as
they left me. It wasn't easy to talk. All I said was accompanied by the
roar of the guns and the crack of rifles and the rattle of the machine
guns, and once in a while our faces were lit up by the flashes. It was a
weird sight. I looked at those boys. I couldn't preach to them in the
ordinary way. I knew and they knew that for many it was the last service
they would attend on earth. I said,

"Boys, you are going up to the trenches. Anything may happen there. I wish
I could go with you. God knows I do. I would if they would let me, and if
any of you fall I would like to hold your hand and say something to you
for mother, for wife, and for lover, and for little child. I'd like to be
a link between you and home just for _that_ moment--God's messenger for
you. They won't let me go, but there is Somebody Who will go with you. You
know Who that is."

You should have heard the boys all over that hut whisper, "Yes,
sir--Jesus."

"Well," I said, "I want every man that is anxious to take Jesus with him
into the trench to stand."

Instantly and quietly every man in that hut stood up. And we prayed as men
can pray only under those conditions. We sang together, "For ever with the
Lord." I shall never sing that hymn again without a lump in my throat. My
mind will always go back to those dear boys.

We shook hands and I watched them go, and then on my way to the little
cottage where I was billeted I heard feet coming behind me, and presently
felt a hand laid upon my shoulder. Two grand handsome fellows stood beside
me. One of them said,

"We didn't manage to get into the hut, but we stood at the window to your
right. We heard all you said. We want you to pray for us. We are going
into the trenches, too. We can't go until it is settled."

We prayed together, and then I shook hands with them and bade them
good-bye. They did not come back. Some of their comrades came--those two,
with others, were left behind. But they had settled it--_they had settled
it_.

* * * * *

Two or three days after that I was in a hospital when one was brought in
who was at that service. I thought he was unconscious, and I said to the
Sister beside me, "Sister, how battered and bruised his poor head is!"

He looked up and said, "Yes, it is battered and bruised; but it will be
all right, Gipsy, when I get the crown!"

One night I had got about fifty boys round me in a dug-out, with the walls
blown out and bits of