those stentorian voices: When Israel's Chief in days of yore, Thy banner, Lord, flung out, Old Kishon's tide ran red with gore, Dire was the Pagan rout. And later, when the Roman's eye Turned upward in despair, The Cross, that flickered in the sky, Made answer to his prayer. So, Lord, to us Thy suppliants now, Bend Thou a gracious ear, And mark, and register the vow We make before Thee here. Through fire and steel, 'mid weal or woe, Unwavering and in faith, Where'er these sacred banners go, We'll follow, to the death. We'll follow, strengthened by the might That comes of trust in Thee, And if we conquer in the fight, Thine shall the glory be: Or if Thy wisdom wing the ball, And life or limb be riven, The Cross we gaze on as we fall Shall point the way to Heaven. When this song of battle died away, the voice of the Bishop was heard in a prayer prepared for the occasion. Some may criticise it as implying that the God of Battles must always be on the side of England. But such is the character of all prayers offered in time of war. Making this allowance, it seems as if the feeling of the hour could not be more devoutly expressed than in the following: Almighty and most merciful Father, without whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy, we come before Thee with a deep sense of Thine exceeding Majesty and our own unworthiness, praying Thee to shed upon us the light of Thy countenance, and to hallow and sanctify the work in which we are this day engaged.