have sacrificed everything, knowing full well that many of them will
never return to us._)

Ye are all christs in this your self-surrender,--
True sons of God in seeking not your own.
Yours now the hardships,--yours shall be the splendour
Of the Great Triumph and THE KING'S "Well done!"

Yours these rough Calvaries of high endeavour,--
Flame of the trench, and foam of wintry seas.
Nor Pain, nor Death, nor aught that is can sever
You from the Love that bears you on His knees.

Yes, you are christs, if less at times your seeming.--
Christ walks the earth in many a simple guise.
We know you christs, when, in your souls' redeeming,
The Christ-light blazes in your steadfast eyes.

Here--or hereafter, you shall see it ended,--
This mighty work to which your souls are set.
If from beyond--then, with the vision splendid,
You shall smile back and never know regret.

Or soon, or late, for each--the Life Immortal!
And not for us to choose the How or When.
Or late, or soon,--what matter?--since the Portal
Leads but to glories passing mortal ken.

O Lads! Dear Lads! Our christs of God's anointing!
Press on in hope! Your faith and courage prove!
Pass--by these High Ways of the Lord's appointing!
You cannot pass beyond our boundless love.

THE CROSS STILL STANDS!

()"In the evening I went for a walk to a village lately shelled by
German heavy guns. Their effect was awful--ghastly. It was impossible
to imagine the amount of damage done until one really saw it. The
church was terrible too. The spire was sticking upside down in the
ground a short distance from the door. The church itself was a mass of
debris. Scarcely anything was left unhit. In the churchyard again the
destruction was terrific--tombstones thrown all over the place. But
the most noticeable thing of all was that the three Crucifixes--one
inside and two outside--were untouched! How they can have avoided the
shelling is quite beyond me. It was a wonderful sight though an awful
one. There were holes in the churchyard about fifteen feet
across."--From a letter from my boy at the Front._)

The churchyard stones all blasted into shreds,
The dead re-slain within their lowly beds,--
THE CROSS STILL STANDS!

His holy ground all cratered and crevassed,
All flailed to fragments by the fiery blast,--
THE CROSS STILL STANDS!

His church a blackened ruin, scarce one ston