t the altar of duty. I am not
going to try and describe to you what you will have to do, and possibly
have to suffer; you will find out that soon enough. Possibly many of
you are going to your death. I don't want to frighten you, but we have
to face facts: I don't say it is an awful thing to die, but it is a
tremendous thing. You know that you have souls as well as bodies. I
am not going to argue it out with you; I needn't, because you know. I
needn't try to prove to you that there is a God, because you know it,
you feel it. There is no atheism out at the Front: some of you have
tried to live without God, and you have made a mess of your lives. I
tell you, my boys, it's a terrible thing to die without God. Some of
you know what it is to believe in a personal Saviour; you have accepted
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who came on earth to die for us that we
might know God; and you have found Him to be a strength in temptation,
a joy in sorrow. My lads, you all want that Saviour, and especially do
you want Him now. You are embarking on the Great Unknown, and you need
a Captain, a Guide, a Saviour: I have come to tell you about Him."

I am not going to try to describe the close of his address. This man
had seen hundreds die, he had come face to face with the great
realities of life, of death, and of religion. He knew what he was
talking about because he had experienced it, and he made the men feel
what he felt. That night when the meeting was over Tom Pollard found
himself again with Alec McPhail.

"That chap was fair earnest," said Tom.

"Ay," replied the Scotchman, "he went richt down to the bottom of
things. Come wi' me to the canteen, lad, I feel I must have a drink."

"Not if I know it," said Tom, "no drink for me to-night."

But the Scotchman rushed away towards the canteen, and Tom, scarcely
knowing what he was doing, followed him. When they entered, they saw a
number of men standing there drinking.

"Yes," they heard one man say, "that chap was right; I know I'm making
a fool of myself, but I'm going to have another drink. My God! What
would my mother say if she knew I wur off tomorrow morning!"

A lad with a pale, refined face, standing by his side, had a glass in
his hand ready to lift to his lips. "Ay, and what would my mother
say!" he said. "I know she would be praying for me."

At this some one uttered a coarse oath, but the lad threw the drink
from him and left the canteen.

"Ay, he