ive them help; that He would be near all those who
stretched out their lame hands of faith towards Him, and help them,
strengthen them, comfort them. It was very unreal, it seemed a long
way off too. And yet was it? Was Christ there just as the man had
said?

"Boom!" The sound came from an enemy's gun, but he heard no shell
screeching its way through space, saw no light of explosion. It was
not repeated, although he waited, listening tensely. Minute after
minute passed, still there was silence; evidently the English gunners
were instructed not to reply.

What was the meaning of it? The silence became so tense that it seemed
to make a noise; the air was laden with gloom.

"I wonder what it means," said the boy, and a great fear possessed him;
he felt as though he were on the brink of a fathomless chasm, a chasm
which was as black as ink.

Minute after minute he waited, and still no sound broke the silence.

He tried to comfort himself by remembering pleasant things that
happened at Brunford, but in vain. It seemed to him as though he was
surrounded by something fierce and terrible; was it a premonition of
death, he wondered?

Again he called to mind what the Y.M.C.A. man had said on the night
before they started for the Front. He had advised them to pray, and to
put their trust in a loving God who had been revealed to them through
Jesus Christ.

He still tramped the bit of trench which it was his duty to guard,
looking eagerly into the darkness as if to discern the outline of an
approaching enemy. "If I only could pray!" thought Tom, "if I only
could!"

But he had not prayed for years, the very thought of prayer had gone
out of his mind and heart; but oh! how he longed for something to
comfort and steady him!

Well, why should he not pray? It could do no harm, it might even do
him good.

Lifting his eyes towards the inky-black sky, he tried to formulate a
prayer, but he could not, his thoughts could not shape themselves, his
mind refused to work; he opened his lips and cried, "O God!"

That was all; he could think of nothing else to say, but he repeated
the words again and again:

"O God!--O God!--O God!"

That was all. He had asked for nothing, he had indeed hardly thought
of anything. Nevertheless he was comforted; the words he had uttered
meant infinite things, for at the back of his mind he had a confused
belief that God saw, that God listened, that God understood, and the
thought chan