Your search returned 937 results in 289 document sections:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 ...
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 3. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 102 (search)
pray. At that moment one of the Mecklenburg troopers came up, and the poor fellow urged his request again, with great earnestness. The Virginian knelt at his side, and asked the wounded man if he was a Christian, and believed in the promise of Christ to save repentant sinners. He answered, yes. The trooper then commenced a prayer, fervent, pathetic, and eloquent. The soldier's face lost all the traces of his recent suffering, and became placid and benignant, and, in his new-born love for his enemy, attempted to encircle his neck with his arms, but only reached the shoulder, where it rested, and, with his gaze riveted on the face of the prayerful trooper, he appeared to drink in the words of hope and consolation, the promises of Christ's mercy and salvation, which flowed from his lips, as the parched earth drinketh up the rain; and, as the solemn Amen died on the lips of the Christian soldier, the dead man's hand relaxed its hold and fell to the ground, and his spirit took its flig
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 1. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 299 (search)
99. our flag. Let the Flag of our Country wave from the spire of every church in the land, with nothing above it but the cross of Christ. Rev. E. A. Anderson. Oh, raise that glorious ensign high, And let the nations see The flag for which our fathers fought, To make our country free! Their sons beneath its ample folds, With loyal hearts, and true, May well maintain the Stars and Stripes, The Red, White, and the Blue. From every hill, in every vale, Where freemen tread the sod, And from the spires where freemen meet, For prayer and praise to God;-- Yes, on the church — no place too good-- Our country yet is free! Unfurl the Flag, beneath but this-- The cross of Calvary! Let Southern traitors heed their doom; The time is drawing near When Freedom's host, with patriots' hearts, Among them will appear. The nation's pulse will leap with joy, And every man that's true Will fight while God will give him strength, For Red, White, and the Blue. Sugar grove, Pa. W
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 1. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 452 (search)
seething tide; And when we spake of Washington With grateful, reverent tone, We called thine image forth, and blent Thy memory with his own. Our mother nursed thee at her breast When she herself was young; And thou shouldst still have succor'd her, Though fiery serpents stung; Virginia Dare, the first-born bud Of the true Saxon vine, And old Powhatan, hoary chief, Who led his warrior-line, And brave John Smith, the very soul Of chivalry and pride, And Pocahontas, princess pure, The font of Christ beside, Dreamed they that thou wouldst start aside, When Treachery's tocsin rang? And in her heaving bosom fix Thy matricidal fang? Thou shouldst around her fourscore years Have bent with hovering care, Who steadfast by thy cradle watched, And poured the ardent prayer. Thou shouldst not to her banded foes Have lent thy ready ear, Nor seen them desolate her joys Without a filial tear; Though all beside her banner-fold Had trampled down and rent, Thou shouldst have propp'd its shattered staff
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 1 (search)
with waiting battle-lights! About the Christmas hearths vague shadows came; Close mists of sorrow damp the sparkling flame For many a household missed its dearest head, And many a Rachel mourned her children dead; Our people, looking in the embers low, Familiar with the ashes, talked with woe. The angels' song that hailed the mystic birth, “Glory to God, peace and good — will on earth,” Though echoed, and the burthen of a prayer, Weighed the heart's wings, and hope seemed half despair, Till Christ, perchance, on his dear mission came Into the fireside's saddened ring of flame, And soothed the mourners with his whispering, “Man's cause is mine! Peace and the Sword I bring.” To-day, flushed morn of greetings, Memory's hands Warm with new blood, and gathered household bands Radiant with home's gentle atmosphere-- Muffle the bells that rock the cradled year! We may not gladden the old holiday With mirthful words and fancies brightly gay. 'Tis not for Time, and what Time takes, we g
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 54 (search)
A fighting Clergyman.--Rev. B. C. Ward, pastor of a Congregational church in the village of Geneseo, Ill., conceives it to be his duty to forsake the pulpit for the field. He has received authority to raise a company of infantry, but proposes to enlist clergymen only. An appeal to his clerical brethren, published over his own signature, calls upon the fighting stock of the Church militant to prove to the world their willingness to seal with their blood what they have talked in their pulpits, and closes with this extraordinary passage. Much as we have said and done to prove our loyalty, we have not yet resisted unto blood striving against sin. Shall we now, at the call of Christ, come out from behind our velvet-cushioned barracks, whence we have so often hurled bold, indignant words at the giant iniquity of the age, and meet it face to face with the hot shot of rifled artillery, with the gleaming bayonet, or with clashing sabres in hand to hand encounter?
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 70 (search)
this is great. Many regiments have no chaplains. Thousands and thousands of our soldiers never heard a sermon. Deprived of this means of grace, and exposed to so many and so powerful demoralizing influences, what is to become of them, if divine truth in some form does not reach them? Shall no man care for their souls? Shall we leave them to perish, and not make earnest efforts for their salvation? And will not the blood of souls be upon us? Let us look our responsibilities in the face, and endeavor by Divine aid to fulfil them! Let this noble enterprise which proposes, as far as possible, to supply the lack of religious services in the camps by the employment of colporteurs, and by those little messengers of Gospel truth — tracts — be amply sustained. If you are disposed to aid a great cause — the cause of patriotism and of religion, the cause of country and of Christ — please remit your contributions to James E. Cuthbert, Treas. of the Evan. Tract Society, Petersbu
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 78 (search)
27. to John Pierpont. Servant of Christ, erect, unwearied, strong, Fresh from the toils of nearly fourscore years-- A work-day in his vineyard brave and long-- The evening hour thou giv'st to man, to God, The last the brightest of thy life appears. On! to the Holy City, which the foe Of man and God assails, to overthrow The fairest temple mortal hands have raised, And tramp with Slavery's hoofs where Freedom trod, Thou girdest on thy armor. God be praised. Lift high his Cross. By that his hosts be led. Soldier of God! his banner wave; thy head Bearing its mortal crest of silver white, Thy lofty soul wreathed with immortal light. Libertas.
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 8. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 43 (search)
the thigh, and mortification has already commenced. I was wounded in two places, and at the same time. As I said, one ball entered my right thigh, glancing upward, shivering the bone of my hip, making it impossible to save my life by amputation. The other ball entered just above my ankle, in the same leg. I suppose you are anxious to know what my feelings are with the prospect of death before me. I am resigned, and feel that my Heavenly Father sustains me in this trying hour. While lying on the battle-ground and the enemy were charging over me, I committed myself into the hands of God, and felt that I was accepted. Don't mourn for me, I am going to a better land. I feel that I can trust Christ as my Saviour. In the hour of death my love for you all seems to be stronger than when in health. I received your last letter to-day, also one from Lucy and Andy. Hoping you will be sustained in this affliction, I remain your affectionate and dying son and brother, Willie Summers.
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 8. (ed. Frank Moore), Battle of Pleasant Hill. (search)
camped on the old Methodist camp-meeting grounds, not, however, before a vigorous assault was made on the buildings, which disappeared as if by magic. There is a peculiar style of legerdemain practised by our soldiers in relation to the procurement of fire-wood, which must be seen to be appreciated. We had retired to our sumptuous couches, with the broad canopy of a clear starlight sky above us, stretched our exhausted forms upon the consecrated soil where, in days of yore, the Gospel of Christ was preached to listening and repentant sinners, when a solitary horseman dashed up to headquarters with the doleful tidings of the great calamity that had befallen our forces. So extensive a disaster was supposed to be impossible, and the cavalryman who brought the startling intelligence came near being placed under arrest for making false statements. An hour later, Colonel Clark, of General Banks's staff, arrived at General Smith's headquarters and imparted the gloomy information. An or
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 171 (search)
aughter young Schuttner, of this town, whom they first robbed of two hundred dollars, then shot. He revived the next morning, and will probably recover. The most revolting act in the bloody drama was the ordering ashore of twenty negroes, drawing them up in line, one man holding a lantern up by the side of their faces, while the murderers shot them, one by one, through the head. This inhuman butchery was within three yards of the boat. One negro alone of all that were shot is alive. Christ. Habacher, who lives near Hamilton's Mill, in this city, was aboard, but managed to hide his money, and got off scot free. Charley, formerly bar-keeper for Christian Wagner, in Jefferson City, was robbed of every dollar he had, some four hundred and fifty dollars. Geo. Schriver, of this city, was led out to be shot, and a watchman on the boat halloed, Hold on there; he is one of my deck-hands, and they led him back, taking seventy-two dollars from him, being all he had except twenty dollars
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 ...