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Another man in my regiment was severely wounded. He said to me in the hospital when it was likely he would die: “How awful it is for a man to lie down and die in his sins, and not attend to his salvation until it is too late. Lord, have mercy upon me.” And yet he got better and turned back to the world, and continued to neglect his salvation.

I asked a young man who professed religion in my regiment and joined the Church: “What are you willing to do for Christ?” He answered: “To die for him.”

A noble young man in my regiment, and who had been since before the war a member of the Presbyterian Church, was mortally wounded above Richmond. He lived several days. One day, before praying with him, while I was reading to him the Twenty-third Psalm, when I had read in it as far as the words, “I will fear no evil,” he exclaimed: “I fear no evil; Christ is my Friend; O blessed Redeemer!” His death was a triumphant one. He did not seem to fear to die any more than to go to sleep, and a number seemed to be deeply impressed by his calm and happy death.

Another man in my regiment was mortally wounded. I prayed with him before he died. He was a professor of religion, and I believe a true Christian. As he was sinking in death I asked him: “Can you still trust in Jesus?” His dying countenance lighted up with a sweet smile, and he answered: “I can trust in Jesus; I can trust in Jesus.” That name seemed precious to him, and was like music in his dying ears.

Another young man in my regiment was wounded, and after some time died in Jackson Hospital; but he was no Christian, I fear. I directed him to Jesus as the only Saviour. One day I asked him if he trusted in Christ, or in his prayers and works, to save him. He answered: “I trust partly in Christ, and partly in my prayers and works.” I fear this is the mistake of many who do not take Christ for their entire and only Saviour. He one day said: “If my name was only on the Church roll I think all would be right with me.” As if a mere profession of religion would have been sufficient. How many ways Satan has of deceiving men! He said, one day, “ I never was taught the Scriptures. Father is a wicked man. I did badly when a boy, and mother wanted to correct me, and father would not let her, and so I grew up badly.”

I was requested to visit a young man of the First South Carolina Regiment, mortally wounded at Spottsylvania Court House. I did so, and found him happy, though his sufferings, I think, were great. He said: “My happiness is inexpressible, it is beyond all expression; tongue cannot express it.” Upon my inquiring as to the ground of his trust, he said: “I have not a bit of trust in myself. I am a brittle thread: lost, lost, lost, without a Saviour” (or “but for the Saviour” ).

I asked him if he felt the truth of those words— “Jesus can make a dying bed feel soft as downy pillows are.” He answered, “I know it; I feel it sensibly.” He spoke of his widowed mother, and said, “I love my mother; but I love my Saviour much more.” He clapped his hands, and blessed the Lord.

Not far off I witnessed a most triumphant death-bed scene; an experienced Christian of the Third South Carolina Regiment. He said, “I am weaker, but my way is clearer than ever before. God is my Rock and my Fortress.” He spoke of his great love for Christians, and spoke of this affording him evidence of his being a Christian; for, said he, “We know that we have passed from death unto life because we love the brethren.” He spoke of his intense sufferings, but said, “Christ is very precious to me.” Again he said, “I hope I will know you in heaven,” and “I believe in heavenly recognition.” He trusted in Christ alone, and said, “We are not saved by works, but by the unsearchable riches of Christ.” Again he said, “No denominations are in heaven; loftier thoughts than these will engage our attention there.” It was a privilege to hear his talk, and as I looked on his corpse next day, I thought what a glorious exchange his spirit has made!

A friend of mine asked a poor young man in a hospital as to his prospects for eternity. He was too far gone to speak, but wrote these words on a strip of paper,

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