Although nothing may explain away the paradox that those whose
duty it seems to preach the gospel of peace and charity should be
helping to heap up the fields of Christendom with the corruption of
dead bodies, there is at least this to be said: the priest-soldier in
France has been a spiritual influence among his comrades, so that
some of them fought with nobler motives than that of blood-lust, and
went to death or victory, influenced not with hatred of fellow men, but
with a conviction that out of all that death there would come a new life
to nations, and that in killing their enemy they were killing a brutal
tyranny with its grip upon the world, and a barbarism which would
make human life a slavery. A young priest who said his prayers
before lying down on his straw mattress or in the mud of his trench,
put a check upon blasphemy, and his fellows--anti-clericals perhaps
in the old days or frank materialists--watched him curiously and were
thoughtful after their watchfulness. It was easy to see that he was
eager to give up his life as a sacrifice to the God of his faith. His
courage had something supernatural in it, and he was careless of
death. Then, again, he was the best comrade in the company.
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