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Chapter 10: summer of 1862.
The moral impressions of the sanguinary battles around
Richmond were of the most salutary character.
A wounded soldier, referring to them, said: “God preached to us as all the preachers on earth could not do.”
All felt that the hand of God was manifest in these tremendous struggles.
A pious officer wrote immediately after the close of the battles:
Never before have I seen so clearly and powerfully intervened in our behalf the right arm of the Lord of hosts.
The names of Lee, Hill, Jackson, Magruder, and others, have been rendered immortal by their gallantry and skill so strikingly evinced in this series of engagements; but while their names are in our hearts and their praises upon our tongues, let there go up from the Southern Confederacy a warm and a universal shout of “Glory to God in the highest;” for had not God been with us, we must have been almost annihilated.
Such will be the impression upon the minds of all who may hereafter traverse the battle-fields with a correct idea of the positions of the contending parties.
The powerful preaching of “the seven days fighting” is thus described by an eye-witness:
Probably at no period of the war has the religious element in the army been more predominant than at present.
In many instances, chaplains, army missionaries, colporteurs, and tracts, have accomplished great benefits, but by far the most cogent influences that have operated upon and subdued the reckless spirit of the
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soldiery are those which are born in the heart itself upon the field of battle.
There is something irresistible in the appeal which the Almighty makes when he strikes from your side, in the twinkling of an eye, your friend and comrade, and few natures are so utterly depraved as to entirely disregard the whisperings of the “still small voice” which make themselves so vividly heard at such a moment.
Every man unconsciously asks himself, “Whose turn will come next?”
and when, at the termination of the conflict, he finds himself exempted from the awful fiat that has brought death to his very side, and all around him, his gratitude to his Creator is alloyed, though it may be but dimly, with a holier emotion, which for the time renders him a wiser and a better man. In this respect, the recent battles have done more to make religious converts than all the homilies and exhortations ever uttered from the pulpit.
A man who has stood upon the threshold of eternity, while in the din and carnage of a fight.
has listened to eloquence more fiery than ever came from mortal lips.
It is not strange, therefore, as you go through various camps, even on a week-day, that your ears are here and there saluted with the melody of a choir of voices, rich, round, and full, sung with all the seriousness and earnestness of true devotion; or, that before the lights are out in the evening, manly tones are heard in thanksgiving for the blessings of the day; or, that when Sunday arrives, the little stand, from which the chaplain is wont to discourse, is the centre of a cluster of interested and pious listeners.
In many of the regiments, much of this kindly influence is due to the pure and elevated character of the officers.
Wherever these are found, you invariably also find a neat, well-disciplined, orderly, quiet command, as prompt in the camp as they are brave upon the field.
Now and then you may hear a taunt about “our praying chaplain,” or “colonel,” but even these thoughtless expressions
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come from men who venerate their officers, and would follow them to the death.
Some of our ablest generals are men who have dropped the gown for the apparel of the soldier.
Polk was a Bishop, Pendleton a clergyman, D. H. Hill a religious author, Jackson a dignitary of the Church, while scores of others, occupying subordinate positions, are equally well known for their devotion at the shrine of Christianity.
All of these gentlemen have been eminently successful in whatever they have undertaken, have passed unharmed through the dangers by which they have been frequently environed, and are living illustrations of the truth that a fighting Christian is as terrible to his enemies as he is gentle to his friends.
The testimony to the blessed fact of God's presence among the soldiers is most abundant.
“God is in the army,” wrote a pious man; “many in my regiment have passed from death unto life.”
“One hundred of my regiment,” said a chaplain, “have professed conversion since we have been in the service.”
The power of grace to sustain and comfort the believer amidst the hardships and dangers of war is richly illustrated in the following experience of a pious Elder of the Presbyterian Church:
I have been in the active service of my country just four months. I cheerfully sundered the ties that bound me to my little paradise of a home in Mississippi, and came out to the war because I believe the Lord hath called me. I viewed the contest as one of unparalled wrong and oppression against truth and the right.
I was persuaded that not only civil liberty but evangelical religion had a large stake at issue in the struggle.
My conscience, therefore, was clear, and, in following the convictions of duty, I was made happy.
The Lord has been most gracious in according to me daily the rich consolations of faith in the Lord Jesus in buckling on my armor to fight the battles of my country.
He has constantly reminded me that I am a soldier of the cross,
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and that I owe allegiance to him. He has favored me with many precious opportunities of doing good, of which, in an humble, unobtrusive way, I have tried to avail myself.
His grace has been sufficient for me amidst all my trials and difficulties.
In the battle of Seven Pines, in which we lost one-third of our regiment in about twenty minutes, amid the most terrific shower of shot and shell of this whole war, the Lord not only so far sustained me as to enable me to stand up and do my duty to my country, but to do it without the least fear of anything man can do unto me. Nor did I, as many men seem to do, lose sight of my personal danger.
My mood was so calm that my calculations were perfectly rational.
I felt that the Lord's hand was with me, that his shield was over me, and that whatever befell me would be by his agency or permission, and therefore it would all be well with me. It was a period of positive religious enjoyment, and yet of the most vigorous discharge of my duties as a soldier.
Again, at the battle of Gaines' Mill, or Cold Harbor, on Friday, June 27th, the most furious of the whole series, and in which one-third of our regiment was reported as killed and wounded, I was visited with the same peace of mind and the same resolute composure.
The two battles leave me with nine perforations in my clothing, made by at least six balls, a slight contusion from a piece of bomb, and a severe wound in my left thigh, a large ball passing clear through, ranging between the bone and femoral artery.
Upon perceiving it, I looked down and discovered the hemorrhage to be very copious.
I supposed at once that the artery was involved, and that I would live but a short time.
I was not only not afraid to die, but death seemed to me a welcome messenger.
Immediately there came over my soul such a burst of the glories of heaven, such a foretaste of its joys as I have never before experienced.
It was rapturous and ecstatic beyond expression.
The new
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Jerusalem seemed to rise up before me in all its beauty and attractiveness.
I could almost hear the songs of the angels.
My all-absorbing thought, however, was about the Divine Redeemer, whose arms were stretched out to receive me. So completely overwhelming and exclusive was the thought of heaven, that I was wholly unconscious of any tie that bound me to the earth.
I was still standing within a few steps of where I was wounded, and yet I utterly forgot my danger, and thought of no means of preserving my life.
There I stood in the midst of men, and where deadly missiles were flying thick and fast, and yet my thoughts were completely abstracted from everything around me. So fully was God's love shed abroad in my heart, and so delightful was the contemplation of the offices of the blessed Saviour, that I could think of nothing else.
Rev. J. M. Stokes, chaplain in
Wright's Georgia brigade, says of the religious condition of the troops:
I am happy to state that the health of our troops seems to be much better than it was a few months since.
It will be a source of delight to Christians and all thinking people to know that the religious element among our troops is much greater now than at any time previous since the war began.
I believe sincerely that there is less profanity in a week, now, than there was in a day, six months ago. And I am quite sure there are ten who attend religious services now to one who attended six months ago. I speak principally with reference to our own regiment, but I have been informed by those who have travelled among the different parts of the army in Virginia that such is the case everywhere.
This was the case not only in the army in
Virginia, but in almost every other department of the South.
Rev. B. H. Perry, writing from
Columbus, Miss., of the state of religion in the 37th Alabama regiment, under the command of a sincere Christian,
Col. Dowdell, says:
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We set out religiously, by having preaching twice on Sabbath and prayer-meeting twice a week.
A good influence prevails, and a high moral tone has characterized our men from the first.
The sentiment seems to be rife among us that instead of retrograding, Christians ought to progress decidedly in camp.
This is a just opinion, for the frequent and unusual temptations which they meet, the absence of those restraints and associations that ordinarily sustain them, the position of antagonism into which they are placed perforce in the resistance of overt sin, and the simple and direct reference to God to which they are shut in, as it were, all are calculated to develop and strengthen the principles of their religion.
We have had a protracted meeting at night for a week.
There have been nineteen conversions in the time, two of them professing in their tents while sick.
The regiment numbers something over 1,000, and the aggregate of Church-members is 245.
Many of those who have died were happy and triumphant.
Our Colonel cares for his men with a Christian conscience, and the other field and staff officers, as also those of the companies, are for the most part religious men. In the start, the Colonel prescribed the public recognition of God by closing dress parade with prayer, and this order we observe daily.
Oh! if our officers did but feel that “except the Lord build the house, they labor.
in vain that build it!”
In the hospitals, among the sick and wounded, the power of grace was gloriously revealed.
The soldiers brought with them from the battle-fields the solemn impressions they had received amidst the dreadful scenes of carnage.
“Strange as it may appear to some,” writes an experienced post chaplain, “scores of men are converted immediately after great battles.
This has become so common that I as confidently look for the arrival of such patients as I do for the wounded.
It is not very strange, if we remember that before they went
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into battle they had been serious and thoughtful.
Here God covered their heads, and their preservation was
A manifestation of his power and goodness that humbled their souls.
‘Whit cause for gratitude to God that I was not cut down when my comrades fell at my side.’
‘But for God I would have been slain.’
‘I do not see how I escaped.
I know that I am under renewed obligations to love.
him, and am resolved to serve him.’
‘After the
battle at Malvern Hill, I was enabled to give my soul to Christ-this war has made me a believer in religion, sir,’ said a wounded soldier.
These and other expressions show how God is working cut his purposes of grace and wisdom in these times of darkness and distress.”
Among the many thousands of wounded that filled the
Richmond hospitals, the work of salvation was deep and general.
“The
Lord is with us at Seabrooks' hospital,” wrote
Rev. W. R. Gwaltney; “we have a great revival of religion here.
A greater one I scarcely ever witnessed.
Rarely a day passes but I find one or more new converts.
The number in our hospital is being rapidly reduced, many being transferred to other places, and many having died; but the religious element in our midst is by no means dying out. A large number are yet enquiring, ‘What must we do to be saved?’
Those who have professed a hope in
Christ seem to be in the full enjoyment of faith.”
“I am happy,” says another minister, “to report the manifest tokens of the presence of the Spirit among us, even in these times of strife and battle.
I do believe that these solemn visitations of
Providence have been His chosen way of touching many a heart.
There are earnest desires awakened in many a bosom, which I trust will lead them to the Cross.
I believe there are many of our brave men lying on their hard pallet in the hospitals who are now secretly indulging a hope in Jesus; and I console myself with the sweet thought that others, who
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have never told it, have died on the battle-field looking to their Saviour.
I know there are dreadful exhibitions of deliberate wickedness, but Satan ever delights in placing his abominations in the porch of God's temple.
There is great occasion for earnest prayer in our behalf.
Brethren, pray for us, that God may sanctify his dealings with us to the conversion of souls.”
Ministerial labor in the hospitals was a blessed work, and those who gave themselves to it greatly rejoiced in the success that attended their efforts.
That saintly man,
Rev. John.
W. Miller, who has lately entered into rest, and whom many of our soldiers remember as post chaplain at
Summerville, South Carolina, says of his work:
We have had some to die peacefully and happily.
One poor fellow who had long been sick with typhoid fever died last week.
When I questioned him about his preparation for death, his answer was scarcely articulate, but in his thick mutterings I could distinguish these blessed words of trust in the Saviour, ‘He will not let me perish.’
Upon asking another why he was not afraid to die, he said: ‘Because I am going home to heaven, through Christ.’
Another, a little while before he died, said: ‘ I love God.’
I find a number of them are members of the Church.
Testaments are. greatly coveted, and you can scarcely walk through the wards at any time without seeing some of them engaged in reading the sacred Word.
Divine service has been held several times for the convalescents-and we frequently assemble them for evening prayer.
“It was just after a battle, where hundreds of brave men had fallen,” writes another chaplain, “and where hundreds more were wounded, that a soldier came to my tent and said: ‘
Chaplain, one of our boys is badly wounded, and wants to see you right away.’
Immediately
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following the soldier, I was taken to the hospital and led to a bed, where lay a noble young man, pale and blood-stained from a terrible wound above the temple.
I saw at a glance that he had but a few hours to — live.
Taking his hand, I said: ‘Well, my brother, what can I do for you?’
He looked up in my face, and placing his finger where his hair was stained with blood, he said: ‘
Chaplain, cut a big lock from here for mother-for
mother, mind, chaplain.’
I hesitated to do it. ‘Don't be afraid, chaplain, to disfigure my hair.
It's for mother, and nobody will come to see me in the dead-house tomorrow.’
I did as he requested me. ‘Now, chaplain,’ said the dying man, ‘I want you to kneel down by me and return thanks to God.’
‘For what?’
I asked.
‘For giving me such a mother.
Oh, chaplain, she is a good mother; her teachings comfort and console me now. And, chaplain, thank God that by his grace I am a Christian.
Oh, what would I do now if I was not a Christian!
I know that my Redeemer liveth.
I feel that his finished work has saved me. And, chaplain, thank God for giving me dying grace.
He has made my bed feel ’ soft as downy pillows are. ‘ Thank him for the promised home in glory.
I'll soon be there-there, where there is no more war, nor sorrow, nor desolation, nor death — where I'll see Jesus and be forever with the
Lord.’
I kneeled by him, and thanked God for the blessings he had bestowed upon him — a good mother, a Christian hope, and dying grace to bear testimony to God's faithfulness.
Shortly after the prayer, he said: ‘Good-bye, chaplain; if you see mother, tell her it was all well.’
”
In the
Southern army were many mere youths, and among these there were found not a few rare instances of earnest piety maintained amidst all the evils and temptations of camp life.
The following illustrative incident occurred under the ministrations of
Rev. Dr. John C. McCabe, one of the post chaplains at
Richmond:
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One day, in making his usual visitations, Dr. McCabe called in at the Maryland hospital, Richmond, and in making his rounds, was attracted to the bed of a young and delicate boy, suffering from the effects of protracted fever.
The little fellow had seen only fourteen summers, and his thin, pale face bore marks of disease and suffering.
The following occurred, as reported by the chaplain:
“ How old are you, my son?”
said the reverend gentleman.
“I was fourteen my last birthday.”
“Why, that is very young to be in the army?”
“Yes, sir; but I thought it my duty.”
“Where are you from?”
“Mississippi, sir.”
“What is your name?”
“ Dwight Sherwood.”
“Why, that is a Northern name.”
“ Yes, sir; my father was a Northern man, but he has lived in the South for many years, and is a good Southern man.”
“ And your mother, where is she?”
His little thin lip quivered, as he said with an effort to suppress emotion, “ She is dead.”
“ Well, my son, you are very young, and you are very sick.
You are not able to endure the fatigues of a campaign, and if you get better, you had better return home, hadn't you?”
The boy turned his large, eloquent eye upon his interrogator, and firmly, but modestly, replied, as a slight flush passed over his pale, expressive face, “Not until the war is over.”
“Why, what can you do, you are so young and so delicate?”
“ I am a marker, sir, and I hope soon to be up and in the field again.
I think it my duty.”
“Well, you ought to try and be a good boy, to avoid
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everything that is wrong, and you ought to pray to God to give you a new heart, and to keep you from falling into bad habits.”
“ I do, sir,” said the little fellow, his eyes half concealed beneath the long, soft lashes.
“ My mother taught me to pray.
I have kept out of scrapes, and have had no difficulty with any one but once, and I did not seek that one.”
The reverend gentleman then held further conversation with the brave little fellow, and promised to see him again.
The death scenes among these youthful soldiers often evinced the full power of the gospel in conquering death.
The glory and triumph of religion were never more fully manifested than in the following scene:
A young soldier, while dying very happily, broke out in singing the following stanza: Great Jehovah, we adore thee,
God the Father, God the Son,
God the Spirit, joined in glory
On the same eternal throne:
Endless praises
To Jehovah, three in one.
The chaplain then asked if he had any message to send to his friends.
“ Yes,” said he. “ Tell my father that I have tried to eat my meals with thanksgiving.”
“Tell him that I have tried to pray as we used to do at home.”
“Tell him that Christ is now all my hope, all my trust, and that he is precious to my soul.”
“Tell him that I am not afraid to die-all is calm.”
“ Tell him that I believe Christ will take me to himself, and to my dear sister who is in heaven.”
The voice of the dying boy faltered in the intervals between these precious sentences.
When the hymn commencing, “ Nearer, my God, to thee,” was read to him, at the end of each stanza he exclaimed, with striking energy, “Oh, Lord Jesus, thou art coming
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nearer to me.”
Also, at the end of each stanza of the hymn (which was also read to him) commencing,
Just as I am-without one plea,
But that thy blood was shed for me,
And that thou bid'st me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come,
he exclaimed, “I come!
O Lamb of God, I come!”
Speaking again of his friends, he said, “Tell my father that I died happy.”
His last words were, “Father, I'm coming to thee!”
Then the Christian soldier sweetly and calmly “fell asleep in Jesus.”
This was witnessed by about twenty fellow-soldiers, and the effect upon the feelings of all was very marked.
Said a Roman Catholic who lay near the dying one, with tears in his eyes, and strong emotion, “I never want to die happier than that man did.”
Said another, “ I never prayed until last night; but when I saw that man die so happy, I determined to seek religion too.”
It was such evidences of the power and value of faith in
Christ that made the truth effectual in the salvation of thousands, and that enshrined the cause, for which such Christians fought and fell, so deeply in the hearts of the
Southern people.
To the hearts of anxious fathers, mothers, wives, and sisters, what could give greater consolation in the hour of darkness and grief than the letter of the chaplain giving the simple and touching narrative of the death of the dear one on the battle-field, or in the hospital, in the fullness of joy, and sending with the last breath and the last gush of life-blood sweet words of comfort to the loved ones at the old homestead.
In their darkened homes, hundreds praised God that their children had found
Christ in the camp.
