Last Saturday I participated in a Remembrance Concert at Leigh on Sea. It featured the united bands of Leigh and Southend Citadel, vocal and cello soloists plus contributions from the local corps of the Sea Cadets. It was superb - probably the most dignified and respectful service of it's type I have ever attended in an Army hall. Despite the quasi military style of our church, the dignity that comes with military pomp and decorum is something we seem reluctant to embrace. Saturday evening's concert was respectful, dignified and yet personal.

During the service the poem 'In Flanders Field' was read. I've heard it many times before. Whether it was the presentation or the circumstance, I don't know, but the powerful words of this poem struck me afresh - especially the challenge of the last verse. Written many decades ago by a medic serving in the 1st World War. I share them with you here and ask, if you have time, to read them through slowly and considerately and ask what they say to us in this generation.

In Flanders Fields

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow

Between the crosses row on row,

That mark our place;

and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead.

Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved,

and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands

we throw The torch;

be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep,

though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army