of death far
into the enemy's lines. The enemy guns reply, and thus it might
continue through the day. Shells are ugly killers and wounders; but
for them there would be little of the slaughter-yard suggestion
about a modern battlefield, with its improved system of well-built and
cleanly kept trenches and its clean puncturing bayonet thrust or rifle
bullet. While the shells shriek and whirr through the air, heaps of
humanity are distributed about the trenches, in the dug-outs, or in
the reserve lines. The men sit or lie about for the most part, as
unconcerned as if on holiday bent. The order to 'stand to' would bring
them to their appointed places, from whence they would resist an
invasion of their lines by the enemy, or launch an attack, make a
raid, or go forth on patrol of 'no man's land.'

[Illustration: The Ostrich.]

Back from the lines units are resting or engaged on the lines of
communication; from such units men are available for church parades.
Men of different units and of different theological views come
together in one place and worship God. Buildings are not always
available for parade services. Sometimes they are held in the open
field, in farm-yards, or in billets; frequently in tents provided by
the Y.M.C.A. Attendance at these services is purely voluntary, and a
large proportion of men attend whenever opportunity offers. While the
service is in progress the war goes on. The men in the trenches catch
the strains of band music, and there is carried over the distance
intervening the sound of the singing of old familiar hymns. It is a
privilege to speak to these men who have been in the shell-swept
trenches, who have participated in raids, who have taken part in one
of the most successful battles of the war, who have seen suffering and
even looked into the face of death.

Several parades might be held during the day at hours convenient to
those who wish to attend, and in the evening a song-service is
conducted, when the men choose the hymns which they would sing. They
are reverent in attitude, earnest in attention.

Sundays are no different from other days of the week. They merely
mark, as do other days, the passing of time, which will bring either
grief or gladness to those who watch and wait for the day of peace,
and to us who war a victory crowned with honour. There is no
_Sun_-day. The thick, dark cloud of war hides the sun's bright face,
but there is hope in the thought that Sun-day is prophetic a