A reminder of the days of fearful war. Millions went to the Front and only thousands came back. I saw the men of the Devonshire Regiment leave for the Front in 1914, nearly a thousand men. I saw them kissing their wives and sweethearts, and lifting their children in their arms to wish them “good-bye.” They passed away to the sounds of cheers and martial music, and alas! only a very few ever came home again. Those who did could speak of the retreat from Mons and the awful horror of those early days, when hundreds had to do the work of thousands. I could picture them in the trenches, up to their waists in liquid mud; going over the top in the early dawn, the Christian men singing “Safe in the arms of Jesus,” and “Jesus, lover of my soul.” I remember a lad of eighteen calling to his two friends just a few minutes before they had to go over the top, and saying to them, “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.” And the boy in a few sentences commended himself and his comrades to God’s keeping. 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.” His two friends fell by his side, but he was spared to write home and say how lonely he felt without them, but that they were safe in heaven. Reader, if you had to face death in five minutes are you ready?