“Some are too old for the firing line, but none are too old for the battlefield of prayer.”―D.M.
So says a dear Christian, and we are told that at the Front there is not a man in some of the trenches who does not pray. They need to pray, for of many of them it can be said: ―
Tonight
Your last deed may have been done;
Your last word may have been spoken;
Your last look may have been given;
Your last breath may have been drawn;
Your last pulse may have beaten.
IF SO YOU WILL BE IN ETERNITY! WHERE?
A Long “Goodbye”
It was night―the fateful night of September 24th 1915. Thousands of men were sleeping in the trenches for whom, when the day dawned, it would be their last on earth. Orders had been given silently that the attack would be at daybreak, and tired men who had marched many miles were taking what rest they could. But no sleep came to one young officer; he was passing from group to group along the trench to say Goodbye “to his fellow officers. Some were awake and responded wonderingly to his Good-bye, old fellow,” others he woke to bid them farewell. He felt he was going to his death, and his sense of comradeship made him long to forge this link of the last “Goodbye” into the chain of their remembrance of him. In the light of subsequent events they would never forget the pressure of his hand, for as the dawn came the order was given to charge, and one of the first to fall and die was this young officer. Young, gallant, and brave, he headed his men, ran with them a few yards, and then death came, and the long “Goodbye.” Thank God he was ready. Many bore witness to his Christian life. He lay where he fell, the morning light upon his quiet face; his soul with Christ in heaven. He was loved by all his men and fellow officers; he had the friendship of all, and these lines are true of him
“Oh: that it might be said of me,
‘Surely thy speech bewrayeth thee
As friend of Christ of Galilee,’”
Suppose
Suppose that “when the roll is called up yonder” I am there myself, but that all through the eternal ages I am unable to find a single person who is there because of my having led him to Christ―how much will heaven mean to me?
Read our last page, and help us to get the 100,000 Testaments we want to help these souls to heaven. Heaven will mean much to you then.
“For God’s sake, brother,” writes a Tommy to a Christian friend, “send something to cheer a down-hearted soldier. We cannot say or sing every time, ‘Are we down-hearted? No,’ for we are, and deep down at that.” Dear fellow, if he had a khaki Testament in his pocket he could read, “Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in Me” and “Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” We will send the “something” he needs to cheer him gladly-the light of God, to shine in through the windows of his soul and make it bright with heaven.
Any “Tommy” who wants a Testament to cure his downheartedness shall have it if he will send to me for it. And we will send to those who will give them to him if you will help us to do it. Five pounds will get us a thousand Testaments to send to him and others like him, and we want one hundred thousand.
From Battlefield to Heaven
A sergeant at the Front sends me this incident, one of the most beautiful I have heard for a long time. He says: ― “One incident at the battle of H―will be impressed on my memory forever. I went out over the Parados of the tiring line to a poor fellow who was on a stretcher mortally wounded. One of the stretcher-bearers had been shot down while carrying him, and I bandaged up his wounds as well as I could. The poor-fellow on the stretcher was calling for water. The only drop of water belonged to Sergeant J―. I fetched it and took it out under fire, and gave it to the dying man. I placed my hand in his and asked him, ‘Do you belong to the Lord Jesus? ‘Yes.’ he murmured. Again I gave him a little water, and then said, I hope you feel that the Lord is with you now.’ Again he gasped out ‘Yes.’ He could not swallow the next drop of water I gave him, but seeing he was dying I said, ‘Do you know you are going to be with the Lord Jesus?’ His only answer was a slight pressure of his hand on mine. One last question I asked was, ‘The Lord is with you, isn’t He?’ Again I felt the pressure of the hand. Then on a sudden his eyes glared upward to the sky―I shall never forget that moment―then he outstretched his hands and arms towards the heavens above him, and kept them in the same attitude for some moments with his eyes fixed, looking upwards all the time. Then the arms dropped lifelessly down to the sides of the stretcher and he was gone. How delighted I was, and yet how hard it seemed to me to have to leave him behind, when I went back to the trench again under fire. His name I never knew. He was not in my regiment; he was in the Rifle Brigade.”
Thank God for an end like this upon the battlefield, and there are many such. The sergeant who writes me had had enough Testaments from me to give every man in his platoon one, and he is hoping to be able to give one to every soldier in the battalion. We shall be glad to help him to do this.
And now, dear friends, “Goodbye” for another month. A lady of seventy-three writes to me: ―
“I had saved a few pounds in the Post Office Savings Bank for an emergency, but will transfer one pound to God’s Bank, to be used in His service, and rather than the brave soldiers should be deprived of a Testament, I will send another if really needed. I know my God will supply all my need. We thank God for the self-denying work you have so nobly undertaken for Him, and ask Him to bless you all abundantly for His name’s sake.”
The second pound came about a week after. In the presence of such faith and love I feel ashamed at the little one does. We are told that those who go forth weeping, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing their sheaves with them (Psa. 126:66He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. (Psalm 126:6)). Will those also come rejoicing who have no sheaves to bring? What are we doing in these never-to-be-forgotten days?