What Our Soldiers Sang

A commanding officer, placed by accident in partial command of a division, spoke to me (says the London correspondent of the “Nation”) of what happened to it as it lay for forty-eight hours without food or water, and hemmed in on three sides with a greatly superior force of Germans. I recall one incident. At the moment when a trenchful of men were making ready to go over the parapet for a raid, the officer heard a subdued sound of singing. He sent a sergeant to stop it, for silence was imperative. The man came back with tears in his eyes. “What were they singing?” he was asked. “Jesu, Lover of my soul!” A few minutes later many of the singers were dead.
The Diary of a Soul
By the Editor
“I SUPPOSE I must go, sir,” said a dying man of seventy-two to a Christian who visited him. He clung to life, and had no hope beyond. His hair was gray, his cheeks were furrowed by the plow of time, and when asked if he was ready for eternity, his answer was, “I suppose I must go, sir.” We hope he received the gospel, which was plainly put before him.
The burden of these precious souls going into eternity seems to press upon our soul. We have requests for about two thousand Testaments each week. At home and abroad, on land and sea, the appeal comes to us for the Word of God. How to meet this great demand is our anxiety before God now.
A Town Missionary’s letter comes today: ―
Dear Dr. Wreford,
I should be very grateful for a supply of gospel tracts, etc., just now. Preaching the gospel of God’s grace in the towns and villages around we can put the gospel into hundreds of homes and pass the Word of God to individuals each week, and amongst the socialists and labor party on the Lord’s Day morning, when hundreds are congregated together.
W. G. S―.