and the dead, but the aftermath of such a war as this would be still more
terrible. No one could say how near it would come to them all. No one
could tell what revolution in morals and social order such a war as this
might not bring. That day God Himself looked down on the multitude as
sheep having no shepherd, abandoned to be butchered by the wolves, and
His heart beat with a divine compassion for the infinite sorrows of the
world.

There was little more to it. An exhortation to go home to fear and pray
and set the house in order against the Day of Wrath, and that was all.
"My brethren," said the young man--and the intensity of his thought lent
a certain unusual solemnity to the conventional title--"no one can tell
how the events of this week may affect us. Our feet may even now be going
down into the Valley of the Shadow of temptation, of conflict, of death,
and even now there may be preparing for us a chalice such as we shall
fear to drink. Let us pray that in that hour the compassion of Jesus may
be real to us, and we ourselves find a sure place in that sorrowful
Heart."

And he was gone from the pulpit without another word. It would have been
almost ridiculous if one had noted that the surprised beadle had had no
"And now to God the Father ..." in which to reach the pulpit, and had
been forced to meet his victim hurrying halfway up the chancel; but
perhaps no one but that dignitary, whom the fall of thrones would not
shake, had noticed it. The congregation paid the preacher the great
compliment of sitting on in absolute silence for a minute or two. For a
moment it still stared reality in the face. And then Mr. Lessing shifted
in his pew and coughed, and the Rector rose, pompously as usual, to
announce the hymn, and Hilda became conscious of unaccustomed tears in
her eyes.