Your Boys | Page 8

it a quiet room--and so I asked
all the boys who would like to see me, just to leave their seats and go
into this room. I went to them and said,
"You have elected to come here to pray, so we will just kneel down at
once. I am not going to do anything more than guide you. I want you to
tell God what you feel you need in your own language."
The prayers of those boys would have made a book. There were no
old-fashioned phrases. You know what I mean--people begin at a
certain place and there is no stopping them till they get to another
certain place. One of these boys began, "Please God, You know I've
been a rotter." That's the way to pray. That boy was talking to God and
the Lord was very glad to listen.
* * * * *
I was talking to one boy--an American; he was a little premature, he
was in the fight before his country.
"Sonny," I said, "you're an American?"
"Yes, sir. I was born in Michigan."
"Well, what are you doing, fighting under the British flag?"
"I guess it's my fight too, sir. This," he said, "is not a fight for England,
France, or Belgium, but a fight for the race, and I wouldn't have been a
man if I had kept out."
I told that story to one of our Generals who died last September.

"Ah!" he said, "that boy got to the bottom of the business. It's for the
race. It's for the race."
"Are you a Christian?" I asked.
"No," he answered; "but I should like to be one. I wasn't brought up. I
grew up, and I grew up my own way, and my own way was the wrong
way. I go to church occasionally--if a friend is getting married. I know
the story of the Christian faith a little, but it has never really meant
anything to me."
Then he continued slowly, "On the Somme, a few hours before I was
badly wounded"--he put his hand in his pocket and drew out a little
crucifix--"I picked up that little crucifix and I put it in my pack, and
when I got to hospital I found that little crucifix on my table. One of the
nurses or the orderlies had put it there, thinking I was a Catholic. But I
know I'm not, sir. I am nothing. I have been looking at this little
crucifix so often since I was wounded, and I look at it till my eyes fill
with tears, because it reminds me of what He did for me--not this little
bit of metal, but what it means."
I said, "Have you ever prayed?"
He replied, "No, sir. I've wept over this little crucifix--is that prayer?"
"That's prayer of the best sort," I said. "Every tear contained volumes
you could not utter, and God read every word. He knows all about it."
I pulled out a little khaki Testament. "Would you like it?" I said.
"Would you read it?"
He answered, "Yes," and signed the decision in the cover.
When I shook hands with him there was a light in his eyes. Have you
ever seen the light break over the cliff-tops of some high mountain
peak? Have you ever watched the sun kiss a landscape into beauty?
Have you ever seen the earth dance with gladness as the sun bathed it
with radiance and warmth? Oh, it's a great sight; but there's no sight

like seeing the light from Calvary kiss a human face as it fills the heart
with the assurance of Divine forgiveness.
* * * * *
One hundred and fifty-two thousand cups of tea and coffee are given
away monthly at one railway-station. I once happened to be at a
railway-station on the main lines of communication. There are women
working there, women of position and means, working at their own
expense. I have seen rough fellows go up to a British woman behind a
counter--the first time they have seen a British woman for months--and
I have heard them say, "Madam, will you shake hands with me?" I saw
an Australian do that. He got her hand--and his was like a leg of
mutton--and he thought of his mother and his home-folk. He forgot his
tea. It was a benediction to have that woman there.
Well, on this occasion two of these ladies said to me, "Gipsy, we're
having a relief train pass through to-morrow, and one comes through up
and one comes through down."
"I'll be there," I said.
The train that was coming from the front we could hear before we
could see it. And it wasn't the engine that we heard, because that came
so slowly, but I could hear