"And, all the while, in street or lane or byway-- In country lane, in city street or byway-- You walked among us, and we did not see. Your feet were bleeding as You walked our pavements-- How _did_ we miss Your footprints on our pavements-- Can there be other folk as blind as we? "_Now_ we remember, over here in Flanders-- (It isn't strange to think of You in Flanders)-- This hideous warfare seems to make things clear. We never thought about You much in England-- But now that we are far away from England, We have no doubts, we know that You are here. "You helped us pass the jest along the trenches-- Where, in cold blood, we waited in the trenches-- You touched its ribaldry and made it fine. You stood beside us in our pain and weakness-- We're glad to think You understood our weakness; Somehow it seems to help us not to whine. "We think about You kneeling in the Garden-- Ah, GOD! the agony of that dread Garden-- We know You prayed for us upon the Cross. If anything could make us glad to bear it, 'Twould be the knowledge that You willed to bear it-- Pain--death--the uttermost of human loss. "Though we forgot You, You will not forget us-- We feel so sure that You will not forget us-- But stay with us until this dream is past. And so we ask for courage, strength, and pardon-- Especially, I think, we ask for pardon-- And that You'll stand beside us to the last." What it comes to is the old truth which we have learnt from Foreign Missions--the centre must be converted by the circumference; it is the self-sacrifice of its Mission work abroad which has saved the Church from "fatty degeneration of the heart" at home; it is the growing change of mind among the defenders of our country which must permeate and ennoble the country itself. Do I look to GOD? But I could only see Him in CHRIST, for He says Himself--and it is either the greatest blasphemy or the greatest truth in the world--"I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life: no man cometh unto the FATHER but by Me." Trafalgar Day, 1915, then, should be not only the turning-point of the world's history, but the inauguration of a new Britain. If the war stopped at this moment, should we really be a changed nation?--would not the old miserable internal disputes break out again?--might we not again be as we were in July, 1914, on the verge of civil war in Ireland, of a revolution among women, and of the greatest industrial strike of modern times? I come back at the end of so many months of the war to the picture which I tried to hold up to London in its first week--"Facing the war is drinking the cup"--"The cup which My FATHER hath given me, shall I not drink it?" We have to repeat the very words of our LORD Himself.