This brings me to one of the strangest experiences of my life. The evening after our interview with the General he sent one of his officers to ask me to give the address at the military service on Sunday morning. As he knew I was no missionary and no one could have told him that I had ever preached or was accustomed to speaking in public, the only explanation of the invitation seems to be his intense desire to seize any possible chance of stirring his people to fresh endeavour. His interpreter would act as mine unless I preferred having my own. Having received my answer in the affirmative, next day the officer came again to know what portion of Scripture I wanted read in order that it might be well read. The service took place at 7 a.m. on a lovely summer morning, and was held in a big barrack-like hall with a platform at one end with pots of flowers on it; a gallery ran round the hall, in which was the military band, and beyond that some of the officers’ wives and children, including the General’s family. The Chief of Staff conducted the service, which was just like an ordinary Nonconformist service at home, beginning with the National Anthem by the band. The prayers were led by officers among the audience and were short and impressive, the singing of the hymns was hearty, led by a choir, and many of those present had Bibles as well as hymn-books so as to follow the lesson. A boys’ school of officers’ sons sat at the front. It was a wonderful inspiration to speak to such an audience as they listened in rapt attention to the story of the “Contemptible Little Army”, and other historical instances of God’s use of weak things to confound the mighty; every now and then a little burst of irresistible applause broke from them, and quite a number were taking notes all the time. What would I not have given to speak in their own tongue! for it is just paralysing to speak through an interpreter, and weak words become weaker still. The text comforted my despair.