Från fronten i väster september-november 1914

729 Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite lieart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget—lest we forget! Far-called, our navies melt away; On dune and headland sinks the fire; Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! Judge of. the Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget—lest we forget! If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe, Such boastings as the Gentiles use, Or lesser breeds without the Law— Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget—lest we forget! For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard, All valiant dust that builds on dust, And guarding, calls not Thee to guard, For frantic boast and foolish word— Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! Låt oss nu, sedan jag fått säga engelsmännen vad jag haft på hjärtat, fortsätta vår färd efter rasten i citadellet. Vi köra ut genom Porte de Gand, där verklig trängsel råder av friska trupper i marsch på kanon- dundret, sårade soldater på väg till sjukhusen, last- automobiler, ammunitionskolonner och allt det andra,