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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore), 14. one word. (search)
in winrows? How they died at the Seven Pines? How they sank in the Varuna, （Seven foes in flame around!)? How they went down with the Cumberland, Firing, cheering as they drowned? Spirits, a hundred of thousands, Eager, and bold, and true, Gone to make good one brave, just word-- Father, they died for you Died, in tempest of battle, Died, in the cot's dull pain-- Let their ghosts be glad in heaven, That they died — and not in vain! Now, never fear lest the living Should shrink at the sound, “Be Free!” -- They shall yet make up the million, And another, if need there be! But fail not, as thy trust is heaven, To breathe the word shall wake The soul and heart of a Nation-- Speak it, for Christ's dear sake! Speak it, our earthly Father! In the name of His — and smile At one more breath of the viper Whose fangs shall crash on the file! The Angel-Songs are forever, The snake can hiss but his day-- Speak, O Shepherd of Peoples! And fold earth's blessings for aye. H. --Hartfo
Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, part 1.4, chapter 1.11 (search)
compel me to the humiliating confession that it was I. This life did not tend to awaken spiritual thoughts, or religious observations. When, after a long lapse from piety, I strove to correct my erring disposition with the aid of prayer, how very faint-hearted I felt! I shrank from the least allusion to any goody-goodiness manifested; I became shame-faced if I was accused of being pious; the Bible was only opened by stealth; and I was as ready to deny that I prayed, as Peter was to deny Christ. A word or act of my neighbour became as perilous to my spiritual feelings as a gust of east wind is to a sufferer from Influenza. Every hour brought its obstacle; but I came, by degrees, to realise that, just as one must concentrate his reasoning faculties for the solution of a problem, I must, if I hoped to win in the great fight, summon every good thought to my assistance, and resolutely banish all false pride. But these were not my worst faults. Tomasson's mad humour was as infecti
Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, part 2.13, chapter 2.17 (search)
be or cluster of tribes, organised systematically, one or two for each village, so that though the outskirts of the tribe or area where the gospel was at work might be disturbed somewhat by the evil example of those outside, all within the area might be safely and uninterruptedly progressing. Then, with the pupils who would be turned out from each village, there would be new forces to start elsewhere outside the area. In a way, that is just my opinion; but someone must begin the work. Christ was the beginner of the Christianity that is now spread over a large part of the world, then came the Twelve Apostles, and then the Disciples. I feel, sometimes, as if I were the beginner for attacking Central Africa, and that others will shortly come; and, after those, there will come the thousand workers that you speak of. It is very dark and dreary, but the promise is, Commit thy way to the Lord, trust in Him, and He shall bring it to pass. I may fall by the way, being unworthy to see t
Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, part 2.13, chapter 2.19 (search)
counselled, to impress the first rudimentary lessons on his mind. I did not attempt to confuse him with any particular doctrine, nor did I broach abtruse theological subjects, which I knew would only perplex him. The simple story of the Creation as related by Moses, the revelation of God's power to the Israelites, their delivery from the Egyptians, the wonderful miracles He wrought in behalf of the children of Abraham, the appearance of prophets at various times foretelling the coming of Christ; the humble birth of the Messiah, His wonderful life, woeful death, and the triumphant resurrection,--were themes so captivating to the intelligent pagan, that little public business was transacted, and the seat of justice was converted into an alcove where only the religious and moral law was discussed. But I must leave my friend Mtesa, and his wonderful court, and the imperial capital, Rubaga, for other scenes. Ten days after we left the genial court, I came upon the scene of a trage
Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, part 2.13, chapter 2.30 (search)
others form circles, huts, and avenues, and remain to us the silent witnesses of a race, of whose history we know so little. Whatever their past history may be, it seems fitting that one should be raised in our time to this great African leader. It has now a definite work to do, and for ages yet to come, will bear the name of that great son to whom the wilds of Dartmoor were as nothing, compared with that vast continent which he opened up, and whose name will live, not by this memorial, but as one of the great Pioneers of Christianity, Civilization, and Hope to that dark land of Africa. After much labour, the great stone, weighing six tons, was transported to Pirbright churchyard, where it now stands, imperishable as the name, cut deep into its face. I desired to record simply his name, Henry Morton Stanley, and beneath it, his great African name, Bula Matari, For epitaph, the single word Africa, and above all, the Emblem and Assurance of Life Everlasting, the Cross of Christ.
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 7. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), Foreign recognition of the Confederacy — letter from Honorable James Lyons. (search)
emselves. The war progressed, however, and we of the South were all denounced as traitors, because we would not do that very thing for the alleged contemplation of which we had been previously denounced as the enemies of the country and of humanity, to wit: propagate slavery in the Northern States; and ten Governors sat in judgement upon us and doomed us, unheard, to extermination, for since the war of Alyattes against the Milesians (and including it), five hundred years before the birth of Christ, so cruel and savage a war has never been waged by any nation, however barbarous, against another, as that waged upon us. Besides the employment of countless mercenaries to slaughter our people, many of whom were blood relations of the assailants, our slaves were made, or attempted to be made, our masters; private property was taken or destroyed, including our dwellings, wherever a Sherman, a Sheridan, or a Hunter appeared, in violation of the rules of civilized modern war, and all our archi
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 7. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), Meeting at the White Sulphur Springs. (search)
The right of secession was decided against us by the wager of battle. We yield obedience to the judgment without even a desire to set aside the verdict. The property we sought to save was destroyed by war, and we have now neither the interest nor the inclination to assert the right, even though it were freely admitted to exist. Slavery is dead, and no Southern statesman would restore it if he could. Its destruction was perhaps as necessary to the preservation of the Union as the death of Christ was necessary to the salvation of man. But while we rejoice that the plan of salvation was accomplished, no Christian loves the Judas who for money betrayed Him with a kiss, nor the Pontius Pilate who dared not resist the clamor of the mob, crying for his crucifixion, nor the fierce fanatics who drove the nails into His flesh. And no Southern man can love the John Logans and Ben. Butlers, who were devoted disciples of secession until the hour came, and then betrayed us for office; nor the w
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 8. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), Prison life at Fort McHenry. (search)
unded were removed to the field-hospitals of the Federal army, and the Confederate surgeons and chaplains transported to Northern prisons. On the very day before the order came to break up our field-hospital, tidings had come to us that the Colonel of the regiment in which I served, Colonel Hugh R. Miller, was lying mortally wounded at a private residence in Gettysburg, and had expressed a desire to see me. I reached his bedside just in time to receive his dying expression of his faith in Christ and his readiness to depart. Through the generosity of the kind family (a Maryland family) at whose home Colonel Miller had been so assiduously and tenderly cared for, the services of an embalmer were secured, and the body skilfully embalmed and inclosed in a metallic case. The Commandant of the Post at Gettysburg, whose name I do not recall, but who was a true gentleman as well as true soldier, on application being made to him to send the remains through the lines by flag of truce, did al
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 8. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), chapter 8.70 (search)
nspired that wonderful courage which seemed, and yet only seemed, unconscious of danger; which might be overwhelmed with numbers, but which death itself could not subdue. Had this light and joyous nature constituted the controlling feature of Stuart's character, he would never have achieved greatness. The temptations of youth would probably have carried him away into excesses which would have ruined his usefulness. But, as I have already said, in his boyhood he professed the religion of Christ, and ever afterward maintained a consistent Christian character. He was absolutely pure and temperate in his personal habits. I have heard him say repeatedly, never had one drop of spirituous liquor of any kind passed his lips, and that he had not even tasted wine except at the sacramental table. Devotion to duty — duty to his God, duty to his country, was the ruling principle of his life. His reliance upon an overruling Providence was simple and complete. When about to graduate at West
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 8. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), A tribute to the army of Tennessee. (search)
ship, listened to the truth and responded to a preached gospel. Why, in a meeting of thirty days, held near Atlanta, one hundred and forty men professed faith in Christ and entered the various churches through the right hand of fellowship given to me, their chaplain. In that day difference in creeds was unnoted, Methodists, Bapten kneeling (I think it was after the New Hope fight) beside a wounded Catholic, whose prayer-book lay upon his cot, I read from it one of his church's prayers to Christ (and was he not my Christ too?), that man and I in that act became brothers, and the hearts of the brave men of that faith, members of Mississippi's gallant ThirdChrist too?), that man and I in that act became brothers, and the hearts of the brave men of that faith, members of Mississippi's gallant Third, from the Gulf coast of that sister State, were grappled to mine with hooks of steel. In many a march and on many a field did these Confederate men stamp the seal of their soldierly worth. But among these the Vicksburg siege, the Georgia retreat, the Tennessee advance and return, these were the campaigns that best showed what
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