet little cemetery close beside one of the Royal Scots who had won the verse Dear Jimmy had no chance of winning any of these coveted distinctions, but he has left a grand testimony to the power that not only saves but keeps, and his V.C. is Victory Complete through the blood of the Lamb.

On 16th March Sapper E. O. Pullen was killed by a German shell. As a comrade (C.A.) writes: “It is my sad duty to let you know that dear Pullen is no longer with us. He saw a wounded comrade, and ran across a hundred yards of the hottest line of fire to render him aid, in spite of the order for everyone to seek cover. This was his ‘good deed,’ which he tried to do every day. He reached his comrade and tended to his wounds, but was killed soon after.” Pullen laid down his life for a friend, but the Lord and Saviour he loved and served laid down His life for His enemies.

In his last letter to the writer, Pullen said what a comfort the fourteen times “trust” (R.V.), “take refuge in,” occurs in the first book of Psalms (Psa. 1. — 41), had been to him since he had been at the Front, and which my wife had pointed out to him in one of her letters. Pullen’s bright face, like a gleam of sunshine, and unselfish thought of others, will long live in the memory of those who knew and valued his “out-and-outness” for the Lord.

J. L. S.

Saving the Child

A regiment of the Guards carried a little child of six from Mons to the gates of Paris during the retreat. When one man tired of the burden another took the child, and so, before Paris was reached, every man had done his part to save and protect the little one.

Moody once said to a dying soldier on a battlefield, “I wish I could take you in my arms and carry you into the Kingdom of God.” We must all work together this year to carry the dear soldiers we love so well in our arms of love right up to the gates of heaven. We must all share in the work — then we shall all partake in the joy when the saved ones we have helped to bring to heaven meet us on those golden shores. Fellowship in service must be ours this year; then the blessing of God will rest in fuller, deeper measure upon all we do. “And whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.”

Friends

“Buck up, old chap; it’s all in the day’s work.” And the day’s work of life is over for him. His friend says, “I can’t realize that he is really dead... we buried him this evening... Dear old — is well dug into his last trench to-night. This time yesterday we were curled up in our blankets watching the stars... There’s a gloom over us all. My mind keeps reverting to the days of our first meeting. It’s getting on for twenty year’s ago, but it seems only yesterday that we were little chaps of eight and ten and very sore-hearted at leaving home for the first time. We slept in the same dormitory, and smothered our grief under the bedclothes, but when, like whales, we had to come to the surface to breathe, we heard each other’s sobs. We chummed up that night. Do you remember his coming to stay with.us the first ‘hols’? Then Wellington and Sandhurst strengthened the bond between us. A few years of soldiering and now — finish!” SEL.

God grant that they may both meet again in-heaven.

Only Six Inches From Death

Four officers are going together to get some wounded men in. They hear an eight inch shell coming; they throw themselves on the ground; the shell falls on them, and in a moment three of the four are in eternity. The one whose life is spared is stunned and buried by the shell, and for twelve hours lies unconscious with a broken ear-drum and shell shock. Why was he spared? Only six inches between him and instant death. Surely God has the first claim on a life thus spared. May it prove so for Christ’s sake.

A Hard Nut to Crack

TO look at, Private Davies appeared a “hard nut to crack.” When asked if he would like one of the Testaments, he said, “No, they don’t interest me.” Pressed for his reason, he stated that much of the Testament was untrue, manifesting that he had taken in the poison of infidelity. As the conversation proceeded it was apparent that he needed very plain and faithful dealing, so, opening the Testament, he was shown John 3:18, and his condition as “condemned already” was pointed out. Further portions that revealed the true state of his soul were turned to. He found gradually that the Word of God could not be easily put aside, and that night he became seriously awakened. But, as is so often the case, it was some little time before he acknowledged it. Shortly after this conversation he attended a gospel meeting held in the hut, left after the meeting ended, but returned and said, “I should be glad if you men would pray for me.” We knelt around that anxious one, and soon there came from him a deep confession of sin. “O God, I am a sinner, a very miserable sinner.” While on his knees he was led to trust in the Lord Jesus, and his life after was a clear testimony to the fact that he had become “a new creature.”

W. G.

"My Answer Is, 'Yes'"

ONE remarkable feature of the work here is the wonderful readiness on the part of the men to listen to the message of the Gospel. One evening a number of Scotch soldiers gathered around as I was showing a Testament to a man. One of the company began to argue against it, and I became conscious that he was a man who in the past had heard the Gospel plainly told out. I asked if such was not the case, He confessed it was so, and said his father had been converted under the preaching of D. L. Moody when that evangelist came to Glasgow. This gave an opening again to bring before all the Cross. Upon each present there came such a sense of the wonder of it all. I had never before been so conscious of the power of the Spirit. One man broke the silence by saying, “Aye, man, but ye dinna feel like arguing the noo.” “No,” I said, “and no man here wants to. It is ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ to the testimony you have heard. What is your answer to-night?” One man, as the tears coursed down his cheeks, said, “My answer is ‘Yes.’” Through the gracious power of the Holy Spirit a number of men of that group yielded fully to the Lord Jesus.

Grasping the hand of one of the men, I asked what his answer was to be. “Aye, man, but I canna say Yes tonight. I maun count the cost.” He promised that he would face the great question, and so we parted. The next evening he came again, bringing three more with him. Very touching was his testimony... “Well, we faced it out in the hut last night, and, man, there is only one answer to be given; it is Yes.’”

In a letter from the Front, where these men went soon after, he tells of his continued joy in the Lord. W. GAYTON.

A Mother's Prayer

“O God,” she said, “bless the boys in the trenches who have looked death in the face and whose lives are set Godward as a result. Bless especially those of them who are afraid to come back to their homes and their very best friends lest they should laugh at them for their new-found faith.”

Yes, we say, God bless them all, and bless all the dear friends who have helped us to send them the Word of God.

H.W.

God's Work at the Front

Lance-Corporal Roberts writes: — “I thank you for your last parcel of tracts and postcards, I gave the postcards to the British West India Regiment, so you can expect some of them to send to you. We have left our billets and gone nearer the line, so that I have had to say ‘Good-bye’ to my friends. It has been a glorious few days we spent among them, as each night we have had a service, and, praise God, decisions for Jesus Christ. I wish you could have come to our Sunday’s meeting; we had a large crowd of blacks, and white men — one black sergeant the same name as myself. We had three decisions for Christ, one of them in my own regiment, thanks be to Jesus; and last night one of the West India Regiment commended us to God, on the grounds of Psalms 23. I quite enjoyed reading this month’s “Message from God,” and I soon found waiting hands ready to receive them from me. I can tell you the puzzle is how to make them go round. Thank you for your prayers and the prayers of all our brethren; God grant us the answer... I am glad that I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep me,” — Yours in Christ Jesus. J. R., Lce-Corpl.

"Nothing Like Giving"

THIS is so important and so true that I want to tell all the “Message” readers. Even the devil is outwitted, nay, conquered, by giving. You shall hear. God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son to save the World. God the Son died upon the Cross; He gave Himself a ransom for many. God the Holy Spirit, the third Person in the Holy Trinity, gives Himself to all who will receive Him, to dwell in them.

A dear soldier wrote to Dr. Wreford these words on his card asking for a Testament: — “I am one of His; I want to help others. Will you send me four to give?” That is it, directly we are His we ought and should want to help, to give, give life to others. I sent him the four Testaments at once, and prayed they might be blessed. Learn to give a portion of what God gives you back to Him, if only a penny a day or a week. Sometimes a child of God may keep back from giving when there is plenty of means to do so, and thus sustain spiritual loss. Many a time in years gone by I have said to a dear lady friend of mine, who was a devout Christian, a worker for God, lovingly helping to save souls, but terrible doubts assailed her mind as to her own safety — so many a time did I say to her: “Do not give place to the devil; resist him and believe you are safe in Christ.” For the poor dear for many years was in deep despondency of soul, thinking she was lost — such misery, morning, noon and night. Well, to my great delight, she recovered from the snare of the devil, and rejoiced once more in Christ her Saviour after eight years of misery. How did It happen? By giving. One day site said to her faithful maid, “I know I ought to send a check to So-and-So, but I can’t find heart to do it. When shall I?” The maid replied, “Do it now, at once.” She wrote and sent the check that day, and the devil fled at once; he was conquered by her giving. From that day to her death she rejoiced in her Saviour.

Now, dear reader, think about it. “Do I give? Am I giving myself to bible study, giving myself to earnest prayer, and, lastly, giving myself to work for God, by trying to win souls to Him; giving help to send His Word to our Soldiers and Sailors?”’ Ever remember there is “nothing like giving.”

The Diary of a Soul

IT is Lord’s Day morning; the snow is falling thickly. 1:4m debarred by ill-health from going out, so must remember my Lord at home. Memories of what Christ has been to me all my life rise before me, and I can, and do, say after all the varied experiences of many years that “Nothing counts but Christ.” He must be the Alpha and the Omega of every life if blessing is to come to it. Many have been called to face eternity with the shadow of death in their eyes, but they have seen afar the distant lights of heaven, “the city without foundation, whose Builder and Maker is God.” But, alas many have lost that heavenly vision, because, they are out of touch with Christ. Paul could say, “For to me to live is Christ,” and the transforming power of this heavenly life made Christ so real to him, that he could with open face behold as in a glass the glory of the Lord, and be changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord. A man on earth, as you and I, by faith he sees Christ Jesus in the glory of God, and he knows that before He ascended into heaven He had borne the judgment of his sins upon the cross, and that it needed the atoning work of the Lord Jesus, for the putting of them away before He entered into that glory.

And what we are seeking to do for the soldiers must be done for Christ, or it is useless. Our labor is not in vain in the Lord, but without Him we can do nothing. We must look with Christ’s eyes upon the battlefields, and weep with Him who wept on Olivet over the hardness and impenitence of human hearts. We must love sinners with Christ’s heart, and pray for them as Jesus prayed.

In the name of Christ we ask your help to send His word to the troops. In the name of Christ we ask your prayers for strength to carry on His work. We want to do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.

We are much encouraged, as this number will record.

"Coming Back With Him"

A Christian woman was once talking to a servant of Christ about the assurance of her safety in the Saviour, and said: “I have taken a single ticket to glory, and do not intend to come back.” Whereupon the man of God replied: “You, are going to miss a lot. I have taken a return ticket, for I am not only going to meet Him in the glory, but I am coming back with Him in power and great glory to the earth.”

A Word to Soldiers and Sailors

If you want a Testament to fit your pocket I will send you one if you will write your Name and Address plainly on a postcard, or in a letter, and post it to me at this address: — Dr. Heyman Wreford, “The Firs,” Denmark Road, Exeter

Who Is on God's Side?

“Here is an invitation to the officers’ ball, which is to be held on Saturday, Mrs. E.” Mrs. E―, the young bride of Captain E —, hesitated to accept the hard, while her forehead showed the troubled state of her mind. “What is the matter?” said her husband, who was just then entering the room, seeing his wife thus agitated. Still meditating, she did not answer. “What is it?” asked Captain E― again.

“Well, James,” she said to her husband, “you know I am a Christian and gave up the dancing hall and theater before I married. I feel this to be a critical moment. I must decline the invitation.”

“What! Are you going to rob the party of its best and fairest dancer?” be said, laughing. “You will not do such a thing. Do you know that old H — will be present?”

“James, that is impossible!” exclaimed Mrs. E―, springing to her feet. “What, Mr. H―, that dear old missionary, that faithful man of God? Impossible!”

“Just he it is,” replied the Captain. “It was a capital idea of Major J― to invite him. Two days ago at a little gathering they counted all who shared the new-fangled views of H―, and J―laughed about the disciples of H — and his ‘Hallelujah singers. He put down the names of all such he was sure would positively decline. Then came suddenly the thought into his mind to invite the old fellow himself, so he wrote the invitation.”

“And Mr. H— accepted?” asked Mrs. E. eagerly.

“He did, I was present when the answer came, and you should have seen J. how perfectly he imitated old H—, and how he rejoiced to perhaps a chance to see the old man at the ball.

“Well I will go too, then, said Mrs. E— briefly, knowing something of the zeal and courage of Mr. H―.

The ball room was prettily decorated with flags and flowers. The orchestra of the regiment played merrily and the dancing began unconstrainedly. During the second waltz there entered the hall almost unnoticed a tall, broad-shouldered man with a long beard. Standing still, he looked earnestly at the glittering scene. Officers in scarlet and gold; ladies in beautiful ball dresses; abundance of lights; music; the delicate and sweet fragrance of flowers, all mixed together, offered an attractive picture to the beholder. Only two pairs of eyes looked upon it with adverse feeling. The music was ended, the dancers led their ladies to their respective places. The center part of the room was now vacant, and during the pause which ensued, the tall form of the missionary made for the open space. The course of the animated conversation stopped immediately, all eyes being directed toward the fearless man.

“There he is, there he is!” whispered many. But no one dared to say a word of reproach toward this earnest, venerable appearance. Now H― stretches out his right atm above his head, at the same time calling with a loud voice to the audience: “Who is on God’s side?” Deep stillness prevails. The second and third time sounds out the question, arousing great consternation. “Who is on God’s side? Who?” The bold eyes under the bushy brows look fixedly around upon those present. A mysterious power from above seems to have fallen upon the dancers, for no one moves or raises the voice against the intruder, this bold witness of the Lord. So unexpected is the call, so sudden the attack, which meets the enemies unprepared, that even the most pronounced opposers are powerless and silent, and as they lamented afterward, unable to put the bold preacher of repentance out of doors.

After the last call a stirring began among a group of dancers and, to the astonishment of Captain E―, he noticed the delicate figure of his wife raising herself, deadly pale, walking slowly through the space, placing herself alongside Mr. H―. With her head raised, stood the youthful witness of the Lord, before so timid, who now was obliged to confess her Saviour in the ball-room. There the two stood, the only ones on God’s side — the strong, daring man, and the weak and delicate figure of the lady in white.

Once more H― raised his voice to address the rest in a few earnest words, testifying to the reality of eternity, and preaching repentance toward God. Then he left the hall. A few minutes later Mrs. E― left also, accompanied by her agitated husband. It is not necessary to state that the ball was thoroughly spoiled to the most of those present, but for a few it was a momentous evening and a time of decision for Christ. All of them will remember through all eternity God’s testimony to them through His faithful servant, though not all, as is to be feared, in the place of eternal bliss and happiness.

SEL.

The Faithful Dog

An Incident on the Marne.

“The above occurrence took place during the heavy fighting on the Marne, when the German right wing was crumpled up by the Allies and driven back in confusion. The incident was described in the following terms by a correspondent, to whom the story was related by the wounded soldier: ‘He was wounded by a piece of shell in the arm, by a bullet in the jaw, and a sword cut on the head, and lay on the battlefield half covered by the bodies of his dead comrades. Suddenly he felt caresses on his face. It was the regimental dog, which had been trained to carry back to the encampment the kepis of wounded men. In this case the dog hesitated. “Go and inform my mates,” urged the soldier. The dog understood and trotted off, bringing back two ambulance-bearers, who picked up the wounded man. The dog is an old hand at this work. He goes regularly into the firing-line, and when the fire is intense he digs a hole and buries himself.’” — SPHERE.

“Dear, noble dog,” I hear my reader say. Yes, he was trained to save life, and he did his duty. You have been converted to help to save souls; are you doing your duty? The command to the dog was, “Go and inform my mates.” He went, and brought the needed help. The command of your God to you is, “Go... and help poor sinners.” If you cannot go yourself, help those who are there working for God. A letter has just come to me from a worker close to the trenches: —

“If you can, I shall be glad if you can renew your dispatches to me. I think three parcels twice a week for the next two months will be needed. The opportunities are, and will be, tremendous.”

This is how you can help: These parcels must go to hundreds of others besides. The Word of God must be put in the soldiers’ hands. A wounded soldier said to a lady who gave him one of our Testaments when he was in hospital. “I would have given all I had to have had this Testament in the trenches.”

I have just heard from a dear worker among the wounded in the hospitals. He visits nine different hospitals. He pleads for Testaments for them. He tells me that not more than one percent, of the wounded men have a Testament, as their kits are all taken when they get wounded. “Can you help me,” he continues, “to give the Word of Life to those whom God has used to keep our homes in peace and rest through His grace towards us?”

If you read the last page of this number of “Message” you will see how you can help me to send to all who ask.

Read the following letter, which I call

A Letter to Be Prayed Over

Dr. Heyman Wreford, — I am writing to you to ask you if you could send me one of your beautiful Testaments. I have been reading your book, “A Message from God,” dated December, 1916, which I had given to me to-night by a chum, Lee.-Corpl. J. S —, and it has just entered into my head how much I really need God. I have been out here thirteen months, and I have never really thought of God at all. I am also writing to you to ask you to help me to go to Christ, as I think you are the person who can lead me to His side, and help me to east aside the evil temptations of Satan. I have not mentioned anything to Lee.-Corpl. S — about what I am doing, as I have led such-a bad past life. I hardly seem to be, able to mix myself with a man who I know has been following the Lord Jesus Christ. It is rather difficult writing to strangers, so you must excuse me if this letter is badly put together. I am alone in this world, my parents having died when I was two years of age, and as to other relations, I do not know anything about them. But I shall be happier now, as I know I have found a true friend at last in you. Well, I must close now with the glad thought in my mind that it is through you that I shall strive to take Jesus Christ as my Friend and Master. — J.D.

And now, dear reader, let you and I sit beside one another in thought, and read two verses from the Word of God together. We shall find them in the First Epistle of John, third chapter 17th and 18th verses. They speak to me and to you, and they shall not speak in vain “But whoso hath this world’s goods, and seeth his brother have need, and shueth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him? My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.”

In Deed and in Truth

The following letter I have received I shall entitle

“I am but a poor, hard-working servant, but a humble believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, a sinner saved by grace, resting alone in the finished work of Christ at Calvary for me. At this moment I am writing this propped up in bed. I have been very ill with influenza and bronchitis, but, thanks be unto God, He has heard my cry, and brought me out of all my distresses. He says, “Call upon Me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me.’ ‘I am thy refuge and strength, saith God,’ and He means what He says. I have just received my club money for sickness benefit, and after reading December Message from God He has put it into my heart to send it to you with a little more to help on the glorious work you are doing by God’s help to send His own precious Word to the dear men at the Front. I am sure He will give me ONE precious soul for my hire to lay at His blessed feet. Maybe He will give me a hundred — maybe a hundred hundred; the day will declare. I believe God. It is a grand thing to have Jehovah for our God, Jesus for our Saviour and Friend, and the Holy Spirit for our Guide and Comforter, is it not?

“O God, my Father, own Thine own precious Word, and save every soul of the dear men who will receive a portion of Thy living Word through Thy gift of thirty shillings for Jesus Christ, Thy dear Son’s sake, and Thou shalt have all the glory. Amen.

“God bless you, clear sir, in the grand work you are doing for Him. May you have your heart’s desire in winning many precious souls through God’s own written Word. Please do not mention my name; enough that He knows.

“Yours in a precious Jesus,

M.A.W.”

Her Only Son

IN the days of war a widowed mother gave her only son up to her country. So great was her love for the Homeland that she said, “Go, my son; though you are my only son and child, my joy and support, I give you freely.” That was a great sacrifice. Just before the regiment started for the camp at the Front it was drawn up in line, and all our friends came out to bid us “Good-bye.” That widowed mother stood by her son, her arms about him, all her deep mother-love looking out of her eyes up into his face. Then the bugle sounded “Prepare to mount!” She clung to him with a closer embrace, when in another moment the second bugle sounded “Mount!” The boy gently unclasped his mother’s arms from about his neck, and sprang to his saddle; but the mother lay at his feet in a swoon. Ah! it was costing her sore to part with her only son.

Some of you, perhaps, know what it cost you to give son, husband, brother, and betrothed; but could that mother have foreseen what I saw a few days afterward — that only son smitten down by the fragment of a burst shell that went crashing through his brain, and the next moment trampled underfoot by the red iron hoof of war, as the battle surged back and forth over the spot where he fell; could she have seen her boy, torn, mangled, bleeding, dying, dead, and buried in a nameless grave, I doubt if she could or would have given her only son. The cost would have been too great.

Could the loyal mothers, wives, and sisters have foreseen all, many would have held back the sacrifice. They gave with the chances in their favor, that their dear ones would come back covered with glory. But when God gave His Son He knew what would be the result. He knew that from His manger-cradle to the cross He would be set upon by the devil, that the very people He came to save would never rest until they had hanged Him on the cross. He foresaw those hours of agony in the garden, where He sweat, as it were, great drops of blood. He foresaw the trial before Pilate, the shameful buffeting, the cruel mocking, and the Roman lash laid over His bare back till His holy and sinless flesh hung like ribbons there. He foresaw the cross, with its nails crashing through hands and feet, the pierced side, the thorn-covered and pierced brow. Yea, and He knew that in the bitterest hour of His sacrificial agony He must withdraw Himself and forsake Him.

Think you not that it cost the Father something to hear that well-beloved Son cry out, “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?” And why did the Father forsake His own when He was gladly doing His will? Why? Because He was dying under the curse of the law, in the place of sinners, and so must suffer as a sinner, though He knew no sin. And the Father could not draw near to help. When I think of all this, and that that blood was shed for the redemption of my sins, I say, too — it is precious.

The Son of God paid the last farthing of our redemption price. O my soul, and this for thee! Precious blood! Precious Son of God! How great was and is Thy love to sinners! Alas, alas! that sinners should scorn and despise Thee! No wonder the wicked are turned into hell with the nations that forget God, for where else could they go who have no place in their hearts for Thy love and redemption? Does it not speak to your heart? Have you trusted in the blood? Have you life through His death?

“Be it known unto you, therefore, men and brethren, that through this Man (Christ Jesus) is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins; and by Him all, that believe are justified from all things, from which ye could not be justified by the law of Moses” (Acts 13:38-39).

DR. PENTECOST.

The Motor Filter Lorry and Living Water

WHAT is the motor filter lorry? Perhaps some of us may not know, so this incident here related will inform you. But for the War going on, we may never have known what a necessary and providential blessing these water lorries are.

I was talking to a lance-corporal in one of our hospitals yesterday, when I mentioned what one of my great-nephews was doing in France. In the beginning of the War he joined the R.A.M.C. in ambulance work; lately he has been chosen for the water company, and is billeted in a village, where, he says, they are most comfortable and kindly treated. His work is to carry pure Water to the soldiers in the trenches. “It is always ice now when we start in the cold early mornings.” “Ah!” said the corporal, “splendid work; they need water, good, pure water there. A boon to get it, instead of the liquid mud infected with all sorts of odours they have to use in the trenches.”

The pure filter lorry, the pure water, is a telling subject, and reminds us of the living water, the free water, that is given to everyone who asks (see Rev. 22:17): “Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.” This “same soldier says, in a letter to his mother, what a blessing his Testament that she gave him has been to many a dying man in the ambulances, who were comforted by the words he read of the Living Water, the Lord Jesus, is to thirsty souls.

Dear reader, shall we not all try to help send Testaments to every soldier? A young lady wrote me today, saying, “It is glorious to think they are wanted and appreciated by the dear fighting men, so I enclose ten shillings to send a few more. Reader, will you?

EMILY P. LEAKEY.

God's X Rays

SOME weeks ago, when staying away from home, I was getting ready for church one Sunday, when a friend came and asked me if I would go to his little daughter, and be in the room when she was put under chloroform. A day or so before, she had been sewing, and dropped her needle, and, kneeling down to look for it, she fell on to it with great force. It broke into halves, and the half with the eye penetrated deeply into her knee. The doctor took a photograph of it, and the needle could be seen quite plainly close to the knee-joint. He warned her father that it was in rather a difficult position, and the removal might be tedious and not easy to accomplish. I was present when it was done, and before he made an incision he asked me to place the photographs on the table where the child lay. He gave a searching glance at them, and then made one cut, and the needle was out, the cut sewed up, and the child back in bed in a very few moments. The X-ray photographs had made it easy for him to go at once to the seat of trouble, and cut in exactly the right place. I could not help thinking of God’s X-rays penetrating into the darkest recesses of the human heart. The light of His Word pierces even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. Nothing is hidden from this wonderful X-ray apparatus, the Bible. What is the photograph of ourselves that we see? The whole head sick, the whole heart faint, from the sole of the foot even to the head no soundness, but wounds, bruises, and putrefying sores. In this terrible War the value of the X-ray has been proved over and over again, and many a man’s life saved, because the doctors could see from the photographs what caused the mischief and where it was. The searching light of God’s Word falls upon us. “Except a man be born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God.” “Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” “Except ye repent ye shall all likewise perish.” In this condition we are helpless and lost, but though God’s Word reveals to us our sinfulness, our hopelessness before Him, yet His love provides a remedy. The letter X reminds one of the cross, and on the cross the Lord Jesus suffered, bled and died for our sins. He bore then all away, so that we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace.

Reader, can you say your sins are forgiven? Have you ever seen yourself as God sees you, or felt your need of a Saviour? If not, will you not seek pardon now while there is time? God grant that you may not put it off until it is too late.

A.T.

The Mother's Recompense

Mr. C. S. Ross has sent me this letter, saying in his note to me, “I am sending you a letter from a soldier in France to his mother... Incidents such as this give great encouragement to parents and those who labor amongst the young to persevere in their work for Christ. How often have we found that a Scripture implanted in the young heart has proved effectual upon the field of battle.”

The Letter

My dear Mother, — You will wonder and be anxious at my long silence, but now I will explain all, and you will see how impossible it was for me to write before. I have been ill for three months, and I did not want to worry you; so I waited until I was better. And now I have good news to tell you. It belongs to one night just before Christmas. Oh, shall I ever forget that night! We were a bit surprised in the morning that we were in for fighting that day. The troops were astir with the dawn, and we got on the move towards the enemy’s position. We had not got far when the boom of cannon told us that a battle for life and death had begun.

Things went on all right until we got about five hundred yards off the enemy, when I got hit with a piece of shell in my foot. However, I managed to limp along and kept on. Then my company got orders to reinforce the supports, so we doubled away to the left. We did not get very far before I was struck to-the ground. Luckily the shell did not burst, or I should have been blown to pieces. I felt so queer, when all at once I seemed to see your dear face close to mine. I remember a comrade came and undid my belt; then I suppose I must have been unconscious. I must have lain like that for hours, for when I woke up it was dark, and the stars shining. There was a strange quiet all about me. I put out my hand and touched a comrade, but though I called him he made no answer, and soon I knew he must he dead. I tried to lift myself up, but fell back exhausted. Then I knew what had happened. The fighting had ceased, and I was left among the dead with others of my poor comrades who had fallen. Oh! it was a shock to find myself lying there, powerless to help myself, a dull ache all over me, and a sharp pain when I stirred. Doubtless there were a big number of dead comrades around.

How soon should I be dead? Oh mother, I can’t tell you the awfulness of that moment! I was alone and, I believe, within a few minutes of death. Something that Mr. — once said to me in one of those nice walks he took me as a lad came to my mind. “You’ll want God one of these days;” said he, and “don’t forget He is waiting for you, wishing to be gracious to you.” Then I thought of some verses you taught me as a youngster (oh! you were a good mother to your boy!), and bits of hymns. I tried to put a verse or two together of this one, “Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me; bless thy little lamb tonight”; and you would never believe how there, under the starlit sky, those simple words soothed me; but they made me think. I, Tom —, was no longer a little lamb. I was a black sheep, old in wickedness, a wandering sheep. Oh! mother, it all came back to me then — your teaching, your prayers, your life as a true Christian. I sobbed my heart to God, and asked Him to forgive me all my sins for Christ’s sake, and He settled it there and then out in the cold night. He said to me, “My son, give Me thine heart,” and I answered, “Lord, it is Thine.” The terrors of death left me, for He stood beside me Who took away all fear, and I wept for joy. I am writing this very fully from my heart. I feel you, dearest of mothers, will understand and rejoice.

Well, they came round in the morning to bury their dead. I remember clutching at a comrade’s arm as he was lifting the next poor chap from the ground; but I had no voice to speak, and soon became unconscious. When I awoke I was in the Base Hospital, where they have been very good to me. Sister would have written to you, but I wanted to tell you the good news myself, and soon I shall be with you, for, although my wounds are healing, I am to have a spell at home. When I get home we will thank God together, won’t we? ―Your loving and dutiful son, Tom.

A Defiance From Hell

“After the War, the religious fight will be resumed with greater earnestness than ever. It will be a war against God, a holy war, for which no sacrifices will ever be too great.”

This is an extract from a French paper, Le Droit du Peuple, sent by S. H. Anderson, Secretary, Paris City Mission, to The Christian. Again he tells us:

“On November 21St at a railway-station, a sub-military officer furiously insulted a distributor of Gospels to crowds of soldiers passing through. The opponent stood at one side of the entrance, shouting to the men: ‘Do not accept the book; we are Frenchmen and soldiers, and will have no God!’ Many soldiers obeyed him, but others took the Gospels. To a black soldier the officer cried: ‘Do not accept it; come, and take a glass with me!’

“Satan and his angels are eagerly at work, for his time is limited.”

And we must work. I have many requests for Testaments and Tracts for French soldiers and sailors, and God will yet bless the nations through His work among the soldiers.”

No Parting in Hell

A soldier who is leading a vile life said, “When I was a little boy I used to sit on mother’s knees while she pointed to my father’s portrait, and told me how lonely the world felt now that he was dead. And we used to cry together, and before I went to bed, very often she and my sister and 1 used to sing,

‘Oh! that will be joyful, joyful, joyful, joyful,

When we meet to part no more.’

“But sin and time,” he continued, “have done their work,

‘And now ‘tis little joy

To know I’m further off from heaven

Than when I was a boy.’

“I can’t break away from sin, it is too fascinating, yet I know it is dragging me to bell fast. I shall see many scores of old sinful pals there down in hell.”

“Oh! that will be awful, awful, awful, awful,

When we meet in hell to part no more.”

Dear reader, let us all pray for this poor soldier.

Greater Than a Mother's Love

The awful roar of artillery, mingled with the groans and shrieks of the wounded! “Surely hell itself could not be much more terrible!” muttered the young soldier to himself, as he lay listening wearily to it all. A few minutes before, the doctor had paused at his side, looking tenderly at the pitiful wreck of manhood, and some expression — he hardly knew what — in the strong face bending over him had made him ask the question, “Any hope, doctor?” He was quite prepared for the shake of the head and the whispered “I’m afraid not, poor laddie.” And then, with true British pluck, he had whispered, “Then don’t waste your time with me, doctor; there are hundreds of others needing your help. Please go.”

“God bless you, my brave lad,” the doctor had said, and, with one parting look of mingled pity and admiration, left him alone with his thoughts. They were not pleasant ones. This was the end of his life, and oh! what a failure it had been! If only he could blot out the dark, dark past as it rose up against him in condemnation! But it was too late now; he was facing death — and, after death, the judgment! Oh! the horror of it all! “God bless you!” the young doctor had said; but how could he expect God to bless him, the God whom he had slighted and rebelled against all his life?

But suddenly, as he lay there, a little, long-forgotten scene came up clearly before his eyes. He was standing at his mother’s knee, a little guilty child, caught in his first lie. He could see again the pained expression in her eyes, and hear the quiver in her voice as she said, “I’m so disappointed in my little boy,” And he could feel the overwhelming sense of disgrace and loneliness in his own little heart as he sobbed out, “I suppose you won’t kiss me good-night, then, mother.”

And, ah! he could feel again his mother’s loving arms around him, and her tender kisses lavished on him, as she said, “Ah! child, don’t you know that nothing ever alters mother’s love?”

As he lay there thinking of that little scene new hope was born in his breast. If a mother’s love was so great, what must God’s be like — God Who had given us our mother? What did the good old Book say? “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” In a moment he saw it all. “Why, God sent His only Son to die for me,” he murmured. “How He must love me; but oh! how I have neglected Him! I’m almost ashamed to go to Him now, but I can’t face death without Him.” With one last effort he clasped his hands together and Whispered faintly, “God be merciful to me a sinner.”

He lay quite still after that, and when the morning sunbeams stole softly over the dear old earth, they gleamed on a face from which all the terror of death had vanished, bright with the light of God’s eternal peace.

LILIAN G. HEARD

Letters From the Front

To make you help

Pte. T. H. —. “I was most pleased to receive your loving letter and Testament. I am now trusting in the Lord I shall always read the little Testament every day, and please could you oblige me for a few more Testaments for my friends? I am going to try and get them to do the same as I have. I feel as happy as anyone now I am trusting in the Lord. I fear nothing now I have got the Lord on my side, and shall do my best to try and get others to do the same. From your dear friend, Pte. T. H —, to my dear friend, Mr. H. Wreford. Write hack as soon as you can. The Lord be with us till me meet. God is good.”

A Mother's Gratitude

“You will be surprised to hear from me; you so kindly sent a Testament to my son. He is so pleased, and thanks you very much. I am a widow, and do not know how to thank you for your kindness. Frank has been wounded in five places, but my other son, Walter, in France, is very well. Trusting, dear sir, you will not think me rude in waiting to thank you.” — H. F.

“A poor old woman who cannot do much sends one shilling in stamps for the good of the poor soldiers, and for God’s glory.”

Sentimental Blasphemy

THE night before some hundreds of men went up to the battle-line they were assembled together at a so-called religious meeting at the Front, and the following address was given to them: — “Tomorrow, comrades, you will be face to face with the reality, and Death will become to you a familiar friend, instead of a remote enemy to be feared and shunned... Soon you will be faced with the ordeal of battle, called to redeem the individual and separate vows with which you entered the War... That was the call of God, for King and Country, and you are going to meet the supreme ordeal in the same spirit in which you took on your training and prepared for the fight. Not all of you will come back, and my business tonight, brothers, is to assure you, with all the passion of a soul which ardently believes, that whatever the issue of the coming days, you need not concern yourselves. You are the sons of God and He has you, living or dying, in His safe keeping... You have, by so consecrating yourselves to the Great Cause, become entitled to an abundant entrance when the moment comes. Sons of God, brothers of Him Who made the supreme sacrifice in order that others might live, tomorrow, or any morrow, need have no terrors for you; living or dying, you are safe.”

And with this blasphemy ringing in their ears they went forth, many of them, to die. God forgive this blasphemer. And a vision rose before me, as I read these words sent to me by a friend, of a cross raised upon a lonely hill, and of One nailed upon it, Who was “Incarnate, yet crucified.” He had said before He died: “I am the Way... no man cometh unto the Father, but by Me.” “I am the Door, by Me if any man enter in he shall be saved.” And God had said, “This is My beloved Son.” And the apostle said “There is no other name under heaven given among men where by we must be saved. The way to heaven is by way of the cross. The finger posts of God all point to Calvary as the way to heaven. Men are making other roads, and preaching other saviors, but there is only one way to heaven, only one Savior for the lost, only one door that will lead into the presence of God, and that is Christ. Men are speaking of crowding Calvary with crosses, but God only sees one, where His Beloved Son died, the Just for the unjust, to bring us to God. Many of us can say:—

“Inscribed upon the cross we see,

In shining letters God is Love,

The Lamb who died upon the tree,

Has brought us mercy from above.”

And when to think of the amazing fact, that it was the Son of God Who died for sins, and “bore our sins in His own body of the tree.” We lose sight of all besides, and say with the apostle Paul, “The Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.”

A Chaplin at the Front, the Rev. T H.―, tells us his opinion about this awful doctrine. He says:—

“I have preached against the devils lie, that men are taken to heaven because they have sacrificed their bodies on the battlefield. That lie is being preached at the Front. May Gods Holy Spirit blast and dispel it. It is utterly untrue. But this I do believe, that in answer to the prayers of Gods people Jesus Christ is very near to our boys at the Front, bringing back to them long-forgotten memories and turning the eye of faith to Jesus Christ as they are out there facing death. To give you one incident as an illustration: —

“We had just launched a gas attack; it was followed by a tremendous bombardment. In the place where I was, there was a large cellar, and the men next to us, after the gas had been launched, came and asked if they could come down into our cellar. I said, ‘Why, of course, come down.’ As they went down the last man turned round and said, ‘Will you come down and have a talk with us?’ They had had samples of my ‘talks,’ and knew what to expect. I said I would, but I could not come for long, as when danger was about, my place was at the dressing station. When I got down I asked them, What do you want me to talk about? ‘They looked shy, as Englishman always do over the things of God. I said, ‘There is only one thing worth talking about, that is, the shelter of the blood of Jesus Christ.’ I told them of that ‘shelter,’ and told them, I want you by simple faith to get into that shelter; and when the danger is over I want you fellows, who really get into that shelter, to come and let me know that you have asked for something that will forever remind you of this day’s great bombardment and the shelter that you found.’

“Twenty-two out of thirty-five men came to me the next day, and told me they had got into that ‘shelter,’ and I gave each of them a little Testament, to remind them of the day of the great bombardment, when they got into the shelter of the blood of Jesus Christ.”

"Receive Your Mother's God"

A boy came to the Chaplain with the tears running down his cheeks, and a letter in his hand. He said: “What is a chap to do with a letter like that?” It was a letter from his mother pleading with him to come to Christ. The Chaplain said, “Receive your mother’s God.” And there in that dugout, they knelt together, and the lad received Jesus, his mother’s Saviour!

"Please Pray for Him"

A mother writes to me: —

“I have a son (R.E.) who, on his final leave a week or two since, said, ‘Some of the preachers hand out anything but the right thing. What do we want to know of Browning’s or Omar Khayyam’s views of the hereafter?’ One man next to me said, ‘Whatever is he talking about?’ Please pray for him; he is not a professing Christian, but this may be God’s means of bringing him in.”

At the Gates of Death

An earnest worker right up in the firing-line writes to me: —

“I cannot tell you what a boon the parcels have been to me. I should have been quite at a standstill without them. My opportunities are greater than ever. I trust God’s stewards will not let your activities rest for want of means. Please continue to help me as generously as possible here. I am at the gates of death for many, and I am so anxious to use every effort to reach as many as possible.”

Another says: — “Now is the time to put the living Word into men’s hands, while they are prepared to read it.”

A Chaplain Writes From the Front: -

“The Testaments just received. Many thanks. The prisoners were delighted to have them, and those who were undergoing punishment in cells, and were not allowed to be present at my service when I gave them out, clamoured for them when their punishment was served, and they were able to be at the service once more. And I will see they get them next Sunday, and I will keep the others down at the prison, and every time a fresh draft of prisoners comes in I will see that each man has one.” —

C.F.

Death of Madame Lecoat

I have just heard the sad news of the death of one of my dearest friends, Madame Lecoat, of the Breton Evangelistic Mission, Tremel, Cotes-du-Nord, France, Her niece, Mdlle. Le Quèré sends me the news in the following letter: —

Tremel, Cotes-du-No; d,

Leviticus 23. fevrier. 1917.

Dear Dr. and Mrs. Wreford, — Our dear aunt passed away yesterday evening at 7:10. Since the morning we saw the end was near; she could not speak. I told her “Jesus is coming.” “Yes,” she said. “You will soon he with Him in heaven, and with our dear uncle.” “Yes,” she said again. Then she tried to speak, but we could not understand. What a long day yesterday has been! At every moment we thought she was going, the breathing was so hard. At five we saw a change; the breathing was easier, and she fell as in a sleep, and it was like that to the end. And now she is with her Saviour whom she has loved so well and served with such fidelity. What an example her life has been to us! The funeral will take place on Sunday at 2 p.m. Do pray for us all. We do wish to continue this work, so dear to her heart.

"I've Got It"

Now these words, “I’ve got it,” are the words that a kind friend told Doctor Wreford to put in the “Message” instead of troubling to write a letter of thanks, when he received the ten shillings he sent, to send Testaments to our dear, brave men who are so willing to give their lives for their country. And, dear readers, you may be quite sure how glad they are to get them, both at the Front or at home, when drilling and preparing to go and face death. I had a most grateful letter from Glasgow this morning from a lady working in a Soldiers’ Home. She says, “Some sad eyes were turned to me, eyes that seemed to say, ‘Our faith is well-nigh gone,’ but their hands were stretched out eagerly, and every one received a Testament, except one, who said he had one. I told them the understanding was that the Testaments should be read, for God gives food for the body, but He expects us to find food for our souls by searching His Word.”

Another sentence of hers is good to hear, and she says, “there were so many men in the room I feared there were too many, and my books will be used up to fast.” Weak faith said, “You won’t get more, indiscriminate giving is generally wasteful. But no! God can overrule. I will take this as a prompting from Him, and I will obey. Oh! How glad the men were, and for this reason, dear friends, I beseech you to be quick in sending money to buy more Testaments whilst we have the chance of distributing it. Suppose we had not sent this eleven pound box of Testaments, that home would have left all those men to go to the Front without God’s Word. Let us be up and doing. This word doing puts in mind of a society of Christian Chinese. It is called “Not talking, but doing.” Shall we do?

Two ladies have just sent me each money enough to send Post free a Testament to one thousand soldiers! This is doing not taking. May God make us all do.

Emily P. Leakey

A Gold Chain

A dear old Christian and his wife, both over eighty, write to me, saying: —

“For some time past I and my dear wife have had a very great desire to give you more practical help in your great and grand labor of love among the dear soldiers and sailors. Praise to our God! It is a grand work, but not a light one. The day will declare it. I have this chain, which was sent to me as a present not long since and laid by. We shall be so grateful to you if you could spare the time to turn it into cash for the grand and noble work. I should be thankful if our Father would incline someone to give you the full value, so that you can send several parcels in our blessed Lord’s name to the dear men.”

From Across the Seas

A dear friend across the ocean writes: “Dear Doctor, — I have a copy of the ‘Message from God’ on the table before me, and as I write the tears are running down my cheeks. I am a poor widow with no money at all to help in the work, but I just want to express my thankfulness to the dear Lord for raising you up to do this work, and my prayer is that you may be increasingly encouraged, and used of God. What a sin to tell the poor soldiers that dying for their Country will secure a place in heaven! Oh! go on contradicting it by the Word of God. I rejoice when I read what a harvest of souls the Lord Jesus will reap even out of this cruel War. Yes, even the wrath of man shall praise Him, and the remainder of wrath He will restrain, Go on, go on; my feeble prayers are with you, and my sympathy and interest.”

Another writes: “It makes my heart ache, and my tears flow, when I read ‘The Message from God.’ I am sending you thirty shillings for the poor boys. Oh! that more would believe the Word!”

250 Postcards Today

Two hundred and fifty postcards came by post to me to-day from soldiers anxious for a Testament. Day by day these postcards come from soldiers in all parts of the world, and day by day the postman sent from the post office calls for our daily mail, and takes it away in sacks. And the blessing is not confined to the soldiers, but the wives are being blessed as well. The following letter will tell its own story, and may God bless the writer.

“Dear Mr. Wreford, — Before my husband sailed to France, he left with me, among other things, an ‘Active Service’ Testament. I can’t understand quite why it should be, but somehow that little book is making me wish that I could be a better woman than I am. I don’t feel particularly sinful, although my life, I know, has been all wrong at times, and I’m afraid I don’t feel very sorry about it. In fact, I don’t feel anything, except that at times the thought comes to me that I should like to feel that Christ was all in all and everything to me. Can you help me? I have tried to read the Bible, but it seems to be just so much reading matter and nothing else, and it doesn’t appeal to me one bit. I have two babies — a boy and a girl — and I want them to grow up to be good and true, but I don’t feel that I am fit to train them unless I try myself to be good. I wonder if you will pray for me? I have no one to whom I can go for help or advice, and you offer to help anyone who will write, in the Testament; that is why I am writing to you.”

I desire to thank all my friends who have contributed to the work through Mr. Brice, of Cheddar, who sends to me every month sums collected in his shop.

For His Sake

It is for His sake that I am pleading with you this month on behalf of our Troops on land and sea. In much bodily weakness I urge upon you the claims of these immortal souls. Read carefully the last page of “Message,” and ask God in what way you can best help. Send us the means to get the Testaments, and God will bless you here and hereafter.

I am your servant for Christ’s sake,

HEYMAN WREFORD.

The Old Sailor

SOME years ago I entered the forecastle of a vessel lying in a port, and found an aged sailor on a bed of sickness. I entered into conversation with him, and found he had no hope of recovery. I asked him of his hope hereafter; he said he prayed to God to pardon his sins before he would be taken away, and he knew that Christ died to save sinners. His hope went no farther; he did not trust Christ as his Saviour; but still he seemed quite at ease.

I saw his hope was not well grounded, and told him this would not save him. I read from God’s Word His way of salvation, and pointed him to the finished work of Christ as his only hope. I knelt by him and prayed that the Holy Spirit would reveal to him the truth, and enable him to lay hold on Christ. He grew uneasy; he felt the foundation on which he had built was gone, and saw himself to be a guilty sinner before God. He had a Bible, but the type was small, and his eyes were dim; he could not read it. I gave him a New Testament in large type, marking those passages where Christ is set forth as the only Saviour, and left him unhappy.

I called next morning, and was struck by his countenance when I entered. All was calm, and peace, and joy. “Oh!” he said, “I have peace now; JESUS is my Saviour; He has taken away my sins.” I knelt beside him again, and we both gave praise to God.

Sometime after I met him on the quay; he was being carried by some men to a steamer, ready to sail for his home, which he hoped to reach before his death. He told me he wished to see me in the steamer. I went to the apartment where he was laid, and, on stooping down to speak with him, he threw his arms about my neck and drew me to him, and bursting into tears, he sobbed aloud, saying, “I cannot let you go; you pointed me to Christ, and He has saved me. Oh, how I love you!”

The steamer’s whistle sounded, and the gangway was being removed, so that I had to tear myself away from him, bathed in tears. I said in parting, “In a little while we shall meet above.”

Reader, it is not enough to believe that Christ is a Saviour; you must know Him as your Saviour. “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.”

A Sequel to an Old Story

“GUNNER WILSON to see you, miss.” “Bring him in here, please,” said Miss Bertram; and as she rose to greet her former Sunday scholar a swift prayer went up from her heart that God would give her the right message for him.

For Jack Wilson had come to wish her good-bye before going with his battery to the Front. He was just nineteen, and a fine specimen of the British soldier — tall and strong, with bright face and honest eyes. He was one of the “first-fruits” of her Bible-class, and she knew that before he had responded to the call of his King and Country, Jack had yielded his heart to the Saviour, and had enlisted in the army of the King of kings.

“I’ve said good-bye at home, miss,” he told her, “and I felt I couldn’t go without seeing you and thanking you again for all the help I got at your Bible-class before I enlisted.”

“I’m glad you came, Jack. I shall often pray for you while you are away. And I’ve thought of a text that I want you always to keep in mind — ‘The Lord is my Shepherd.’ I heard of a clergyman who taught a boy to say it like this: one word for each finger of your left hand — count them with your right, so: and when you come to the word ‘my,’ take hold of the fourth finger. That word ‘my’ is the best of all; don’t you think so, Jack?”

“Thank you for reminding me, miss, said Jack, heartily. “It’s good to remember that the Lord is my own Shepherd, and that though I’m only one of all His flock, yet He cares for me.”

He went away, and did his duty bravely, as many another English lad has done. Often, under fire, he would say to himself, “The Lord is my Shepherd,” and the blessed truth enabled him to keep a stout heart and a bright face throughout the first winter of this terrible War.

At last a day came when they knew that a fierce battle was before them. “We shall be in the thick of it in an hour’s time, boys,” said Jack. “I’ll tell you something to hearten you up. I used to be in a Bible-class, and when my old teacher bade me good-bye, she told me to remember The Lord is my Shepherd.’ That is five words, one for each finger of the left hand, and ‘my’ is the fourth: so when I say, ‘my’ I put out my right hand and take hold of that finger. I’ve often done it. Now, mates, let’s all say the text like that.”

A chaplain was passing at the moment, and he stood still and heard Jack’s words.

“I shall never forget the scene,” he said afterward, relating the circumstances. “There was a group of soldiers round Gunner Wilson, and there they stood, reverently repeating after him, ‘The Lord is my Shepherd,’ each grasping his fourth finger as he said the word ‘my.’ They went into action, and Gunner Wilson was mortally wounded.

“He died next day in the hospital, and I saw him after he had passed away. I noticed that the fingers of his right hand were closed round the fourth finger of his left. It was evident that the text that had cheered him in life was his comfort in death.”

F. STRATTON.

The Grave of an English Soldier

The sweet wild flowers are growing around the cross of wood that marks the spot where, “somewhere in France,” lies the body of an English soldier, name unknown. The grave is covered also with the lovely bloom. A French peasant girl is kneeling amid the flowers. The graves are not neglected, and between the Marne and the Aisne you meet with numbers of these last resting-places of British soldiers. On the cross of wood is written: —

“Ici repose un soldat Anglais inconnu.”

In some English home there is his empty place, and many have mourned his absence. His life-work on earth is done — his warfare finished. God knows his name. Had he a Testament before He died? Had he beheld “the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world”? Gazing on these graves, we feel our solemn responsibility to the living. We trust that many cared for this dead soldier’s soul. Perhaps he was followed to France by a mother’s prayers. He may have seen heaven opened before he died, and passed away to endless rest with God. Millions are living still, and they all want Christ and His salvation. Help us to give them the Word of God. Read last page of this copy of “Message” and you will see there how you can help.

Testaments for French Soldiers.

Many French soldiers are filling in the postcards and sending for Testaments. Please pray that this work may be richly blessed. The following letter came from a French soldier: ―

“Dear Sir, — I duly received your kind letter of the 14th ult., also the Testament, for which I thank you. I am leaving for the Front the end of this week, and I am but too glad to take the Testament with me as a precious friend. Many a soldier needs encouragement and help when he is to face death. And, when he dies a follower of Jesus Christ, he dies happy. I have distributed the pamphlets amongst my friends. Thanking you again for your very kind attention. — I remain, yours for Christ’s sake,

GEO. LINOTTE.”

A French Colonel

The French Colonel Desgrees de Lon, who was recently killed on the battlefield, wrote a letter to his wife, in which he said: “How often must a man pray that at his last hour nothing should disturb his conscience! Am I ready? If I am, death is nothing.”

The Corporal and His God

He sends me the following letter: ―

“I am writing you a few lines to let you know what a blessing your books have been to me. I have been out in France thirteen months, and words cannot express what a blessing I have derived from your pamphlets... I enlisted on August 21St 1914, and it was my faith in God alone that brought me safely through my terrible experiences in France and Belgium. Many times I have been close to death, and each time God lent me an helping hand. I was wounded on February 7th of this year, and have been in hospital till just recently..., I had one of your little pocket Testaments, but I am sorry to say I have lost it, and should be very glad if you could send me another, also some of those postcards, which I shall be very pleased to distribute among some of the men here. — Cpl. T. S —.”

Private Harold L. Brimecombe.

Private Harold L. Brimecombe, of The Hood Battalion, Royal Naval Division, was killed in action near Beaucourtsur-Ancre on November 14th 1916. He was buried in a trench No. 3 and No. 44 grave, which is situated in a ravine near Beaucourt. This is where his body lies, but the happy spirit of this Exeter lad of nineteen has gone to be with Christ.

The testimony of a petty officer in the Hoods’ Battalion, who came to see the sorrowing parents at Christmas, was:— “He resisted all temptations. He was never known to fail to go on his knees in every circumstance, and whoever was around him. I shall never forget one night. We came to a village and encamped. Brimecombe went on his knees before us all. Many mocked and ridiculed. At last one of his own company came along and said, I defy you to touch that lad. He is our lad, and he always says his prayers, and we never knew him fail. Always before going into action he prayed.

“If any of the men could have laid down their lives for him in the charge they would have done so, they did try to protect him. He never complained about the hardships, although he was delicate. He saw that all in the camp had a Testament. The Testaments were sent to him by doctor Heyman Wreford.

He wrote to me and said, I do not know what I should do without Christ. His Commanding Officer said of him: “He was always a willing worker, and never once got into trouble.”

Extracts of Letters to His Parents From the Front

“I am still serving the dear Saviour — still serving Christ.”

“I say my prayers every night, and very often they laugh at me, but I do not take any notice of them. The dear Saviour takes care of me, and He is the greatest Friend I have out here.”

“Well, dear mother, I hope you are not worrying too much about me, for I am quite all right. God is taking care of me. It makes me so glad to know you are always praying for me.”

“Keep on praying, dear mother, and all will be well. God has been so kind, we cannot thank Him too much.”

“I am keeping close to the Lord Jesus. He helps me, and I am always praying for you.”

“I know you will be pleased when I come home. I can picture you kneeling down and thanking God.”

And so this dear lad passes into eternity — slain on the battlefield, but gone to be with Christ, which is far better. Thank God for boys like this who are not ashamed to pray, who never deny their Lord.

Another Exeter Boy

J.O.N., May 16th H.M.S. “C —,” writes to me. Thank God he has been preserved so far.

“Dear Doctor, — Many things have happened since I last saw you or wrote you. I have been through some fiery trials, but the Lord has brought me safely through... I came here on Tuesday last. I find I am already known as being ‘religious,’ and one man apologized (I think sarcastically) this morning for cursing in my presence. If he would apologize to me, what would he do if he only realized that a Holy God was on the mess deck? But I am thankful to God that I have thus far been read of men. I am quite happy; life is joy when we know that Jesus is ours, and that nothing can separate us from His love. I think it is beautiful to turn to the Bible and read such words as Psalms 121; they comfort me always. As I say, I have been through fiery trials, but, thank God, He has been a wall of fire round about me; He has kept my trembling feet from falling. He has made my heart rejoice in the midst of all surroundings, and He has tuned my heart with songs of praise.” —O/S., J.O.N.

A gold chain and a pebble brooch mounted in silver which were sent me have been sold, and the money obtained has enabled me to get one hundred Testaments for the soldiers. Thank God!

L. H. H.

L. H. H. served about twelve months in the Royal Army Medical Corps, and was killed while on active service in the firing-line in France, aged nineteen.

A comrade wrote of him: “I am deeply grieved to have lost his always inspiring presence with us out here, and in this all the fellows agree, for L — was always true to his beliefs” when amongst us.

His father writes: ―

“The knowledge (common to all who came in contact with him) that his life was a constant prayer, and lived with absolute faithfulness to our Lord, helps us to say, with true hearts, ‘Thy will be done,’ and to bear the sorrow.”

I can only give an extract here, from want of space, of the last address this godly young soldier gave before he left England. His closing words were: —

“Fellow-Christians, let us endeavor to prove the promise of the Scriptures and enjoy this perfect peace, even at such a time of warfare and suffering as the present. ‘For if in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving our requests are made known to God, His peace, which passeth all understanding, shall keep our hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.’ (Phil. 4:6, 7).

“Unbeliever, I would beseech you to weigh up this matter to-night. You may decide for Christ now. If you are miserable and unhappy, you may have eternal salvation, eternal happiness, eternal peace through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and His atoning sacrifice. Repent of your sins and trust in Him, and most surely you, too, shall know and enjoy His perfect peace.”―

L.H.H.

"Tell Them in England the Need Is Urgent"

“Dear Dr. Wreford, — I am writing to thank you on behalf of the men along with me for your kindness in sending so quickly such a lovely parcel of tracts and testaments in answer to my urgent request. One of the men brought my mail down into the chamber of the dug-out where we were billeted last night, and when they saw the parcel with ‘Printed Matter” on, they exclaimed ‘They’ve come!’ and oh! the joy I experienced as I gave one to each man, and ‘Traveler’s Guides as far as they would go. The tracts I distributed, too. It was a night to be remembered. They asked me who was at the expense of all these, and so I said (am I right): ‘That people, children of God, whose hearts were large, and who had the soldiers’ eternal welfare at heart, sent to you of their substance for you to procure and send to each soldier who didn’t possess one, a lovely khaki Testament.’ After the distribution I had the privilege, wonderful as it is, to preach Christ to them. I have had four meetings this week, for which I praise God. I am glad, Doctor, to be able, through your kindness, and through the kindness of your colleagues and helpers, to be able to put into the hands of men who are rubbing shoulders with death every day the precious Word of Life. God bless your work, and you, and your helpers; and may further hearts be opened to send you of their substance, so that the funds so needed to carry on with your work may forthcoming, to the eternal praise and glory of God. The Lord richly bless you and yours. This is right from among the thick of it. Tell them in England the need is urgent. — Your affectionate brother in Christ, G.K.”

"Love's Benediction"

IN the days to come, when all things are known, the loving-kindness of God’s people will be all made manifest. My heart has been cheered indeed in days of weariness and pain by messages of Christian sympathy and love. Only two days ago a friend sent me some beautiful verses by Anna Shipton, called “Loved so well and loved so long.” I can only give the first and last verses, but they cheered my heart as music from heaven: ―

“Master! Thou hast never failed me;

And when Satan’s spite assailed me,

Broke my harp, and stilled my song:

As I fell in fear before Thee,

Sweet Thy whisper floated o’er me―

‘Loved so well, and loved so long!’

Sharp the thorns that rise around me;

But the love that sought and found me,

Stills the sigh and wakes the song:

Can He fail me? Never, never!

I am His, and His Forever:

Loved so well, and loved so long”

The same post brought me a message from a dear friend in Christ. She says: — “This, is the text that I found for you this morning: ‘Peace, peace, be unto thee, and peace be to thine helpers; for the Lord thy God helpeth thee’ (1 Chron. 12:18). I am quite sure the Lord will bless your Testament work more and more. Fear not.”

Yes, when God sends His messenger of affliction to us, as Macduff says, He comes with an olive-branch in one hand — a love token plucked from the bowers of Paradise — and in the other, a chalice mingled by One too loving and gracious to insert one needless ingredient of sorrow.”

And Richard Baxter tells us that “without this hedge a thorns of trouble on the right hand, and on the left, we should! hardly be able to keep the way to heaven.”

The storms that sweep around us bring Christ to us upon the waters, and He brings us into the “desired haven.” The forty years of desert wandering ended in Canaan at last. The “burning fiery furnace” led to companionship with the Son of God.

God be thanked for the words, “As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten” (Rev. 3:19), and as one beautifully says, “Tribulation is the King’s highway, and yet that highway is paved with love,” and leads to heaven.

The Work Goes on

Thank God the work goes on — souls are being saved and our hands are upheld.

A clergyman writes: — “Do please use the enclosed to help on your splendid work. You never did a better ... May the Lord go on blessing and using you till He come.

The Postman's Interest

Our postman asked me if I would like to know how many letters and postcards he had brought me last week. I told him I should, very much. He told me the number was one thousand four hundred and thirty-eight.

"Bring Graham"

I read a story of a dying undergraduate, Gordon by name, who had an affection for the wildest fellow in the university — a man who was sodden with drink and utterly going to ruin. When he was dying Gordon sent for this man. He came where the dying man was, “pale, and limp, and soddened.” The dying man held out his hand and said, “Dear Graham, I am dying! I have a message for you, a direct message. It was given to me last night by the Beautiful Voice. It said quite distinctly, ‘Bring Graham.’ Will you come?” “By God’s help I will!” said Graham. I need not say any more. He came — and Graham and Gordon are together now in God’s own rest forever.

And the voice, the “Beautiful Voice,” has spoken to me: “Help to bring the dear soldiers and sailors to Me. Tell them I and the only Saviour, and ready to save them.” Tell them that “whosoever will may come,” and “him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out,” “Send them My holy word — pray for them night and day.” And they need our help and prayers, as the following letter will show: —

The Message Inside the Testament

“I saw one of your gift Testaments today. I am writing because of your message inside the Testament that you are willing to help anyone in the Christian life. I am one who plucked up courage when I joined up four months ago to confess Christ as my Redeemer. Since then I have needed messages from men with experience. I have a few Christian friends, amongst whom is my widowed mother and my brother. They help me with their messages of hope and quotations from the Bible. Anyone in a barrack-room full of jeerers needs a continual flow of such messages. I want to feel that Christ is beside me all the time. I know He is, but I cannot seem to grasp it. I cannot seem to see Him as I would like when. I pray. I want His image fixed in my mind. I feel that you can help me to live nearer to my God. I feel like the poet who writes: —

‘Oh! for a faith that will not shrink,

Though pressed by many a foe;

That will not tremble on the brink.

Of any earthly woe.’

“I cannot seem to have such faith, and there are so many in the room who laugh at the idea of a God. I am helpless to prove differently to them as I am only a baby in the larger life of a Christian. I am convinced that, with God’s help, I can keep in the narrow way, but I do like such messages as ‘Lo, I am with you always’ and ‘My grace is sufficient for thee.’ I need such messages from my Redeemer. They cheer me when I am cast down. A peculiar letter, is it not? But I am only anxious for these reassuring messages. I should be so glad of a few helpful words from you. Could you manage it? I am twenty-three years of age. I have a Bible, so I am not writing this to have one of your Testaments, nice as they are.” — Pte. A. L―.

"A Message From God"

“On Sunday last I had a book handed to me by a soldier, entitled, ‘A Message from God.’ On reading it, I was so impressed that I resolved to send for a Testament, and by God’s help I will read its pages and study out the salvation of my soul. I am sure, when I read some of its contents, I feel and know there is a nobler and a higher life to live. I see, by sending to you for a Testament, you will forward one to the soldier who has left his home to fight for the liberty and freedom of his country, so God help me. I enclose the piece of paper I cut from the front page of the book with my name, rank and unit. Please send to the address below.” — Gunner G. H. S —.

Somebody Has Forgotten

“Hallo, little man, what’s the matter with you?” cried a stranger, as he saw a poor, barefooted little fellow crying pitifully.

“I’m hungry and cold!” was the sobbing answer.

“Do you believe that God cares for you?” asked the stranger.

“Yes,” was the quick reply.

“Then why doesn’t He tell someone to give you some fresh clothes and a good meal?”

The reply was unexpected.

“I expect He has told someone, only somebody has forgotten.”

How often we forget our duties to those less fortunate than ourselves. How often we neglect the chance of bringing cheer into some other’s heart. Let us remember that it is our duty to help all who are in trouble and distress, for God demands this of all who would truly serve Him. — From the “Colporteurs’ Messenger.”

Reader! Have you forgotten your duty to the dear soldiers and sailors? Has God told you to send help to get them Testaments, and have you forgotten? Remember for five shillings we can send a parcel to the Front, and for thirty shillings we can send a Testament post free to, one hundred soldiers.

I am doubly anxious now, as the War is assuming an aggressive character, to help give every soldier a Testament. The Word of God alone can answer the fearful blasphemy that is being preached, that death in battle saves the soul. Help us all you can for Christ’s sake. Pray for me, and for all my helpers.

HEYMAN WREFORD.

The Victims of a Submarine.

“A shocking case of men suffering from being exposed in open boats in mid-winter was made known by the authorities in January, 1917. The British S.S. ‘Artist,’ when 48 miles from land, in a heavy easterly gale, was torpedoed. In response to her appeal sent by wireless, ‘S.O.S. sinking quickly!’ auxiliary Patrol craft proceeded to the spot, and searched the vicinity, but found no trace of the vessel or her survivors.

Three days later the steamship ‘Luchana’ picked up a boat containing sixteen of the survivors. The boat had originally contained twenty-three, but seven had died of wounds and exposure, and were buried at sea. The surviving sixteen were landed, abed of these, five were suffering from severe frost-bite and one from a broken arm.” ― ‘TIMES HISTORY OF THE WAR.”

What a terrible tale of disaster and suffering is this! — truly one of the horrors of war!

These sixteen men were for three days in this open book, in the grip of the gale in mid-winter, leaving their seven dead comrades behind them as they went. They were lost upon the mighty deep, the cold water washing them, the icy blast benumbing them. Eagerly they looked for land or for a ship to rescue them, and, by and by, when the Luchana came it must have seemed to them as if their rescuers were from Angels from heaven. And at home in England these men had mothers or wives and children waiting-for them. Many a prayer went up from trembling lips. “God send him safely home.”

The “S.O.S.” (“Save our souls”) went out through the air and brought them deliverance. This wireless message sped upon its unseen way, and did its blessed work for them. And so how beautiful to know that from stormy deep, and fire-swept trench, and lonely battlefield, the cry of distressed souls reaches the throne of God in heaven. “Save our souls!” — the eager cry rings out from men face to face with death, and God hears and answers. Wherever there is a seeking soul there is a seeking Saviour. Wherever a man breathes his penitence upon the winds of God it is borne to His throne, and the answer of deliverance comes. I am sure that thousands have been saved upon the battlefields, and that God has answered every cry of penitence and call of faith that came from lips of men who felt their need.

But what of us in Christian England safe in our comfortable homes? Do we hear the agonizing cry? Do we recognize the awful need of millions now? We cannot save them, but we can send them a Testament to tell them of the Saviour. We have our work to do at home for them, and God will surely hold us guilty if we do not help to send them His precious Word.

I am printing the following letters, which will speak more eloquently than I can of the need, the daily pressing need, of these immortal souls. Read them carefully, weigh them well, and ask God what you shall do to help them in their need.

"The Sadness of It All"

E.H. writes: ―

“I am sending you the address of a soldier who finds it a comfort to know that if you die fighting for your King and Country you are saved. He has been staying in a place in T —, and he said this in the commercial room. I know you will write to the dear fellow and send him some of your books quickly. He said they preach it, and so he found comfort in that. The sadness of it all, to seek to do away with the perfect work of our Lord Jesus.”

Ten Thousand Without the Gospel

A Private write: —

“Quite by accident I have your address, on the postcard which I am enclosing. I saw there that you offer a Testament to any soldier, so I thought perhaps I might ask for more. Your postcard came to me when I received a second-hand, tunic — so I take it that it has not come to me by a mere chance, but that God has overruled it.

“I have been a Christian worker for over ten years, and as you send out Testaments I thought you might send me a parcel of tracts or Testaments, and I will deliver them in the camp. I have been here for a fortnight, and the camp has from eight to ten thousand in it, but no means of hearing of the Saviour.” — A.T.D.

From a Welsh Regiment one writes: —

“Recruits are now being called up by the hundreds, and about sixty to one hundred a day are passing through my hands to get their uniforms, etc. Can you spare me one hundred or two hundred of your Postcards to enable them to write for a New Testament, please?”

Pte. V.A.G.H―, B.W.I. Regt.

“I had one of your small booklets given to me by a friend in the trenches. I asked him how he obtained it. He said, ‘I had it from a friend who was killed in action on September 28th as a remembrance.’ I should be very glad if you would send me a Testament, also a copy of your small booklet. I have not a pocket Testament, and in a place like this.one would be of great use to me.”

A Private in the Cheshires writes: — “You must excuse the dirtiness of the card, for it is one I found in the trenches, and it is the only one I could get.”

A Captain Writes

“Dear Sir, — I notice that you are sending a number of the men stationed here ‘pocket Testaments. I should like to express my thanks for what you are doing for these men. There are, however, a number of them who will not take the trouble to write for them, and if you would send me a few I would see that they are distributed. Again thanking you, sir, for what you are doing for these men. — Yours faithfully, P.H.P.C., Captain.”

A Battalion Postman

“Sir, — Being battalion postman, I came in contact with one of your valuable Testaments, owing to it being addressed to a fellow that had the misfortune of being killed in action, and being a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ I thought I was as much entitled to it as anyone else, and being in a shelling area we have to pass our nights, away in a small cellar of a dilapidated village somewhere in France, and my fellow comrades were so impressed with the New Testaments that they asked me if I would kindly ask you for some. Would be very pleased if you could forward me a few tracts and oblige, — Sergt.

E. E. P―, Postman.

J. W. M., Mechanician, “H.M.S.―,” writes: — “As you probably have heard long since, my old ship, the ‘Nottingham,’ is no more, and as I had such a real deliverance in that case I am looking’ forward to opportunities of serving my Saviour in the next ship. Of course, all my books, such as Testaments, etc., have gone with the ship, and I shall be thankful if you could send me a parcel to H.M.S. ―. in a few days’ time. I am very thankful for all you did for us in the Nottingham,’ and will (D.V.) always do what I can to put to the best use all you send me. Thanking you for all past kindnesses, and wishing you a rich harvest for your labors in the Lord.” — J.M.N.

Wanting the "Message From God"

Lance-Corporal John Roberts writes: — “I think I wrote and thanked you for the last parcel of tracts you sent me. They all seem to be wanting the next issue of ‘Message from God.’ They say they like the little bits, they mean the stories. It is a good paper, so I have to tell them they will get them as soon as I get them. When they know I have a fresh parcel they come round to see if it is a fresh one. I went round to the Y.M.C.A. the other night before the concert came on, and gave out some that, had been sent to me. It was one of the opportunities a tract-distributor prays for; one always has a chance to pass a word in season. ‘I met one who before the War had run well, and I thank God I had the joy of seeing him write his name in the Gospel, and he is going to take up the line where he let go. What a glorious privilege it is to be able to tell men about Jesus Christ, the Ore who is able to save and to reclaim!”

Giving his blood for another

“I am reminded of a young comrade I met while in hospital at C―s, near our base. I was able to go about the hospital, for I was not tied down to a bed, and I spoke to him about Jesus and His cleansing blood. I told him how Jesus gave Himself, and he accepted Jesus as Savior. I did not see him again for two days, then he told me as Jesus had, done so much for him, he was going to do something for a comrade in another bed who was dying. The nurse told me that this comrade was passing away, but the doctor thought that ‘transfusion of blood’ might save him, so my comrade had volunteered to give up some of his blood to try the experiment. I saw him after the operation, and he was rejoicing that God had given him strength to do it. Soon both were able to travel to ‘Blighty’ saved by the blood.

“It was a joy to pass on that illustration, but, as I told them, the blood of Jesus Christ avails for all; cleanses all; and it is for whosoever.

“I thank you for all your past help, and must ask for more, for I dare not disappoint my comrades as long as God gives me strength to carry on, and I know, if my ‘Home call’ comes, He will raise up someone else to take my place. Thank you for your prayers. During the next few weeks remember me that I may be faithful always.” — Lance-Corporal J. R —.

The Living Christ, or Is Jesus Alive?

EVERY day now, thank God, we are receiving cards from French soldiers, asking for Testaments. Surely dear British soldiers who have found the Lord Jesus Christ as their Saviour, Friend and Master, will rejoice with us! Mr. Levermore, writing in “The Christian” of March 15th says about a young French-soldier who exclaimed, “Is Jesus Christ alive?”: “How he devoured us with his eyes as we explained to him the truth of the Living Christ; it was a revelation!” This is quite true. Abroad, you may daily see in the thoroughfares, wharfs, or stations, huge Calvaries, which are enormous, uplifted figures of the dead. Christ — the crucified, dead Christ — or an image of the Virgin Mary with the Infant Jesus in her arms; but scarcely ever is there allusion to the Living Lord Jesus, Who is alive for evermore, Who rose again from the dead to prove He is the. Son of God; the God-Man Who will save all who believe on Him. Yes, this is what we want to teach the dear French soldiers: that Jesus Christ is living, living and ready to save and help each one who will come to Him.

Dear readers, help them to come by giving them God’s Word; they are beseeching us for Testaments. Oh, help us to send them!!

EMILY P. LEAKEY.

"Refused, Return to Sender"

A Chaplain from the Front, preaching in Exeter lately, gave at’ the close of his address this incident about a soldier: ―

“A soldier on leave from France to see his mother said, on taking leave of her: I wish to die in the trenches, for there we can live a Christian life, but we cannot in Plymouth. All the men and women here care for nothing but folly — no God — no Bible.’”

These words are written on an envelope that contained a Testament, which a loving friend had asked us to send to a soldier in France.

The returned Testament has been sent to another soldier, but the envelope with its curt refusal remains with us. It saddens us, but it makes us pray for the one who refused the Word of God; This is the only case we have had of this kind. We thank God for that We trust this dear soldier will not refuse Christ. If he does, he must be refused by-and-bye. Let us all pray for him that the truth of God may win him yet.

A Christian tells us of a Royal Scot lying dead in a shell-hole with an open Testament in his hand. He had not refused God’s Word. He had been wounded, and had crept into the hole for safety, taken out his Testament; and died while reading it.

A lady, to whom I sent a large parcel, writes to me: — “One poor soldier with only one eye wistfully turned a Testament I had given him in his hand, and said, ‘How much?’ I said he could have it for nothing. He replied, ‘How sweet of you to give it to me!’ I told him that you had sent it. While waiting at a friend’s door for admittance, a soldier came out of the next house. I offered him a ‘Message from God.’ He said that he knew you, and went away, but, hastily returning, said, ‘and I know Dr. Wreford’s God.’ I said, ‘Praise the Lord!’ The soldiers are so pleased with everything you send, and I thank you in their names.” — E.M.

One of Our Postcards an Identification Disc

I have just received the following letter from a Lieutenant in the Yorks Regiment, B.E.F.: —

“Dear Sir, — I am enclosing one of your printed postcards which one of my sergeants handed to me. While on working fatigue I told one or two men to bury as decently as could be some poor British soldiers killed during the Great Push, and this card was found on one to be the only means of identification. Private Gaul was buried decently, and a cross with his name put over his grave. I leave it to your discretion as to informing his people (if you know them), as they may think he has been buried some time ago. — Yours faithfully, ― P.S. — The man evidently wished for one of your books, so trust he was prepared for the great adventure.”

I have the card in my, hand now, dirty and blood-stained, the card found on the dead body of a British soldier. He had filled in the card, Pte. A. A. Gaul, 9333, Lewis Gun Section, 1St Norfolk Regt. The opportunity did not come for Whim to post it, but the desire was in his-heart to have the Word of God.

If any reader of this little book should know where he lived, and would send me the address, I will communicate with his friends.

This incident appeared in the December number of ‘Message from God,’ and I reprint it now so that I may tell you the sequel.

A Letter From Mrs. Gaul.

The letter from the mother of private Gaul was received by me in December last: ―

“Dear sir, I feel it a merciful act of Gods providence that one of your books, A message from God for the month of December was read by named William Forton, a soldier stationed at Norwich, whose parents are personal friends of ours. He brought the book to his mother, and she immediately paid us a visit to enable us to read it. It proved to be my son, only too true, although I have had official information from the war office concerning his death. Sir, I feel more grateful to the Lieutenant who forwarded the letter to you for publication, to know my son was buried in a grave, as we had previously heard to the contrary, that he was blown to atoms. Dear sir, I enclose two stamps, as I feel sure you will oblige me sending me one of the books with the information about my son, as I should like to have one in my possession. Sir, if you have gotten any other information in your hands concerning my late son I shall be glad to hear from you” ―A. A. GAUL.

I sent her the “Message” and in acknowledging it she said: ―

I think it very hard to lose him, he was always a comfort to me, and a respectable lad. He came home from France last February on his twenty third birthday, when he had this photo taken, which I am sending to you. His last words to me when he went back, were: ‘Don’t fret, mother, God will spare me to come home again and see you all.’ Now I know his words won’t come true, but I trust I shall meet him in heaven.” — A. A. GAUL.

Yes, we all hope mother and son will meet before the throne of God. The picture of that dead lad with the postcard in his pocket, filled in ready to be sent for a Testament, has moved me very much. We must all do what we can to see that these dear lads all have a Testament. Read last page of “Message.”

"One of Them"

During one of the wars in which Gordon fought there was a sortie, when the enemy actually reached the English trench. Gordon stood on the parapet, in great danger of his life, with nothing save his stick in his hand, encouraging the soldiers to drive out the foe.

“Gordon,” they cried, “come down! You’ll be killed!” But he took no notice, and a soldier who was near him said: —

“It’s all right; ‘e don’t mind being killed. ‘E’s one of those blessed Christians!”

W. H. RUSSELL.

Cheer From the Trenches

“Dear Doctor, — I thank you for your postcard and letter of the 13th. I am so thankful for the postcards, they shall be used wisely. Under shell fire the best friend I have is Jesus. I pray for you your work, and workers, for none but God knows the value to the active service men you have been. The work is valuable; may you be spared for a long time to come to carry on such a distribution of the Scriptures. — Yours sincerely in Christ, G. K.”

"One of His Own"

“Dear Dr. Wreford, — It gives me great pleasure to send you the enclosed ten shillings for two parcels for the Front. I was preparing to deposit this amount in the Savings Bank when the thought, came to me, ‘Lay up for yourselves treasure in heaven.’ At first I thought it was too much and I could not spare it, but when I remembered what Jesus had done for me, I was only sorry it was not more. I have left the safe arrival of this letter in the Lord’s hands, and shall pray for a blessing on every little book sent, as I do for all your great work. — ONE OF HIS OWN.”

With deep gratitude to God, I acknowledge every loving gift that has come to me for the soldiers and sailors in answer to my appeal. God bless you all.

In Memory of D. J. And Others

Oh soldiers of the cross!

Oh young lives spent upon our battlefields,

What is the harvest which your sowing yields?

What shall repair our loss?

Can victory e’er remove

The aching longing for your presence here,

The tears which fall on letters, tokens dear

Left in the hands you love?

“And now he’s dead,” they say?

Ah no! more full of life than e’er before

Since Christ unlocked for him that golden door

Which leads to endless day.

He sees the Lord of Life―

The Lamb of God. Who died, his soul to save,

The Lord of Love, Who heavenly succor gave

All through earth’s deadly strife.

Borne home by angel hands,

And that dear angel who has loved him long,

Set down amidst God’s holy ransomed throng,

Triumphant now he stands.

And waits for us to come —

Yea, for his perfect joy he waits for this —

For even there, there may be fuller bliss

When we are all at Home.

VIOLET E. WILLS.

I feel in these terrible days, with so many dear lives being lost, and so much false doctrine spread abroad, and such total disregard manifested for all we hold sacred, that the need for every man to have the Word of God is of overwhelming importance. We are sending every day as many Testaments as we can to all parts of the world, and we thank God with all our hearts for giving us this work to do for Him, for giving us such loving helpers, and such kind and constant friends. We are sowers together now in these great harvest fields; we sow in tears, but we shall reap in endless joy. You can read the story of our needs at the end of the Magazine.

Sorting the Mails at the Front

The picture on the cover of our Magazine this month is most interesting. It shows how our letters to the soldiers and the Testaments we send them are sorted at the Front. Many of our parcels are there and thousands of our Testaments.

A Private writes me: —

“Just a few lines to you thanking you for the New Testament you sent me, I was in the dug-out reading a book when one of my pals said, N —, there is a parcel for you, and imagine my joy when I found that it was the Book which I had been wanting ever since I came to France. Well, sir, I hope God will remember you for the good work you have done for the lads out here. I thank you for the book which has made many a poor sinner like me believe in God.” — H.M.

As we look at the picture and think of the millions of immortal souls who are interested in the sorting of these letters, and tens of thousands of them wanting to know more of Christ, let us determine that many a parcel shall be sent by us, and that we will not be lacking in doing our part to bring them to Christ.

HEYMAN WREFORD.

A Lance Corporal's Letter

Dear Sir,―I am writing this to you for your kind advice with regard to a-theory which is being preached to we soldiers, namely, “the cancelling of all previous sins by dying an heroic death on the field,” This I heard from the, pulpit and believed until a small pamphlet (which I believe was issued by you) reached me, and there I saw the light.

The men generally are only too willing to accept this doctrine, and indeed in many arguments I have had, have always fallen back on this same point. Aid now Mr. Bottomley writes an article in the “Royal,” dealing with the same subject. I have enclosed this article, as perhaps you have not seen it. And so, sir, what I ask is just this: that you will give me some of God’s messages which will strengthen my mind on this point and provide matter with which I can beat down any arguments brought up by many of these misled men. Trusting you will help me. — I am, yours truly hi the Saviour’s Name, Lance-Corpl. H. C.

The article which the Lance-Corporal enclosed was entitled, “Does an Heroic Death Wipe out Past Misdeeds?” It was written by Mr. Horatio Bottomley, and appeared in the “Royal Magazine.”

I feel that the position Mr. Bottomley has taken up is too solemn a one for me to answer in my own poor words. I take my stand on what Mr. Gladstone calls, “The impregnable rock of Holy Scripture,” and from that divine standpoint I have sought to meet his arguments by words from God which I know to be inspired. I feel that these men, face to face with death, in fact, all of us, want everlasting certainties. We cannot leave our future to chance, or gamble with our souls with the dice of human reasonings or theories. We want the TRUTH. The Psalmist says: “If the foundations be destroyed what can the righteous do?” (Psa. 11:3). But we read in 2 Timothy, second chapter and nineteenth verse: “Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure.”

So I have quoted Mr. Bottomley’s words in one column, and what God says in the other. May God guide you dear fellows into the way of truth!

	MR. HORATIO BOTTOMLEY.	THE WORD OF GOD.
	He says:	1. — “For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the Just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God” (1 Peter 2:18).
	1. — “A soldier who dies heroically wipes out by his glorious death all vast sins, and in a moment of matchless glory has made his peace with God.”	“But this man (Christ Jesus), after He had offered one sacrifice for sins, Forever sat down on the right hand of God” (Heb. 10:12).
		“Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 5:1).

	MR. HORATIO BOTTOMLEY.	THE WORD OF GOD.
	2. — He speaks of the soldiers as being “the noblest heroes the world has ever seen”; he calls them “men who have scaled the loftiest peaks of moral grandeur.”	2. — It is written: “There is none righteous, no not one” (Rom. 3:10). “For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23).
		It is written also “That whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

	3. — He calls the “cross of valor” the “cross of atonement.”	3. — “God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Gal. 6:14).

	4. — He speaks of God as the Captain of all brave souls, before Whom the dead soldier reports himself, and by Whom be is freely welcomed to the Valhalla of valor.	4.― “Who is able to stand before this holy Lord God?” (1 Gail. 6:14). “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life; no man cometh unto the Father but by Me.” (John 14:6).

	5. — He says: “They who have fallen in battle, fighting consciously for the right, are now with the immortals. Though their “sins” were as scarlet, their “souls” are “white as snow,” and they who have suffered, and are suffering, have’ been granted a new passport for the realms of mystery which lie beyond the final milestone on the road of human destiny.”	5.― Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine eyes; cease to do evil; learn to, do well... Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” (Isa1:16-18).
		“What are these which are arrayed in white robes? and whence came they?... These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve Him day and night in His temple” (Rev. 13-15).

	6. He goes on to say: ― “So come, ‘sinners’ all―not on your knees at the stool of ‘repentance’ (the invited commas are his), but straight to the battlefield — erect, manly, resolute — to join in the great fight which will give you your Permit to enter what can be expressed in no better words than the ‘Kingdom of Heaven.’”	6. — John the Baptist said, “Repent ye: for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand” (Matt. 3:2).
		Jesus said, “Repent ye and believe the Gospel” (Mark 1:15).

		“Repent ye therefore and be Converted that your sins may be blotted out” (Acts 3:19).
		“God... now commandeth all men everywhere to repent” (Acts 17:30).

		“Except ye repent ye shall all likewise perish’ (Luke 13:8).

		“God hath decreed, that at the Name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father” (Phil. 2:10, 11)

	MR. HORATIO BOTTOMLEY.	THE WORD OF GOD.
	Comfort for Those who Mourn.	7. — “There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death” (Prov. 14:12).
	7. — “Such are my deep and sincere ‘convictions on this solemn problem, and if they afford even a grain of comfort to the bereaved I am, indeed, well rewarded. At any rate, I am honest in the expression of my faith; he would be a false friend to his country who wrote lightly on such sacred things, and I would Father my hand were struck with palsy than do so. I do not pretend to know — the man who does is a hypocrite or a crank. But these things have been in my mind for many years — and the War has brought them out.	“Then the Lord said unto me, The prophets prophesy lies in My name: I sent them not, neither have I commanded them, neither spake unto them; they prophesy unto you a false vision and divination, and a thing of naught, and the deceit of their heart” (Jer. 14:14).
	“God grant I may prove to be right — if only for the sake of those bereft of their ‘dear ones by this tragedy of blood and tears.”
		“But though we or any angel from heaven preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed” (Gal. 1:8).

		“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16).

Articles like these which are scattered about broadcast show the terrible necessity of every soldier having the Word of God in his possession. Everything must be tested by the Word of God. So every soldier or sailor who sends to me, Dr. Heyman Wreford, “The Firs,” Denmark Road, Exeter, shall have a Testament sent to him post free.

Dear soldiers and sailors, believe nothing that cannot be proved true by the Word of God.

How a V.C. Hero Got Eternal Life

ONE day early in 1916, Lance-Corporal D―, 6th Batt. Cameron Highlanders, was on duty in.a communication trench leading from the front line of battle in France. Round the corner came two stretcher-bearers carrying their sad burden.

“Had some casualties?” queried the Lance-Corporal.

“Yes. Germans, have knocked out one of our machine guns,” was the reply.

“Bad case?”

“Mortally wounded; won’t last long.”

“Who is it?”

The Lance-Corporal was taken aback at the answer:

“D―, verse” (Private D — 13th Royal Scots, won the verse at “Hill 70”).

At this moment a feeble voice calm from the stretcher: “Put me down, chaps, I’m dying. I can feel the life flowing out of me.”

The stretcher-bearers obeyed, and the dying verse hero was laid at the Lance-Corporal’s feet.

Thank God that Lance-Corporal was a converted lad, a real Christian; and what followed, shall be told in his own words as nearly as possible, as he told it to me seated by a Scottish fireside while on a short leave from the Front.

“I put my hand under his head, and asked how he, felt without getting any reply. I then asked, ‘How is it with your soul in view of meeting God?’ At this he opened his eyes and looked at me with distress written on his face, which seemed to say, ‘I don’t know.’

“I pulled out my pocket Testament and read him these words: ‘For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life’ (John 3:16).

“I read those words again, and as I did so there came into my mind what I had heard a preacher say about that text. So what I remembered I repeated to the dying man.

“D―,’ I said, ‘this verse is full of blessing for you. God so loved the world, and you are part of the world that He loved; so the world means you. Put your name in. Read it, God so loved D — that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever — now that is another big word which will take you in — whosoever believeth — so if you but believe in God’s Son, and trust your soul to Him for time and eternity, we can put your name in there.

“ ‘So we can read it in this way, that God so loved D― that He gave His only begotten Son, that if D— believes in Him, he shall not perish, but have everlasting life.’

“A few more simple remarks like that, and then I just read over once more the beautiful words of John 3:16.

“Suddenly he reached out his hand, and, yipping mine, he said, with an emphasis not easily forgotten, ‘Man! I see it! I see it!’

“The stretcher-bearers by this time had taken off their hats. It was a scene that instinctively moved them to reverence. He then again lay with his eyes closed, so I said to him, ‘Shall I sing to you?’

“ ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘do’

“Thereupon I sang those well-known words: —

‘Safe in the arms of Jesus,

Safe on His gentle breast,

There by His love o’ershadowed,

Sweetly my soul shall rest:

Hark! ‘tis the voice of angels

Borne in a song to me,

Over the fields of glory,

Over the jasper sea.

‘Safe in the arms of Jesus,

Safe on His gentle breast,

There by His love o’ershadowed,

Sweetly my soul shall rest.”

“By the time I had finished it really looked as if he had breathed his last, so I said to the bearers, ‘You’d better carry him away, chaps. He’s gone, I think, and the trench must be kept clear.’

“They bent down to again lift their burden. However, as they began to move him, he once more opened his eyes, and, turning his head toward me, he said quite distinctly, ‘Cameron, we shall meet again.’ (Soldiers usually address one another by the name of their regiment).

“Another moment, and they were out of my sight. I never saw him again, but heard later that they never got him to the dressing-station alive.” They had not proceeded far before D―, the verse hero, was dead.

Dead, did I say? Yes, for his body lies mouldering in the blood-drenched soil of France. Yet his spirit is not dead. He lives to God, for at the last he became a possessor of eternal life, and most evidently he knew it.

The much-coveted V.C. he earned by a deed of extraordinary valor. It became his when he was in the full flood-tide of martial energy and prowess. Eternal life became his when lying a dying man, without energy or ability of any kind. Had it to be earned, it were indeed utterly beyond his reach; and yet, oh, miracle of grace, as the life-blood flowed out of his body eternal life flowed into his soul.

And what was it that brought in this saving tide of life and virtue? Faith; just simple FAITH, “I see it!” was his cry as his eyes were growing dim in death. He saw it with the eyes of faith. The Word of God set forth before his soul the love of God, the gift of the only begotten Son, His death on the cross after the pattern of the serpent lifted up in the wilderness (see John a 15), the danger of perishing and yet deliverance from perishing, and, lastly, the gift of eternal life. He saw these things, he believed them, and as he gripped them in faith the life was his.

Let God be praised for such grace as this, but do not forget that the same grace waits upon you, with the same life and blessing to be received in just the same simple way.

Neglect not that grace until your dying hour, lest it be yours then to slip into the dark unknown without a friendly word of Gospel light, but rather my friend, decide for Christ today.

F. B. HOLE.

The Sorrows at the Front

Fairlight, Exeter,

April 27th 1917.

Dear Dr. Wreford, — I thought I should like to give you one or two incidents in connection with a visit to France to see a wounded son, in order to show the solemn need for the great work in which you are engaged, viz., the distribution of Testaments to the troops at the Front. Receiving a wire from the War office at noon one day, stating that my son was dangerously wounded, I rushed off to the railway station just as I was, with practically no luggage, and caught a non-stop train to London, nearly two hundred miles, and Was at my son’s ‘bedside in France the following day. But before-starting I knelt down and asked that a fulfillment of Exodus 23:20 might be vouchsafed to me (“Behold, I send an angel before thee to keep thee hi the way, and to bring thee into the place which I have prepared”). I had no idea how I should proceed to my destination, nor did I know where I should stay, nor whether I could get accommodation anywhere, and so great was my hurry to get away that I had not taken sufficient money with me. But from the moment I left home until I returned all my wants were not only supplied, but I was treated with the greatest kindness and consideration in all quarters. I traveled across the Channel with thousands of soldiers, all wearing lifebelts and escorted by destroyers; but as I relied upon the faithfulness of my God I did not put on a lifebelt, although they were close at hand.

The wire I received from the War Office simply stated that.my son was dangerously wounded in the legs and hand. In the train I prayed that there might be no necessity for amputations, and on arrival at my son’s bedside I found that arrangements had been made for amputating one of his legs at the very time I was praying in the train, but the operation was put off, and has not been carried out. Many were the sad scenes I witnessed from day to day; parents and others travelling from all parts of the British islands and elsewhere to see their wounded relatives, only to learn that they were dead and buried. One afternoon while waiting in the gloaming at a Y.M.C.A. hut to be taken to our destination there were gathered together around a stove three ladies myself and the father and mother of a young man who had died from wound, that day. Both parents were sobbing sadly in front of the fire, when the father said, in a North Country accent: “Ay, he was a good lad, only nineteen; he never drank, never smoked always worked with his father, but he never had anything to do with religion.” How my heart sank within me when I heard those words: — “He never had anything to do with religion.” How Could I comfort the poor mother and father? I could simply commend them to the love-of our; Heavenly Father, and urge them to seek for comfort in that blessed Word which is able to save their souls and all others who come in humble penitence and faith to Him Who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

— R. I. MORGAN.

"I Have Given up All for Jesus."

Hark, what means that heavenly music,

Sounding sweetly on mine ear?

Can it be that I am dying?

Heaven seems so very near.

Come, dear mother, come yet nearer,

Kiss your dying soldier boy,

Jesus cans me, I must answer,

But I’m, not afraid to die.

The heavenly music’s pealing,

And the gates are open wide,

I will wait for you, dear mother,

Over on the other side.

You have often prayed, dear mother,

For your loved and darling child,

And your heart was near to breaking,

By his conduct rough and wild.

But at last the loving Saviour

Met your wayward, wandering boy,

Now He calls and I must answer,

But I’m not afraid to die.

Since I joined the army, mother,

In the battle I’ve been true,

And though tried by strong temptation,

My dear Lord has brought me through.

Now I come to Jordan’s river,

With the angels standing by,

Take me, Jesus, I’m your soldier boy,

And I’m not afraid to die.

J. T. MAWSON.

Going Over the Top

The men line the trenches, with every sense on the alert, waiting. The officer stands still with his eye upon his wristwatch, counting the minutes until the time for the advance shall come. At last the whistle sounds, and every man leaps out of the trench and goes over the top to the attack. There some of them meet death and wounds at once, others go on the preform the appointed task. But no one shirks his duty, although they know the peril they are going to face.

Brave men and boys going by the thousands into eternity. How our hearts ache to know that they are prepared to meet their God! How we hope they all had their Testaments and read them, and prayed to God before the attack! Oh! The awful responsibly these false teachers take upon themselves when they tell these dear men that their sacrifice means salvation to them. The following incident will tell you how Private D— found the truth and rest for his soul.

Rest for the weary

Dear friends, how often you are weary in this terrible war, and how much you have to bear, to see, to suffer, and it may be wounds or death. Are you ready for the last two, especially the last? You cannot have rest, rest for the weary, until you know that God loves you, and that the Lord Jesus Christ, Who is God, loves you, and has pardoned your sin, and that you are safe in Him. This is rest. Having this rest, your daily toil, your fighting, your imminent danger from the shells and bombs, you will be free from anxiety and fear, because He, the Lord Jesus, is with you. He is “Rest for the weary” Now listen to what I am going to tell you about Private D —. He has found rest by reading his Testament. This is the reason we are so anxious that all our men at the Front and elsewhere shall receive Testaments, so that they may read, mark, learn and obtain rest. Jesus Christ says still, “Come unto Me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11.).

In 1914 Private D —, just off to the War, was given one of our Testaments, by Colonel S —. Thank God, the young soldier diligently read this Word of God, the New Testament given to him in prayer and faith. Now hear what it did for him. So will it do for you, dear soldier, if you only read yours.

Private D―writes to Colonel S — this year, 1917, saying: — “You remember the New Testament you gave me in 1914; well, sir, I have read it, I think, over and over again, and still I find it a comfort to me. I can truly say it has helped me through many a weary day and night up here,” i.e., in the front line.

“Drawn to the cross which Thou hast blest,

With healing gifts for souls distressed,

To find in Thee my life, my rest.

Christ crucified, I come.

EMILY P. LEAKEY.

The Irish Soldier's Death.

SHORTLY after my conversion at G —, and feeling the need of a place to spend my evenings, I, with three other Christian soldiers, decided to take a little room and fit it up for the preaching of the Gospel, in the hope that many of our fellow soldiers would attend the meetings and be brought to trust in our blessed Lord. After solemnly opening the room with prayer and praise to God, we determined, by His help, never to let a day pass without trying to get some fellow-soldier to our room, and when there to try and win him for Christ. In a short time thirty were added to our number. Amongst them was Teddy—, a bright and happy soldier of the Rifle Brigade, and the circumstances of his conversion were very remarkable. One evening, when Paddy M — was leaving the barrack-room to come to the meeting, he remembered he had not invited any of his fellow-soldiers to come with him, so he retraced his steps to the barrack-room, and, addressing the first-man he came near, said: ―

“I say, chummy, will you come to our little room tonight to the Bible meeting, and after we will have some tea tether?

The man gruffly replied, “No, what do I want to go to your Bible reading for? See, there is Teddy —, he has looked miserable enough for days, ask him.”

Paddy M―at once turned round, and went over to Teddy, who was cleaning his belts, etc., and invited him to come. Teddy looked up and replied, “Well, yes, I am very miserable, and am only too glad to go with you.”

Well, do I remember that night. I had just finished cleaning the room and getting it ready, when in came Paddy M — and his friend Teddy. The latter was a fine, healthy looking man, every inch a soldier, of whose life the world would willingly, have taken a lease. When I had shaken hands with him, I remarked that, he looked so sad, and he replied, “Yes, I am greatly troubled about my sins, and feel I would give anything to have the assurance of salvation.” I asked him what made him so earnestly desire this salvation, and in such haste to obtain it.

He replied, “I feel I am getting my last chance now. When I was on the battlefield, and expecting death every moment; I, as I thought, gave my heart to God, kit then there was no sense of sin, and when the battle was over, and danger past, I went back to my old ways, until a few weeks back. Since then I have been troubled about my sins.”

I at once said, “Let us pray about it,” and we three knelt down, and oh! how Paddy M― wrestled with God in prayer. In his simple Irish dialect he quoted many passages of Scripture, and as the precious words of God fell from the fervent Irishman’s lips, the tears began to roll down poor Teddy’s face, until at last he sobbed aloud, calling on God for salvation. We were all ‘thus weeping, and as other pious soldiers entered they also cried aloud with us to God for the soul of our dear comrade until at last that very night dear Teddy decided for Christ.

From that night Teddy became one of our hardest workers; filled with the fullness of first love for Christ. He spent all his time trying to bring others to the Savior. About three weeks after his conversion I missed Teddy from the meetings, and was told he was in hospital, suddenly taken ill. I was intending to go next day to see him, but in the morning, I heard the solemn of the “Dead March” in “Saul” and the measured tread of the soldiers as they carried the remains of a departed comrade to the burial ground. I stood watching the procession, saluting the corpse, as it passed, and asked a man standing by whose funeral it was.

He replied “it’s Teddy, and he died so happy, though suddenly. I found that he had borne a bright testimony to Christ in the few hours he was conscious, and the last words he was heard to say were in response to an orderly covering him up in bed, “I thank— you— I am— very— happy.” So he passed away, happy in the love of Christ, and his end was peace. J. H.

"He Thought About the Past."

WHILST hospital the other day, for the purpose of distributing Gospel books amongst the soldiers, the writer gave a small book, the title of which was “He Thought About the Past,” to a convalescent soldier walking in the grounds, and passed on. The soldier glanced at the title, and in ‘a moment all his past life seemed to appear before his mind. He followed the writer into one of the wards, and said: “If you are not in a hurry, I would like you to sit down and talk to me.” He had lived a godless life, and now he was home wounded for the fourth time. God undoubtedly was speaking to his soul, and it was a joy to point him to the Saviour. He sobbed as he related his experiences, but he was not too guilty for the Saviour. None who come to the Lord Jesus Christ will He refuse. Why? Because it is His great delight to bless, and the more sinful the person is whom the Lord blesses, the greater is the grace expressed. It was sinners the Lord came to save. When He was here on this earth He walked and talked with sinners, He made His grave with the wicked, and He entered Paradise with a thief. The chief of sinners has been saved (1 Tim. 1:15), and now you, my reader, may come and experience the grace of the Lord. Jesus Christ. There is nothing to do and there is nothing to pay.

All has been done by the Lord Jesus Christ on Calvary’s cross when He gave Himself and shed His precious blood that sinners may know the blessedness of having their sins forgiven, peace with God, and hope of heaven. Your life may have been black, your sins many, but, with all affection, I would point you to the Saviour. He is able and willing to save you now.

C. S. Ross.

Too Much Given

“Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and glory, and blessing” (Rev. 5:12).

In days of old, when the Tabernacle had to be built for Jehovah, the people were asked to give, and they gave too much. Such was their love for Jehovah Who sought to dwell among them, that, day after day, gifts for the building of His Tabernacle were poured into the treasury, until the people had to be restrained, for too much was given. And those who had not money to give gave themselves to the work.

To work for and to give to Jehovah with a willing heart was beautiful, and the worthiness of the Lamb of God “to receive... riches...” today ought to make us show our love and devotedness to Him by casting our gifts into His treasury, until all that was needed for the present need of souls was given. When He give to us, He gives in overflowing measure. When we give to Him, what is the measure of our giving? And none so worthy as He, in heaven above or earth beneath, especially in these days when all the world — ecclesiastical, political, and social — all grades and conditions of men, are casting the shadow of their unbelief over the splendor of His one atoning sacrifice upon the cross. From the glory He seems to look upon the world today, and to say to those who are faithful to His Name, “Will ye also go away?” On our knees may we give the answer to our blessed and adorable Saviour: “Lord, to whom can we go.. Thou hast the words of eternal life. And we believe, and are sure, that Thou art that Christ, the Son of the living God” (John 6:68, 69).

The Diary of a Soul

A LITTLE child was asked, “When did you begin to love Jesus?” “I don’t know, sir,” she answered, “but I, think it was when I began to love my mother.” Let us ask our hearts the question, “Do I love Jesus? Do I believe in Him?” He is despised and rejected of men to-day, and yet He will be either the Saviour or the Judge of every man or woman in the world. He will be our Saviour the moment we ask Him to be so. Will you ask Him this moment to be your Saviour? For “whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

A dear friend who is not a doctor of the body, but who seeks to save the souls of men and women, has sent me the following, as one of the best of spiritual-tonics for the heart:

JESUS

Many names are dear, but His is dearer;

How it grows more dear as time goes on;

Many friends are near, but He is nearer,

Always what we want, and all our own.

Jesus! Jesus! let us ever say it,

Softly to ourselves as some sweet spell;

Jesus! Jesus! troubled spirit lay it

On thy heart, and it will make thee well.

What wonderful healing for soul and body is in that precious name! We have that name before us in all our work, we fight under the banner of the Crucified Redeemer. In the battle between the Italians and the Austrians on the last and most precious peak of the ridge of Monte Santo, lies an Italian infantryman of the line, holding aloft in his dead hands the signal of advance. There he lies — a symbol of insistence — the signal in his dead hands upon the peak of victory. And so we as Christ’s soldiers must press on upon our upward way. We must scale peak after peak of service for our Saviour, saying with Paul, “I press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” Living or dying, we belong to Christ. This is illustrated by a touching incident from

STORIES FROM THE FRONT, BY A MOTHER

In the summer of 1914, a Highland regiment was quartered at Cairo, Egypt. Three of them were very bright, earnest Christian boys. They frequently attended the Mission Services, and helped the Missionary, who was not strong. Often if he seemed to be weary, these young soldiers would step forward and relieve him. The natives preferred to hear them preach. Well, as you know, August, 1914 saw the commencement of this awful War, and these Highlanders were called from the garrison to France. They gave their farewell addresses, and one of them, the night before their departure, sang as a solo:―

“Some day the silver cord will break

And I no more as now shall sing;

But oh, the joy when I awake

Within the palace of the King.

Some day, till then; I’ll watch and wait,

My lamp all trimmed and burning blight;

That when my Saviour opens the gate,

My soul to Him may take its flight.”

There was not a dry eye in the meeting. The young men felt they were very near the day when “the silver\cord would break,” and they would see their Lord. They left Egypt, and landed in France. One of them had been told of a minister who had passed away while praying for someone. Scott said, “I should like nothing better than to die praying for a soul.” God gave him his wish. In one of the fierce engagements, a lad was in awful trouble at the thought of death while unsaved, and Scott knelt down to pray with him, there on the battlefield. While thus engaged, a bullet went through his head, and he went home.

Martin was shot and died in hospital. Skene, the third was captured, and cruelly flogged, to make him tell the movements of the British Army, but as a brave soldier he refused. He, with others, were-handcuffed, but they managed to escape, got safely through the barbed wire, and started to run down the hill, hoping to get clear away, but in the darkness they ran into more wire, hung with tins. These gave the alarm, and a shower of lead followed. Skene fell mortally wounded.

This is only the story of hundreds, nay thousands, but this is the point. These three men were ready; they were not afraid to face their Saviour, Their officer said of them, “They lived what they professed.” They professed to be followers of Jesus, sinners saved by grace, and their lives witness to it. Are you ready? If the call comes to you on the battlefield, would your answer be “Ready, aye ready?”

Among the French Soldiers

The work among the French soldiers is still most encouraging. Nearly three hundred of these soldiers of France sent a post card last week filled in asking for a Testament. We are getting the harvest at last. Intense opposition from many sought to hinder the work at the commencement, but by prayer and continually sending the post cards, the work is growing mightily. I do thank those dear friends who have sent subscriptions especially for this work. We have to order at Once several thousand Testaments. A French soldier, a conductor automobile writes to me: —

“Dear Doctor, — My heartiest thanks to you for your very pretty Testament received a few days ago. Believe me, I have your dear Testament always with me in my pocket during all dangers. I have given your address to one of my dear brother comrades. Do not forget me in your prayers.” ―Louis D―.

French Onion Boy

He writes to me as follows: —

“Dear Friend, — You ask me if I would like to have a Testament. Yes, if you will have the goodness to send me one. It is a soldier at the Front who wants a Testament, and this soldier has no one. All my relations are dead. I am an orphan from Brittany, and although I do not know you, I should be grateful for your gift. This is my address: — Kerberion Joseph etc. I am an onion seller. I did four years at Cardiff and at Plymouth.”

I am sending this letter on to my dear friends at Madame Le Coat’s Orphanage at Tremel, and they will write to him. Pray for him, and for the hundreds of other French soldiers who are seeking Christ now. And, pray for our clear friends at Tremel who are seeking to carry on Pasteur and Madame Le Coat’s work for God among the orphans.

Returned Testaments

Everyone who sends to me for a Testament has one sent to him at once, but very often Testaments are returned, and the Post Office has printed on them “Insufficient address.” We are so sorry to get them back, and we beg of you to send the proper address, clearly written in every case.

I ask all my dear friends for, their prayers their sympathy and their help in this work which God has given me to do.

The Tragedy of a Trench

What is the tragedy of this picture? A young lieutenant, a mere lad, is sitting there, face to face with death, and the cry comes from his dying lips. “Mother, mother!”

Yes, amid the awful silence of the death around him, the cry of the lad rings up to heaven, “Mother, Mother!” His thoughts as he lies there alone, wounded, and apparently dying, go back to his home, and to the mother who bore him. He is a little child again, and perchance he hears his mother’s voice praying by his side, as she did when in childhood’s hours she tucked him in his little bed, and read to him about the gentle Jesus, and prayed for him that he might be God’s child forever. The mother cannot hear the agony of his cry now, but God can and does. The mother’s love cannot overshadow him, cannot pillow his dying head upon her breast, and kiss him and weep over him — her loved, her darling son. But his mother’s God is there, and we can but hope and pray that he felt around him the strong arms of infinite love, and went away into eternity with Mother and Saviour, linked together in his prayer. This is a picture of what is happening day by day upon the battlefields. We are told by officers that wounded soldiers always call out for their mothers, and we can but hope and pray that thousands of the dear lads called upon to die in this terrible War will have their mother’s God with them at the last.

Oh! English mothers today with sons at the Front! What are you doing to help them? Have you prayed for them and with them, before you sent them forth maybe to die? Are you praying for them now, or are you simply occupied with their material welfare, and careless of your boy’s immortal soul? “Mother, mother!” Ah! let this pathetic cry from the trenches reach your hearts, and make you go on your knees and cry to God on behalf of your son. For God’s sake do not tell him that his heroism will save his soul. It never will — it never will! Tell him that Jesus will save him the moment he cries to Him in faith. “Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

Woe betide those who preach this devil’s lie of salvation through self-sacrifice, and whisper it in the ears of the dying. God will require the souls of these dear lads at their hands one day. God will sorely punish the deep dishonor done to His beloved Son. No one can ever be saved who does not believe in Christ, but He saves to the uttermost, and no one ever cried to him in vain.

Mothers of England, Christ is the only Saviour. If your boy has not a Testament, send me his name and address, and I will send him one at once, post free. Send to Dr. Heyman Wreford, The Firs, Denmark Road, Exeter.

Mr. Mawson tells us that there is an English boy lying in a grave in. France now, who when going back after his last leave from home, entwined his arms about his mother’s neck, and said, “Don’t worry, mother dear; if I don’t come back, you’ll know that I’m in heaven, thanks to you.” Again he tells us in that beautiful booklet, “Is the Young Man Safe?” of a young soldier in the Sherwood Foresters, who was broken down with sorrow at a gospel service for soldiers. He said, “The hymn you have just sung was my mother’s favorite; she’s in heaven now, but I’m wicked. Thank God, he found his mother’s God in that meeting. In a similar meeting a young sapper said, “I’m glad my dear old Mother is dead; it would have broken her heart to see me as I am now.” He was saved, and could say, “I’m so happy.”

A Lieutenant's Glorious Words

A Christian Lieutenant whom I knew well, wrote to his mother a week before he was killed these glorious words, “Mother, I have seen death, and death is indescribable, but ‘under the shadow of the Almighty ‘I have found a peace greater than the terrors of death.”

Our Godly Mother's Prayer

In a letter I received a Short while since, the writer says, “I have two brothers in the Army, and one on a submarine, who have never yielded their hearts to God yet.; do pray for them, Thank God, He has spared their lives up to now, and I feel sure He will, in answer to our dear godly mother’s prayers, who has gone to be with Christ. How she used to get up at midnight, and plead with God on their behalf.” They have not yielded yet, but I feel sure they will, in answer to our mother’s prayers.”

"Think of God First"

A sapper writes the following touching letter: ―

“My mother is ill, suffering from the results of an accident. Would you permit me, dear Sir, to send her one of your Testaments, for I am sure she will prize it for Christ’s sake? It is my mother who has taught me the way to God, and she is my treasure on earth, for better mother on earth there could be none. My father died about ten years-ago, and since then mother has had many hardships and trials, and she has passed her sixty-second year When I left her to serve my King and Country on November, 1915, her last words to me were: — ‘God and bless you, my lad. Think of God first, and me afterward, and I will pray for you while you are absent from me.” — Sapper A. B. H.

"A Sinner Seeking Refuge and Forgiveness"

Another private has just written me saying: —

“I was once a Christian, but I am very sorry to say the temptations were too great for me, and now I find myself a sinner. This I am very sorry for, as my mother is a Christian, and I feel ashamed of myself; and I would like to live a better life than I have been doing of late, so if you can help me in any way, as I am sure you can, I shall be glad. I am a sinner seeking refuge and forgiveness.” — T.B.R.

I am glad to be able to give you dear soldiers true incidents this month of the love of mothers, and may God bless them to you for Christ’s sake.

Forget It? Never!

THESE were the words said by one of our courageous Anzacs to an “Open-Air Missioner.” He said it in strong surprise that ever such a thought should have entered his mind. This man, now a bold and loving soldier, was once a murderer, and he, poor man, supposed he had committed the unpardonable sin. When he met the Missioner, he thought God could never forgive him. Happily, he was told God will forgive every sinner who comes to the Lord Jesus Christ for pardon — that the unpardonable sinner is one who thinks he has nothing to be forgiven — not the poor sinner who feels his load or burden of sin and casts it at the foot of the Cross. At first he could not believe the wonderful truth that “Whoever cometh will not be cast out.” “Now” said his friend, “read what God says in Isaiah 44:22 and 43:25.” These wonderful words are: “I have blotted out as a thick cloud thy transgressions, and as a cloud thy sins. Return unto Me, for I have redeemed thee.” “I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.” These two verses, by the blessing of the Holy Spirit, opened his eyes to see that God is willing to save the sinner to the uttermost, and coming, casting himself at the foot of the Cross, believing on Jesus, he became a new man and a follower of Christ. Some time after, the open-air missioner met him again. He said: “I hope you are not forgetting that text of scripture that you learned to love.” “Forget it? Never! Wherever I go, in the trenches, in the dug-outs, or in hospital, I write Isaiah 44:22, that. I may always keep in remembrance that He has blotted out my sins as a thick cloud.” Dear soldier or sailor or civilian reading this, can you add “My sins are blotted out because I believe?”

“My sins deserve eternal death,

But Jesus died for me.”

EMILY P. LEAKEY

"Live Forever!"

In one of the sanguinary bayonet encounters, which have been so frequent in this terrible war, a certain young Englishman was engaged. When the shock of the contending forces took place he found himself face to face with a German officer armed with a sword. It was a wild scrimmage; as they met with a terrific impact, the German’s sword inflicted a nasty wound in the Englishman’s thigh, whilst the Englishman drove his bayonet through the German’s chest, doing mortal injury. It was all over in a moment, and, becoming disentangled, they both fell to the ground.

The tide of battle rolled over them, and then receded, and there, amongst many others, they lay weak and helpless. Presently the German officer spoke.

“How do you feel?” he said.

“Pretty bad,” said the young Englishman.

“Anything you want?” said the other, still using the English language, in which he was evidently thoroughly at home.

“Just water,” was the reply; “I am terribly, thirsty.”

The officer moved a little, though in evident pain, and fumbling in the region of his belt at length produced a water-bottle. He held it within reach of the Englishman’s hand, saying, “Drink this, and live!”

The water was thankfully accepted and drunk, and as the young fellow felt revived and refreshed he could not but notice that death was plainly written upon the officer’s face. A further period of silence supervened, and then once more the German started to move and fumble within his tunic.

At last he, drew forth an English New Testament, and turned over the leaves to a certain page. It was stained with his blood. Then holding it out as far as he could in the direction of the Englishman; he said, “Can you see to read that?”

Upon receiving an answer in the affirmative, he carefully placed his thumb upon a text, which was found on the open page, and handing it across said feebly, yet distinctly. “Drink that, and live forever!”

The life-giving words were read, and not long after the young soldier was picked up by British Red Cross men, tended in the base hospital, and transported to England, where recently he was convalescent in the town of B―. Whether he drank and lived forever I am unable to say. One can only trust and pray that he did.

And what of the enemy? — the enemy who finished by behaving like a friend and a Christian. By the time the Red Cross men came on the scene he was beyond all human aid. His eyes were glazing in death. We have no hesitation in adding that his redeemed spirit departed to be with the Saviour whom he loved.

But the text? —What were the words of scripture which the German officer indicated with his thumb as being life-giving in view of eternity? They were words well known to many, yet their meaning has been fully appreciated and valued by none. They deserve to be written in letters of gold, for the life-blood of the Son of God was shed in order that they might be written. These are they. Let them stand out in bold type:

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).

Comment on such God-given words is needless. There, is but one thing to do: Just drink — drink in faith, and LIVE FOR EVER.

F.B.H.

One of God's Heroes

Christians are sometimes charged by men of the world with selfishness, that their Christianity is something they benefit by, and their whole interest is centered on securing their own blessing. The following story, though unrecorded by the Press and unknown by the public, repudiates this calumny, and offers an example of bravery unexcelled even in the present great War.

Traveling from London one evening this summer, we had as companions two soldiers and a sailor. The former had many stories to tell of the noble spirit animating the men of the King’s Forces, but turning to the sailor we asked: “Have you been in any, engagements yet?” He answered: “We were in two fights in the North Sea, and the last one I will never forget. We had sunk two German destroyers, and came out very well with little damage, but during the engagement we were struck by some shells, and one of my companions was knocked over by the force of the explosion. As he sank he thought he was lost, but on rising to the surface he saw at a distance another seaman clinging to a spar, so he swam over and clutched the spar also, when it gave an ominous crack. The other man looked across, and said: ‘Mate, this spar won’t hold us both, it is breaking now.’ ‘So I see,’ replied the new arrival. Time was precious, and the first had the priority of claim, but turning to his mate, he asked: ‘Are you ready to meet God?’ ‘I am not,’ was the reply. ‘Through the work of Christ on the cross I am,’ answered the first. ‘There is a chance that you may be saved if I leave you, so good-bye, meet me in heaven,’ and lifting his hands off the spar, he sunk in the deep waters of the North Sea. The sailor was picked up some time after, and related to his wondering mates how he had been saved by the self-sacrifice of the Christian lad who died for him.”

W. M.

A Burial at Sea

The following picture was sent to me by a sailor, who was present on the Man of War when this funeral’ took place. Tens of thousands have been buried in the depths of the sea, but one day” the “sea will give up the dead that are in it.” Let us pray especially now for those at sea — the hidden death is there.

“O Saviour, whose almighty word,

The winds and waves submissive heard,

Who walked’st on the foaming deep,

And calm amid its rage did’st sleep;

Oh hear us when we cry to Thee

For those in peril on the sea.

Company Sheet and Regimental Sheet

YOU all know what they are, for every private has them. Some of you have got a clean sheet, Company and Regimental; others have records of misdeeds upon them which have been seen by your Company Commander and by your Commanding Officer as well. Little misdeeds and grosser acts, of insubordination, all recorded on one sheet or the other, and all coming before the, eyes of those who have the power to punish or to forgive. When face to face with the judge, the question is, “What is this man’s crime, Sergeant-Major?” “It is on this sheet, sir,” is the answer. And on the yellow army form the “Misdemeanor” or the crime is written, and re-told in the hearing of the prisoner.

All this is necessary for army discipline — the punishment, heavy or light, is made to fit the crime. Sometimes “Admonished” is the decision, other cases are sent to the Commanding Officer to be dealt with.

Soldiers! Some of you have known what it is to tremble before the frown of those who had the power of punishment in their hands, and you have known what it is to have borne the punishment they have inflicted.

In nine cases out of ten the men own to the justice of the punishment.; they know that breaking laws brings them under law.

Soldiers! who read this — what about the sins you have committed against God? None of you have a clean sheet there. “All have sinned” and the punishment of sin is death. “The soul that sinneth it shall die!” Must all die then, for all have sinned? Must you die eternally because of your sins against a Holy God? You must die, and go to hell, unless Another will bear the punishment of your sin and die for you, for you cannot save yourself. “Is there anyone who would die for me, you say?” “Yes, One has died, the” “Just for the unjust” to bring us to God. Who is it? The apostle Paul, whose defaulting sheet was full, tells us. “The Son of God who loved me, and gave. Himself for me.” Yes, “He took the guilty culprit’s place, and suffered in his stead.”

As a sinner you stand before a Holy God. Your defaulting sheet is full, crime after crime have you committed against God — every sin must have its punishment. God must punish sin. Where did God punish sin? On Calvary. “The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” Come and stand by Calvary now. As you, gaze upon the Cross ask yourself two questions.

1. Why did Jesus die?

2. For whom did Jesus die?

Answer: “There was no other good enough,
To pay the price for sin;
He only could unlock the gate
Of heaven and let us in.”

This is why He died, because there was no other who could pay the price demanded for the ransom of the soul. Hark! a voice from heaven is speaking to your soul now — “Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.” Take your place now as a sinner — own your sin — the sin that made the Saviour die.

2. For whom did Jesus die? I want you to be able to say “He died for me.” Think of your defaulting sheet now — filled with your life’s sin — drunkenness, blasphemy, immorality, and thousands of other sins. Take two looks — look back over your past life — then look at the Cross of Christ and say: — “My sins deserved eternal death,

But Jesus died for me.”

Then with a contrite heart say, “I have sinned, I am full of iniquity, I cannot save myself, I come to Thee.” Yes: —

“Just as I am without one plea —

But that Thy blood was shed for me —

And that Thou bidst me come to Thee―

O Lamb of God I come.”

And in coming you shall find salvation, for the Saviour says:

“Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.”

Your defaulting sheet of sin may be cleared in a moment, for God says to those who believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, “Though your sins he as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isa. 1:18).

In Prospect of Death

A Young Officer’s Confidence.

THE following letter, from the pen of Second-Lieut. H. F. Sargood, Middlesex Regiment, tells its own tale. It was found in the young man’s kit, having been left there just before going into action: ―

My Own Dearest Parents, — I don’t suppose you will ever get this, and I certainly hope you won’t, as it is only to be sent to you if I am killed while on the “trench stunt.” (Here follow a few instructions about financial matters).

I expect you have wondered (or will do so) how I regarded the prospect of death, for of course the possibility of it is alway’ before one. As you know, I have always been expecting it, so it has not taken me by surprise. As for the rest, well I have never been able to express it to myself, so I don’t suppose I can do any better for you. Although I have not regarded the prospect of it with pleasure (I should imagine that in a young man that would be unnatural), yet I can say that it has caused me no fear. I have, of course, such feelings to “buck me up” as the thought of being an Englishman, a gentleman, the descendant of soldiers, and so on; but when it comes to the point, such things are of little or no value.

No, I have an assurance which is of far more use to me than any of these things, the knowledge that Jesus Christ is my Saviour, and that He will be with me after death, the same as He has been with me for the last three or four years. This has been of the greatest comfort to me and — under God — I owe it all to you, my dearest parents; and I could never, if I lived a thousand years, tell you what I would want to, or thank you for all that you have done for me, and especially, the best thing of all, in bringing me up in the know ledge of my Saviour. And if I am killed, remember that it is our Master’s will, and He Who is our Friend knows far better than we what is good for us; and after all, none of us would have wished it otherwise, would we? I know I wouldn’t, and though it means more for you than me yet I’m sure you wouldn’t.

And now, as I hope you will never get this, I’ll leave off. Good-bye, my dearest parents. Don’t sorrow; at the worst our parting is not for long, and “we sorrow not as those which have no hope.” — God be with you, comfort you, and keep you.

HUGH

The writer was called upon to make the Great’ Sacrifice. Aged nineteen, he was the son of Mr. W. Frank Sargood, of Sutton; and needless to say, the letter has proved a great source of consolation to both parents.

[From The Christian]

A Private Writes From India

Dear Sir, — Could you please send me out a little New Testament. I have seen several my friends have, and feel I should like one to read. I have been in the Army now twelve months, but have not been supplied with one, or a Bible or Hymn Book yet, and I came away and forgot to bring mine, and if you have one to spare I should feel much obliged to you, sir. — PTE. G.―

A Gift From Salonica

I had a letter this, morning from a father who has a son” in Salonica, and this is what he says: —

Dear Dr. Wreford, — I am writing you to enclose 30s. for your, great and precious work of supplying our soldier and sailor lads with the Word of God, not on our own account, but for my son, who is on Active Service in Salonica, and I think I had better give you his own words. He says: — “I am a bit in credit with my pay and I want you to send for me 30s. to Dr. Heyman. Wreford to use as he thinks best for the soldiers. I will remit it to you on next remittance day; and may God bless the little gift to some of the lads.... You will send this in your name, Dad dear, or let it be anonymous.” The father goes on to say: — “I thank my God for His great mercy to me in His goodness to my boy, who has proved His love and sustaining grace in his trying position, and I don’t see why you should not know how the good God has moved him to this little act of love to his fellow sufferers. I pray our God you are stronger and are proving the all-sufficiency of our Gracious Lord in your great work for Him, and for the dear lads.”

Home on Leave

IN thousands of homes today there is the coming and going of officers and soldiers “home on leave.” For some the leave will be a long one; others have orders to rejoin their regiments at once. But how, it brightens the home to see the dear ones once again! But what of those who will never see their loved ones on earth any more? NO “home on leave” for those who lie buried by the battlefield where they have fought and died. The awful silence — no letters coming — no hampers to be sent — the silence of the grave and eternity — at home the closed room — the untouched things belonging to the loved and lost. Memory recalling while the heart is well-nigh breaking, what he said, and what he did. And the heart cries in an ecstasy of grief the words of the poet when he says: —

‘My son! My son!”

Would God that I had died for thee.

For my full course is well-nigh run,

But thine in its sweet ecstasy

Was scarce begun,

Yet now is done yet — now — is — done!

Would God that I had died for thee,

My son! My son!

I. O.

But, as one has beautifully said, “The parting always lies behind us; the welcome and the reunion always lies before.”

I cannot find words to thank our dear friends for their loving sympathy with us in our loss. But we shall see our boy again.

More Eager for the Living

But while we mourn our dead, it makes us all the more eager to help the living. We yearn over the precious souls of those who still are unsaved. Thank God we have every encouragement to go on sending the Testaments. Both the French and the English soldiers are more and more eager for God’s Word. I want you to read the following series of letters which speaks of what I have called “The Birth of a soul.”

The Birth of a Soul

The following letters from a dear soldier at the Front will tell how God is working in the hearts of many through the distribution of the Testaments.

Private A. M. sends to us for a Testament. We sent him one, and a few days after this letter reaches us: —

“Dear Sir, — Just a few lines to let you know I got the Testament all right, and was very pleased with it. You may be quite sure that I shall read it carefully and try to learn the message it contains and to understand it. When I was in civil life (what a long time it seems!) I used to attend chapel regular, and read my Bible carefully and earnestly. But since joining the Army in the early months of the War my habits have altered for the worse, and during the last fifteen months I have given myself over, to the devil. But I want to get back to the old ways, when I followed after the things that are good. You say you are my friend — then, for the sake of Him who died for all, will you advise me in my strait? — Yours sincerely, A. M.”

Through illness I was unable to answer this letter at the time, so I sent it to a dear Christian friend in the Isle of Wight, who loves the souls of the soldiers, and writes to many of them for me. She wrote to him an earnest letter, and sent him some little books to read. She sent me some extracts of his reply to her letter. I print them here: —

“The Story of Bernard Ellis, is worth reading, and I enjoyed it. I would like to have the same experience of God that he had. I. want Jesus to be my Saviour as He was Bernard Ellis’s. I read Luke 15, and I thought the father must have loved the prodigal son very greatly, or he could not have forgiven him so readily and so freely. I wonder if Gad would forgive me like that? I read John 3, and especially the 16th verse. It seems so simple just to believe on Jesus. Is that salvation? Then, if so, I come to Him,

“‘Just as I am, without one plea,

But that Thy blood was shed for me,

And that Thou bidst me come to Thee,

O Lamb of God, I come.’

“I want to belong to Jesus — to be a son of God. Pray for me that. I may be firm and strong in the Lord.

“‘Depth of mercy, can there be,

Mercy still reserved for me?

Can my God His wrath forbear?

Me, the chief of sinners spare?

God is love, I know, I feel —

Jesus weeps, and loves me still.’

‘“If what the Testament says is correct then there is mercy, boundless mercy. Jesus loves even me. I want to be saved. I want to believe. Lord, help Thou mine unbelief. Will you help me? I want advice. You ask me to treat you as a friend. I do so. Help me to decide now. — Yours sincerely,

A. M.”

The Lord blessed the letters to him, and a fortnight after he writes this dear friend again, and the following is an extract from his letter: ―

“I would like to bring other soldiers to Jesus. I would like others to kneel at the foot of Calvary so that the blood of Christ may wash all their sins away. You mention a book being much circulated amongst the soldiers, ‘A Message from God.’ Would you mind sending me one or two back numbers? Dr. Wreford sent me one, and I enjoyed it so much. Do you know I never felt so happy and contented in all my life.

“ ‘I feel like singing all the time,

My tears are, wiped away,

For Jesus is a, Friend of mine,

I’ll serve Him every day.’

— Your friend in the Lord, A. M.”

And so we find the soldier, who in his first letter said, “he had given himself over to the devil,” had now given himself over to the Lord Jesus Christ.

Don’t you love these men, and would you not do anything so that they all should have a Testament, and, above all, that they should find their way to Christ?

A dear suffering child of God writes: — “I am so glad you sent me. I am pleased from the depth of my heart to give you ten shillings for the Word of God to go out to the soldiers. Do you remember I asked prayer from you for my arm? May I ask for even still more? I have been ill since Christmas Day with much gain — a broken arm and a growth. Nothing can be done for my relief. I just have to be patient and wait God’s own time, and I am told it won’t be many months more; so may I ask if you will kindly pray God to help me bear the night pains and give me sleep?”

In Memory of the Dead

A father, whose son has been killed at the Front, and who is safe now with the Lord Jesus. Christ, sends me a check for £20 in memory of his dear son, so that I may send many more Testaments to the Front for the dear ‘men still unsaved. He only asks our prayers that his other children may know the Lord as the dear one did who was killed.

"The Soil Is Not Dead Anyway"

We see in our picture a French peasant sowing the seed upon the battlefield. He knows that brave men lie underneath the soil. He knows it has to be scarred and rent by the storm and havoc of war; but he sows in faith, saying, as he scatters the grain, “The soil is not dead anyhow.” He teaches us a lesson of hope amid all the awful disappointments of this War. We must go on sowing the precious seed of the Word of God. The soil is not dead; wherever there is a living soul we can pray that the seed may be sown there, and if we sow in faith what mighty harvests we shall see!

Dear friends, you have helped us wonderfully in the past two and a half years; the need is greater now than ever. If you read the last page it will tell you how you can help. I ask you for your prayers.

HEYMAN WREFORD.

P. S. — A dear soldier writes: — “Would you kindly send me a Testament to fit my pocket, and I should be pleased if you would tell me bow I can lead a better life, and help me to Christ, please.”

For the French Soldiers

A lady of eighty-two writes: —

“Having been a constant reader of ‘A Message from God’ almost from its birth I have shed many tears and sent up many prayers for your-work among the soldiers, and have often longed to spare something from my modest income to help the worthy object. I now enclose £1 for Testaments for French soldiers. Having spent most of my young days in beautiful, wicked Paris, I feel a special interest in these dear men.”

Another writes: —

“The enclosed check please spend on French Testaments for soldiers.”

A Gunner sends me a pound to be spent on Testaments for French soldiers.

Nearing Port

What a touching scene! A stately ship on a quiet sea nearing port. On the deck the mother is seated with her two children. There is but one thought in her mind: Will they reach the harbor in safety, or will they fall victims to a submarine? See the look of almost despair written in her mother-eyes; see the mother-hands embracing her boys! One hand over the shoulder of the older boy, who is bravely looking out over the sea; the other round the waist of the younger one, who is leaning with closed eyes against her protecting side., Her hands are grasping the lifebelts on her boys. We can fancy the prayer coming from her heart as her strained eyes gaze out over the sea, “O God, bring us safely home, my boys and me; let not death come to us on these quiet waters. O God, protect us for our Saviour’s sake. Amen.”

Yes, thousands are praying these prayers upon our seas today. And we must pray that this deadly peril may be taken from us. I was at a large seaport a short time since, and I saw a crowd of ships gathered together in the harbor. I asked a friend who was with me what it meant, and he told me there were submarines outside, and these ships were sheltering in the harbor’ on that account. There is danger everywhere today — in the air above, on the earth, under the sea. Danger to men and women and to little children. Many fear the wrath of man and seek to shelter from it. But what of the wrath of God? There is only one refuge from that, and that refuge is Christ. At home, on the battlefields, on the seas, Christ will shelter all who call upon His Name. Nine shall perish who accept Him as their Saviour, and He saves in a moment all who ask for His salvation. And there is no way to heaven but by Him. “I am the Way,” He says.

Incidents to Prove God Loves You

By Lance-Corporal J. Roberts

Soldier-Comrades, do you know God loves you? You have often said you were a lonely soldier, you have had no news from “Blighty” for many weary months. You think all your friends have forgotten you, but there is One, who loves you. Let me ask you to turn to your New Testament and read Romans 5:8: “God commendeth His love towards us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Read John 3:16: “God so loved the world,” etc. Comrades! in the heart of Jesus there is a place for you. He loves you; He died for you. Day by day you are a witness to sacrifice; you see in action men giving themselves for others; sometimes in cool, calm, quietness, at other times in the midst of great excitement; but Jesus gave Himself for us, not because of honor and glory, simply because He was to be our Saviour.

I well remember one of my friends bringing a wounded man in at the risk of his life, and I asked him why he did it, and he said “Well he brought me in at N― C―.”

But while we were yet sinners, away from God, Jesus died for us. While at our base depot I was telling a party of men what God could do for them if they would only let Him, and one of “The Queen’s” said, “Yes, it is all right for you, who have never known the grip of sin, to say, ‘He breaks the power of sin and Satan,’ but you have always kept from sin. You have not got a record like mine. I have lived an impure life. I have been in hospital at H―. I know I Can never live a pure life and be free again.” But when he trusted Jesus Christ to break every fetter — when he claimed his share in God’s love, and put himself under the power of the blood, he found it meant for him victory. Comrade! God loves you, and He waits to prove His love to you. You have often sung at church parade: ―

“Love so amazing, so divine,

Shall have my life, my soul, my all.”

But have you ever meant it? Or has it been sung in a careless sort of way, not knowing what it would mean to you? There is in the love of God all you need, for the design of God’s love is to save men from perishing (John 3:16). “Should not perish.” God desires not your death, but that you should live forever with Him. You know if you die in the trenches unsaved you are lost, for remember, dying in battle will not save your soul, only faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

One day, while lying in position ready for the order to crawl forward, one of my section asked me if he would be safe if he kept near me. I told him, “No, you are only safe as you keep near Jesus Christ.” I knew he had been to our prayer-meeting before we came into the line, and I said, “Do you love the Lord Jesus Christ in all sincerity?” He replied, “Yes, and I will prove it to you if I get back to billets again.” Comrade! you say you know God loves you. Are you showing you love Him? As one of our S.B.’s was dying he knew that he was going to pass into the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ, and he prayed for his comrades, who at that time were facing a deadly German barrage. Then, after praying for his people at home, he said to his friend, “I am glad, Jesus loves me, and I am going to be with Him.” What a difference from one who had received a mortal wound at the Ancre fighting! When an S. B. laid him on the ground and told him he was dying, he said, “I won’t die; I am not ready to die; don’t let me die!” And I can still hear him repeating what he said when I came near him: — “Go away, Roberts; I should have listened to you earlier; but I did come to your meetings!”

Comrade! I can’t ask you personally the question, “Do you know God loves you?” but will you take heed to my message? It is nearly ten years since I was told “God loves you.” I was an atheist — I loved sin — I was fond of gambling and all kinds of amusements, yet when I trusted God, He saved me, cleansed me, and now He keeps me, and satisfies me, and I am kept in perfect peace.

“Ah! the peace the Saviour gives,

Peace I never knew before.”

Comrade! you have tried all that a soldier’s life can give of pleasure, and it does not satisfy. Will you take God at His word? (1 John 3:1.) Come to Him with that craving for drink and gambling; ask Him to give you power over sin; no more “pontoon-brag”; no more of impurity, but from God power given to live a clean, pure life — to love Him as He loves you.

Wastepaper Baskets

Dear soldier or sailor, have you ever written a letter wanting an answer, and not received it? You may have, for your letter may have been thrown into a wastepaper basket as mine was. I want you to think about prayer. Now prayer is like a letter, not sent to man, but to God. If you really pray, “God forgive me, a poor sinner,” God is sure, for Jesus Christ’s sake to forgive you at once. You may not feel forgiven, but you may believe it. That’s it, believe and be saved, not for your sake, but for His and for His sake alone.

I wrote to a great man, an influential Sir―, and asked him to write to Lord― or the King. His answer came to me thus: “I have no doubt my letter would follow yours into the wastepaper basket.” Meanwhile, we can, like Daniel of old, confess our sins and those of our nation, and pray for national repentance and revival of spiritual life, and our prayers will go where there are no wastepaper baskets.

Now is this not a beautiful thought — that our Father in heaven will receive and take notice of our prayers and be sure to answer them in His time? Only keep on praying. “Ask and ye shall receive,” for there are no wastepaper baskets above.

EMILY P. LEAKEY.

Have You Heard

That “God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten

Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish,

but have everlasting life”? (John 3:16.)

That “The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all”? (Isa. Mi. 6.)

That “Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures”? (1 Cor. 15:3.)

That “God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us”? (Rom. 5:8.)

“Hear and your soul shall live.”

Salonica, Thessalonica

Take the first four letters off Thessalonica, and you have its modern name. It lay one hundred, miles west of Philippi. It is well known to us all to-day as our war-base, in the Balkans. It became a great war-base in an earlier and greater campaign. Look at 1 Thess. 1:8, and notice the words “from you.” Has the Gospel come “unto you” as it came to the Thessalonians? (Read that splendid verse 1 Thess. 1:5.) If so, God wants your life to be a base of operations for the spreading of the glad news, so that “from you” others may get the knowledge of Him.

R. T.A.

His Last Song

A speaker recently, at a Sunday evening service on the great sacrifices made by our soldiers, told a story of one of London’s finest tenor singers, who was called to the Colors at the beginning of the War. He was wounded at the battle of the Marne, a bullet passing through his neck into his throat. He was taken to hospital, and the surgeon in attendance told him that in order to save his life his tongue must immediately be cut out. The man replied, “I have been a singer for twenty years, and should like, before the operation is undergone, to sing one of my favorite hymns.” The surgeon agreed to the request, and the wounded soldier sang for the last time “Rock of Ages.”

"God of My Mother"

The Rev. Charles Morgan, of East Troy, in giving an account of a religious revival in that place, says: ―

“An infidel of talent and respectability, under the power of truth, bowed upon his knees, and cried in agony: ―

“‘God of my mother, have mercy on me!’

“His mother is a devoted Christian woman.”

“God of my mother”! How much is revealed in that single exclamation! How conclusively it proves that this man had a mother whose faithfulness left its impression on his soul too deep to be obliterated by time and sin!

News of the World

Men tell us what they know of the world in books and-newspapers. Let me tell you what God says of the world: ―

All the world is guilty before God (Rom. 3:19).

The whole world lieth in wickedness (1 John 3:19).

The god of this world hath blinded the minds of them that believe not (on Christ) (2 Cor. 4:4).

The world knows not God (1 Cor. 1:21).

The friendship of the world is enmity with God (James 4:4).

The world passeth away (1 John 2:17).

God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life (John 4:16).

Jim's Letter from the King

THE mother stood listening at her cottage door, amid stillness which was only broken by the sleepy chirrup of a bird. At last she caught the sound of brisk footsteps.

Her heart was heavy while she waited, for she was pondering the tragic words, “Dismissed with ignominy.” Oh, that her son should return to her like this! A fine soldier, ruined through drink.

There was, however, no hint of reproach in her greeting to the wanderer. “Come in, my lad! Tea’s just ready,” and she turned to the hearth to take up a dish of ham and eggs.

“It smells good, mother!” Jim was gazing round the room. How natural it all was! The tall old woman, whose gray eyes, under their straight, dark brows, seemed to pierce into his very soul; the geraniums in the window; the grandfather clock; the blue and white plates he had used as a boy — nothing was changed. Nothing except the lad who had returned — a failure.

The meal passed almost in silence, and presently Jim, who had wandered round the garden, came in and leaned against the mantelpiece.

“Mother,” he began.

“Yes, my lad?” She clasped her knitting while she looked up at him.

“I want to say I’m sorry, mother. I tried — oh, many times — to give up drink, but always it would master me. So I had those months of detention in barracks — it’s only another name for prison.” The voice dropped.

The shadow of the roses made a flickering pattern on the sunny floor, and he watched it absently while he talked.

“There was a Bible there, and I used to read it. One day I was pretty low, thinking of the chances I’d lost, and I come on to words, ‘Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.’ Eh, mother, that went home, it did. I knew it were meant for me.” His voice broke, and he could go no further for a moment.

“I want to start again, mother. Not by myself this time. I’ve done that so many times, and failed. I found another text afterward: ‘My grace is sufficient for thee.’ Now I’d like to try and make up for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”

She stroked his hair, and kissed him again and again. “We’ll try to help each other, lad. Never mind the past. What does that matter, if thou’st found the Lord? Praise His name!”

So he set out on the new life. It was not easy to encounter the neighbors’ cold looks, yet, when he showed himself steady and reliable, people began to perceive that Jim Oldham had certainly changed for the better.

Then, suddenly, the land was overshadowed, and the nation was plunged into war. Jim went about his work with an absent air. Now and then he would relapse into long silence, and his mother would glance keenly at him.

“Mother,” he said at last, “I must go into River mouth and try my luck.”

“I’ll none hinder you, my lad,” she said quietly.

When Jim entered the recruiting office, the sergeant looked up. “You’re a fine, strapping fellow! Ever been in the Army?”

The lad’s face whitened. “Yes, sir.”

“Time up?” Jim shook his head.

“What, then?”

Jim looked into the other’s, eyes. “Discharged with ignominy, sir.”

“What a pity! Drink, lad?” Jim nodded. “Ah! such a likely fellow, too. But it’s no use coming to me. I can’t take you on with that record.”

Jim tried again here and there, but always with the same-result. One night he got out a pencil, and sat dower to write a letter. When completed, it ran thus: —

“DEAR KING, — I’ve been a bad lad through drink. But Christ has made me a good lad. Now I want to serve my country. I’ll do my best. May I enlist?”

Jim signed his name, and posted the letter; then waited impatiently for the reply.

On his return one evening his mother held up an imposing communication.

“Eh, lad, what’s to do now?” she queried.

He tore it open, and read eagerly. “Oh, mother! I wrote to t’ King and told him everything. It’s a letter from his Private Secretary. He says that if I’ll tak’ this to t’ recruiting officer it’ll be all right.”

“Well, well, for sure, I’d niver have thought of such a thing! Upon my word, lad, ye deserve to pass, ye do an’ all.”

Once more Jim presented himself at the office he had first tried. The sergeant’s face fell when he recognized the applicant. “Now, my boy, what’s the good of wasting my time? How do you think I can pass you with such a record? It can’t be done.”

Jim handed him the precious letter. He read it with amazement, Well! “he exclaimed. “There’s no gainsaying this. That settles it.”

So it was not long before Jim found himself a sharer in the grim scenes of war, and what he did there, as well as what went before, is a story told by the Rev. J. H. Bateson, Wesleyan Chaplain to H.M. Forces.

Jim’s mother, with Spartan composure, had bidden him goodbye, her head erect, her eyes glowing.

“God bless you, lad. Your old mother’s praying for you.” “I know mother. I’ll try to do you credit, and make good.”

Months passed by. Amid the tragedy around, Jim steadily went through long stretches of waiting, and he drew strength and courage from the little Book over which he had often pored.

Then suddenly there developed around him what is described as “great activity on the Western Front.” Attack and counter-attack succeeded each other with exhausting rapidity. The struggle swayed back and forth, giving little apparent advantage to either side.

One particularly “hot corner” accounted for many casualties.

“Something must be done to silence that machine-gun. I want volunteers. Who will go?”

Instantly a number of men responded. Major Champneys selected several, Jim among the number, and gave them full instructions. Dusk closed in. The bombardment had lessened for a time, and things seemed comparatively quiet.

In the dense blackness of a moonless night the little party crept over the parapet, and stealthily made its way across the grim No-Man’s-Land. Silently they crawled and wriggled, pausing when the too-inquisitive light of a star-shell threatened to reveal their movements, or when the enemy sentry faced them. Thus they wound their way towards the German trenches, and then lay still, listening to the talk of the occupants.

Suddenly, before the enemy was aware, a deadly hand-to-hand struggle was in progress. Muffled cries and groans were heard, and after a few tense and vivid moments the deadly gun was effectually put out of action.

Not without loss, however. Two of the invading band had fallen, and the rest were not unscathed. But their work was done, and all that remained was to get back to their own trench.

Creeping out, they started cautiously on their return, crawling and resting by turns. They had made good progress when a star-shell flared up, and their figures were clearly revealed against the background of gloom. The little party started forward at the double, but the enemy instantly opened a shattering rifle-fire, which found its mark.

Major Champneys fell heavily, and near him one or two men. Jim, glancing over his shoulder, saw them lying there, fully exposed. Regardless of the lead spattering about him, he darted towards the officer, got him on to his back, and made for home. Ready hands were stretched out to help him, and the prostrate officer was lifted over the parapet.

Jim turned, and sprinted back into the night to reach another comrade. His cap was shot off, and his cheek badly grazed, but he hoisted the wounded man on to his shoulder, and stumbled back to the trench under the ping-ping of bullets.

“Well done, old chap! Here, come on.”

Jim shook his head. “Johnson’s out there. I’m going to have a try for him,” he cried.

Once more he turned. Once more the vivid light revealed the prostrate form of his comrade. Once more Jim raised the sufferer and conveyed him — somehow — back. He had lifted Johnson to the parapet, when the scene was lit up by the unrelenting glare of a searchlight. The scream of a shell was heard. Jim laid hold of the trench, and then — quite suddenly — let go.

The men behind the sandbags lowered their burden, peered out, and caught sight of a maimed, pitiful object which had been Jim. They drew him over, and laid him tenderly down. Jim smiled faintly, and his lips moved. Leaning over him, they just caught the words, “Tell mother I made good.”

The hours drift on. The struggle continues, but Jim lies unheeding. His life ebbs away, and at dawn the blue eyes close. The old, old enemy, Death, is vanquished. Jim, the ne’er-do-well, is more than conqueror, “through Him that loved” him.

FLORENCE M. BURDITT.

Sin

“FOOLS make a mock of sin.” These words have arrested me, for who but a fool would doubt the fact of sin from what he knows of his own heart, and from what he sees in the world around him? The Cross of Christ is the most awful indictment of sin. All His life the Lord Jesus Christ condemned it. It was sin that broke the heart of the Son of God; that gave to Gethsemane and to Calvary their pathos and their tragedy.

“All have sinned,” and “the soul that sinneth it shall die.” These are facts that cannot be controverted. But never were the powers of darkness so busy as they are today, seeking to minimize sin, and do away with its consequences. The sovereignty and the justice of a holy God are brought down to the level of man’s ideas as to what they should be. The fall of man is absolutely denied by many, and so the need of the atoning work of Christ is set aside. Men are told that by stepping-stones of their own making they can rise to higher things. Evolution must take the place, of redemption, and self-sacrifice be put in the place of the Redeemer’s finished work. Darwin when he was dying, we are told, deplored to a friend, in an agony of soul, that his own unformed ideas people had made a religion of. We know that much of the dreadful theology of today is owing to that. Men would rather believe the crude and half-formed ideas of sinful men, than trust in the verities of God. “God spake and it was done.” This is a death blow to evolution.

But the light of truth is shining still upon the great deep of human sin. From my rooms where I am staying — and getting better, thank God — I watch every night the great light on Berry Head, sending its mighty beams over the deep. And I know that the Word of God which we are sending by thousands every week to soldiers and sailors will be a light to many a soul, and will shine upon the darkness of their lives and show them the golden pathway to Christ and God and heaven. “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” “He that believeth is freed from sin.”

A Full Confession of Faith in Christ

“Tell me,” I said, “what is it that makes you so happy now? You say you are quite happy, and have been so since last night.” “Yes,” was the reply, “I am quite happy” — said evidently with much feeling. “But do you think you could ‘tell me distinctly what it is that gives you such new joy?” After a moment’s pause, the following reply was given: “I see the love of Jesus to me, a sinner.” “Bless the Lord,” I said, “that is something to see; may you never lose sight of it! But in what way do you see His love to, yourself now?” “I now see that He died for me on the Cross, and put all my sins away there.” Amen, my heart replied, surely thou art taught of God! “And now, once more, tell me, how do you feel towards Jesus Himself, after seeing and believing all this?” The reply given was natural and beautiful. It was: “I feel it very easy now to give my heart to Him.” I had nothing more to ask of the young believer, and turned away quickly, but with, a praising heart, and with these three answers ‘so engraved on my memory, as never to be forgotten. “I see the love of Jesus to me, a sinner”; “I now see that He died for me on the cross, and put all my sins away there”; “I feel it easy now to give my heart to Him.”

I have heard many confessions from many lips, but I have never heard one more simple, more concise, more complete, or more satisfactory.

Thank God

We are getting now about one thousand applications from French soldiers for Testaments every week. They are eager for God’s word. The demand from English soldiers is still increasing. We send about ten thousand Testaments every month to our soldiers and sailors. Please pray that God will bless exceedingly this circulation of His Word. It is the greatest need of the world today. Our post-cards are found in all manner of places. A private writes me “After making a raid on, some German trenches, I picked up the enclosed post-card, and, having lost my Testament, I am wring to ask for another if you would kindly give it me. — Pte. I.’C―.”

A doctor writes to me: “One of my boys in my Bible Class before going into battle wrote me: ‘The dearest treasure have is your little New Testament, which I always carry with me and read whenever I have an opportunity.’ He was killed soon after.” Oh! the priceless value of the Word of God. We must send, and send, and send, until every soldier has had the offer of one for his pocket. Some, alas! refuse, but the majority eagerly accept. Read this letter sent to me lately:―

A Great Need of Testaments

“Dear Sir, — I wish to thank you for the New Testament I received quite safely today, and it would do your eyes good, sir, to see the rush the fellows made when I said, ‘Who would like one?’ And they asked me if I would be good enough to write you for a small parcel of books. There are an enormous lot of fellows here without Testaments, and I am sure they would all be grateful if you would send me a small parcel of them. Some of our sergeants use very bad language, and I said to one of them, ‘There is only one Person I am afraid of and that is God,’ and he stopped swearing at once, and you could see the change come over him. I showed him my Testament, and he said, ‘Will you get me one?’ We have formed a little party on our own for prayers at night, and there are a lot more fellows waiting to join, so if you will send me a small parcel I shall be very thankful. — I remain your friend, Pte. L. T —.

The Marks in the Margin

“CAN we have the chapter, mother?”

Old Grandfather Morris was getting weary, as he usually did about eight o’clock in the evening, and his voice was weak and quavering.

“Yes, dear,” his wife replied; “get the good Book, Mollie, and let us hear some of the dear Lord’s words!”

Little Mollie was their grandchild, and enjoyed very much a visit to the pretty country cottage so many miles from her London home amid the crowds and noise of-the busy city.

Very reverently the little girl handled the Book, the covers of which were almost black with age, and sat down at the fireside to read. “What shall it be, grandma?” she asked, “You shall, choose, Mollie, child.”

Mollie felt quite nervous with the responsibility; and lighting on the fifteenth chapter of St. Luke, saw on looking closer that there: was a mark and a date against the thirteenth Verse. So naturally she started reading just there.

Mollie fancied that as she read she heard a deep sigh from the old man, but paid no heed; only she thought when they knelt in prayer that grandfather was specially earnest in his petition that the heavenly Father would bring back the lost ones to His heavenly kingdom.

She felt sure that there were tears in grandma’s eyes when they arose from their knees; and being a loving little soul, she only waited until grandfather had slowly gone upstairs to bed, then putting her soft little arms round the ‘old lady’s shoulders, she whispered: —” Is anything the matter, grandma; has it anything to do with the marks in the Bible?”

“Yes, my dear, it has. Your Uncle Tom was a bad son; he nearly broke our hearts, and the night we heard’ that he had sailed away to. Australia, Dad wrote the date against the verse that says; ‘He took his journey into a far country.’ That’s ten years ago, Mollie, but every night we have prayed that he may be brought back; and one day, please God, we will put a date against the twenty-fourth verse that tells of the home-coming, and the joy, and the welcome!”

Grandma’s heart was too full to say more that night, but Mollie had enough to think about; and when she knelt at her little white bed that night she added to her evening prayer-this petition: “And please God bring Uncle Tom back soon, so that deaf grandpa can put the other mark in the Bible.” And God heard and answered the child’s request in His own good time.

It was some months later, and one wet and stormy night the door shook with the force of the gale, and Grandfather Morris seemed restless. Mollie thought that he must be tired, and suggested reading the Bible. But she had hardly taken it in her hands, when they were all startled by a knock at the door. It was such a faint knock, that at first they almost thought it must be the wind; but when it was repeated, Mollie jumped up, a great joy clutching at her heart. Could it be the answer to her prayer already?

The two old people turned round from the fireside to look out into the dark night where the wind and rain were driving in. Surely no lovelier picture of home ever greeted any returning wanderer.

Mollie peeped round the door. “Will you come in?” she said; “we cannot see who is there!”

Then into the light stepped a tall young colonial soldier.’

“Father! mother! can you forgive me?” And he knelt at the old man’s knee as he had done many a time as a little child. So Tom came home — and his mother’s tears were mingled with her blessings. Mollie could hardly get the supper ready, there was so much to hear; how a preacher out in the bush had met Tom, and had preached Christ to him; and how he had given himself entirely to God, trusting in the precious blood of Christ for the cleansing of his Sins! How he had joined the Colonial force, feeling it his duty, and how he had a whole fortnight to spend with the old people, which he meant to make the brightest in their lives!

But Mollie felt the great work of the evening was not yet accomplished; and as soon as supper was finished, she brought her grandfather pen and ink. For a moment the old man did not realize her meaning.

“What is this for, Mollie, love?” he questioned. “I’ve no writing to do to-night.” But with shining eyes the child replied: —

“Oh yes, grandpa, you have”; when she brought him the Bible, then he understood.

It was like a solemn rite. Grandma stood on one side of the table, holding Tom’s arm, and looking up into his strong, sunburnt face; Mollie holding her breath with eagerness while the old man put the date in weak, trembling figures.

Then he began to read: ―

For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.” And they all said “Amen.”

G. B. P.

A Refuge From the Storm

“For Thou hast been.... a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm.... when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall.” Isaiah 25:4.

A German shell has fallen almost on the eighteen-pounder gun, and the gunners are all taking cover in a dug-out under a hot bombardment. This is a place of shelter for them, and for the moment they are safe. The mighty thunders of terrible War pour over their heads, but they have found a refuge from the storm. What a blessing it is to be sheltered when the storms of death are raging! Would to God every soldier knew the refuge of the Rock of Ages cleft for sinners. Would, to God that on every battlefield soldiers could look up to-heaven and say, “Thou hast been a refuge from the storm... when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall.” Would to God they could sing amid the storm:

“Rock of ages cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee,”

The Lord Jesus is a hiding-place for those who trust in Him. He is a “refuge from the storm.” Oh to be able to sing: —

“Other refuge have I none,

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;

Leave, ah I leave me not alone,

Still support and comfort me.

All my trust on Thee is stayed,

All my help from Thee I bring,

Cover my defenseless head

With the shadow of Thy, wing.

Hide me, oh, my Saviour, hide,

Till the storm of life he past,

Safe into the haven guide,

Oh! receive my soul at last.”

"Make It so Plain That I Can Get Hold of It"

“On the sixteenth day after the battle of G―, I entered the room where a young wounded Colonel was apparently near death. As I entered he was roused from his stupor, beckoned me to his bedside and threw his arms round my neck.

“Oh my father, how glad I am to see you! I was afraid you would not come till it was too late. I am too weak to say much, so you must do the talking. Pray tell me about mother and sister.”

I soon perceived by appearances that there was no hope of his recovering. But as I could not endure the agony of suspense, I inquired of the doctor: “How long do you think he can live?”

“Not more than four days. He may drop away at any hour.”

“Has anyone told him this?”

“No. We left that for you, as we had been expecting you for several days.

As I re-entered the room with the message of death on my heart, the eyes of my son fastened upon me.

“Come sit by me, father. Have you been talking with the doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Does he think I will recover?”

After a painful silence he said, “Don’t be afraid to tell me what he said.”

“He told me you must die.”

“How long does he think I can live?”

“Not more than four days, and that you may die at any hour.”

“Then I must die. Oh I cannot, I must not die! I am not prepared. Do tell me how I can get ready. Tell me.

I know you can, father. I used to hear you explain it to others.”

It was no time for tears, but calmness and light, to bring a soul to Christ, and both were given.

“My son, I see you are afraid to die.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, I suppose you feel guilty?”

“Yes, that is it. I have been wicked. You know how it is in the Army.”

“You want to be forgiven, don’t you?”

“Oh yes. Can I be, father?” “Certainly.” “Can I know it before I die?” “Certainly.”

“Well now, father, make it so plain I can understand it.”

At once an incident in his school days came to my mind. I had not thought of it for years. It now came fresh to me, and just what was wanted to direct my son to Jesus.

“Do you remember while at school in ―, you came home one day, and having reason to rebuke you, you got angry and abused me with harsh wards?”

“Yes, father. I was thinking it all over as I thought of your coming and felt so bad about it, that I wanted to see you and once more ask you to forgive me.,”

“Do you remember, after your temper cooled down, you came in, threw your arms about me, and said: ‘My dear father, I am sorry I abused you so. I was very angry. Won’t you forgive me?’”

“Yes, I remember it.”

“Do you remember what I said as you wept on my neck?”

“You said, I forgive you with all my heart,’ and kissed me. I shall never forget it.”

“Did you believe me?”

“Certainly. I never doubted your word.”

“Did you feel happy again?”

“Yes. And since that time, loved you better than ever. How it relieved me when you looked on me and said I forgive you with all my heart.’”

“Well, this is the way to come to Jesus. Tell Him you are sorry, just as you told me; and quicker than a father’s love forgave, will He forgive you. He says He will. And you must take him at His word, as you did me.”

“Oh father, is this the way to become a Christian?” “I don’t know of any other.”

“Why, I can get hold of this. I’m glad you’ve come.”

He turned his head upon his pillow. I sank into a chair and wept; my heart could no longer suppress its emotions. I had done my part, and committed the case to Jesus. And He, too, had done His part. The broken heart had believed in Him, heard His voice, and been healed.

I soon felt the nervous hand on my head, and heard “Father,” in such a tone of joy, that I knew the change had come.

“I don’t want you to weep any more,” he said. “I am happy. Jesus has forgiven me. I know it. I take His word for it, as I did yours.”

The doctor came in, found him cheerful and happy, felt his pulse and said: “Why Colonel, you look better.”

“I am, doctor, going to get well. Father has told me how to be a Christian. God has heard me. Doctor, I want you to be a. Christian, too. My father can tell you how.”

The Colonel still lives, a member of the body of Christ.

I was made a better man, better evangelist, by that scene. And then and there resolved never to forget the charge my boy gave me in the day of his extremity: “Make it so plain that I can get hold of it.”

Extracts From Letters Sent Home by a Doctor at the Front

These extracts were sent by a doctor at the Front to his mother in England; and she has allowed me to print them. I have done so, for the one purpose of letting my readers see the actual condition of life that tens of thousands of officers and soldiers have to endure day by day. Men with immortal souls face to face with suffering and death. This graphic narrative will, I trust, make us pray more earnestly than ever before that these dear fellows, brave and uncomplaining as they are, may know Christ as their Saviour; make us pray that the Word of God may be sent to every one of them, and that men who believe in the atoning work, of Christ may move among them, pointing-them “to the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.”

And what we mean to do by prayer and practical help must be done quickly, for death is reaping a mighty harvest from every battlefield, and our responsibility will never end until our life is done. Then in the rest to come, ‘mid God’s eternal peace, may we meet many a one whom we have been permitted to help to a knowledge of His salvation through faith in His beloved Son.

July 14, 1917. — “I have had no sleep, and my clothes not off for four days and nights. I cannot tell how many amputations I have done. Two features stand out: I had just removed a leg when an 8-in howitzer shell hit us — the whole place was plunged in darkness, and filled with choking fumes. The poor boy whose leg was off lost his, eyes. All the doors and windows were torn out of the place. My bedroom, was wrecked, our entrance completely blown away, and huge masses of concrete still lie about it. There were about sixty stretcher cases in the room and passage. We all just picked ourselves up, and in half an hour all the debris and filth was removed, fresh dressings put out, and we just carried on as if nothing had transpired.”

Incident Two

“A bad gas attack two nights after. Two hundred piled along our passages, fifty lying outside in the covered passage. We saved a lot of cases. I bled as many as I could, and most of them survived; My eyes and nose streamed, and I have been very seedy since, sick, and heart funny. I thought dawn would never come. The men across the river are so splendid that any little difficulties we contend with are mere trivialities. I have never experienced such splendid Christianity. I wept over some of the boys, and nod knows we are as hardened as flints ... ..”

“The town I am in is quite leveled. It is difficult to find one’s way about, it is so altered. One hundred thousand shells at least must have fallen upon, it. May God get us safely back out of this. The bearers-are splendid, carrying the cases across the broken bridge in the dark — nothing but shells pouring into it. Splendid work.”

July, 1917. — “Out and back in the dunes, thank God The Colonel came up, and W. — relieved me. We are all gassed, some have died. I am a little sick, but otherwise fine. Shall sleep for days. You saw the fight in the paper — the division on our left stood and died. A few were captured, barely a battalion, and we have since escaped. I swam the river. Our division stood like heroes, their trenches simply disappeared.”

July, 1917. “At ten o’clock we had a sharp gas attack — tear shells. We sneezed on the patients as we dressed them, and they sneezed back at us. When D — and J — were dressing cases a 12-in, shell came into the porch. There was total darkness through the building. The staff-sergeant’s bedroom down the passage disappeared through the wall, passing en route an officer whose leg I had just set — then into my bedroom — every door and window out and broken — we were all as black as tinkers, and all our stuff ruined; the place half an inch thick in mud. Half an hour after the dressing-station was carrying on as usual — only casualty, one boy, whose leg I had just amputated―he lost his eyes, and was full of apologies for causing me further trouble. A dear boy.

“The camp next us was plastered by an airplane. I have been down to my old ambulance to see the stalwarts who were gassed with me that night. They are an awful sight—they have oxygen laid on in the wards, and pipes like ordinary gas, and each man has a rubber pipe put up his nose: Last night a 15-in. shell just missed the roof and, didn’t explode, but its landing nearly shook the place down, and its passage was like a cyclone.”

July 21, 1917. — “The army sent round a flattering message to all units—it ended, the medical arrangements were deserving of the highest praise.’”

Does it not shame us as we read of duty so bravely done for an earthly king, that we do so little for our Heavenly King? Read the last page of Message, and help us to do more for Christ among the soldiers. — HEYMAN WREFORD.

A Dying Girl's Kiss

A correspondent who vouches for the accuracy of the story informs The Times of a touching incident which occurred during a recent raid by enemy airplanes.

One of their bombs fell on the playing field of a girls’ school and mortally injured Doris Spencer Walton, aged fifteen, the daughter of a missionary. She was picked up with a terrible wound in her side and taken to hospital in a cab by a special constable and two Canadian soldiers. In spite of the intense pain which she must have suffered, the girl talked quietly with the soldiers on the way.

Noticing that each of them had on his sleeve the gold stripe which is worn by those who have been wounded, she said: “I must kiss you both because you have suffered.” The kisses were given. At midnight the girl died.

The two soldiers, adds The Times’ correspondent, will value that act of a brave, dying child as much as they would the Victoria Cross.

Over the Top

“We never think on these things until we get over the top,” said a poor dear soldier to a gentleman who was in the same carriage with him. “But,” replied he, “when over the top may be too late. Read the Testament that is given you by Dr. Wreford whilst you can, and come to the Lord Jesus to be saved before you go to the top.”

"Not Alone"

Yesterday, in a coffee shop, under Stephen’s Bow, I met with a country person, who gave me this most beautiful word. She was a stranger to me, and I had but one “Message” left in my bag, which I had intended to give to the manager, so I said to him, “I will bring you another tomorrow (D.V.), so I will give this to your friend.” She was very pleased, and told me that a young soldier she knew-in her parish said: “We are so happy in the trenches, and we do not fear when we expect to go out to fight, for we are

‘Not Alone.’

We read and believe, and love the Bible, so there is no fear.’ Said she again to me: “You know what he means by

‘Not Alone?’

It means he has Christ with him.”

Plenty of Swearing

Yet another instance of believing and loving God’s Word I heard this week. A very young soldier—only eighteen—has been holding little prayer-meetings and Bible-readings in the camp where lie is. He says: “We have plenty of swearing, so I try to give them plenty of good Words, that they may believe and live.” We have sent him a parcel of Testaments to distribute.

EMILY P. LEAKEY.

"The Music Inside Me"

“I shall fight,” writes a French soldier, “without fear, certainly without hate. I feel myself filled with an illimitable hope. You have no idea of the peace in which I live. On the march I sing inwardly, I listen to the music that is slumbering inside me. The Master’s call is always ringing loudly in my ears.” Such was the spirit of a young soldier of France, and such must be the spirit of the Church of Christ. “On the march I sing!” “The music inside me!” One has said: “So long as song rises above our sorrows Satan can never conquer!” And indeed, we have something and everything to make us sing. We have our risen and present Lord, and we have the boundless resources of redeeming grace. “He loved me and gave Himself for me.”

J.H.J.

After the Raid

LIGHTS out, traffic stopped, and one strange visitor; at least, hovering overhead—such was the situation on a cold night a few months ago. The special constables were on duty, and every other official that can be named was called out; and the one dread whisper passed from lip to lip— “Zeppelins!”.

One troop of firemen had been specially busy, and when the fourth fire was extinguished they were called to the fifth, This was in the slums of the city, and not a serious one, so it was quickly got under, and the firemen prepared to go home, As one of them changed his helmet for a more comfortable cap, a paper fluttered from the former and fell at the feet of the, crowd that had gathered. “Hi!” they called loudly, “you’ve dropped your love-letter.”

The fire-man stooped and took it up. “Yes, you’re, quite right. It is a love-letter,” he said.

“Read it to us!” shouted someone, and a peal of laughter followed.

The fireman stepped to a point of vantage and held the letter aloft. “Yes, I’ll read it to you,” he said, and in the astonished silence of the crowd he read the matchless words of John 3:16.

Then he spoke a few simple words—his first sermon—on the love of God, the sacrifice of His, Son; and immediately Zeppelins, fires, and night-alarms were forgotten: The crowd listened, spell-bound, and who shall say what will be the end of it?

“He wasn’t afraid!” they cried as the fireman finished.

“Ready for Zepps, or anything he was. His love letter helped him, he’s a good ‘un! Le’ts give him a cheer as he goes away.

And the fireman went away, praying that his love letter might be theirs too.

KAY

“Dear Sir—You will think it very strange of me to write to you like this, but I am enclosing a card with my address on it, and I want to ask you on behalf of other nine men besides myself if you would send ten books instead of one. We are all in the same tent, and every night we have a hymn and a prayer, and, if we had the Testaments we would have a Bible class and ask others to join us. 1 Think you will agree with me that it is a good idea to prepare us for what is to come. We have all agreed to put 3d. towards your expenses if you wish it so. Dear sir, kindly do your best. Before. I close I would like to tell you what happened on Sunday. We (the whole company numbered about 500 men were assembled in the open for morning service. We all sang three, hymns, ‘The Church’s one foundation, ‘Our-blessed Redeemer ere He breathed,’ and ‘Rock of ages,’ and when we sang the latter at least half of the men were in tears. It was a touching scene, but it made a lot realize that there is a God. This war has anyhow done one good turn, and that is it has taken a lot of conceit and pride out of us. Well, dear sir, this is all this time—Pte. C. C.”

The Diary of a Soul

I WRITE this diary with thankfulness to God; thankful for a measure of restoration to health through God’s mercy, and that the work is showing signs of increased interest and blessing. We have been cheered by hearing that our little booklet. “The Sin Against the Soldier and the Saviour,” is to be largely circulated among, the American soldiers. Let us pray that these soldiers may be kept from believing that awful “doctrine of devils,” that death in battle saves the soul. A Corporal, writing to me from the Front, says: “What more can a lad do than to lay down his life in the interests of what he considered a right and just cause “I wrote and told him that “if enlisting in the British Army gave a man a prescriptive right to heaven, salvation would be a farce indeed.” Every day I get letters from soldiers seeking Christ.

A Gunner writes: — “I am seeking Christ, and I want your advice.”

A Sergeant writes: — “Being convinced that I am, a sinner, and believing that Christ died for me, I have received Him as my personal Saviour, and I intend to confess Him before men...”

A Private writes: — “Please send me a Testament, as I should like to have one. I have been well brought up, but have not found the path of Jesus, having no faith. Please give me some hope.”

These men want Christ, and thank God, thousands of soldiers and sailors are finding Christ in the French Army, as well as the English.

A French Corporal's Letter

There are many Christians in the French Army, and I had a letter from one—an interpreter for the French Government. He says: — “This is to give you many, many thanks for your timely and helpful Testament. I thank you, for your great kindness to me, and believe me to be, yours most heartily in the blessed hope of the very soon coming of our dear Saviour, Calvary’s mighty victim. — A. B.”

I hope at some other time to be’ able to print for you to read letters from French soldiers, of ‘which a great many are coming to me now.

A Chaplain's Request

“Dear Sir, B.E.F.

May I trespass on your kindness, and ask you if you will kindly send me some of your postcards which I can give to men who want a New Testament?

“If I could have a few of your cards in my pocket I would be able to give one to men who ask me for a Testament, and they could write you. My fellow Chaplains would be delighted to have some. —

A.B.P., C.F.”

A Soldier's Praise Letter

“Oh! God has been good to me in preserving me from harm and danger, and I have had some narrow escapes just lately. Only a few days ago, before we moved, we were coming out and were shelled; we flung ourselves on the ground, having no cover, and by the mercy of God we were spared—eight of us. One of them said, when we got up and made a dash for it: Another chance given us George.’ ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘take it, and take it now.’

“That’s the time to find out whether your anchor holds or no. Thank God, mine holds— ‘within the veil’—saved by grace alone, satisfied by Christ alone. Praise Him, I feel full of joy. ‘I feel like singing all the time.’ The boys have christened me R. G., the singing Sapper.’ Oh, my cup runneth over, and my saucer is full. Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! I find, dear brother, the more I confess Him, the more I want to, and the happier I am. ‘He that winneth souls is wise.’—G. K.”

Soldiers, who read this letter! It is written by one of yourselves; by one who believes on the Saviour—one who knows he cannot save himself, and trusts in One who can save him.

Many of you dear fellows, misled by false friends; whom God will punish, have had to say: “They have taken away my Lord.” Yes, they seek to rob you of the Lord Jesus, but as you read this, go on your knees and say: “Lord, save me or I perish.” If He does not save you, you will perish—but, “whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

The Dawn Has Come!

You see the prisoner in his lonely cell. His days are spent in solitude. At a certain time each day, the light of the sun at dawn shines into his cell—he gets as near the window as he can to bask in the glorious rays. The shadows arc behind him as he gazes on the clear, shining of the morning. What a picture of the sinner “sitting in darkness and the shadow of death “in the cell of sin. We are told that those who “sat in darkness saw a great light.” Yes, many a sinner has seen the light of salvation dawning upon him. The light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. When we see the glory of that light, the prison doors are opened and we are free. To the dear man in the picture deliverance, came at last, and it will come to all of you—if you look to Jesus, who when on earth was the “light of the world,” and who in heaven to-day is the light of eternity. Read the following story of how a shepherd found the light and liberty: ―

The Shadow

“I was sitting in my study one Saturday evening when a message came to me that one of the godliest among the to shepherds who tended their flocks upon our Highland hills was dying and wanted to see his minister. Without loss of time, I crossed the wide heath to his comfortable little cottage. When I entered the low room, I found the old shepherd propped up with pillows and breathing with such difficulty that it was apparent he was near his end.

“ ‘Joan,’ he said to his wife, ‘gie the minister a stool and leave us for a bit, for I wad see the minister alone.’

“As soon as the door was closed, he turned the most pathetic pair of gray eyes upon me I ever looked into, and, said, in a voice shaken with emotion: Minister, I’m dying, and—and I’m afraid!’ “I began at once to repeat the strongest promises with which God’s Word furnishes us, but in the midst of them he stopped me.

“‘I ken them a’,’ he said mournfully; I ken a’, but, somehow, they dinna gie me comfort.’

“‘Do you believe?’

“‘Wi’ a’ ‘my heart,’ he replied, earnestly.

“‘Where, then, is there any room for fear with such a saving faith?’

“‘For a’ that, minister, I’m afraid, I’m afraid.’

“I took up the well-worn Bible which lay on his bed, and turned to the twenty-third Psalm. You remember the twenty-third Psalm?’ I began.

“‘Remember it!’ he said vehemently; I kenned it long afore ye were born; ye need’na read it; I’ve conned it a thousand times on the hillside.’

“But there is one verse which you have not taken in.’

“He turned upon me a half-reproachful and even stern look ‘Did I na tell ye I kenned it every word lang afore ye were born?’

“I slowly repeated the verse, Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me,’

“‘You have been a shepherd all your life, and you have watched the heavy shadows pass over the valleys and over the hills, hiding for a little while all the light of the sun. Did these shadows ever frighten you?’

“‘Frighten me?’ he said quickly. ‘Na, na! Davie Donaldson has Covenanters’ bluid in his veins; neither shadow nor substance could weel frighten him.’

“ ‘But did those shadows ever make you believe that you would not see the sun again, and that it was gone forever?’

“Na, na; I could not be sic a simpleton as that.’

“‘Nevertheless, that is just what you are doing now.’ He looked at me with incredulous eyes.

“ ‘Yes,’ I continued, the shadow of death, is over you; and it hides for a little the Sun of Righteousness, which shines all the same behind it; but it’s only a shadow. Remember, that is what the Psalmist calls it—a shadow that will pass; and, when it has passed, you will see the everlasting hills in their unclouded glory!’

“The old shepherd covered his face with his trembling hands, and for a few moments maintained an unbroken silence; then, letting them fall straight on the coverlet, he said, as if musing to himself: A’weel, a’ weel! I ha’ conned that verse a thousand times among the heather’, and I never understood it so afore; afraid of a shadow, afraid of a shadow?’ Then, turning upon me a face now bright with an almost supernatural radiance, he exclaimed, lifting his hands reverently to heaven: Ay, ay! I see it a’ now Death is only a shadow, with Christ’ behind—a shadow that will pass. Na, na! I’m afraid nae mair.’” — DR, BANKS.

And now, good-bye, dear friends, for another-month. Do read the last page of Message prayerfully, and may God lead you to help in His work if it be His will. We have only one desire in all our work, and that is the glory of the Son of God and the salvation of the lost. Help us by your prayers, we beseech you, for Christ’s sake. ―

HEYMAN WREFORD.

A Mother's Prayer

DURING the South African War, a battle had raged all day, and firing was still taking place. Far away in the distance “Long Tom” was booming at intervals. For some time it had gone on thus, and still there was no relaxation of its deadly purpose... Seven miles away, a group of men had stopped to bivouac, and amongst them was Scripture Reader A., who, midst shot and shell, had kept with the men, ready to help where he might be needed.

Not far off, one of the soldiers, Private B—, who had just taken his rations from the cart, was stooping down to tie them up in his handkerchief, and as he did so, a second shot from the ninety-six-pounder burst just over him; a shrapnel bullet struck him in the back, and, entering at the side of his spine, passed right through his body. The Reader and some of the men went to his assistance at once, but the poor fellow was terribly wounded. Having procured a stretcher, they placed him on it and carried him where he could receive medical aid. As Reader A. walked beside him, he put out his hand and placed it in that of the Reader, evidently feeling he had a friend, although he had not known him before.

... The doctor had finished doing what he could for the relief of the sufferer, but the case was far too serious for any remedy, and he only wondered-that the man-was alive.

He told the Reader he might go into the tent to see him if he liked, adding: “He ought to be dead, humanly speaking, and cannot possibly live more than two hours at the most.” Reader A. went in, and spoke kindly to the man, asking if he could do anything for him. “Yes,” he replied, “my feet are, very cold, can I have another blanket?”

Having procured one for him (though he already had seven), he felt he could not leave him thus, and an intense desire for the poor soldier’s salvation came over him.

“Are you ready to die?” he asked. “No,” was the reply, and then followed the story of a wasted life. Being weak, he became tired, and Reader A. left him awhile and went outside the tent, only to pray most earnestly for him.

On his return he asked him: “Do you know you’re dying?” “Yes,” was the answer. “Do you want to go to heaven?” “Indeed I do!” Then, seeing how earnest the-poor fellow was, Reader A. said: “Are you sorry for your sins?” “Yes,” he answered, “God knows I am;

Is It Not Too Late Now?”

The Reader gave the answer: “The blood of Jesus Christ can cleanse from all sin.” Then, kneeling down, he prayed for him, and repeated again the words of life-giving power, adding: “If you are really in earnest about your salvation, will you say these words after me as a prayer to God? —

“Just as I am, without one plea,

But that Thy blood was shed for me,

And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee,

O Lamb of God, I come’”

In a feeble voice he repeated the words of this grand old hymn, “O Lamb of God, I come!” and added, “Oh, I see now—He died for me.” And then a radiantly bright look overspread his countenance, such a look that the Reader said he never could forget. He asked Reader A. to come back again, but he had to visit other men that night; and when he returned early next morning he found that Private B. had passed away. The General, the doctor, and the Reader were present at his funeral, and the latter put a plain cut wooden cross over his grave, with his name written on it in blacking.

On coming away from the grave, the Reader asked the doctor if he could account for the man living as long as he did. “No,” was the reply, “it was nothing short of a miracle. Can you?” “No, I cannot,” replied the Reader, “unless he had a praying mother, or some praying friends at home, and God may have held back the hand of death to give him a chance of salvation in answer to prayer.”

Six years after, our Reader was holding some mission services at a training-camp on Salisbury Plain. One day he was standing amongst a group of men, when one of them (who was with him in South Africa) came up and asked if he remembered Private B., “because,” he added, pointing to a sergeant a little way off, “that’s his brother.” Following the direction in which he pointed, Reader A. went up to the sergeant, and putting him arm in his, said: “Just come with me a minute, will you? I want to ask you something. Did you have a brother in the War in South Africa?”

“Yes, I had,” he replied, “and we heard from the War Office that he was killed on a certain day, but we never knew any details whatever.” “Then,” said the Reader, “I want to ask you another question—you must not mind my doing so—have you a praying mother?” “Yes,” was the answer; “my old mother has been an invalid for eight years, and she used to spend days in prayer for my brother, when he was in South Africa, that he might be ready to die if he were called into eternity.”

Then the Reader told him the whole story, and asked for his mother’s address. He wrote to her, telling of the answer to her prayer. Thus she prevailed in heaven, and through heaven, on earth, and death’s dark angel was arrested until another soul had stepped out of Satan’s kingdom into the kingdom of Christ, and he was able, through that message of salvation which he accepted, to “read his title clear to mansions in the sky.”

Thus after many days—nay, years—of trusting her loved Saviour, the answer came; and she to whom faith had been the substance of things not seen, received here and now the reward of her faith, and rejoiced in the faithfulness of a loving God, who had heard and answered her prayer.

E. CHRISTIANA CLEEVE.

Three in My Locker

The Rev. F. A. S―. relates of a soldier in the Exeter Hospital who said, when offered a Testament: “Yes, sir, I will take one, but I have already three in my locker,” “Shame on you,” I say; “Why have you not given two of them to two others who do not possess one?” Soldier, believe me, God says: “Love your neighbor as yourself,” and if you love God with all your heart, you will be sure to think of others, and try to benefit them by every means in your power. Do not be ashamed of having a Testament, which is the precious Word of God; do not be ashamed of being seen to read your Testament; don’t hide. it in a locker, but boldly take it out and read it in your bed. God wants you to love Him. It, is almost too wonderful to think of, but it is true. He, the mighty God, wants you to love Him. Mr. Sewell, who used to live in Exeter, tells a true and lovely incident—about a little girl in Sunday school. The teacher asked: “Why did God make man?”— looking, round the class. A little girl replied: “I can tell you, sir. God made the-rocks and those sort of ‘things, but they could not love Him. Then God made the animals, but they could not love Him. Then God made, man, because man could love Him.” “We love Him because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19). And, loving God, we love our neighbor, and seek to save him, body and soul. And, dear soldier friend, ever remember that if you have sought and found the Lord, He promises that you shall want no good thing. God will pardon your sins, justify your person, strengthen your soul, supply all your need, comfort your heart, conquer your foes, sanctify your trials, and give you victory over death., Rest assured, God will withhold no good thing from them that love Him.

EMILY P. LEAKEY.

A Soldier's Testimony

A friend writes to me: — “I am so glad you are exposing the awful error of heroic death wiping out sin. I have often thought I should like to tell, you a testimony given at the Prayer Meeting held in my room every Friday at 3 p.m., which God is blessing more and more. A dear brother in the Salvation Army told us the following: —

“‘Yesterday, as I was going along the road, a soldier stopped and asked me if I could tell him of a coffee tavern. He was just home from the trenches in France, and he wanted a breakfast, but above all, a clean up, as he was going to see his girl, who lived here. I said: “Oh, come along to my place, my wife will give you a good breakfast, and you can have a good clean up.” During the breakfast, he pulled a Bible out of his pocket, and said: You know, my mother gave me this, and I often have a look at it. I’m not going to say I read it, because I don’t, but even a look at the cover seems to do me good. The parson chaps at the Front are telling its fellows if we dii for our country we shall go straight to heaven. I feel I should like to get up and tell them they are liars. I know very well I’m not fit for heaven, with all my sins on me!”’

The writer continues “We prayed for this man—he was in a few days married, and then had to return to France. Now we believe they are both converted, and our prayer is that he may be used to lead others to the Saviour in France.”

Praying in the Trenches

A Corporal in the Fifth Kings Liverpool Regiment tells us this incident: we had to advance and support or first line across a field that was covered with dead and dying. The enemy’s observers followed us, and directed all their shrapnel on that field. We gained the original German trenches, and we had to throw their dead bodies over the trench to make room to move. Souvenirs were to be had in hundreds, but the men did not think of them. Many of them dropped on their knees and thanked God that they got through that shrapnel uninjured.

Extracts About Christ and the Soldiers

“Thank God for the hundreds of thousands of copies of the Scriptures which have been distributed amongst our brave soldiers and sailors during this frightful War, and God’s Word for it, ‘They shall not return void,’ even the tract, or the letter setting forth the Glory of the Person, and the infinite value of the work of Christ, God can make to accomplish His gracious purposes.”

“Many of the Christians in the Army—not content with distributing the Scriptures amongst, their comrades, at times send part of their pay to provide copies of God’s Word for those in their midst. Ah! there are many of our brave soldiers who left this country indifferent, godless and skeptical, who, having been given a Testament, have been led by the Spirit of God to discover their sinnership, confess Christ on the battlefield, and have found Him to be precious to their souls.”

“I am a cripple for life,’ wrote, one, ‘but I thank God over and over again, that I ever went to France. It was there that I came into contact with dear W—, who showed me the way of salvation. How happy I am in the knowledge and keeping power of Christ’”!

“Another I know said: ‘Worse than a bad sinner, I have served twenty years in the Army without Christ, but the great War has brought sweetness to me, viz., “The love of God, and the joy of His salvation.’””

“A Seaforth Highlander wrote me some time ago: ‘Praise God, was in His goodness that I was hit at―, and now His blessed promise, “I will never leave thee nor forsake thee” (Heb. 13:5) makes me desire to know more of His love.’”

“A Corporal, before leaving this country for France, asked a friend of mine if he could tell him a verse in the Bible upon which he could put his finger if he were wounded. Some time ago he wrote me thus: I was wounded in the big battle of―. I have believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, and my confidence and trust is in Him. Please send me a Testament, as I want to read some of the glorious Words of Christ.’

“The only way to be blessed and saved is by repentance towards God, and faith in a once crucified, but now glory-crowned Christ. The loving Saviour can charm the hearts of sinners as fully now as at any time during the last nineteen centuries. No heart is too hard for His love to penetrate, for He willeth not the death of a sinner.’”

“The blessed truth that Christ is the only Saviour of Sinners, needs to be pressed upon the souls of men, as much now as ever, especially in view of the vile teaching and awful blasphemy of those who seek to open wide the gates of heaven to those who die in their sins, whilst fighting for their country, or the many who seek to get over the difficulty by holding on to the vain hope of another chance.”

“Let me pass on to you the last words of five Christian soldiers who were mortally wounded on the battlefield. The first four referred to, lived a few moments only after being hit. The last one suffered the most intense agony for eight hours before his happy spirit departed to be with Christ: ―

1. ‘Good-bye―, I am going to be with Jesus.’

2. ‘I rejoice in God’s salvation, and His blood cleanseth from all sin.’

3. ‘Dear―, (his Christian comrade), don’t be sorry for me, I am only going Home first.’

4. ‘Death to me means life.’

5. ‘Tell my unsaved comrades there is a Saviour waiting ready to pardon. Tell every Christian they should live each moment looking unto Jesus.’”

“Comrades in arms, and brothers in Christ on earth, they went straight to be with the Saviour in Heaven.”

“How blessed to be hiding in Christ— ‘The Rock of Ages’ —and to be able to sing

‘Oh! Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,

A Shelter in the time of storm.’”

J. J. P.

These extracts are taken from a booklet called “Rank and File Episodes,” by J. J. P., Worthing.

A Modern Miracle

In the month of May, 1917, a doctor in Hampshire lent a lady patient C. H. Macintosh’s Notes on Exodus. A friend of hers—a clergyman—home from the Front on leave, called and found her reading the book. They read it ‘together, and he became convinced that he did not really know God at all. Seeing his great interest in it, the lady let him take the book away with him, and he read it all the way in the train when he left her.

Later, he wrote to his friend from hospital, saying he had just been told that he had only a few days to live, and hoped that she would be able to read what he was writing at intervals, and with great difficulty. He thanked God for leading him to call on her that afternoon. He had, through the book, been brought to the true knowledge of God, and of the Gospel, and he had been able to tell many of his men of the Saviour he had found.

While acting as a stretcher-bearer, his fellow bearer was shot, and he succeeded in dragging his patient, a lad of nineteen, to a secluded spot, where he lay beside him, flat on his face on the ground.

Presently the boy, who was mortally wounded, said: “Oh sir, I am going. Give me a kiss.” Raising his head, the clergyman bent over him, and while the boy put his arms round his neck, he whispered words of comfort into his, ear. The boy said: “God bless you—tell mother I’m safe in the arms of Jesus.”

At that moment, owing to his slightly raised position, a sniper saw and shot the clergyman in the back. Many hours, afterward he was found with the dead lad’s arms locked so tightly round his neck that it took a long time to separate them. He asked that after his death the book might be sent to his mother.

The clergyman’s only brother—a Colonel, who had been dismissed from the Life Guards through drink—wished to see the book that had made his brother so happy. To, him also God used it for blessing, and he was definitely converted. His fiancée—a titled lady—says she could not have believed such a change in a person to be possible—it is “a modern miracle.”

She was with him when he was wounded in the train that was bombed in Liverpool Street Station some weeks ago. He has since died.

(CONTRIBUTED.)

Haste to the Rescue

A Day of Responsibility and Duty

MULTITUDES are perishing all around us. Those who are unsaved, unwashed in the Precious Blood—they are passing away from earth, without any hopes of heaven.

“Men die in darkness at your side,

Without a hope to cheer the tomb.”

This is a solemn reality. Have you thought about it? We must haste to the rescue of these immortal souls. A dear Christian thus exhorts us: “What we do we must do quickly. There may be today an opportunity for the fulfillment of a good purpose that may never come again. The man who is ready to perish today may have perished tomorrow.”

Some years ago a friend told me that he felt very much impressed to speak plainly and definitely to one of his workmen about giving himself to Christ. Throughout the day the thought haunted him. However, he banished it again and again from his mind. Towards evening, with a more tenacious grip than ever, the thought possessed him. At last he resolves that he would fulfill it. Alas his courage failed. As he went home he said to himself: “Cost me what it may, I will speak to William the first thing in the morning.” When he reached his office next morning at nine o’clock, the first word that he heard was that William, that morning, had been found dead in bed. As he told me the incident the tears streamed down his face, while his heart was wrung with anguish.

Golden moments come to us, and often unawares. Unimproved, they go by never to return. “A door that shuts never opens again; other doors may open, but not the same a second time.”

I am pleading for the soldiers and the sailors of Great Britain and France. A very remarkable demand has sprung up in the French Army for the Word of God. About one thousand French soldiers send to me every week for a. French Testament. They fill up a post-card provided by us with a request for a Testament upon it. This is posted to England, and the Testament is given and sent post free. This work can he extended very largely. To send one hundred Testaments to one ‘hundred soldiers—French or English—costs 30/-. To send one thousand to one thousand soldiers costs £15.

If we haste to the rescue we shall all help to evangelize trance through her soldiers. Now is the day of golden opportunity—never to come again, in our lifetime.

A dear friend wrote to me and told me that a brother and sister came to him and said they wished to give a birthday present in memory of their mother. They thought sending Testaments to the soldiers in France would be better than a wreath which fades. He told them it would be sowing seed to bring forth fruit unto Life Eternal, in some man’s heart. They wished the gift to reach France on August 21St if possible—” In memory of a sweet mother who fell, asleep July 15th 1917; her birthday was on August 21St.” This mother had often subscribed to our work when she was alive.

So this gift for one in heaven has gone to France, and may a mighty harvest result from such sweet sowing.

The English soldiers are still most eager for God’s Word. We send about ten thousand Testaments a month to them, and six thousand five hundred and thirty-seven parcels have gone at the time of writing.

Why do I tell you these things? Because I, want you to thank. God with me, and by your prayers and practical sympathy show that you are fully aware of the need of hastening to the rescue of these precious souls now.

If you wish to help us-send more and more Testaments and Tracts to the troops, please send to

DR. HEYMAN WREFORD,

The Firs,” Denmark Road,

Exeter.

“He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully. Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity; for God loveth a-cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound towards you” II. Corinthians, 6:7-8.

P.S.— Letter just come from Flanders.

“Dear Sir, ― have received the parcel of New Testaments, hooks, etc., for which I earnestly thank you. We had only just come out of an advance, after a very trying time, the fighting being very serious. I wish you could have seen the eagerness of tine chaps to get a Testament, and some of the good books and guides you sent me. You would be rewarded, I am sure, if you could have heard how the chaps prayed to God, offering their thanks to Him for the safe deliverance from the great danger they had been through. I assure you their prayers were straight from their hearts.— Pte. F. G.—”

Work Among the French

THOUSANDS of French soldiers have written to us for Testaments, and the many letters of thanks we receive testify to the gratitude they feel in obtaining them. A deliberate attempt is being made to prevent the French-soldiers front-having the Word of God. I ask your prayers that a wider door still may be opened for us to serve God in this way. We can never believe that God will allow His blessed word to be kept from men who are eager for it. Any Christian workers among our English soldiers who are in touch with their French comrades shall have parcels of Testaments and Tracts in French sent to them if they will send to the Editor of this Magazine for them. See last page.

The Italian soldiers are also asking for God’s Word. Unless earnest prayer is offered up now, and God comes in, as assuredly He will, a wonderful opportunity for service will be hindered. I hope to be able to tell you more about this next month.

A Letter From Ireland

We have been much cheered by reading the following letter, and we ask your prayer on behalf of the writer:

“Dear Mr. Wreford, ―A little printed address of yours came to me in a curious way; it is pasted into a little Testament, which was thrown into our front garden by an old Woman, and one of my little boys picked it up. I am vailing myself of your kind invitation to write to you. I have often heard and read of how to be saved, and go to heaven, but for the last few years have felt that I have not really that fellowship with Christ, and perfect peace which I know I would have if I could only trust Him.

I am so very anxious to lead my four little children to Christ and eternal life. It is really the thought of them which has made me long so to feel that perfect love of God which I know I must possess to lead them right. I do pray and teach them of God’s love, but I lack the reality which I see in those who I know love God before all.”

The Soldiers' Letters

I am getting more letters than ever from the soldiers, and as far as my strength will allow, I seek to answer them. They come to me from all parts of the world. The demand for Testaments is very large. We have sent more than six thousand six hundred parcels. I ask for your prayers for health and strength. Please pray for our devoted helpers also. We have a terrible responsibility laid upon us all in these awful days. If you wish to help us in our work—and we thank God for all who have helped, and are helping—please read the last page of “Message.”

What Are We Doing?

In a certain town, a wicked man was dying on one side of the street, while one who was esteemed a pious man, who lived nearly opposite to him, was also in the last stage of life. The wicked man said to a person who visited him, “I feel that I am dying. And there is Thomas over the way. I hear he is going too. They say he is going to heaven; it may be so. I know that I am going to hell. He must have known that I was perishing, but he never warned me of my danger, or told me of the way of escape. We were together almost every-day, and we talked of the weather, and the markets, and politics, and a thousand other things, but he never spoke to me about my soul. His silence I regarded as the sanction of my sins. I could account for it in no other way. He may be going to heaven, but he will be followed to heaven with the curses of my lost soul.”

Friends who read this, what are we doing in these solemn days to win souls to Christ? Like Thomas, we can talk of politics and the weather, and other things, but do we talk of Christ? do we live Christ; speak of Christ?

Spiritualism

Just a word about that awful delusion of the Devil that is so prevalent now. Those who have lost their loved ones on the battlefield are told that they can hold converse with them in the spirit world. Are such things possible? According to the Word of God—NO.

Read Rev. 1, last clause of eighteenth verse. The Lord Jesus says: “I have the keys of Hades (the place of departed spirits) and of death.” Therefore, the Lord Jesus Christ is the only one who has power to release these spirits. We know the spirits of departed saints, that is, believers on the Lord Jesus, are “with Christ,” and “present with the Lord” (Phil. 1:23.). Is it at all likely that the Lord Jesus would allow them to come back at the command of charlatans and table-turners?

The spirits of those who die rejecting Christ are “in prison,” the place of departed spirits, and can never be called out of prison at the desire of those on earth.

The keys in the possession of the Lord Jesus—the “Keys of Hades and of death”— will be used on two occasions:

1. At the first resurrection—the resurrection of the just (1 Thess. 4:13-18.).

2. At the judgment of the Great White Throne (Rev. 20:11-15.).

There is not in the whole of the New Testament a single verse to show that any intercourse is possible between the inhabitants of this world and those who have passed away.

Have the “Spiritists” communication with unseen spirits? Yes, doubtless. Who are they? They are evil spirits or demons who personate the dead. So when you attend these “seances,” you are in the presence of demons and holding converse with them.

Bringing in the Wounded Under Fire

Signor Matania, who painted the picture, thus describes the stirring incident it depicts. He witnessed it during his recent visit to the Western front: “The barrage fire was screaming in the air, smoke and flying earth were everywhere, and in the midst of it all I saw two figures.... the only two living souls to be seen on the vast expanse of the battlefield. A shell burst in front of them, and they disappeared. The smoke cleared away again, and I saw them crouching. Another rain of shells ... . Still they were alive. Then I saw them standing upright, and with a stretcher between them, on which was a wounded man. With their painful load. I watched them coming back over the uneven ground, vanishing and re-appearing as the shells burst round them.”

Beautiful and sublime deed of heroism! Out of the jaws of death, they rescue this dying man. Undismayed by the awful fury of the tempest of war raging around them, they do their duty. If ever he recovered, the man they saved would never forget the heroes who saved him. Would to God, we realized, all of us, what Jesus Christ did to save our souls from hell. He went through the awful battle against sin and Satan, and died on Calvary—the Just for the unjust—to bring us to God! He delivered us from the wrath to come. He saved us on the battlefield of sin; and bore us out to a place of safety. With thorn- scarred brow and bleeding hands and-feet, and pierced side, He sought us, and He found us, saying to us as we felt His saving presence near us: “Fear not, I have redeemed thee, thou art Mine.” I have a beautiful story to tell you now. It is called: —

He Did It!

By DANIEL A. POLING.

A great crowd filled the Canadian Pacific Railroad Station at Winnipeg, Manitoba, on a February morning in 1915, when the writer hurried into the waiting-room and made inquiries about his train. Wounded soldiers from “overseas” were expected, and their loved ones and friends were waiting tremulously to receive them.

We stood strangely thrilled to see the glad reunion. There were cheers and tears and there was laughter—these latter two are so close that in a supreme moment they always mingle —when the lads in khaki came through the gate. Ah, what a scene it was! Broken bodies gathered into the embrace of mothers who had waited so long; drawn faces covered with the kisses of sisters and sweethearts, wearied limbs borne away in the arms of fathers and brothers.

There were times when I could not see for my weeping—and no man was so weak as to wipe his tears away. The pegging of the crutches, the crying, and the shouting, flowed together in a great “Amen.”

A little group close by me especially attracted my attention. A. mother and father and three sisters—or perhaps one was more than a sister—welcomed a languid fellow who, while his body bore no visible hurt, told of the awful gases with twitching muscles and sunken chest. How the boy—he was hardly twenty—drank them in, and how their eyes, after the riot of the first greeting, devoured him! For a long moment they stood in a silence that was in effect the mightiest shout.

And then the soldier turned, and cried eagerly: “Jim—where is Jim? Jim, old chap!” And Jim was hard by. I had noticed him before as he came hobbling through the gate with our friend whose loved ones had so quickly seized him. A leg gone, close against his body, he had been leaning heavily upon his crutch, looking—wistfully, I thought—at the little group that swallowed up his companion. No one had come to meet him.

At the calling of his name he smiled and took a step forward, and then happened one of the most dramatic incidents that I have ever seen. The boy with hollow cheeks reached his hands toward the crippled soldier; his face flushed until it was afire, and he said: He did it, mother; he did it.” With a cry that no, words have yet been found to express, that mother swept across the space between her and the friend of her, boy, put her arms about him, crutch and all, and kissed him as she had kissed her own son. Nor were the father and the sisters far behind. It was as though the first scene of a great human tragedy had been acted again. Over and over that great-bodied father exclaimed: “God bless you, sir! God bless you, sir! God bless you!”

Here is the story:

It was the first days of the gassing on the Somme. One morning, after several hours of preparatory shelling, the battalion of which these two young men were members was ordered out of the trenches and across “No Man’s Land,” to take the German position directly in front.

But there was no chance. The artillery had not completed its work. The wire entanglements still barred the way. The young Canadians with their cutters and with their bare hands vainly tore at them, hurling their poor bodies hopelessly into their barbed mazes. The machine-guns poured in a very vomit of steel, and—then came the gas!

Close along the ground rolled that merciless cloud; with fiendish cunning it filled every depression, seeking out the wounded that had fallen, and giving them a grave shroud from the very torture-room of hell.

The broken remnant of the battalion was called back to its trench. It was then that Jim, turning as he rolled to safety, heard his friend scream, and saw him plunge-headlong into the awful fumes. With a mad fury he tore off his shirt—it was before the masks came—ripped it through, bound it about his face; and before the hands of his comrades could restrain him, he sprang again into the open, straight into the gas and shell.

It was all over in a moment. Like a wild animal Jim came crawling back, dragging his comrade. He could not walk, for his right leg had been mangled horribly in that first mad leap; but back he came! “He did it! He did it!”

Ah, sir, I shall never forget that morning in Winnipeg!

Today I am thinking of the glad reunion when the mother took again her son and poured out the gratitude of her heart upon his saviour. And in thinking of them, I have come to think of that other One, that other saviour, the Saviour of the world, who gave not a limb but His life, to bear me, to bear us all, back to the trench of safety. Ah, “He did it! tie did it! He did it!”

"Keep on Praying"

“Keep on praying, mother, and I am sure in God’s own time, I shall be with you all again.” This was written by a young soldier who at Glasgow had received one of Dr. Wreford’s Testaments. He had left his Bible at home, and so gladly welcomed the Testament to fit his pocket. He wrote further: “As I opened the. Testament last night, the first words I saw were: ‘Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, it shall be given you, and that encourages one, doesn’t it? Keep on praying, dear mother.”

Oh! dear readers, there is nothing so valuable as prayer, because real prayer is the Holy Spirit praying in us and through us. “What a blessed thing it is for people to pray for one another,” wrote a friend to me. “Mrs. S. does not write to me very often, but for years she has prayed every day for me. Isn’t that delightful? No one knows what I have gained by those earnest prayers; and now she is asking direction for my winter’s work.” Ah! my dear soldier friends, “Keep on praying” about, everything.

EMILY P. LEAKEY.

Bad News from the Front

The message has come! “Death on the field of battle.” The gray-haired father and mother are together. The father sits with despair, upon his face, stunned and helpless; the wife, true to the instincts of her woman’s heart, tries to forget her grief and comfort her stricken husband. Their boy is dead—loved and gone. Never again will he light the home with the glory of his presence; never again will the music of his voice, and the sunshine of his smile, gladden the dear ones he has left forever. Oh! the desolating horrors of these awful days! The lamentation of breaking hearts goes up to God unceasingly. The manhood of the world is lying upon these blood-stained battlefields. They leave us in the strength of their young manhood; they go and the angel of death goes with them. His shadow falls upon their pathway—they see it not in the exulting radiance of their young ambitions. They go—and they never return. Oh God, many a heart cries, “Why should my boy be killed? What has he ever done—so good a Son, so dearly loved—that he should lie dead upon a field of death?”

God help us in these extremities of pain and sorrow. Amid the wreck and ruin of thousands of homes made desolate, we can only look to God. “The Man of Sorrows” lives. The pity of the heart of God remains. The Comforter is in the world today. The solace of a thousand promises still ring true, and the power of prayer still brings our broken hearts into submission to His will, and teaches us to say; “It is the Lord, let Him do what seemeth Him right.”

God never makes mistakes, and the mystery of eternal purpose will be manifest in a day to come, for what we know not now, we shall know hereafter. As parents, did we teach our boys how to live and how to die? Did they when lying wounded and face to face with death, hear the mother’s prayers and the father’s exhortations? Did the dying lips frame the sinner’s prayer, and did the last breath thank God for the Saviour whose love Was told them at their mother’s knee? God help those parents who have left Christ out of their children’s lives—and what shall be the judgment of those who with Christian credentials, told these dying boys that the manner of their death would win them heaven “without the Saviour “? Oh! Christ crucified for sin and sinners. Thy blessed footsteps are on the battlefield today, and tens of thousands of dying men have heard Thee say: “Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.” And they have come to Thee, and Thou hast taken them from amid the storm and fury of unceasing war, to Thy home of peace and rest in heaven. And we can, and do say: —

“Dear, dying Lamb, Thy precious blood,

Will never lose its power,

Till all the ransomed Church of God

Be saved to sin no more.”

And the Word of God says: — “Neither is there salvation in any Other; for there is none other Name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved” (Acts 4:12.).

A Blind Soldier's Light

A saintly lady was visiting the wounded in a hospital the other day. Lying there was a brave soldier who was totally blind. Pressing his hand, the visitor said, softly, “You cannot see me; I am an old woman; but I love you, and I am sorry you have lost your sight.” The answer came with quiet and radiant confidence, “The Lord is my Light.”

Christian Officer's Last Letter

The following letter was left with the Colonel to be sent to the writer’s wife, if he was killed in action. The writer was an earnest Christian officer, who was killed in action on November 11TH 1916:

“My Darling— I hope you will never see this letter, my own darling, for it will not be posted unless God sees fit to call me home. If, in His providence, He sees fit to allow this to happen, I want you not to grieve as one without hope, for we have a great hope, a hope that can carry us through all things to its fulfillment, which will exceed all our hopes, and fill us both with joy everlasting. In this life parting must come some day for the one who goes first; a time of blessing, and waiting to welcome that other one, so dearly loved. Let this dear hope of reunion nerve us both, mv darling, to ‘carry on’ in humble trust and faith to the end. Here it is only ‘a little while’ that we can be separated, and the everlasting reunion will compensate more fully than we can now conceive. Sorrow cometh with the night, and fleeth away with the morning.

To that Morning Let us Look,

certain of its dawning, and though we are not worthy (none are), sure of God’s love, and pardon for all offenses, if we have truly repented of them and sought forgiveness through His most blessed Son, who died for our sins, and will yet come to earth to judge the quick and the dead. From wherever I am my love swill reach out to you, my darling, to our dear boys and girls, who will, I hope, grow up noble men and women, keeping fast ever the faith we have endeavored to instill into them. I am conscious of many imperfections in my conduct towards you and our children, but you who love me have pardoned them, I know, and in that I rest my hope of God’s pardon too. Let us all, then, trust Him Who is Love, sure that whatever He brings to pass is for the best, and that joys are to be ours which will make our sorrows seem like a passing cloud, a misty morning, or dark night, so soon will they pass away and be gone. To my dear girl, whose love has lightened every day since I ‘net her, to the dear children, who have blessed our married life, I send my love, deep and true, now and forever, and will, God willing, be awaiting each and all ‘on the other side.’—Your long husband, H.”

For King and Country.

A True Story.

IT was a cold winter’s morning, with a biting east wind, which made one feel for the soldiers in the trenches, when a soldier’s wife, a widow (alas! there are many such) came into the writer’s house to assist in the housework.

Her husband had recently been wounded in France and died there in Hospital. Poor woman, how she missed him; and the dear children also—crying for a father who would never return. She loved to carry about with her a photo of his grave with the little wooden cross upon it.

On the morning referred to, she came in very much upset, and this was her story:

“One afternoon last week, I went to a Memorial Service, which seemed to give me comfort, for I gathered from what the preacher said, that the soldiers who gave their lives for king and country, by so doing stood a very good chance of gaining heaven. I therefore felt that my husband, whom I knew was unconverted when he went out to France, had perhaps gained heaven by dying for his country. On the same evening I went to a meeting-room where Captain S― (a retired Captain of H.M. Navy) was preaching the Gospel. During his preaching he related how a soldier came to him the other day, and said, ‘Captain; may I ask you a question?’ ‘Yes, certainly,’ was the reply and I will answer’ your question if I can.’ ‘Well, then,’ said the soldier, ‘this is it: If a soldier or sailor gives his Life for king and country whilst fighting the enemy, does he through this go to heaven? ‘Certainly not,’ replied the gallant Captain, ‘if he never as a lost and guilty sinner accepted the lost sinner’s Saviour (who gave His life upon the Cross as the Sin-bearer) if he never received the forgiveness and cleansing freely offered to him through Christ’s precious blood, that man being a rejecter or neglecter of Christ, must bear the consequence; the wrath of God abideth on him (John 3:36.).’

“When I heard this,” said the poor woman, “all my comfort left me, and being much perplexed I said, I’ll go and make inquiry about this question from ―, I know they will tell me what is true and right.”

Thus it was that she came to us as stated at the beginning, and having unburdened her heart she waited anxiously to hear what we had to say. In kindly tones we pointed out that what the Captain had stated was right, for he had spoken according to the Word of God. But what the other preacher had stated was wrong, being destitute of scriptural authority; and having said this, we went on to point out an important consideration which she apparently had not taken into account, namely, that when her husband was in France—perhaps even when in hospital, some message from the Word of God might have reached his heart and led him to trust in the Saviour before he died, in which case life eternal would be his through the merit of Christ’s sin-atoning sacrifice.

It is perfectly evident that no man can gain heaven by means of anything he can do, for it is written, “By grace are ye saved through faith.... Not of works, lest any man should boast” (Eph. 2:8, 9.). “Not by works of righteousness, which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us” (Titus 3:5.). For “We are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags” (Isa. 64:6.). “Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in His sight” (Romans 3:20.). “But to him that worketh not, but believeth on Him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness” (Rom. 4:5.).

It is certain that through the atoning death of the Lord Jesus (and on this ground only) God can righteously pardon any sinner that believeth on Him, whether he be soldier, sailor, or civilian. The glorious Gospel message is, “God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16.).

J. D.

A Mother's Farewell

To Her Boy as He was Leaving to Go to War.

HENRY E. WING, in giving some reminiscences of his life as a soldier in the Civil War, gives a vivid picture of the parting with his mother, who was a godly woman and a praying mother, when he was leaving to go into camp and to the battlefield.

Hear the story of that parting in his own words, as follows: —

“A single experience connected with my home-leaving made an indelible impression on my mind. My mother, who had not seen me for several months, came dawn from Litchfield County, while I was in camp at New Haven, and I met her at our cousin’s in the north part of the city. When I started to leave, she asked me to read the ninety-first Psalm, beginning, ‘He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty,’ and containing these wonderful promises: ‘He shall cover thee with His feathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust’; ‘A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee’; ‘For He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.’ When I had finished reading, she asked me to kneel at her side, as I used to do when a child, and, bending over me, with her face in her hands, she prayed for her boy’s life. At that time my spiritual apprehension was not very acute; but there came to me a surprising sense of comfort and assurance of Divine protection; indeed, before that prayer was finished, I, knew that I was to come back alive from the war.”

Ah, what a privilege to be the son of such a mother! What blessing came to him through her godly instruction and her prayers! The first misfortune to befall a boy in this life is to be born of ungodly parents. It is just as true that the first life-blessing to come to any child is to be born of godly, praying parents.

Mother, if your son were going to the battle-field, could you from the heart act the part Henry E. Wing’s mother acted for him? Could you give him such instruction? Could you pray as she prayed, with such faith as to get for him assurance of safety, even safety on the battle-field? It takes a believing heart to fill the place of such a mother. Get your Bible and read and study the ninety-first Psalm, and see it from her standpoint, if possible. How blessed to lean thus upon the Arm of the Lord!

A Letter From the Sea

A letter from a Rifleman in the Egyptian Expeditionary Force has reached me. It has been in the sea—the ship carrying it to England torpedoed most probably—but the mail bag containing it was brought out of the sea, and so the letter was delivered. He says: —

“Dear Sir, — Just a few lines to thank you very much for the New Testament you so kindly sent me. I have given one of your post-cards to one of our boys, who is going to send it to you. I received the Testament soon after I came out of Hospital, as I have been wounded, but thank God, He brought me out with only a slight one. If You care to send some post-cards, I will give them to some of our boys who haven’t a New Testament. I must now close, thanking you again for your kindness. — H. G.”

I take this opportunity of saying how glad I am to send post-cards or New Testaments to any soldier or sailor entirely free of charge to them. All they have to do is to fill in the post-card with name and correct address—written legibly—and send to

Dr. Heyman Wreford,

The Firs, Denmark Road,

Exeter.

A French Worker's Letter

Forges-les-Eaux, August 21St 1917.

“Dear Sir and Friend, — I wrote to you three months ago from Bourges to thank you for sending me and my friend a little pocket Testament, and now your big and lovely parcel has come to me at the Hospital, where I have been for two months.

“I must thank you very, wary much for it, you are too good to send so much to me. I have given all away to the wounded soldiers who are in the Hospital with me. I am enjoying myself very much, because there are two British A vs., and I may go every Sunday to the service. Here there is also a very nice Soldiers’ Home, and I go to it with friends every evening.

It is a rest for my soul, because in the French Army, God is very often put on one side, and when we are speaking for the Lord, we are very much out of favor with the officers. — Your brother in God, R. G.”

“Brigadier, Hospital Temporaire.”

An English Worker's Letter

“Dear Dr. Heyman Wreford, — Many thanks for your parcel of Tracts and Testaments. You will be pleased to know that the great majority of it was distributed to the boys up the line while I was stretcher- bearer among them. They were very well received, and in no case did I meet with a refusal. And, brother, I had the pleasure of reading two of them as a little sermon to the boys who were in my “dug-out” at a little service we held together. So after that my “dug-out” was known as a depot for the tract distribution. They were very suitable., and it gave me much joy to be able to give them out and to speak a word in season as the Master led me. I was sorry to hear of your illness, and trust and pray that it is only temporary, and that the good work you are doing may prosper. The truth is not, preached to-day, not even here in France, and I know nothing better to defeat the awful errors and trash that one hears than the distribution of these. Gospel tracts. My earnest prayer is that many may be led to know the Lord Jesus as their Saviour, and the only Hope of sinners.

“May God abundantly bless you in this great work to spread the truth among our brave fellows is the prayer of—Yours in Christ, Pte. I H. O.”

A Blessing

When I was a young lad I went to a seaside town, about twelve miles from my home, to see a dying Christian. He had been very good to me, and when I heard he was near his end I wished to bid him good-bye.

When I came into his room, I was awed at his appearance. He lay upon his bed, with his hair as white as snow and his face blanched by disease. I took his hand and told him why 1 had come. He looked at me with eyes full of the-love of Christ and shining with the light of heaven, and thee he said quietly, “Kneel down, my boy.” I knelt by his bed side, he put his dying hand on my head, and said slowly and solemnly:—

“I the Lord bless thee, and keep thee; the Lord make His face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lilt up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace.”

I rose from my knees—then after a few more parting words, I said “good-bye,” and went out from his presence to walk the seashore, with the, tears flowing down my cheeks. I have never forgotten that hallowed scene.

And I should like to be able to say to all who have helped us throughout the year that is passing from us—who have prayed with us for precious souls, and who have enabled us by their generosity to send so many thousand Testaments to the dear soldiers and sailors; I should like to say to them with all my heart, “The Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make His face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.

December 1917, As I watch the setting sun from my window disappearing behind the distant hills, I think of the words of a poet who wished to follow the sun on his glorious journey;

“To drink it’s everlasting light—

The day before him, and behind the night”

The Day is before us, as we watch the sunset of 1917. The light of other worlds awaits us if we are “Children of the day.” We journey on, “To where beyond these voices, there is peace.” Behind us, the memories of ten thousand sorrows, the sighs of breaking hearts, the groans of human agony almost too terrible to be borne. Behind us, the graves of buried hopes, empty rooms, closed rooms, sacred memories! Behind us, Rachel weeping for her children, and will not be comforted, because they are not.

Behind us also the eternal goodness of a faithful God. His blessing has been the silver lining of many a dark cloud. The night will soon be over. We follow the Sun—We shall not walk in darkness. As we go on “The Day is before us, and behind the night.” There is light on-the hills of faith, “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”

A sailor lay dying, and a math asked hire one day “What cheer?” The answer was: “Heaven heaves in sight; I see the headland.” He saw the harbor lights, the Day was before him: Next day the question Was asked again, “What cheer?” “Rounding the, cape, almost in!” was the blissful answer the third day the question was repeated— “What cheer? “With soft voice he breathed, as he “drank in the everlasting light”— “In Port,” and then his quivering lips said, “Let go the anchor,” and so he passed away.

Two men were walking in a field, speaking together of the Lord Jesus, lamenting over the dishonor done to His Name on earth—when suddenly one looked up and said― with rapt gaze on the sky— “There Christ is all in all,” and then he lay back and passed away. The Day shone for him, and he went into the everlasting light.

And those of us who love the Lord Jesus, and I trust that many of my readers do, will soon see the city of God—and above the pearly gates that lead into the city—the banner waving, and upon its glorious folds’ the words, “Welcome Home.” The Crusaders wept when first they caught sight of Jerusalem; and, when we—the soldiers of Christ—see the gates of the New Jerusalem before us, and the lights shining-from afar, if we weep for joy and gladness, they will be the last tears we shall ever shed. We shall pass in to “the everlasting light,” with uplifted foreheads, to wear the crown; with eager feet to tread those golden streets; with longing eyes to gaze upon the face of Christ; with overflowing hearts to worship God and the Lamb.

We watch the sunset of 1917 going down in darkness and in storm; going down amid the wailing of a nation’s sorrow, and the rain of a nation’s tears; ‘mid the thunder of unceasing war and the lightings of the fury of the hate of man. We know the year has whitened our hair, and furrowed our cheek and brow, and has taken our dearly loved ones from u; but it has given us, I trust, a firmer faith in God, and a deeper desire in our hearts to do all we can to bring others to Him. And to say farewell to 1917, facing it’s fading light and knowing as its sun goes down behind the hills of time that the light of God’s own home is awaiting us, where “they need no candle, nor light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light; and they shall reign for ever and ever” and “where God shall wipe all tears from their eyes.”

"Lifted"

DENIS WOODWARD was born at West Bromwich in 1884. He was a, bright lad and easily led. “I often thought about my soul,” he said, “but no one ever spoke to me about eternal things.” For several year he was employed as a barman at an hotel in Birmingham, and during this time gave way to drinking, gambling, and card playing. At the age of twenty-five he left his situation and, with a comrade, went off, bent on pleasure, to a seaside resort in Cheshire. Here they spent what money they were possessed of, and soon, like the prodigal of Luke 15, “began to be in want.” In this condition Woodward and his comrade turned into a hall where Gospel preaching was going on, and God, in His grace, saved both that night.

The date was 22nd August, 1909.

The text― “Behold I stand at the door and knock” (Rev. 3:20).

From that time onward Woodward’s whole life became different—all desire for drink, billiards, betting and gaming went, and in their place a burning desire to live and witness for Christ.

After some eighteen months of bright testimony for the Lord, Woodward joined the Christian Colportage Association as a colporteur, being stationed at Southport. For some three and a half years he was much used of God in this neighborhood, ever delighting in telling those around him of the love of God in giving His beloved Son to die for guilty man. At the outbreak of the War he, in company with five other Christians, enlisted in the 7th King’s Liverpool Regiment.

These six kept together, testifying for the Lord, giving away the Word of God, tracts, etc., amongst their comrades at Ramsey and Canterbury and afterward in France.

On 20th June, 1915 (Lord’s Day morning), Lance-Corporal Woodward was hit in the head by a hand grenade..., and in two minutes his happy spirit had departed to be with Christ.

His Sergeant-Major, referring to his death, wrote thus: “We have lost in Lance-Corporal Woodward a good cheerful comrade and a true Christian soldier, and I have lost one of my most promising non-commissioned officers!”

His favorite hymn which he delighted to sing was: —

“In loving kindness Jesus came,

My soul in mercy to reclaim;

And’ from the depths of sin and shame,

Through grace He lifted me.

CHORUS

From Sinking sand He lifted me,

With tender hand He lifted me,

From shades of night, to plains of light,

Oh! praise His name He lifted me.

He called me long before I heard,

Before my sinful heart was stirred,

But when I took Him at His word,

Forgiven, lie lifted me.”

To his beloved wife he would often say, “I shall be satisfied when I awake with His likeness.”

The following is an extract from a letter written by him a few days before his death:—

“I am full of gratitude to God for His faithfulness. I am keeping well, and praising God for the wonderful way He has preserved me through many dangers. I am proving Him to be the faithful God, the God of all comfort and grace; even when we are expecting any moment to be blown up by the enemy’s artillery, the Lord draws near with words of peace and comfort.”

In another letter he wrote: —

“Waiting upon God in prayer is what we should all be doing more and more, that we might be strengthened. We need His strength. In Him is plenty, and all grace He gives. In Him is fullness. He is sufficient for all. I was speaking today with a man who desired to talk with me on spiritual things. I spoke to him about the way of salvation. Please pray that God will bless him.”

In the next letter he says: ―

“There has been a terrific bombardment going on for hours. I never heard anything like it. We are expecting to make a big attack, and many are thinking seriously at the thought of being in a charge. I have had a talk with some of the men, and they were interested. I also gave them a Gospel of John each.”

His confidence in God is shown in the next extracts: ―

“The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him. His love is upon all His children for their good. He neither slumbers nor sleeps. This encourages us to put our whole trust in Him. He is able to keep us.”

Extract from his last letter to his wife, written three days before his death: ―

“I pray God that you may be strengthened each moment of the day.

I can say: —

“‘Moment by moment

I’m kept in His love,

Moment by moment

I’ve life from above.’

“How precious the thought that the Saviour loves us every moment, and cares for us every moment, keeps us, protects us, strengthens us, gives us grace, for every moment! How precious also are Thy thoughts unto me, O God, how great is, the sum of them! I am poor and needy, yet the Lord thinketh on me.

“Unsaved comrade, meet God you must, be the time distant or near. Be warned therefore,

“‘For God speaketh once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth it not’ (Job 33:14). Perhaps this may be the last time He will speak to you before your body is laid in the grave. The fool may say ‘NO God,’ but the ‘time is coming when every shred of his infidelity will be torn into fragments. Thank God the hand of Him Who is ‘Mighty to Save’ is now outstretched to pluck your soul from eternal doom. Rest the weight of your iniquities on His gloriously finished work at Calvary, by faith claim the value of that work for yourself, and say: —

“‘He suffered in my stead

He died to set me free.’

“‘For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God’

(1 Peter 3:18).”

“PROMOTED”

Born at Southport in 1889, Will Heyes from earliest boyhood became a regular attendant at the Sunday school. When quite a youth he began to take an active part in the various forms of ritual practiced in a church near his home, this being interspersed with pleasure-seeking,’ and the usual forms of worldly amusement. At an early age young Heyes, was induced to attend a service for young people, at that time being held in the town. Then he heard the glorious Gospel, that “By grace are ye saved through faith, and, that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God. Not of works, lest any man should boast” (Eph. 2:8, 9).

Here then it was that the subject of this memoir received the gift of God, even Eternal Life, through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Throwing himself heartily into all kinds of Christian work, he soon became the instrument in God’s hands of much blessing.

At the outbreak of the present War, Will Heyes, in response to his country’s call for soldiers, resigned his position in connection with the Corporation, and enlisted at the same time, and in the same regiment (King’s Liverpool Regent), as Dennis Woodward.

His army life, whether in the camp, barracks, or on the field of battle, was marked by his exemplary conduct and Christian testimony, and as one who knew him well remarked, his very countenance gave evidence of

“Whose he was, and Whom he served”

Soon after his arrival in France, Lance-Corporal Heyes received a letter from the Lord Bishop of Liverpool, a copy of which is here given: —

The Palace,

Liverpool, 9th July, 1915.

My Dear Mr. Heyes, ―I have been told of the good work you are doing amongst your comrades, and have been asked to write to you. With all my heart I bid you God-speed. May the Lord Himself strengthen and uphold you.

May I give you this text?

“Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and, of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed, for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou vest” (Josh. 1:9). These were God’s words to a soldier like yourself, to whom He had entrusted great tasks, and they are as true for you as they were for Joshua. Be sure that the Lord is ever close by your side to guard, guide, strengthen and bless you; turn and speak to Him, as to a friend: —

“He will never leave then nor forsake thee,

Living or dying you are His.”

“I shall think of you— Ever your faithful friend — F. J., Liverpool.”

A few extracts from letters written by Sergeant Heye, whilst in France, and invariably headed “K.R.O.B.,” may interest the reader!

May, 1915. — We have had a heavy casualty list in the attack we were in, and I would so’ like to ask for a note of thanksgiving to be sounded on our behalf for God’s protecting care.

June, 1915. — Five of us had a nice walk yesterday, and had a time of prayer together. It was most refreshing.

October, 1915. — Last night we had a nice meeting; I gave the message, and felt there was power. Comrades have expressed their heartfelt thanks.

November, 1915. — Oh what peace and joy it gives to “know that all things work together for good to them that love God.”

March, 1916. — God gives us fresh proofs daily of His keeping care. In the midst of great danger, we are well and happy, realizing that

“Not a single shaft can hit,

Till the God of Love sees fit.”

July, 1916. — We shall be in the trenches again shortly; remember us earnestly in your prayers.

September, 1916. — This is a lovely Sunday morning. My trust is in God; His hand is leading, and I enjoy perfect peace.

The following sentences occur in a letter received by the writer from Sergeant Heyes a few days before his death: “I am grateful to you for your brotherly interest. We are near the big offensive, and I do not know what an hour may bring forth. God is a very present help in trouble, and I am rejoicing in His salvation.”

On 25th September, 1916, while leading his platoon in a Charge on the German trenches at—, Sergeant Heyes was hit in the head with a piece of shrapnel, and rendered unconscious.

Shortly afterward he was “Absent from the body, present wall the Lord.”

Sergeant Heyes’ attachment to’ Lance-Corporal Woodward was most marked. “It did me great good,” he wrote me, afterword’s ward’s death, “to see Lifted,’ and to look once again on dear Dennis’ face. His is a blessed memory to me; please send me some more copies of Lifted.’”

I have often thought of the heavenly love which on earth knit these two Christian soldiers together in true brotherly affection, and now in death they are not divided, and tie same heavenly-mindedness and preparedness which characterized Sergeant Will Heyes and Lance-Corporal Dennis Woodward may be yours, my unsaved, reader, if you accept the work of. Christ at Calvary on your behalf.

There is salvation, shelter, and safety in Christ, the Rock of Ages, and nowhere else.

“They looked unto Him, and were lightened, and their faces were riot ashamed.”

J. J. P.

Further copies of this booklet can be obtained on application to: —

J. J. P.,

18, Broadway, West Worthing.

A Wonderful Escape

Private W. F.―, of the Buffs, writes the following letter to me: —

“Dear Sir, — I write these few lines to you to ask you to do me a kindness by sending me out a Testament, as, I have just found one of your post cards. The Testament I had saved my life. A piece of shrapnel went through my pocket on the right side, and went through my fag-tin and the Testament which I had in my pocket. The Testament was given me by the Rev. Mr. Reed at Shoreham Camp in September, 1914, when I first enlisted in the forces. I kept it all the time until. I got wounded at Laos, April 19th, and I am still keeping it for a keepsake at home in London, and if you would like to see it, I would write and tell my wife to forward it on. When I go out to France on Wednesday, September 19th for the third time, I am leaving seven little children behind, so I am asking my heavenly Father to give me a safe return again. I hope the war will soon finish as I was out before for twenty-one months from August 1915 to April 1917, so I think I have had enough, but I have volunteered so as to keep with some of the boys, as I should have liked to have had a Christmas at home, after having spent the last two out there, but I shall still go out with a good heart, hope for the best, and a safe return. Please excuse me writing but I should like a New Testament. So all at present from your affectionate friend. — Pte. W. F—.”

“Dear Sir, ―I am keeping your postcard wherever I go, wail I get the Testament—then I will forward the postcard with a letter. I have been wounded three times, January 19th 1916, at Ypres; August 18th 1916, at the Somme; April 19th 1917, at Loos.”

The post card came back with “Thanks” upon it, telling me the testament had been received. I wrote said how glad I should be to see the tin and testament, then came the following letter;

Dear Sir, ―I write these few lines to you thanking you very much for the testament which I received safe, and I will take the greatest care of it while I am out here. I have sent your postcards on to a few of the other boys in the lines, and I think they will write, for a testament I am still going on alright. I have written to the ‘Mrs’ to send the things on to you hoping you will take great care of them. Thanking you for the testament, your affectionate friend W. F.

A few days after, the wife of Private W. F. ―sent me the fag-tin and the testament. On examining them one could see what a wonderful escape he had had. The shrapnel bullet had gone clean through the tin and the testament; The testament was cut right through at the lower third, and the bullet was only stopped at the cover―every page was cut! Our friends life was absolutely saved by the testament―under God. I had the photo taken for December Message from God, being sure my soldier friends would like to see how mercifully God had preserved their comrade. When I returned the fag-tin and Testament to the wife she replied that she was glad to get the “souvenir,” as her husband’s life was saved by it, and then she adds, “May he also be spared again to return to his little family of seven and me. — M. F.

“This is the story of one man’s preservation. Thank God the angel of the Lord delivers thousands, and the precious Word of God is being used, by God to bring tens of thousands to Himself.

"Never Give up the Sailors"

So said a sailor just before he died. He had been an exceedingly dissolute man, much addicted to drinking and all kinds of sin. A Christian, who had taken a great interest in him, persuaded him to go to ‘a building with him where the Gospel was preached. After going once, he could not keep away—the Spirit of God arrested him. First, he supposed that if he knocked off drinking and swearing that was all that was required of him; but having been brought to see that he was a lost and ruined sinner, he sought and found redemption in Christ Jesus, and the forgiveness of all his sins.

For twelve months after his conversion, he lived for Christ, and then the sickness came that terminated his life here. The following are some of his dying words: —

“I am astonished,” said he one morning to a friend, “to and myself here. Surely there is no end to the mercy of God. How is it that I was not cut off in my sins? Many a time the shots have passed so near me as to draw’ water from my eyes—nay, I have been knocked down by them—but never was hurt, except a scratch or two. I fell twice from the topsail yard, and twice down the fore-hatch, and I have been overboard in gales of wind. Once in the Bay of Biscay I was nearly gone, and once off Bermuda; and still. I am alive! Oh, if I had gone any of those times, I should have gone to hell! and now, glory be to God, I am going to heaven.”

A friend who was visiting him said, “It is a blessed thing to make a good land fall when the voyage of life is drawing to its close, Andrew.” He replied; “Oh it is, it is; and I may truly say, I have had the land aboard ever since I was laid up here. It’s the looming of the hills of glory that cheers my soul, and it matters not how rough the voyage has been, since I have got into a good roadstead, and the port is right, under my lee.”

“Oh!” said he one day, “I am sure they will never tire (of praising God in heaven,’ for even such a poor creature as I, who cannot raise my head from off this pillow, nor turn a limb, am not tired of praising Him all day, and I say then I’ll praise Him all day.”

“I am come to Mount Calvary. I have but another anchor to heave, and then I am off with a flowing sheet to the land of endless bliss.”

“I am close-hauled,” said he on one, occasion, with a smile, “but I hold a good wind; the pirates hove in sight this, morning, but I spied the black flag and marrow-bones. One of them ranged alongside, but I poured a broadside into him, and he sheered off again. ‘You are a horrible sinner,’ said he, but I stopped his wrath quickly. ‘I know that,’ said I―

“I the Chief of sinners am

But Jesus died for me.”

“Ah! sir, what should I do with these fellows, if it were not for the witness of the Spirit? Sometimes I have them on all sides like a swarm of bees, and then I run up, my red, ensign to the main, and they are off like smoke.”

To another Christian friend who visited him, he said: “It was a happy day for me when first I went to hear.” When asked on what he built his hopes of heaven, “On the Rock, on the Rock,” he replied; “I know that my Redeemer liveth.”

The last time his friend saw him he was very feeble. At his desire the Lord’s Supper was administered to him. On being asked if he was happy, he said: “I have never been anything else since I have known the Lord. Nobody ever heard me murmur at being laid up here. This is a bed of roses to me—the happiest time of my life has been since I have been laid up here. I have been in heaven all these weeks.” His frame was reduced to a mere skeleton, but his eye was full of fire, and his countenance of animation. He motioned to his friend to draw near him, for his voice was low: “I mean to cross the bar,” said he, “all standing, studding sails, royals; and sky sails, and fire a royal salute as I run in. My last breath on earth, and my first in glory shall [praise Him. I can only think of one thing now—Oh, the greatness of His lover I am persuaded there is nothing greater or more surprising in heaven. God bless you! Never give up the sailors.”

He died on the 14th June, and his end was triumphantly glorious. How astonishing was the change that the grace of God effected. When the Christian referred to above asked him on one occasion if he was harassed with doubts, “No!” he emphatically exclaimed, “What room can there be for doubts? I feel it here, and that’s my answer when the tempter comes.”

To his friend he expressed himself to the same effect: “I have had a heavy strain or two,” said he, “but my ground-tackling is good, and when the breeze freshened I began to pay away more of the cable, and with the long service I rode easily enough till slack tide; and then I hove short and got under weigh again, and now I am once more in deep water.”

Extracts From Letters From Sergt. J. T. B., France

Our dear friend, Miss A. A. L—., who has given us such help in writing to the soldiers, has sent me some, extracts of letters she has received, and which I am sure you will like to read: —

First From France

“I often tell the boys to first Leek God with all their hearts, and He will look after the remainder, for as He careth for the birds of the air, much more does He take care of His children no matter how weak they are.

“Last night I was in charge of a burying party to bury our comrades in the dead of night, and very impressive it was, as nearly all had only just come out.

“Today, being the Lord’s day, I am, by the grace of God, to hold a gospel meeting, and to tells the boys of the love of God to sinners lost. Oh! what peace God gives to the believer, and that, should anything happen, to die is gain, to live is Christ. May we never be ashamed to own Christ and to tell of His saving and keeping power.

I think that verse is very nice: —

“In peace let me resign my breath

And Thy Salvation see;

My sins deserve Eternal Death

But Jesus died for me.”

and no doubt it is the means of bringing many to Christ.

Hospital

“No doubt you have been wondering why I have not written before; since that letter I have been in the thick of it and wounded, also gassed. I did not think I should come out alive; but God in His ‘goodness and mercy gave me refuge, for I, never felt the least afraid but went in battle singing, ‘Jesus, Lover of my Soul,’ most of the dear lads prayed the night before battle. I could not sleep, but spent the night in humble prayer that they might life for God to give them another chance; for me it was safe for I know to live is Christ; to die is gain,’ and to live with Him forever. Oh! that great day, I shall never forget it, though shot and shell were flying all around, yet the dear Saviour was ever near, close by my side. How grand it was to be out of self into Christ. The life below was gone, yet one could hear the noise of nearly seven thousand guns barking death. Yet the soul was not disturbed. Well might we quote the 90th Psalm with confidence and a full assurance of God’s mighty power to protect His children.”

A Personal Word and a Message

“We all say, Go on, the time is short.”

I have to thank God that although I have been very-ill a good deal of this year yet still, by God’s help, I have been able to do the work of the Message each month. This would not have been possible had it not been for the prayers of so many of God’s dear people at home and abroad. I have just been reading a letter I had from New Zealand. At the end the writer says—speaking for himself and others— “We all say, Go on, the time is short.”

Yes; we have been able to go on. Never could one have had more willing or devoted helpers than God has given. Never could more prayerful, practical sympathy have been shown to anyone than, I have had shown to me during my long illness. We have sent many thousand more Testaments this year than last. Our friends have increased in number, and—best of all—the blessing of God has rested in a marked manner upon all we have undertaken. “We must go on—the time is short.” I think, as you read the letters from the, soldiers and sailors, that will be interspersed largely through this number, you will love the dear men more and more, and you will see to it that we are able to send twice as many Testaments next year as we have this.

If there has been any delay in my correspondence this year, or if I have seemed to neglect any, I ask you to forgive me. Much time had to be spent in bed, and much in simply going from one room to another.

We have had great difficulty about the French Testaments, but we are sure God will over-rule all that. We have sent to thousands of the French soldiers—about one hundred and twenty Testaments each day to individual soldiers—who are most eager for God’s Word. The Italian soldiers are sending is requests on the French post-cards. We hope to have a separate post-card for Italian soldiers soon. We are gladdened by a request from an American soldier at the Front for a Testament. The scarcity of paper, and the lack of labor is causing difficulties as to production and purchase. But God is rich, and I am sure we shall never lack friends to send His word to men who are eager for it.

He Heard the Angels Sing

There is a beautiful story connected with the work of the Rev. George Allen for soldiers.

It is narrated by a visitor to Mr. Allen. On the pastor’s desk lay a parcel of letters and messages from men who had gone into the fight—letters treasured in remembrance of bygone days with these men. And, written across the top of one letter by the minister’s own hand; were the words― “Killed in action.”

Mr. Allen took up the letter, which had come from a Leeds soldier, and handed it to the visitor. It showed that the brave fellow had learned too live for Jesus, as well as to die for Him! Mr. Allen pointed to the close of the letter, where the soldier said—writing on the eve of Christmas— “I feel quite calm and happy, sir, and I pray to God I may hear the angels sing tonight.”

And, as the pastor remarked to the visitor—profoundly moved, yet with the smile of one who knows what he says: “Poor fellow! He did hear the angels sing that night, too. But it was in a way he wist not when he wrote the words!”

A Christmas Vigil at the Front

The sentry stands on guard at the Front. Night and the stars around him—one planet shining in full glory before him, This Christmas night his, thoughts must go to his English home. His duty binds him to his post, but his thoughts are free, and the dear faces of his home folk smile upon him in the light of stars, and in the mysterious night the voices that he loves come to him to bear his company in his lonely vigil. He knows as he walks his path of watchfulness that longing hearts are counting the days that shall bring him home again. He knows that his dear ones eyes will be dim with thoughts of him, and hearts will be sad because he is not in his accustomed place. And the mother on her knees, is agonizing with God in prayer to keep her boy and bring him back to her again. Ah! He remembers now how she used to pray with him at night, and his eyes fill as the reality of the mothers love comes over him. And his mothers God! Does he realize this Christmas night that “Christ was born in Bethlehem”? That twenty centuries ago the heaven were filled with glory and the angels sang “Glory to God”?

May God bless him, and the others like him, who will have to spend their Christmas day face to face with death. Let us pray unceasingly for our dear soldiers and sailors—on land and sea; they need our prayers and loving sympathy. Let us offer special supplications this Christmas for those exposed to all the terrors of merciless war.

God bless them! God bless them! “Oh! God, we are seeking to send them Thy Holy Word; bless our efforts, we beseech Thee, for Christ’s sake!”

"Yes, I Have Come Now"

Oh, dear soldier or sailor who is reading this Message, can you too say “I have come—.” Come to whom? Why, come to the Lord Jesus, your blessed Saviour. If you have not, He is waiting to see you come, to receive you and make you His for, ever. A dear friend of mine, a Colonel in the B.E.F., wrote to me today the following true story about a soldier who seemed anxious about his soul whilst talking to a lady—one always anxious to be made a blessing. She asked hith to come into a quiet room and pray that lovely hymn, “Just as I am without one plea, but that Thy blood, was shed for me.” “But only say,” said she, “what you feel you can truly say. When they came to the end of the verse “Oh Lamb of God I come,” he could only repeat, “Oh Lamb of God, I should like to come.”

“Can’t you come?” “No, not now,” said he. Thank God, he came in the evening to the same hut prayer-meeting, and when the hymn was, as usual prayed, the lady kneeling near him heard him say with all his heart “I come.” “Yes,” he said when she asked him, “I do,” and he spoke out bravely to the men, and told them what God had done for him—and since then he has been of great, help to other men, strengthening them in the right way. How many have been brought to know the. Lord through’ that wonderful hymn. When I was a young girl, I remember praying it to a dying woman, who was able at last to say “Oh Lamb of God I come.” Ah! reader, now is the accepted time. Come now to the Lord Jesus, Who is calling you with His tender, love, saying―

“Come unto Me.”

EMILY P. LEAKEY.

The Most Important Incident of the War

The most important incident of the War is that the honor and majesty of the Lard Jesus Christ should be put before the men who are, fighting for us. The Christmas hymns tell us of the Saviour’s birth; they bid us listen to the Prince of Peace―

“And man at war with man, hears nor.

The words of peace they bring: —

Oh! listen now, ye men of strife,

And hear the Angels sing!”

They sang of “The happy morn, whereon the Saviour of the world was born.” They sang of the coming of Emmanuel—God with us. But the cannons’ roar is deadening the angels’ song.

There is little recognition now of the grand fact that the Son of God came down to earth to die for man. Few pilgrim feet now tread the pathway “from His poor manger to His bitter cross.” And few there be who think of “the green hill far away, without a city wall, where the dear Lord was crucified, Who died to save us all.” And men are taught not to believe that—

“He died that we might he forgiven,

He died to make us good,

That we might go at last to heaven

Saved by HIS precious blood.”

And many will not believe that

“He only could unlock the gate

Of heaven and let us in.”

Men are taught that they can save themselves; that human sacrifice is equal to the Divine. And a Bishop has said that “The man who has died for England, believing that his country’s cause was the cause of God, may have gone over the parapet with an oath upon his lips.”.... and “that man may be received by Jesus Christ with the words, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant, thou hast been faithful in a few things.’” And this without accepting the sacrifice of Christ upon the Cross when He suffered there, “the Just for the unjust to bring us to God.” This, without any acknowledgment of sin, and acceptance of the Saviour’s finished work. This preacher, and others like him, would seem to say “Hush” to the angel choirs, and draw a curtain of darkness about the Cross of Christ on Calvary—would in effect strike out of the Bible every text that, speaks of the fall of man and the necessity of Christ’s atoning death.

Incidents of the War

A Private writes: “I fear God a thousand times more than I do being shelled by the enemy. How true Christ is the Rock of Ages no one knows more than me.”

Another soldier writes to me: “I have just come across this— ‘Give Jesus Christ in your heart the place God has given Him in heaven.’ Isn’t it splendid?”

"Give Me a Word to Speak to God"

A young soldier, who was not a Christian, received a fatal wound in the head, and as he fell back, he said to his comrade: “I have got my ticket; I am going west; give me a word to speak to God.” His comrade, not being a Christian, passed the word down the trench to a Christian mate, who took out his New Testament and marked it at John 3:16. He read to the dying man— “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” The man listened eagerly, then gasped out: “That’s it; it is His own word. He cannot go back on that. I trust Him.” He was, saved at the last moment through faith—he went “west” with a word to sneak to God.

"Poor Old Dick's Death"

“Last night poor old Dick died,” writes a soldier, “and as he was dying he handed me his Testament and a letter, and asked me to send them to his mother, and tell her to keep them for his sake. It was all he had to send, but I was to say it was an all which had helped him on to the home bond, where he could wait to welcome her.” Oh! the power and efficacy of the Word of God. Would to God we could put a Testament into every soldier’s hands!

Going Home

The Rev. D. I. Hiley tells us the following touching story-of a lad “going home” in France. He says: — “As I sit in, a corridor of a hospital in Havre, and watch the sun sink, and the moon spread her silver sheen over the rippling waves; just when all is so beautifully calm and still, I am called to visit a soldier dangerously in. He is a sweet-faced boy of nineteen, who has played a brave part, but is now going down the last long vale, as I clearly see. We talk together of Jesus and His abiding love—when the lad suddenly says:

“‘I was thinking just then, sir, of father and mother at home. Yes, I’m going “home,” I know, but not to the old place, and I should like to see them before I go.’

“I have to make a very great effort at self-control,” writes Mr. Hiley, “as I need scarcely tell you. Then I say softly: ‘Yes, of course you would, my dear boy, but I will stand in their place by you as long as I can.’ Then he gives me his last messages to the loved ones, whilst at the same time he holds my hand trustfully. Then, just ere the end comes, he whispers: ‘Will you kiss me, sir, for my mother?’

“I bent tenderly over and kissed him; but I felt as if my own heart were breaking, as he sank quietly back and passed to his eternal home.”

"Pray for Pardon Now"

Corporal Chappell speaks of a lad during the battle of the Aisne, who was close to him, saying to him:

“Chappell, I have a sort of feeling I shall not reach home again. I cannot help thinking of my wife and children.”

“Have you thought of your own soul?” asked, Chappell. “There is no time for that,” was the reply.

“Oh, yes. There is a minute, at any rate. Pray, lad, pray! Your wife and children are in God’s hands. Pray for pardon now.”

And so they two went forward praying. A few minutes, and a shell almost annihilated the company, and among the rest the lad who had just been pleading “God be merciful to me a sinner,” was killed. Thank God no one ever prays that prayer in vain.

“The Lord Jesus is very near those who seek Him in the trenches.”

The Night Before the Battle

The following is a brief account of a meeting together of five Christian soldiers of the 17th Middlesex Regiment, the night before the battle of the Scarp in France, by Private Bishop, one of the two survivors of the five at that battle. “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.” (Psa. 91:1.)

Private Bishop, of the 17th Middlesex, says: “The meeting-consisted of five Christian soldiers of the 17th Middlesex Regiment—Shenton, myself, Dines, Mottram and Thompson. The way it came about was as follows: I was standing watching the bursting shells away across the fields, thinking of home, my loved ones, the future, and the God who loves us all, when I heard someone say: ‘Bishop, I wish the Chaplain had had a meeting tonight.’ I looked round and saw Dines and two comrades with him. They said they should have liked to have thanked God for His past mercies, and asked Him for strength for the coming ‘attack.’ They were so earnest, they made me feel humbled. They said, ‘We came to See if you could do anything’—why I don’t know, for I had never done anything like this before, but hi a moment I thought God had sent them to me, so I said, ‘We will go over into one of those shell-holes.’ I invited Shenton on the way. We sat round the shell-hole, and read John 12 verse by verse, each one reading; then Dines wanted Matt. 24, and Shenton Psa. 91. I then spoke a few words from John 12:27, then we had prayers. I thanked God for bringing us together just before the battle, to renew our strength, and thanked Him for His presence. We all knew He was there in that shell-hole with us. One and another said ‘Amen, praise the Lord.’ Dines’ heart was full, and he thanked God for what He had done for him in the past. Shenton spoke of how grand it was to dwell in the secret place of the Most. High. They all spoke of the power of God the Holy Spirit with us that night. Shenton said he could have gone anywhere, and that same night he won the Military Medal. The others I feel sad about. I do not know what became of them, they were reported after the battle ‘missing’—which means either prisoners or killed.”

These three reported “missing” have not been heard of so we may therefore conclude they were killed. How gracious of our Heavenly Father to call these men together! For three of them it’ was their last prayer-meeting, but how blessed to think their last hours were spent with God in prayer; gathered together, surrounded by the murderous explosion of enemy shells, they were in that shell-hole, with God’s hand over them. How many were that night called to face death, for which they were not ready? None of us know how near death is, and yet many are unprepared. They have never accepted God’s sacrifice for sin―even Jesus Christ—and there is no other sacrifice that God will accept, but He will forgive the sinner, and blot out all his sins, if he has faith in Jesus Christ.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16.)

M. M. (WORTHING.)

Rock of Ages

Stretcher bearers picked up a soldier on the battlefield though they were uncertain as to whether he was alive or dead. They placed him on an ambulance, and started on their way. They looked at him more than once, but saw no signs of life, however. They went on slowly with their burden, followed by others. A bearer behind began to sing a song, and when he had finished, the bearer in front began to sing—

Rock of Ages, cleft for me

Let me hide myself in Thee,

Let the water and the blood,

From Thy riven side which flowed,

Be of sin the double cure.

Save me from its guilt and power.

He heard someone join in, and he asked the bearer behind if he had been singing also, but he replied that he had not. He began to sing again—

Not the labor of my hands

Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;

Could my zeal no respite know,

Could my tears forever flow,

All for sin could not atone,

Thou must save, and Thou alone.

He again heard someone join in, and to ‘their surprise it was the soldier they were carrying.

When they got to the first rest-place they were met by medical men, who passed on first the cases they considered hopeful, so the bearer that sang asked the doctor to send their soldier on, as he was sure that the man who was awakened by, and joined in singing “Rock of Ages” was, one who was going to live.

He was right, and that soldier fully recovered from his wounds, and was sent again to the front.

The song, though it was cheerful, and no harm in it, awoke no response, but the good old hymn, founded upon the Word of God, and known from early childhood, spoke to the heart of our wounded soldier, and inspired hope, and led to his being healed of his wounds.

W. J. M.

Why Do I Believe on Christ?

Today men are leagued with devils in their efforts to dethrone Christ. Gethsemane and Calvary are no longer sacred to them. They know not Him Whom to know is life eternal. “He is despised and rejected of men.” But “to those who believe He is precious.” What is my thought of Christ?

I solemnly declare I rest my soul for all eternity upon the finished work of Christ. I rest my hopes of heaven upon the fact of His being there—having by His death and resurrection and ascension proved that my sins are all borne and put away. He who was made sin for us on the cross is ire heaven now without sin—yes, in the presence of God for us.

I want no other way to heaven than Christ the way. I want no other door of salvation than Christ the door. I want no other light to shine upon me than Christ the light. I want no other name than the name of Jesus. I believe in no other work for salvation than His finished work. I am content—yes, my God, well content—with what Christ has done for me. I am assured in my heart of hearts that “the blood of Jesus Christ (God’s Son) cleanseth.us from all sin”— that “we are redeemed by the precious blood of Christ.”

Why do I believe all this? Because I have internal and external evidences of His power “to save to the uttermost all who come unto God by Him.”

I give you now, dear soldiers, the conversion of one of yourselves, through faith in Christ as, his Saviour.

Seeking Christ and Confessing Christ

In the month of March of this year I received the following letter from Private S. F.: —

“My Dear Sir, — Seeing one of your New Testaments as sent out to one of our men, it made me think, and my thoughts and reflections were none too pleasant. I should be pleased to accept one of your Testaments and should also be pleased to have a line or two from any Christian who really cares for the eternal welfare of even one of our poor soldiers, as things are none too conducive for either meditation or supplication. I was once a much better man than I am now, and seem to have lost all my ground out here. I just seem to be falling, failing into a cesspool—bottomless—and no one ever, speaks His name unless in blasphemy. When I saw a note from you that you would be glad to help any man, spiritually, I decided I would just send you a few lines; if too long kindly pardon my trespassing on your patience and time. I must now close with my sincerest, and remain Pte. S. F―.

This letter moved me very much indeed, and as I was very ill at the time it came, I sent it to my good friend, Miss A. A. L―., and asked her to write to him for me. We sent him a Testament.

Two or three months after I received a letter from Miss A. A. L―., in which she says: —

“Dear Dr. Wreford, — Do you remember this soldier (speaking of Pte. S. F.―) wrote to you in March that he was on the downward road? You will be thankful, as I am, to know all is well with him, and he is now on the road to heaven.”

And this is the letter he wrote to my friend—a letter in which he speaks of his confession of Christ: ―

“My Dear Miss. I―I have very great pleasure in writing to you again. I received three tracts, or rather booklets alright, and thank you for same. Last night, August 8th to be precise—as I am writing this letter for tomorrow’s mail—I was determined to put off no longer my soul’s eternal welfare, and before retiring for the night, I knelt down before my comrades and prayed aloud asking the Lord’s forgiveness of my sins, of which I heartily repented; and I felt relieved of the awful mind struggle I had had for months, and I am determined by His grace to continue in the path, which alone leads to the New Jerusalem—Heaven at last.

“I do feel so sorry I turned my back, as it were, on the Saviour, but I knew His Holy Spirit was continually striving with me, and now I feel to have taken a fresh lease of life which I trust will be profitable to myself and useful to others around me. As soon as I stood up again from praying, the, men were so quiet, it seemed so strange to them, I suppose, to see and hear another soldier praying, I beard at least one Amen as soon as I finished my prayer, and then what do you think I did? I asked them if they, would like to hear a true story of a Christian soldier. ‘Yes’ was their reply, so I read the story of ‘Lifted’s’ (Lance-Corporal Dennis Woodward’s) life, and his heroic death, and I tell you there was a dim eye or two. Of course I had to give some explanation of my unusual attitude, which I did in as few words as possible. I asked them if I should sing to them— ‘Yes,’ again they said, so I sang as best I could, ‘From Sinking Sands He Lifted Me.’ I knew the tune and I believe some impression was made upon them. I would be glad to distribute booklets or tracts if you can spare me some, and I feel I would like to help some of our men spiritually. I have asked the Lord to use me to His honor and glory, and to help some soul into the marvelous light and liberty of the gospel. I don’t feel I can write much more. I have had a struggle to write what I have so far, so I will conclude, trusting an interest in your earnest prayers. I feel so timid; but I know the Lord will open up the way. — I beg to remain yours most respectfully. — S. F—.”

Letters from the Soldiers, Sailors, &C.

Out of the hundreds I have by me, I can only a select a few for you to read now. I love the letters, and I love the writers of them.

FROM A SAILOR ON H.M.S. C—.

How grand those precious thoughts, ‘My spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.’ A strain of Mary’s song is for us the secret of all deep Christian joy. Surely we, the inhabitants of the Rock—the Rock of Ages—can sing with lasting gladness, and rejoice in the Lord. The world cannot sing with lasting gladness—when the waves of sorrow break, its voice is drowned, but those who rejoice in God have a joy that sings on through all the roar of battle, and through the darkness of the night. The Christians’ joy is a living well springing up in his heart forever.”

J. D. N.

Clamoring for the Word of God

A worker writes: —

“Last Sunday night we had a glorious time. Over two hundred boys came to me for Testaments, and the clamor for the Word of God wilts marvelous.

I had not nearly sufficient, and it grieved me sore to have to refuse them. While I Was giving out the Testaments, I could not do it fast enough, the boys just ‘fought for them.’”

From A “Coming Christian”

A stoker on H.M.S. M—writes: —

“I am writing to you to ask if you could kindly send me on a Testament, I shall stick to it like glue. I am an Exeter man. It is a great trouble to get a Testament in the North Sea. Dear Sir, I have been a bad chap in my time, but I am turning over a new leaf now. I want to go on the Lord’s side. So good-bye for the present sir. — From a Coming Christian.”

A Lieutenant’s Wish

A Lieutenant writes: —

“I am enclosing a number of postcards that have come into my possession. I knew that those of my friends whose names are mentioned on them, would he gratified with a Testament, and appreciate one. Would it be possible when you send them to mention that I had asked you to do so? It is a splendid work. — Faithfully yours John C. H—.”

From A Front Line Trench

A. B.—., Cal d’Infanterie Territoriale, France, writes:

“Dear Sir, — I have just read a number of ‘A Message from God’ and I have found it very helpful so I have got bold enough to ask you to continue lending it. Please send me a Testament. I am one of the Lord’s, now in the Wrench Army in a first line trench. — Yours in the blessed hope of our soon returning Saviour. — A. B―.”

All Gone In Five Minutes

A Private at the front writes: ―

“Thank you for your parcel. I am glad to tell you that I. have started my work for God among the men here in our camp, by winning one young man or Jesus. But the demands were so great for the Testaments that I gave them to the men in five minutes... When I had given them all away, I found I wanted a great many more. It is a great pity that these poor men sere have not the Word of God with them; but we are thankful to know that Ged has provided for our needs through you and your staff of willing, subscribers, God bless and keep you in your good work. — Pte. W. C. C—.”

“I Am Now Trusting In The Lord”

Private W. W.— writes: —

“I was mist pleased to receive your loving letter and Testament. I am now trusting in the Lord. I shall always read the little Testament every day, and please could you oblige me with a few more for my friends? I am going to try and get them to do the same as I have. I feel so happy. I am trusting in the Lord! I fear nothing now I have the Lord on my side. — Pie W. W—.”

“My Mother Is A Christian”

A Private writes: —

“I was ogee a Christian, but I am sorry to say the temptation was too great for me, and now I find myself a sinner. I am very sorry, for as my mother is a Christian, I feel ashamed of myself and would like to live a better life than I have been doing. If you can help me in any way, and I am sure you can, for I cannot help myself. I know I am a great sinner and ale lot deserve another chance of making good for all I have said and done. — Pte T. B. R—”

A Terrible Sinner

A Private writes: —

“Pardon the liberty I take in writing you, but I have been fortunate enough to find one of your valuable books entitled, “What is there after death?” and have read it with great interest. I have been a terrible sinner, having, by the way, only just been released from a civil prison, but I desire strongly to let bygones be bygones and commence to lead a new life, but cannot unless I can obtain full benefit of our blessed Lord’s grace—end that I trust you will hello me to try and find. — Pte W. P—.”

Sergeant E. H―. writes: ―

“I wish to thank you for the Testament which I received quite safe, and it has also helped me in many an hour of trouble and cheered me through many a dark path.”

Another Sergeant writes: —

“Just a few lines to let you know I received your most welcome gift of a Testament of which I was very greatly in need. My Testament I brought out here with me got blown up with my haversack, but this one will have to be blown up with me if it is to be blown up at all—that is if it is God’s will, for I carry it with me in the breast pocket of my coat. — W. E. I—.”

The Boys Pleased with the Book

“Dear Sir, I wish to express my many thanks in these few lines for the Testament you have so kindly sent to me. I am sure it is a splendid thing to have by one at any time.

“We had a Minister of the Church of England to see us in our Ward, and he gave us a postcard each, and a few words in which he remarked ‘that there was one thing which he thought made a good soldier, and that was a clean rifle and a dirty Testament.’

“Don’t you think that a very good statement?

“I am a Primitive Methodist myself and I have been a constant believer in the Lord Jesus Christ.

“I am sure that all the boys in our ward are very pleased with the book, and each of them say they would like one each, so if it be possible, would you kindly forward eighteen, and if you could send one for our dear Sister That will make the number to nineteen, also a few tracts.— I remain, yours is the service of Christ,— Pte. C. D―.”

Gifts for the Treasury

A blind widow of ninety-three says: —

“Will you please accept the enclosed note for one Found to help in your work in sending Testaments to the soldiers, from a blind widow of ninety-three, and may the Lord bless you in your work for Him, — (Mrs.) E. M—.”

Another writes: —

“Dear Sir, ― I was sorry to hear that you were not well, and hope if it is the Lord’s will that you will soon be strong again and able to continue your work of Love for the Soldiers and Sailors.

“I have a very good brooch which I should like to send to you, that you might part with it and use the money to get more Testaments with, if it will not be troubling you. — A. B―.”

A friend gives £15 to send a Testament to 1,000 soldiers, and adds: “May the promise be true in the case of every one— ‘My Word shall not return unto Me void.’ Why not?”

Two sisters write: —

“Dear Mr. Wreford, — Mrs. Cornwell has given me the enclosed to send to you for your, excellent work, as she was absent from our meeting when the collection was especially for you.

“May God richly bless you and all your helpers.

“Excuse pencil as we are two elderly Sisters, Mrs. C. is 86 and I am 88.― C. S—.”

A clergyman writes: —

“My Dear Sir, — I send you the enclosed ‘mite’ for two parcels for soldiers, with every good wish and blessing that those who, receiving the contents, may through them find and receive the gift of God.

“The present awful apostasy and preaching of traditions of men as. Commandments of God, alas with episcopal approval makes it necessary that men should know at first hand what God says.

“I wish I could do more.

“May the Lord bless and multiply the barley loaves.”

A Chaplain at the Front writes: ―

“My Dear Sir, — I do indeed thank you for the one-hundred and fifty most excellent Testaments. I have been in Hospital for three weeks, hence my not answering before.

“This afternoon I will take the books down to the prisoners and will give them out.

“I know the men will appreciate them and one never knows what the results may be. I am sure they will be appreciated and used.

“Again thanking you for your most appreciated gift. —C. F—.”

A Consecrated Gift

“Dear Dr. Wreford, — Please send New Testaments to our Allies with the accompanying £6. It was our dearly beloved mother’s—now she is beyond all care and pain and longs for the salvation of those for whom the Saviour has died—and we long for her to have the joy of receiving one by one the Saviour’s saved ones—saved through the reading of His Word procured by her money. For we verily believe that those who have ‘gone before’ welcome all that are tied to them by means of spiritual blessing, or love.

“Please ask the distributor to be careful of no overlapping for we do pray that each book will bring a harvest for the Master.

“Wishing you all joy in your work for Him. — R. C—.”

A Thank Offering

“Dear Sir, — I am sending you 10/- for Testaments for the soldiers, as a thank-offering to God in sparing my dear boy who was wounded on the 16th August in the battle of Ypres, and is in England. May God bless some dear boy with the little I am sending. — M. A. T—.”

A Closing Word For 1917

We must do our part to provide these soldiers and sailors with the Book that speaks of the Son of God, the Saviour of the world. The Word of God will shed its light in the soul, and scatter the blasphemous darkness that is spreading over the world. I am not ashamed to ask for others—for the brave men who are fighting now. For 30/- I can send a Testament to 100 soldiers and sailors, and for £15 I can send a Testament to 1,000 soldiers and sailors. Let this be your Christmas gift for Christ’s sake.

A Message From God: 1917

Table of Contents

"Launch Out Into the Deep"

Calling for Volunteers

Safe in the Arms of Jesus

Our Real Need This January

A Chaplain's Letter

"I Very Much Want to Go to Heaven"

France for Christ

His Mother's Text

The Last Song

Sentenced to Death

God Never Refuses

"That Will Do"

A Pint of Good English Beer

A Text Misapplied

"I Am Not Going to Forget Him Now"

The Sunset Hour

What Do You Owe? What Will You Give?

A Testimony From the Front

"I Cannot Get Enough"

Reading Testaments in the Trenches

A Postcard in a Wood

Could Not Get a Testament

A Christmas Present for God

A Traitor to Christ

Saved Through Christ

"Well, Jimmy Was Ready"

Saving the Child

Friends

Only Six Inches From Death

A Hard Nut to Crack

"My Answer Is, 'Yes'"

A Mother's Prayer

God's Work at the Front

"Nothing Like Giving"

The Diary of a Soul

"Coming Back With Him"

A Word to Soldiers and Sailors

Who Is on God's Side?

The Faithful Dog

A Letter to Be Prayed Over

In Deed and in Truth

Her Only Son

The Motor Filter Lorry and Living Water

God's X Rays

The Mother's Recompense

A Defiance From Hell

No Parting in Hell

Greater Than a Mother's Love

Letters From the Front

A Mother's Gratitude

Sentimental Blasphemy

"Receive Your Mother's God"

"Please Pray for Him"

At the Gates of Death

A Chaplain Writes From the Front: -

Death of Madame Lecoat

"I've Got It"

A Gold Chain

From Across the Seas

250 Postcards Today

For His Sake

The Old Sailor

A Sequel to an Old Story

The Grave of an English Soldier

Testaments for French Soldiers.

A French Colonel

The Corporal and His God

Private Harold L. Brimecombe.

Extracts of Letters to His Parents From the Front

Another Exeter Boy

L. H. H.

"Tell Them in England the Need Is Urgent"

"Love's Benediction"

The Work Goes on

The Postman's Interest

"Bring Graham"

The Message Inside the Testament

"A Message From God"