MEMORIAL DAY ADDRESS I " OUR NATIVE LAND " 455

confronted with lawlessness and disorder and slavery and the predatory
instincts of primeval man, then :

Though love repine and reason chafe,
There came a voice without reply :
9Tis marfs perdition to be safe
When for the truth he ought to die!

During these months of our internment, we have regularly held
these Sunday meetings for the singing of hymns. Those of us who
have attended those meetings must have felt their spontaneity, the
reverent spirit in which they were conducted, and the inspiration
which we have derived from them. Without the formality of church
services we have, in the words of the psalm and in our own way,
" worshipped God in the beauty of holiness," simply but from the
heart. These Sunday gatherings, I believe, have served to brighten
the flame of our Christian faith during moments of discouragement;
they have taken us momentarily away from a wax-torn world ; they
have brought us together. This year we cannot in practice'hold the
traditional ceremonies of decorating the graves on Memorial Day,
but we have set aside this Sunday meeting of ours to remember in
mind and spirit those who gave their lives for our country, and so
that we may hold their memory perpetually warm,

I have mentioned the occasional moments of discouragement
which must have come to all of us during these past difficult months.
So far as I am concerned, such moments of discouragement have
been but temporary. I have not an iota of doubt of our ultimate
victory in this war of the nations. Call it a blind faith if you will. We
cannot sit down and prove it as we would solve a mathematical
problem. There are too many imponderable factors. Cold logic may
ascribe that faith merely to wis&ful thinking. But there is more to
it than that. Let us call it a fundamental instinctive conviction, based
on many palpable factors, which to me is just as satisfying as mathe-
matical proof, and if I can pass on to you even a tithe of that conviction
and faith to add to your own, it is yours.

Now at last we are going home. I have spoken of these past
months as difficult ones. They have been difficult, in some respects
terribly difficult, in varying degrees and for various reasons in the
case of each of us. To those who have been separated from their
families our sympathy and understanding have been complete if
inexpressible. I myself, during these past months, have had plenty
of time to survey the ruins of a life's work, as an architect might
regard, after earthquake and fire, the ruins of a great building which
he had conceived and had endeavoured to erect, pier by pier and
stone by stone, with a solidity that might permanently withstand the
elements. That castle, alas, has crumbled about us. It is not a happy
vision.

Some of us, no doubt, will in the future look back upon tftfs ex-
perience since last December as a nightmare. Yet to me it will never