As the white-robed figures came down the steps from the pretty chancel, singing, —
“Oh, may Thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold.
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
And win with them the victor’s crown of gold.
Alleluia, Alleluia!”
more than one person in the congregation was touched by the solemn prayer, almost thoughtlessly offered. The eyes of one of their hearers grew misty as she watched the boyish faces, and tried to fancy the battles in store for the young soldiers.
As the leaders passed her, they gave her a bright smile of recognition, while high and clear rang their voices,—
“But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day; ••••• The King of Glory passes on His way.”
And the line went on out into the choir room, from which came the final Amen.
The people moved down the aisle, laughing and chatting, but the young woman of whom we spoke stood a moment, waiting until she was joined by one of the choir leaders, a bright-faced lad of thirteen. He came up to her, hold-
