The Red Vineyard by B. J. Murdoch - HTML preview

Chapter C
 L’ENVOI

It is all over now, yet often I think of those wonderful days; of long night marches; of long days of weary waiting; of quiet resting-places, with their rows and rows of “little green tents” and small white crosses, landmarks of our warfare in France and Flanders. Sometimes I think of all those lads who answered so quickly the final roll-call; and my thoughts go back to those nights in France where such great numbers knelt to ask pardon of God, and to become fortified with the Bread of the Strong. Many of those lads I ushered up to the gates of heaven, which swung open to them so soon after they had left me. Now “they are numbered amongst the children of God and their lot is with the saints.”

They do not forget me. Sometimes, when the force of circumstances presses greatly and the way along which I must walk seems exceptionally hard, I call on them to stand by. I ask them simply to remember Arras, Amiens, Cherisy Valley, Canal du Nord and Cambrai, then—I feel those lads are praying for me.

And sometimes “when thoughts of the last bitter hour come like a pall over my spirit,” a thought most comforting comes to my mind. I see in imagination the street of heaven and, coming marching towards me, great hosts, their faces lighted with the Vision of God. I see them turned towards me, as I have seen them so often on battlefield and in hospital ward. That look of loving trust is there—only so many times glorified! They look at me, who am a little dismayed, a little afraid. Then I hear their voices: “Come, Father, your billet is ready!”

Then I feel very confident, for I know that my warfare is over, that I am going back to rest—back to Eternal Rest.

THE END