By the Editor
Seeking the Lost
THE picture on the cover this month speaks to us of many things. It tells us of the helplessness of man, and of the comparison of the Christ of God. The words of Jesus, with their appealing force, come to us as we look upon the scene.
It had been a day of fierce and continuous fighting, the dominating thunder of the cannon had shaken the world — thousands and thousands of brave and reckless men charging and re-charging ‘mid the flame and fury of awful strife, had given up their lives that day, or lay with shattered bodies moaning in their pain.
Trenches had been filled with the dead and dying, and beyond the trenches the terror of the dark woods hid the hell that raged within their vast and lonely depths. And all over the battlefield men were dying: wounded and helpless they lay where they fell when the cruel shot found them. Strong men are prostrate there, weaker than the weakest now. The fire of manhood is dying out — the virile power that made them do and dare is gone. From some parched lips broken words of prayer and appeals to God are heard; others breathe out in despairing love the names of dear ones they will never see again; others are lying in the stupor of approaching death.
And then night comes upon the scene — night with its evening star hanging like a jewel in the sky. Night with its solemn mysteries, and the pale moon, like a spectre, shining upon the desolate earth. The fierceness of the strife is over. When the Prince of Peace was born, a star shone over the manger where He lay, and the song of His advent filled the air with music that will never cease to vibrate through the ages as they pass. “On earth peace, good will towards men.” Man has broken God’s covenant of peace through all time. But the peace of God, and the mercy of God, are still for man.
The lonely figure in the picture appeals to us by its very helplessness. The good Samaritans of the R.A.M.C. have found him — lost upon the fields of death — they have had compassion on him, and will carry him where he can be tended and cared for. God bless them in their noble work.
And thank God the compassion of Christ is there. There is ONE in heaven today who came to seek and to save the lost. The Good Samaritan! The blessed Lord Himself! The story of His love to man has been read and re-read, has been told and re-told, in the trenches—when in the pauses of the fighting, the little khaki Testament, that perhaps you helped to send, has brought the Good Samaritan beside them, and as they read of the Son of God, who became the Son of man, and died to save them, they seemed to hear Him say,
“Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in ME,” and again,
“Fear not! I have redeemed thee, thou art mine,” and
“Come unto me and I will give you rest.”
Yes, the angels of the promises throng the battlefields today—there is a ladder from earth to heaven — and up and down its golden rungs the feet of angels come and go, bringing down from God the chalices of heaven filled with His oil and wine to heal and cheer, and taking back to God the penitence and prayers and faith of men.
But we must send the little khaki Testaments to them — the Book that tells them of a Saviour’s love — the lamp that shines upon their way to God. I will send, if you will give me the means to send. I get letter after letter asking me to send. Only yesterday a dear Christian wrote from France: —
“Pardon my troubling you, but when I was at — I remember you used to send frequently a supply of gospels and literature to my friend there ... I have been appointed to — for the visitation of all the British hospitals there... There are ten, and I am nearly in despair because my material has not come through. Am I imposing upon your kindness too much, dear sir, when I ask for your kind help? I shall be more than grateful. Thank you with all my heart.”
Within an hour or two I had packed two parcels and sent them on their way, and others shall follow. Thank God I have never had to refuse an appeal yet, and I am sure you will never let me.
Look at the pictures — learn from the pictures. Lady― writes and says: “she will be much obliged for thirty more copies of the July “Message from God” with the picture of the sentry “facing the dawn.” She continues, “It has been of much interest to many, and several to whom she has given it have promised to remember those lonely ones in prayer when the dawn breaks each day.” Yes, we can pray amid all the darkness of these awful days that lonely watchers, and lonely sufferers, may be able to feel and say: ―
“God’s strong arms are all around us,
in the dark He sought and found us.”