("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 o...

"Comfort ye, my people!" Saith your God,-- "And be ye comforted! And--be--ye--comforted!" Roughly my plough did plough you,

The Greatest Day that ever dawned… It was a Winter’s Morn. The Finest Temple ever built Was a Shed where a Babe was born. The Sweetest Robes by woman wroug…

Who are the Makers of Wars? The Kings of the earth. And who are these Kings of the ea… Only men—not always even men of wo… But claiming rule by right of birt…

Where are all the young men? There are only grey-heads here. What has become of the young men? centered* * * * * * * This is the young men’s year!

Free men of God, the New Day bre… In golden gleams across the sky; The darkness of the night is past, This is the Day of Victory. For this our fathers strove,

By William Arthur Dunkerley (Joh… "‘See this my garden, Large and fair!’" —Thus, to his friend, The Philosopher.

With the thirty pieces of silver, They bought the Potter’s Field; For none would have the blood-mone… And the interest it might yield. The Place of Blood for the Price…

I know! I know!— The ceaseless ache, the emptiness,… The pang of loss,— The strength that sinks beneath so… “—Heedless and careless, still the…

The good intent of God became the… And lived on earth—the Living Lov… That men might draw to closer touc… Since Christ in all the ways of m…

Just see that we get full value Of that for which we have paid. The price has been a heavy one, But the goods are there—and we’ve… We’ve paid in our toil and our wou…

Not for one single day Can I discern my way, But this I surely know,— Who gives the day, Will show the way,

Say once again Thy sweet “I will!… In answer to my prayers. “Lord, if Thou wilt!”— —“I will! Rise up above thy cares!”

“My heart to-day Is strangely full of home! How is it With the dear ones over there? Five years!

Lord Christ, let me but hold Thy… And all the rest may go. For nothing is, but only seems, And life is full of idle dreams, Until Thyself we know.