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would reply. One of our companies had been badly gassed four days before, and fifty-two men had died as a result. I felt impelled to go out onto the hilltop and spend an hour beside the new-made

graves. On the way five soldiers joined me. To the right of the road and just out of the village is an old French cemetery enclosed by a high stone wall. Just as we were passing this a huge shell landed in one corner, overthrowing and breaking two large monuments and tearing a big hole in the ground some six feet deep. Crossing the road, we entered an opening in a hedge which surrounded a German cemetery where were buried about a thousand soldiers. The hillside was terraced and beautifully planted with flowers and shrubs. Several granite columns marked the resting places of officers. Climbing the hill and coming out into the open ground, we found ourselves in the presence of more than a hundred graves, where lay the bodies of our own American boys. Fifty-two of them were freshly dug, and the almost constant rain had made a sea of mud. One could not escape the feeling that he was on holy ground. From one grave to another we passed, reading the names and thinking. Coming to the large wooden cross in the center of the row we stood silent for a few minutes, then coming close together and placing our arms over each other's shoulders, forming an interlocking circle, we prayed, first silently then audibly. There was nothing formal about it. We just felt that prayer was the most natural and real way for our feelings to seek expression. We prayed for the mothers back home, for the cause for which our comrades had so nobly died, and then we reconsecrated ourselves to the unfinished task. It did not occur to us to ask what theological or ritualistic differences separated us from the same God, and yet it turned out that we were two Presbyterians, two Roman Catholics, one Lutheran and one Hebrew. This was only one of the thousands of incidents which prove not only the oneness of religious experience but the further fact that prayer is the primary form of its expression. Men are born to pray as the flower turns to the sun.

On returning to the village I went to the Knights of Columbus building, where we were to hold our Protestant service. This was the only building in the village left intact and not occcupied by the army. We had been very graciously invited to occupy it from ten to eleven o'clock. Everything had been made ready for us, and the K. of C. man ushered the boys along the dark narrow hallway and upstairs to the small room. The attendance was as large as the military authorities would permit, for there was considerable artillery action going on at the time, three large shells landing within one hundred yards of the building and emphatically punctuating the sermon. There were seven nationalities, eleven states and six denominations represented in the group of twenty-five men. We got very close to Christ that morning, these lads with their souls shining in their eyes and a deep inarticulate hunger after God in their hearts."

In the afternoon I jumped an army truck going south and by nightfall was at a large hospital. One of the Protestant chaplains was ill, so I took his place and conducted two services. The second of these was held in a barn-like structure in a section of the hospital assigned to a Roman Catholic chaplain. This man of God knew of the illness of his fellow chaplain and had made all of the preliminary preparation. When we arrived all was in readiness and we were cordially welcomed. We had no musician with us, so the chaplain hesitantly offered his services and was greatly pleased when we accepted. He took his place at the piano and not only played but led the singing in a clear tenor voice. These were the hymns he selected, "Jesus, Keep Me Near the Cross," "Nearer My God to Thee," "Jesus Thou Joy of Loving Hearts," "What a Friend We Have in Jesus." and "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross." Just as the meeting closed word came that in one of the hospital wards eight

were dying of influenza and pneumonia. Thither the chaplain and the Y. M. C. A. man went, and together they ministered to the spiritual comfort of the dying boys. Outside the rain was falling pitilessly and the chill air was most penetrating. As we stood shivering for a moment beside our old flivver, the chaplain took my hand in both of his and with a warm pressure said to me, "I am so glad you came. It has been good for us to work together.

men

After all, we worship the same Christ and are going to the same place. I foresee a new day ahead for the Church.”

That night I unrolled my bed and lay down to sleep in a big bare room, all that was left of an old convent destroyed by exploding bombs. The rats and the bats held high carnival, for no light was permitted on account of threatened air raids. Completely exhausted from the day's blessed effort, I soon fell asleep. In my dreams I saw the heavens open and a great host coming upon the clouds, rank upon rank and file upon file. They were not conventional angelic forms with wings, but soldier lads of all nations, with transfigured faces and glorified bodies, marching out to fight the forces of spiritual wickedness in high places. In their midst went one like unto the Son of Man, and as they moved along they sang as did the angels on their great Lord's natal day. “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men in whom He is well pleased.”

Oh, men who believe in Christ, why do we stupidly try to deny the fact that Christianity is a seamless garment, to tear which is to destroy; a living, pulsating body one dare not mutilate by theological vivisection or ecclesiastical amputation; a creative and reconciling force, a luminous personality, loving men and living in our midst as friend and brother.

Not only is Christianity a deeply spiritual force incapable of division into jealous and competing sects, but it is also totally independent of time and place and form. Sometimes the method of expression is elemental, crude and effervescent; again it is simple, unadorned but direct and vital. Often public worship takes forms that are intricate, formal and denatured; on other occasions it is stately, sublime, enduring. If the war has taught us one thing it is this, that every time men try to confine the devotion of the human spirit in a rubric or a ritual, a genuflection or a gown, a creed or a cathedral, it eludes their effort, leaving eventually the empty husk.

The expression of religion is often crude, grotesque and even humorous, except to the simpleminded folk who engage in the exercise. On the transport going over to France we had about eight hundred negroes, mostly of the unlettered, superstitious type. One night the ship ran into a heavy storm which immediately started a camp-meeting in the lower hold. Word came to me about the gathering and I went down and watched the performance. In a small open square in the center of the hold were gathered about one hundred colored soldiers, while on every side were three tiers of bunks, many of them occupied by sea-sick men. In one end of the room several card games were in progress; the atmosphere was rich and nutritious after a fashion, while hallelujahs and expletives filled the air in unabashed confusion. I noticed that as the storm increased in fury the meeting grew in intensity and numbers, while the card games

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