LEXDEN METHODIST CHURCH
Notices for Week Commencing 8th November 2020
They will beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning-hooks. Micah 4 v 3
Prayer Requests – Please pray for all servicemen and women, their families, and friends. Those who were injured and those who paid the ultimate sacrifice.
Please pray for our Churches and for our Circuit Ministers Rev Joe Adams, Rev Ken Chalmers and Rev Alan Jenkins.
Continue to pray for all others who are in any way troubled, lonely, unwell or bereaved and anyone else who needs our prayers.
“Why there is pain and sorrow in the world was no new problem, and although we cannot altogether answer the question, we realise that if, there was no such thing as danger, no such thing as war, there would be no such thing as courage and if there were no such things as pain and sorrow, there would be no such things as sympathy and love. This dreadful war had brought out, in the most wonderful way, the courage of the nation, it had drawn out the sympathy and the love for those who have suffered, it had drawn out all the best in a way that nothing else could have done…….”
Rev W G Elnor
Dover Express 15th November 1918
Displayed on railings at Dover Castle, overlooking the Harbour
With thanks to Viv Wilcox for sharing this with us
For The Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables at home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
By Laurence Binyon