prayer. We had no chapel in the house. In bad weather we prayed in
the house, in fine weather out of doors, in the yard. The starry heaven
served as our temple, the moon as our guardian, the silent breath of the
surrounding nature as our inspiration. My grandfather took a chalice
with fire and incense, and sprinkled every one of us. Then he came
forward, stood before us and bowed deeply, and his example was followed
by us all. Then began a silent prayer, interrupted only here and there
by a sighing or by some whispering voice. We crossed ourselves and
prayed, looking to the earth and looking to the stars. The prayer ended
again with deep bowing and with a loud Amen.

When I recall this prayer in my memory, I feel more piety, more humility
and more comfort than I ever felt in any of the big cathedrals in either
hemisphere where I have had the opportunity of praying. This prayer of
the Serbian peasants, beautiful in its simplicity and touching in its
sincerity, survived generation after generation, and has been victorious
over all crimes that the strangers of the Asiatic or of the European
faith have committed on us. Our tenacious and incessant prayer is an
evident sign of our tenacious and unbroken hope. We pray because we
hope; we hope still more after we have prayed.

Everything can be disturbed in Serbia except prayer. The invasion of the
Kaiser's troops in Serbia disturbed and perturbed everything in Serbia,
but the prayer of the Serbian people still continues. Enslaved in
Serbia, dispersed as the refugees are all over the world, we pray to the
God of Justice, now as always. Our prayer means our hope. The Kaiser's
subjects and the Bulgarian slaves can kill everything in Serbia--and the
purpose of their coming into Serbia is killing--but they never can kill
our hope. Martyred Serbia, your loyal ally, oh noble sons and daughters
of Great Britain, is now silent and powerless. Enemies and friends can
now laugh her to scorn. She will remain silent. I am sure you will
respect this silence of the Crucified. I am sure everyone of you will
do his best to redeem Serbia. Well, Serbia can now give, after all, her
cause to God and can wait the end hopefully. She can now say to the
Kaiser, her conqueror and lord, the words of one of your great poets:

"I have lost, you have won this hazard yet perchance
My loss may shine yet goodlier than your gain
When time and God give judgement."

A C Swinburne (_Faliero_).