Memories of Home
THE Tommies love their home, no matter of what nationality they are. The old hymns they sang in the Sunday Schools never lose their power, and the mother-love grips them when the dear mother’s face is far away. It would be well in every Sunday School for special prayer to be made every Sunday afternoon at the close of school for late scholars who have gone to the Front. Read this: —
One of the missionaries, in his weekly report, writes: — “Last night I had a nice lot of fellows in the room — some Dutch, some French, one Belgian, and many Englishmen. Some of them told me many touching stories, and I was very brief in my service proper. After prayers and a short address, we sang hymns at the men’s selection. Old favorites — such as ‘Rock of Ages,’ Jesus, Lover of My Soul, ‘The Old, Old Story’ — were sung over and over again. After ‘The Old, Old Story’ I asked the men if they would like me to recite Miss Hankey’s sequel to the hymn. The men sat like mice, the tears coursing down some of their cheeks. One old sinner said, That’s fine, guv’nor; enough to make a fellow cry!’
“We really had some very solemn moments. After ‘Jesu, Lover of My Soul,’ one young fellow said, ‘Poor old lady! I wonder if she’s alive?’ He was evidently reminded of his mother, and he laid his head on his arms and sobbed. He had come from Canada. Another fellow, a Yankee, asked me to sing, ‘Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant’; and, despite the fact that I had checked his bad language in the morning, he came and shook hands in front of the others, saying, ‘I guess that evokes tender memories, sir, in more hearts than mine.’”