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Sun (Christchurch), Volume II, Issue 586, 27 December 1915, Page 6

It was natural and fitting that Christmas Eve should be the quietest experienced in Christehurch for many years past. There is little incentive, and less reason, to indulge the spirit of carnival this year, for, quite apart from the thought of all the men who have given their lives, and those who stand in arms prepared to give their lives, there is the reflection that the time is still full of peril to our own liberties, and, though our position is stronger than it was last year, we are not yet out of the wood. There is that spirit of humility in . the King's hopeful message to the Navy and Army in all quarters of the world, and all of us echo his words of trust and thankfulness in the lighting men who have done so much and suffered so much to give us our confidence in ultimate victory and honourable peace. Never has the world suffered such a scourge as this war, and never have the effects of war been so widespread, but that which should most touch our thoughts here in New Zealand is the safety we enjoy from war's worst evils. True, our young men have gone into battle in their thousands, and thousands have fallen, and more have been maimed; there are mourners everywhere, but there is also peace and prosperity in our fields and cities, though we are in the midst of war. To think of the shattered towns and cities of Belgium, of Northern France and Serbia, of the once quiet farm lands that are now filled with graves and torn with shells, is to come nearer to a true realisation of all our blessings and of what we owe to the soldiers and sailors who have given us our immunity. There was every reason for celebrating Christmas quietly and in a spirit of humble thankfulness —the graves on deserted Anzac are sufficient of themselves to remind us of our indebtedness to those who sacrificed themselves for our peace. That the world, after peace, shall be somehow better is the duty we who remain owe to those who are gone.