|

The Cemetery at Ypres

One of the many Cemeteries at Normandy
Today, the closest Sunday to 11 November, is the day that the people of my nation, and many others, set aside to commemorate those who fought, and died, in the defence of our people and others, in all the conflicts in our history.
I don’t intend to make a sermon out of this, so I’ll keep it short. In order for us to have the freedom of running, flying and driving over virtual battlefields, the freedom to pursue the happiness that we find in all things, untold millions of men have sacrificed themselves on the altar of war and tyranny.
Those who know me will know how strongly I feel about the free world’s debt to our fallen. Those who don’t, I ask you to spend some time today thinking about just how different the world might be today, if your great grandfathers, grandfathers, fathers, uncles, brothers, cousins, and friends were not prepared to pick up a rifle and put someone else before themselves.
You will all have your own ways of paying your respects. It's 11AM GMT, and I am joining my nation for a few minutes’ silent contemplation. I try never to forget that everything I have, I have because somebody else fought and died for it.
We Shall Remember Them
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave once her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
“The Soldier”
Rupert Brooke
|