The Son of God Goes

Forth to War

The Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain;

His blood-red banner streams afar:
Who follows in His train?

Who best can drink his cup of woe,
Triumphant over pain,

Who patient bears his cross below,
He follows in His train.

The martyr first, whose eagle eye
Could pierce beyond the grave,
Who saw his Master in the sky,
And called on Him to save:
Like Him, with pardon on his tongue
In midst of mortal pain,

He prayed for them that did the wrong:
Who follows in his train?

A glorious band, the chosen few
Ön whom the Spirit came,

Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,
And mocked the cross and flame:

They met the tyrant's brandished steel,

The lion's gory mane;

They bow'd their necks the death to feel:
Who follows in their train?

A noble army, men and boys,

The matron and the maid,

Around the Saviour's throne rejoice,

In robes of light arrayed:

They climbed the steep ascent of heav'n
Thro' peril, toil, and pain:

O God, to us may grace be giv'n
To follow in their train.

Heber

Being a Soldier Every Day

III.

O you suppose that such a thing is possible?
Some boy says that one cannot be a soldier

without a uniform, but I suspect he is mistaken. A uniform does not make a soldier. Anybody might put on a soldier's suit, but the suit would not convert him into a soldier. The uniform catches the eye but it does not get hold of the memory. The world does not remember the uniform of soldiers but the things which soldiers do. Who thinks of the uniform which Leonidas wore at Thermopylae, or the suit of clothes which Sir Philip Sydney had on when he lay dying on the battlefield of Lutzen. It was because Sydney refused to take a drink of water which he said another wounded soldier needed more than he did, that the world will remember him forever. A man could do a beautiful thing like that without any brass buttons on his coat.

But another boy says that one cannot be a soldier without a gun, and it looks as though this were so. For all soldiers you have ever seen have had guns, and when soldiers march through the streets they carry their guns, and when boys play soldier they always have toy guns or something which they pretend are guns. It is hard to think of a soldier without a gun. And yet a gun does not make a man a soldier. When a man takes a gun into the woods

to shoot crows or squirrels he is not a soldier. Or when a rowdy carries a gun in order to scare people, nobody considers him a soldier. Being a soldier, therefore, means more than wearing a uniform and carrying a gun.

A real soldier is first of all a fighter, but not every fighter is a soldier. A man may fight half his time and be no soldier at all. A genuine soldier belongs to an army-he fights along with a lot of other soldiers like himself, and he always does his fighting under a commander. Now the Prince is a commander, and every one who fights under him in company with other followers of his is a soldier, and one can be his soldier every day. Every day there is a lot of fighting to be done, and every day the Prince gives commands which must be obeyed. If you ask me what it is you are to fight, my answer is you are to fight two big armies, one of them inside of you, and the other outside. The army inside is made up of mean thoughts and ugly feelings, and the army outside is made up of lies and wrongs. I do not know where all the mean thoughts come from, but it is surprising how many of them there are. They rush sometimes into the mind with the fury of Indians, and it is hard to keep them from sweeping us away. And there seem to be even more feelings than there are thoughts. Did you ever try to make out a list of them? Let me begin the list, and you may add to it as many others as you can think of. There are angry feelings, and envious feelings, and hateful feelings, and revengeful feelings, and peevish feelings, and despondent feelings, and

Boys and girls must help to open the Peace Palace at the Hague