es and bursting shells.
In the battle, and in the hospital, the genuineness of those army conversions was fully tested.
In the terrible campaign that followed, whenever the smoke of battle cleared away, and the weary men had a little rest, they gathered their shattered but undaunted cohorts, and, with renewed zeal, and with love tested in the fire of war, repledged their faith to each other and charged again and again the strongholds of Satan.
Lying behind the strong barrier of the Chattahoochee River for a few days, these Christian soldiers built a brush arbor, and beneath it many souls were born of God.
Dying, those noble men of the South gave testimony to the power of divine grace.
Can I do anything for you?
said the missionary, kneeling by the side of a private shot through the neck.
Yes, write to my poor wife.
What shall I write?
Say to my dear wife, it's all right.
This was written.
What else shall I write?
Nothing else, all's right —and thus he died.
He was a conve