evening on the banks of the Appomattox
, to witness a baptism, and C—— at the water's edge tenderly handed this child to the officiating minister and, receiving him again when the ceremony was over, threw a blanket about the little shivering form, carried him into the bushes, changed his clothing, and then reappeared, carrying the bundle of wet clothes, and he and the child walked away hand in hand to camp—then there were more tears, manly, noble, purifying tears; and I heard the sergeant say, “Faith!
the captain has fulfilled his pledge to that boy.”
My friends, hear the plea of the orphan: “I am alone in the world.”
How will you answer it?
What will you do with it?
Will you pass my noble Georgian's pledge to “take him up?”
Will you keep it as he kept it?’
A missionary to Featherston
's Mississippi Brigade writes of conducting religious services while the pickets were fighting heavily six hundred yards in front, and with balls falling all around.
Preaching was heard with eagerness, penitents were numerous, and seventeen young converts were baptized.
I knew of several instances on the Petersburg lines
where men were wounded in congregations which remained quiet while the preacher continued his sermon.
We were blessed with a comparatively quiet Sabbath at Cold Harbor in June, 1864, and the chaplains generally availed themselves of the opportunity to hold frequent services.
I preached four
times that day to very large and deeply solemn congregations.
The service at sundown was especially impressive.
It was held on the very ground over which the grand charge of the Confederates
was made on the memorable 27th of June, 1862, and was attended by an immense crowd.
It was a beautiful Sabbath eve, and all nature seemed to invite to peace and repose.
But the firing of the pickets in front—the long rows of stacked muskets—the tattered battle-flags which rippled in the evening breeze—and the very countenances of those stern veterans of an hundred battles, who now gathered to hear the Gospel of Peace on the very ground where two years before they had joyfully obeyed the order of their iron chief to ‘sweep the field with the bayonet’—all told of past conflicts, betokened impending battle and stirred the soul of preacher and hearer to an earnestness seldom attained.
There were earnest faces and glistening tears, and when at the close of the sermon those desiring the prayers of God's people were invited to come forward, there were over