This service now may be the beginning of a new life for the deanery, not only of a new fellowship, and of far greater devotion in your work, and of a joy which you never had before. Christmas in war time is not going to be a merry Christmas for any of us. But there is no reason, if we understand what happiness means, why it should not be a happy one. If these three lessons are taken home, you will as a deanery and individually and as parishes have a joy which the world can neither give nor take away. VII IMMORTALITY[12] [12] Preached at the Parish Church, Camden Town. "JESUS said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die."--ST. JOHN xi. 25, 26. "Whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die." If a man die, shall he live again? There is no time in our history when that has been a more pressing question than it is to-day. Men are dying in hundreds. I can think myself of some as dear to me as if they were my own sons, whose bodies are lying to-day in some Belgian or French grave. And I spend much of my time in going to comfort the widows and the mothers. If a man die, shall he live again? I wonder whether you have ever read or heard read this little poem called "The Army of the Dead":[13] [13] By Barry Pain. Published in the _Westminster Gazette_. "I dreamt that overhead I saw in twilight grey The Army of the Dead Marching upon its way, So still and passionless, With faces so serene, That scarcely could one guess Such men in war had been. "No mark of hurt they bore, Nor smoke, nor bloody stain; Nor suffered any more Famine, fatigue, or pain; Nor any lust of hate Now lingered in their eyes-- Who have fulfilled their fate, Have lost all enmities. "A new and greater pride So quenched the pride of race That foes marched side by side Who once fought face to face. That ghostly army's plan Knows but one race, one rod-- All nations there are Man, And the one King is God. "No longer on their ears The bugle's summons falls; Beyond these tangled spheres The Archangel's trumpet calls; And by that trumpet led Far up the exalted sky, The Army of the Dead Goes by, and still goes by. "Look upward, standing mute; Salute!"