THE SONG OF ANZAC.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20235, 20 April 1929, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE SONG OF ANZAC.

BY L. If. EASTGATE.

1929.

The pain was great when the strings were being tuned, my Master! Begin your music, and let me forget tho pain; let me feel in beauty what you had in your mind through those pitiless days. Tho waning Night lingers at my doors, let her take her leave in songs. Pour your heart into my life strings, my Master, in tunes that descend from your stars. Memory! Memory is majestic, for we know it to bo beyond tho hand of the destroyer. Like the everlasting hills it stands immutable, beautiful, while countless bodies crumblo into dust. In spite of the scoffers wo know that Memory, released from pain, survives physical death, and with steadfast, far-seeing eyes looks down all tho ages into the sanctuary of each heart. Memory has left the battlefield behind —is above and beyond the apprehension of the material senses, and is concerned with higher issues than earthly victories or defeats. Like the sunlight or pure air, she knows no barrier of race or creed, but is one with tho eternal verifies and our most precious link with those who are 110 longer of our time or place. Memory looks calmly—not heartlessly—across the wrack and the storm to tho fulfilment of the promise: " Neither shall thcre.be any more pain;" looks with fortitude beyond the seeming waste of splendid youth to a consciousness of life which is indepemdent of youth or age. So Anzac Day is a casket which holds the flame of memory. The casket is wrought of our national life and character but tho (lame belongs to no nation, no time or place, or it could not be our sure hope and comfort. Our memories are bound up with the memories of countless millions who have told their story in words great or simple, or, not speaking it, have yet shared the firo with all who live. Great and deep arc our national ties and claims, but when wo touch lifo in its deepest sense wo go beyond nations; only the lesser is bound up in the greater, tho one talent used leads to tho many, and men who are loyal patriots to their earthly country arc more fitted to servo a greater kingdom, and in battling and giving to a righteous causo they pledge their cup of life in tho song of all the universe. The Music Remains. The years pass swiftly, and soon Anzac will be but history and memory, and to tho careless and indifferent will be as the baro boughs of winter with the glory of leaf and blossom past .and gone. That is a surface view, for it is a veritable fact ,that the men of Anzac arc a greaJLer force now, and always will lie, than those who, in tho world to-day live selfish and unloving lives. Liko lire—liko music and light—is the glory and sweetness of what Anzac demonstrated. One with sun, moon, and stars, with all the mighty forces of the universe is the spirit of man serving the higher laws, and the lights of Anzac shine through all the murk of battle, of pain and endurance, of untold suffering, which marked the Landing and the pitiless days <">f the epic of Gallipoli. Tho pain is past, but the music remains. Let us listen to it, for it is the music of (he heavenly spheres where the spirit swings free and knows the sheer beauty of deeds which have nought to do with our ordinary conceptions of life and conduct. Listen to the thrilling sweetness of that music which sings tho song, of what the Christ of self-sacrifice saw behind 1 lie minds of the men of Anzac and all their comrades who gave tl'ieir bodies 10 be a shield between their country, their women, and children, and tho pitiless tyranny which serves not tho Christ. They were ordinary men and boys, with all tho ordinary feelings and failings of mankind, and they were called upon to <ln an extraordinary thing and they did not falter or flinch. That is the. Anzac triumph of spirit and it is that which (lie Master sees, careless of those things by which wo measure ourselves and our fellows. Some Strings Still Being Tuned. But listen; some strings arc still being tuned, For some who fought at Anzac, Flanders, Egypt, and Mesopotamia, the days of sacrifice arc not yet over, as they endure (he physical limitations of bodies broken in war service. From hospitals and their homes, up and down the country for which they fought, disabled, lame, blind, they look out on a world in which they can no longer take part in the normal life of their fellows. Whatever is given to them, or done for them, 110 one can restore the perfect body which they gave tn their country. If they were embittered if, would not be unnatural; but that is the exception, and the brave spirit of Anzac shines on in the lives of our soldiers who are still with us bearing the marks of those pitiless days. Tf ever man or woman be tempted to make less of Anzac.Day, or grudge the loss of a day's work or pleasure, even if it lie a sacrifice, let him or her go to those; men whoso days and months and years are a, sacrifice and mean the loss of so much that makes our earthly lives worth living. Go to the Evelyn Firth Home—to the shelters—think with deepest pitv of all of those whose brains reeled at the horrors of war In some, perhaps many, cases of suffering the roaping is what has been sown, but these, our brothers', have reaped tho whirlwind of a sowing that was none of theirs, and though the darkness and storm may beat upon their bodies and brains, their spirits remain uTonquered, unhurt, for like One who faced tho darkness on a long ago Friday they gave for tho sake uf others. We can never pay our debt to any of (hern and vet. through a glass darklv, wo sec and know that they who 'sacrifice themselves set a song vibrating through tho worlds which will never die. Their material minds and broken bodies may bo unconscious of it, but their spirits sing it in unison with all tho mighty forces which make for peace and order and protection against tyranny and evil. They served under Ono Who is battling for that which embraces all nations, all peoples, religions and creedsbattling for righteousness—tho positivo good which shall make evil null and voidflic tremendous forco which won tho Great War for us—tho power which can niako the spirit of man a flamo which makes such a day as Anzac a star set in a crown with others of like beauty.

The Great White Army." Tim star gleams on high and from it the song descends. Tlio night wanes, ana we lift 111> our eyes to sec above all others Iho bright and morning star, and feel in beauty what Iho Master had in mind through the pitiless days when He tested the spirits of men. Sing with the men of Anzac and all their comrades here, and with that great 4 cloud of witnesses who testify to tlio truth that there is no death. Sing (heir song, though tlie memory of dear earthly love may drench the eyes with tears. Sing that star music until one day it shall swell into the triumph song for us all—the triumph of the Mighty One. whose victory shall be the fulfilment of the. promiso "and there shall be no more war." ftut His great white army is yet in the Held; a host which has increased from generation to generation from the time when man first knew good from evil—a. countless host of all peoples and tongues, of all grades, from those who serve by instinct to those whose eyes have seen the glory and are conscious that in comparison personal gain is worth nothing—a host which holds within its serried ranks some whom this world would judge unworthy, but the ways or the Master are not our ways and rank upon rank llis army musters and is always on service, always on guard.