and cleanly kept trenches and its clean puncturing bayonet thrust or rifle bullet.  While the shells shriek and whirr through the air, heaps of humanity are distributed about the trenches, in the dug-outs, or in the reserve lines.  The men sit or lie about for the most part, as unconcerned as if on holiday bent.  The order to ‘stand to’ would bring them to their appointed places, from whence they would resist an invasion of their lines by the enemy, or launch an attack, make a raid, or go forth on patrol of ‘no man’s land.’

[Illustration:  The Ostrich.]

Back from the lines units are resting or engaged on the lines of communication; from such units men are available for church parades.  Men of different units and of different theological views come together in one place and worship God.  Buildings are not always available for parade services.  Sometimes they are held in the open field, in farm-yards, or in billets; frequently in tents provided by the Y.M.C.A.  Attendance at these services is purely voluntary, and a large proportion of men attend whenever opportunity offers.  While the service is in progress the war goes on.  The men in the trenches catch the strains of band music, and there is carried over the distance intervening the sound of the singing of old familiar hymns.  It is a privilege to speak to these men who have been in the shell-swept trenches, who have participated in raids, who have taken part in one of the most successful battles of the war, who have seen suffering and even looked into the face of death.

Several parades might be held during the day at hours convenient to those who wish to attend, and in the evening a song-service is conducted, when the men choose the hymns which they would sing.  They are reverent in attitude, earnest in attention.

Sundays are no different from other days of the week.  They merely mark, as do other days, the passing of time, which will bring either grief or gladness to those who watch and wait for the day of peace, and to us who war a victory crowned with honour.  There is no Sun-day.  The thick, dark cloud of war hides the sun’s bright face, but there is hope in the thought that Sun-day is prophetic as well as historic, and insistently in its recurrence directs us to wait patiently for the cloud-bursts out of which shall emerge the Sun of Righteousness, who will proclaim such time to be the Day of the Lord.

    For, lo, the days are hastening on
      By prophet bard foretold,
    When with the ever circling years
      Comes round the age of gold. 
    When peace shall over all the earth
      Its ancient splendours fling,
    And all the world take up the song
      Which angels once did sing: 

      ’Glory to God in the highest, on earth
    peace, goodwill toward men.’

SOLDIERS’ SUPERSTITIONS