d his
prayer. Then he began to sing:

"I've found a friend in Jesus,
He is everything to me,
He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul;
The Lily of the Valley in Him alone I see--
All I need to cleanse and make me fully whole.

"He's my comfort in trouble,
In sorrow He's my stay;
He tells me every care on Him to roll.
He's the Lily of the Valley, the Bright and Morning Star
He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul."

He sang one verse alone, and then the soldiers began to join, at first
by tens, then by hundreds and then by thousands, until the grand chorus,
rolling and majestic, of fifty thousand voices swelled through all the
forest:

"He's the Lily of the Valley, the Bright and Morning Star,
He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul."

The faces of the soldiers were no longer sad. They were transfigured
now. Joy had come after sorrow and then forgiveness. They heard the
promise.

"The best of all ways to prepare soldiers for battle," said a cynical
voice at Prescott's elbow.

It was Mr. Sefton.

"But it is not so intended," rejoined Prescott.

"Perhaps not, but it will suffice."

"His is what I call constructive oratory," presently continued the
Secretary in a low voice. "You will notice that what he says is always
calculated to strengthen the mind, although the soldiers themselves do
not observe it."

"But no man could be more sincere," said Helen.

"I do not doubt it," replied the Secretary.

"It is impossible for me to think that the men singing here may fall in
battle in a few days," said Helen.

The singing ended and in a few minutes the soldiers were engaged in many
avocations, going about the business of the day. Prescott and Mr. Sefton
took Helen back to the house and then each turned to his own task.

Several officers were gathered before a camp-fire on the following
morning mending their clothes. They were in good humour because Talbot
was with them and gloom rarely endured long in his presence.

"After all, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?" said Talbot.
"Will it profit me more to be killed in a decent uniform than in a
ragged one?"

"Don't you want to make a respectable casualty?" asked Prescott.

"Yes; but I don't like to work so much for it," replied Talbot. "It's
harder to dress well now than it is to win a battle. You can get mighty
little money and it's worth mighty little after you get it. The 'I
promi