Foreword
I am writing this during an air raid at 12.30 at night, and I havejust finished a Foreword for the Bishop of Zanzibar’s new and tender littlebook. He has been a water-carrier for the British force in German East Africa,and Gipsy Smith has just come from the trenches in France.
You would not expect the two books to be similar, but they are: they are bothabout “Jesus.” This devotion to “Jesus” binds all time Christians together, andone day will bring us all more visibly together than we are now. I love thisbreezy little book of Gipsy Smith’s; it is not only full of the love of “Jesus,”but love of our “our boys.” They are splendid. I spent the first twomonths of the war as their visiting chaplain—went out to give them theirEaster Communion the first year of the war at the Front. Gipsy Smith and I madefriends together, speaking for them at the London Opera House on the great dayof Intercession and Thanksgiving we had for them when the King himself called usall together.
Then I like the common sense of it! You must have robust common sense if youare going to win “our boys.” Anything unreal, merely sentimental, washy, theydetect in a moment. You must draw them “with the cords of a man and the bonds oflove,” and those who read this book will find many a hint as to how to doit.
A.F. London.
Your Boys
I have just come back from your boys. I have been living amongthem and talking to them for six months. I have been under shell fire for amonth, night and day. I have preached the Gospel within forty yards of theGermans. I have tried to sleep at night in a cellar, and it was so cold that mymoustache froze to my blanket and my boots froze to the floor. The meal whichcomforted me most was a little sour French bread and some Swiss milk and hotwater, and a pinch of sugar when I could get it.
There are Y.M.C.A. marquees close to the roads down which come the walkingwounded from the trenches. In three of these marquees last summer in three daysover ten thousand cases were provided with hot drinks andrefreshment—free. And that I call Christian work. You and I have been toomuch concerned about the preaching and too little about the doing of things.
A friend of mine was in one of those marquees at the time, and he told me abeautiful story. Some of the men sat and stood there two and three hours waitingtheir turn, and the workers were nearly run off their feet. They were at it forthree nights and three days. There was one fellow, a handsome chap, sittinghuddled up and looking so haggard and cold, that my friend said to him,
“I am sorry you have had to wait so long, old chap. We’re doing our best.We’ll get to you as soon as we can.”
“Never mind me,” said the man; “carry on!”
As the sun came out he unbuttoned his coat, and when the coat was thrown backmy friend saw that he was wearing a colonel’s uniform.
“I am sorry, sir,” said my friend. “I did not know. I oughtn’t to have spokento you in that fam