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Chapter 13: autumn of 1862.
The return of the army to
Virginia, and the repose absolutely necessary after so arduous a campaign, were highly favorable to the spread of religion in all our camps.
The men were deeply impressed by the dangers they had escaped, and their hearts were opened to receive the truth.
“They gladly hear,” writes a clergyman, “and with alacrity assist the chaplain in all his work.
They gather the congregations for preaching by singing hymns under some spreading tree in the midst of our camp after circulating the appointment among the different companies.
These sweet songs of
Zion may sometimes be heard in different parts of the camp at the same time, reminding one very forcibly of our camp-meetings at home.
I have seen or heard of but little scoffing at religion and religious people in the camps.
In this respect I have been very happily disappointed, from what I had been told of camp-life.
The most perfect decorum is observed during divine service, and the most perfect respect is manifested for those who serve God.”
Early in October, while the army lay near
Winchester, there were evident signs of a deep awakening among the troops.
Rev. J. W. Mills, in a letter to
Bishop Pierce, of
Georgia, spoke cheeringly of their religious meetings:
Since my last,
he writes,
the great Head of the Church has wonderfully favored us with a gracious revival of his work in the camp among the soldiers.
We had preaching every night for nearly a week.
There was an average of about twenty-five anxious seekers,
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who approached when the invitation was given, and kneeled upon the ground near the spot occupied by the chaplain.
It was a solemnly impressive scene.
Many manly tears were shed, and many noble hearts throbbed with deep emotion.
If there was mocking, we heeded it not; the loud whistling, talking, hallooing, cooking, eating, and constant moving about the camp, disturbed us not; the loud calls of the sentinel close by, “Sergeant of the guard, post number four,” drew us not off from our purpose.
God was in our thoughts and hearts.
We were dead to the things of this world.
Fifteen joined the Church during this protracted meeting, and we have good hope that many of them have been soundly converted.
During the meeting a man said to me, “Sir, I am a renegade from your Church, and am now a skeptic; I want your advice.”
Said I, “If I had been in your present condition when you were in the full enjoyment of religion and had applied to you for advice, what advice would you have given me?”
“Get back into the Church and the service of God as soon as possible,” said he, quickly.
“That is my advice to you then,” I responded.
“I'll do it,” said he; and so he did the first time the door of the Church was opened.
Friends and our loved ones at home have not been forgotten by us in our prayers and our rejoicing.
One said to me, just before service one night: “I want you to remember my wife and children in your prayers tonight.”
What a privilege!
God will hear us and bless them.
Many knew not what blessings wife and children, home, and peace were, till this cruel war poured over us its tide of woe and misery.
Oh, God!
convert the soldier and protect his wife and children during his absence.
The hearty singing in these gatherings in the fields or forests was truly delightful.
Hundreds of strong, manly voices poured out a volume of rich melody on the evening
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air. Among the favorite hymns of the soldiers were-
How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,
Is laid for your faith in his excellent Word!
And those stirring lines, so applicable to our suffering heroes-
Am I a soldier of the Cross,
A follower of the Lamb,
And shall I fear to own his cause,
Or blush to speak his name?
These scenes were full of the elements that stir the soul in all its noblest feelings.
In their tattered garments, some hatless, many shoeless, wrapped in their blankets, sat these Confederate soldiers around their camp-fires, listening to the Word of Truth from the lips of the chaplain or some pious comrade; and, in the absence of preacher and exhorter, joining in the prayer-meeting with hearts full of gratitude to God for his protecting power amidst the dangers of the war.
The following scene, described by
Captain Kirkpatrick, of
Lynchburg, Va., will give the reader a vivid picture of those blessed seasons of grace among the men of war:
A few, including seven who were not professors of religion, as they sat around their camp-fire, began to sing hymns in God's praise.
I went and joined in the singing.
After a little while, I made a few remarks to the little company — no formal address, but as I sat on the ground, and in a conversational way. I said to them that it would be such a blessed thing if those present would agree to consecrate themselves to God from that hour.
I pointed them to the blood of Jesus as the only atonement for sin, and to his righteousness as our only ground of acceptance with God the Father.
I then asked each man present what he purposed with reference to the salvation of his soul.
To my surprise, every man present, except one, declared himself ready then
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and there to give up sin, to turn unto God with a full purpose of new obedience, and, resting on Jesus for salvation and grace, to lead a new life thenceforth.
This was the happy beginning of a glorious work.
Every night since that it has grown in the depth of its solemn earnestness, until it has in many respects become the most remarkable outpouring of converting grace I ever witnessed.
During a part of the time the weather was very threatening and unpleasant, but this did not prevent the gathering of rejoicing saints and anxious inquirers around the bright camp-fire.
To them the gospel has been preached most fully and tenderly.
Between forty and fifty of my own company have been hopefully converted, and are very happy in hope of a blissful and peaceful immortality.
Some of the hardest hearts, long-lived and desperate sinners, have been melted under the power of the truth, and, like little children, have come to Jesus.
I am rejoiced to see that the young converts seem to be aiming more at the substantial graces of faith, humility, and love, than to obtain joy, or peace, or comfort.
Another good sign is the fact that every one immediately engages in the work, and seems most anxious to do something for perishing souls around him.
Rev. Dr. Stiles, whose eloquent and powerful sermons can never be forgotten by those who heard them in the army or elsewhere, gives a deeply interesting account of his labors while the army lay in the neighborhood of
Winchester.
In a letter to the
Christian Observer, he says:
My object in addressing you a note at this time is to apprise you and all sympathizing Christian brethren and sisters in Richmond of the happy, religious condition of that part of the army of the Potomac which lies within the range of my present observation.
At his earnest request, I preached to General Pryor's brigade last Sabbath.
Upon one hour's notice, he marched up twelve or fifteen hundred men, who listened
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with so much interest to a long sermon, that I was not surprised to hear of such a beginning of religious interest in various regiments of the brigade as issued in a half-way promise on my part to fall in with the proposal of the General to preach very early to his soldiers for a succession of nights.
In General Lawton's brigade there is a more decided state of religious excitement.
The great body of the soldiers in some of the regiments meet for prayer and exhortation every night, exhibit the deepest solemnity, and present themselves numerously for the prayers of the chaplains and the Church.
Quite a pleasant number express hope in Christ.
In all other portions of Gen. Early's division (formerly Gen. Ewell's), a similar religious sensibility prevails.
In Gen. Trimble's, and the immediately neighboring brigades, there is a progress, at this hour, of one of the most glorious revivals I ever witnessed.
Some days ago a young chaplain of the Baptist Church--as a representative of three others of the same denomination-took a long ride to solicit my co-operation, stating that a promising seriousness had sprung up within their diocese.
I have now been with him three days and nights, preaching and laboring constantly with the soldiers when not on drill.
The audiences and the interest have grown to glorious dimensions.
It would rejoice you over-deeply to glance for one instant on oar night-meeting in the wild woods, under a full moon, aided by the light of our side stands.
You would behold a mass of men seated on the earth all around you (I was going to say for the space of half an acre), fringed in all its circumference by a line of standing officers and soldiers-two or three deep-all exhibiting the most solemn and respectful earnestness that a Christian assembly ever displayed.
An officer said to me last night on returning from worship, he never had witnessed such a scene, though a Presbyterian Elder, especially such an abiding solemnity and delight in the services as prevented all
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whispering in the outskirts, leaving of the congregation, or restless change of position.
I suppose, at the close of the services, we had some sixty or seventy men and officers come forward and publicly solicit an interest in our prayers, and there may have been as many more who, from the press, could not reach the stand.
I have already conversed with quite a number, who seem to give pleasant evidence of return to God, and all things seem to be rapidly developing for the best.
The officers, especially Generals Jackson and Early, have modified military rules for our accommodation.
I have just learned that Gen. A. P. Hill's division enjoys as rich a dispensation of God's Spirit as Gen. Early's. Ask all the brethren and sisters to pray for us and the army at large.
I would not be surprised to learn that the condition of things above described prevails extensively in portions of our soldiers at present out of our view.
P. S.-I have opened this letter the second time to inform you of the wide spread of holy influence.
In Gen. Pickett's division, also, there are said to be revivals of religion.
There was scarcely a brigade in the army in which the work of revival did not go forward with deepening power.
Some of the far Southern troops were signally blessed with great outpourings of the Spirit.
The 60th Georgia regiment was favored with the services of a most excellent chaplain,
Rev. Samuel S. Smith, under whose ministry many were brought to
Christ.
In a letter describing the revival among his men, he says:
About the first and middle of October, we held a series of meetings in camps, during which time many souls were renewed and encouraged, several were made happy in the love of God, and the altar was crowded from day to day with seekers of religion.
The like was hardly ever before witnessed in camps.
I was blessed with the assistance of the Rev. Dr. Joseph Stiles, of the
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Presbyterian Church, to whom the army owes a debt of gratitude for his arduous labors and efforts to save sinners from the wrath to come.
The revival was not confined to the soldiers in camp; in the towns in
Virginia where military hospitals were located, there were gracious displays of the power of God in the salvation of souls.
The convalescent soldiers flocked to the churches and crowded the altars as humble penitents.
In
Farmville, under the ministry of
Rev. Nelson Head, there was a most interesting revival, and the greater number of the converts were soldiers from
Georgia and
Alabama.
In Lynchburg,
Charlottesville,
Petersburg, and
Richmond, the work was pervasive and powerful.
A writer in one of the
Richmond secular papers, speaking of the work of grace in the hospitals in that city and other places, says:
At Camp Winder, for some weeks, there has been in progress a revival of religion.
Thirty five soldiers have professed to be converted.
Daily meetings are being held, and numbers are manifesting a deep interest in reference to spiritual things.
A revival is also in progress at Chimborazo, and frequently from thirty to forty present themselves as ‘inquirers.’
Many have professed to experience the saving change.
One hundred have professed conversion within a comparatively brief period in the hospitals in Petersburg.
For more than a month a protracted meeting has been in progress in Lynchburg, at which some twenty soldiers have made the good profession.
We learn from the post chaplain in Farmville that there is considerable religious interest among the hospitals there, and that eight have professed conversion.
At other points the divine blessing is being richly bestowed upon the pious efforts of chaplains and colporteurs.
There can be no more inviting field for Christian enterprise than that presented by the hospitals.
In this city alone, over 99,000 sick and wounded soldiers have
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been in the hospitals.
At no time do men feel more grateful to the Giver of all Good, and more like becoming pious, than when recovering from long spells of sickness.
The revival, at this period of the war, was undoubtedly greater and more glorious in the army in
Virginia than in other portions of the
Confederacy, but there were happy signs of spiritual life among the troops in the far South and West.
On
Sullivan's Island, near
Charleston, S. C., there was a blessed work of grace, which powerfully checked the ordinary vices of the camp and brought many souls into the fold of the
Good Shepherd.
Speaking of this work, in a letter of October 9th,
Rev. E. J
Meynardie, chaplain of
Col. Keitts' regiment of South Carolina Volunteers, says:
On Thursday evening, 25th ult., the religious interest, which for some time had been quite apparent, became so deep and manifest that I determined to hold a series of meetings, during which, up to last night, ninety-three applied for membership in the various branches of the Church, nearly all of whom profess conversion.
Every night the church at which we — worship was densely crowded, and obvious seriousness pervaded the congregation.
To the invitation to approach the altar for prayer prompt and anxious responses were made; and it was indeed an unusual and impressive spectacle to behold the soldiers of the country, ready for battle, and even for death on the battle-field, bowed in prayer for that blessing which the warrior, of all others, so much needs.
God was with us most graciously, and it was a period of profound interest and great joy.
The influence of this meeting has pervaded the regiment, and is still operating most beneficially.
To what extent it has improved the morals of the soldiers it is impossible to estimate.
Suffice it to say, that it has struck at the very root of camp vices, and the great crime which is more frequently committed in the army,
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against God and common decency, than any other, hides its hideous head — I mean profanity.
The testimony of a soldier who writes for the Southern Lutheran is: “When we first came into camp, swearing was a common practice; but now, thank God, an oath is seldom heard.
Our men seem to feel as if they ought to be more observant of God's law.”
The Church of Christ is very strongly represented in the regiment.
We have many praying men; and indeed a more quiet, orderly, and religiously-disposed body of troops cannot, I presume, be found in the service; and be assured that when the time for fighting comes, beneath the banner of the Cross and our country's flag, we shall present an unflinching front.
It was the religious fanaticism of Cromwell's puritanic army which made it invincible.
It is the genuine religious tone of Jackson's which, under a pious commander, has thus far rendered it unconquerable, and we trust that the powerful religious element in this command will inspire sentiments of the highest order of patriotism when the occasion comes for every man to stamp himself a hero!
But while the fruits of these genuine revivals appeared so abundantly in many portions of the various armies of the
Confederacy, it is but due to the truth of history to say that in some regiments the godly labors of the chaplains were treated with indifference, and sometimes actually opposed by the officers in command.
A devout and eminent minister, in speaking of the conduct and influence of this class of officers, says:
In many of the regiments there are no chaplains; perhaps because in some instances the commanding officers of the regiment do not desire one, and none is sought for, although hundreds of the rank and file desire the presence of the minister of God among them.
Yet, what is the wish of this large majority of the regiment to weigh against the purposes of an ungodly, drunken, swearing Colonel, who thinks himself too great
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a man to be reproved for his sins in the presence of the men who are the daily witnesses of his transgressions of the laws of God.
Pity that any such men should have the control to such a great extent of the souls and bodies of our citizen soldiers; but, unfortunately, there are many such officers in our army.
I recollect a case in which one of this class took the chaplain to task for having preached against profanity, and charged him with having taken advantage of his position to lecture him on swearing, and that, consequently, he should hear him preach no more.
Was not this very dignified behavior from a man who filled the important and responsible position of Colonel, commanding perhaps a thousand men, who were not only to obey his orders, but also look to him for an example as an officer and a gentlemen?
He should have encouraged his men to attend on religious services and should have set them the example, whatever may have been his own personal predilections on the subject of religion.
And this man is, I fear, only a type of a large number of men who occupy positions of command in the Confederate army.
Such cases, we are happy to say, were rare exceptions in our army.
The great majority of the officers, if not personally pious, were men who had been trained up under moral influences, and they gladly afforded the chaplains every facility for conducting religious services.
Among the episodes of this period of the war, there are few more touching than one that furnished the ground work for a tract written by
the Rev. William M. Crumley, of
Georgia, and widely circulated among the soldiers with the happiest results.
Mr. Crumley was one of the most faithful and untiring chaplains that labored in our armies.
Thousands yet living remember with grateful hearts the self-sacrificing devotion of this excellent minister.
He was chaplain of the
Georgia hospitals at
Richmond, but did not confine his labors to the city; on every battle-field where the army of Northern
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Virginia fought, and bled, and won, he was found, with other members of the
Georgia Relief Association, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, cheering the wounded, consoling the dying, and revealing, in every form of toil for the good of his fellow-men, the highest type of the
Good Samaritan.
As the writer often met him in these labors of love, it gives him unusual pleasure to offer this slight tribute to a servant of God, whose faithfulness in answering every call of suffering humanity has never been surpassed, and seldom equalled, even in the midst of a great civil war, that moves to their utmost depths the best and worst passions of human nature.
But we will not longer keep the reader from
Mr. Crumley's narrative:
Among the multiplicity of knapsacks, haversacks, bundles, and old clothes, stored in one of the baggage rooms of a hospital in Richmond, I found a Soldier's Bible. It was a neat London edition, with a silver clasp, on which were engraven the initials A. L. C. On the fly-leaf was written, in a neat and delicate hand, “A present to my dear son on his fifteenth birth-day, from his mother, M. A. C.”
Below was written, in the same hand, “Search the Scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life, and they are they which testify of me.”
“Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.”
“If sinners entice thee, consent thou not.”
The book had the appearance of having been carefully read, there being many chapters and verses marked with pencil, as though they bad strongly impressed themselves on the mind of the young reader.
Among them were the chapters which describe the heroic daring of the youthful David, the saintly purity of Joseph, and the unflinching fidelity of the three captive boys at the court of Babylon.
The 1st, 23d, and 51st Psalms, bore marks of an interested reader.
In the New Testament, such Scriptures as speak of the love of God to sinners were
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carefully noted: God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
John III: 16. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.
Isaiah i: 18. At this remarkably encouraging promise was a large blood-stain, as though gory fingers had been tracing out every word; also at John XIV: 1, 2--Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions'--were the same stains of still broader and deeper dye.
Albert was the only son of a pious and wealthy planter of the South.
Most of his time during his childhood was spent in the country on his father's plantation.
The little white cottage was half-buried in evergreens, and richly festooned with fragrant vines, among which the wild birds nestled, and sang with their sweetest melody.
On the hill, at the end of a long avenue, stood the quiet country church, where little Albert, accompanied by his parents, sister, and aged grandmother, met the families of the neighborhood to spend an hour in Sabbath School, and then listen to the reverend man of God, who preached to them the precious word of the Lord.
Here, and around the family altar, Albert received that moral training which laid a deep and broad foundation for a character, in many respects, worthy of the imitation of all who may read this simple narrative.
In the Sabbath School Albert first formed the acquaintance of little Jennie, neatly dressed in a white muslin with a blue sash, who afterwards became the beautiful and accomplished Miss S., whose daguerreotype we found in the soldier's coat-pocket.
She was the intimate friend of his sister Hattie, and often his successful competitor for prizes offered by the Superintendent of the Sabbath School.
In the year 1856 Albert was sent to College to complete
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his education, and Jennie went to a ladies' College of high grade to complete her studies.
A few notes that ran the College blockade, and vacation meetings, sufficed to keep up their acquaintance and friendship.
In the summer of 1860 they both graduated with honors highly creditable to them and gratifying to their friends.
On their return home, early attachments ripened into something more than friendship; but scarcely had the bright vision of hope dawned when it was overcast by the dark cloud of war that suddenly rose upon our horizon.
The country called the brave young men from every quarter to rally in Southern prowess, and with battle shock roll back the invading foe. Albert was one of the first to respond.
He took his place in the ranks as a common soldier, feeling it was honor enough to be a private, defending his country, his home, and his beloved Jennie; and all the more, as he had her approving smile to encourage him.
Albert's departure and transfer to Virginia by rail are scenes so common to soldiers that they can be imagined or remembered far better than I could describe them.
There is one incident, however, which I will mention.
Just before he took leave, they were all called around the old family altar.
Jennie was there.
Maum Patty, the nurse of his childhood, was there, with snow-white kerchief about her ebon brow and silver locks.
Many were the bitter sobs, while the deep, earnest voice of the father in solemn prayer, like the patriarch Abraham, bound his son, his only son, a sacrifice on his country's altar.
When the amen was pronounced, there was in every heart a feeling too deep for utterance.
In this moment of silence, a mother's hand placed the Soldier's Bible in a pocket near his heart.
Albert moved slowly down the avenue, the embodiment of youthful chivalry and manly beauty.
The spectator; stood like breathless statues, fearing most of all that they should see his face
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no more.
Just as he turned the corner at the end of the avenue, he cast one glance back to the scenes of his childhood, which never seemed half so dear.
After a long and uncomfortable transit by rail and forced marches, with weary limbs and blistered feet, he was thrown into the battle of Manassas, on the 21st of July, 1861, with scarcely time to kneel by an apple-tree in battle line, over which the shells were howling furiously.
Here, in prayer, he hastily committed his soul and body to his faithful Keeper, then rose calm and serene, with an assurance that no weapon of the enemy would harm him.
When the battle was over and victory perched upon our banner, Albert found himself surrounded with the dead and dying, among whom were some of his particular friends.
He was strongly and strangely exercised with a mingled feeling of joy and grief, a sort of hysteric paroxysm of laughing and crying, weeping for the slain, and rejoicing that he had escaped unharmed, with a deep consciousness that God had been his shield and hiding-place in the hour of danger.
Albert endured all the sufferings of fatigue, cold, and hunger, incident to a winter campaign; none murmured less, none were more faithful in the discharge of duty, than he. The demoralizing effects of the camp, with almost the entire absence of religious privileges, produced a coldness i his state; and although he did not compromise his moral character by profanity, gambling, and drunkenness, as many others did, yet he failed to enjoy the close communion and clear sense of the Divine presence which he had done in former days.
In this state of mind, he entered upon the seven days battles before Richmond.
The solemnities of the occasion aroused him to a sense of his danger, causing him to cleave more closely to his Bible and its precious promises.
With his hand on this blessed book pressed to his heart, he called on God to be his shield and support in the hour of battle.
He
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passed the terrible ordeal of Gaines' Mill on Friday, and Malvern Hill on Tuesday, where the men fell around him like grain before the reapers, and covered the ground thick as autumn leaves.
A degree of joy and gratitude swelled his heart as he surveyed the field of death, in view of his own wonderful escape, but not so deep and warm as on a former occasion, when his faith and piety were more earnest and simple.
Albert continued at times to read his Bible; but it was evidently more as a task than a pleasant duty; his keen relish for Divine things had abated very much; the excuses of camp-life, long marches, and the general indifference of officers and men upon the subject of religion, offered his conscience the consolation of a temporary opiate.
Sometimes, however, on the reception of letters from home, and sometimes when alone on his midnight round of picket duty, he would shed a penitential tear, and resolve to double his diligence and regain his lost ground as a Christian; but a plant so tender and unprotected by the pale of the Church, unwatered by the dews of the sanctuary, persecuted and scathed by the lightnings of contempt, nipped and browsed upon by every wild beast of the forest, necessarily became greatly dwarfed in life and growth; a feeling of self-security, a trust in fate or chance, impressed him more than a simple faith in the ever-present God.
In this spiritually demoralized condition he entered the Sharpsburg fight, without even asking God to protect and save him from danger and death.
Soon after the battle opened he was struck by a ball and carried back to the rear a wounded man; from profuse hemorrhage, a sick, dreamy sensation stole over him; the light faded from his eyes, while a thousand mingled sounds filled his ears, and a faint vision of home, friends, green turf, battle-fields, and grave-yards, flitted by like phantoms of the night.
With returning consciousness, there came a sense of shame and sorrow for having declined in his religious state, and a conviction
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that his wound was the chastening of the Lord to rebuke his wanderings and check his self-reliance.
As soon as he was sufficiently restored, he drew from his pocket his neglected Bible, kissing it many times over, and bathing it in tears as truly penitential as Peter when he wept at the feet of Jesus.
His bloody fingers searched out the old-cherished promises of God, leaving many a gory stain on the blessed pages of inspiration.
The law of the Lord again became his meat and drink, on which he feasted by day and by night; a new life was infused into his soul, which enabled him to bear his sufferings with true Christian heroism.
In this condition I found him in the old Academy Hospital in Winchester, lying on the dirty floor, with a blanket for his bed and a wisp of straw to pillow up his wounded limb.
While sitting by his side, trying to minister to his soul and body, I received from him this narrative substantially as I have given it to you. After much severe suffering, when our army fell back, he was sent to Staunton and thence to Richmond, where I again met him just in time to witness his last triumphant conflict with suffering and death.
He was in a hospital, reclining on a clean, comfortable bed, his head resting on a soft, white pillow, on which the familiar name of a distinguished lady of Georgia was marked-she having contributed it from her own bed for the benefit of the suffering soldiers.
Near him sat the matron of the hospital, rendering every possible comfort that the sympathy of a woman could suggest, intensely sharpened by the recent loss of a promising son, who fell in a late battle.
Reduced by a secondary hemorrhage and amputation, Albert, with a calm, steady faith, came down to the cold waters of Jordan, where he lingered for a short time and dictated a letter to his mother, which I wrote for him, in which he gave an appropriate word to each one of the family, not even forgetting Maum Patty, his old nurse, and reserving a postscript, the last and
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best, for Jennie.
I would like very much to give my readers a copy of this letter, but it is the exclusive treasure of the bereaved and afflicted ones, whose grief is too sacred for the intermeddling of any save the most intimate friends.
After pausing a few moments at the close of the letter, he seemed self-absorbed, and soliloquized thus: “I die for my country and the cause of humanity, and, with many others, have thrown my bleeding body into the horrid chasm of revolution to bridge the way for the triumphal car of Liberty which will roll over me, bearing in its long train the happy millions of future generations, rejoicing in all the grandeur of peace and prosperity.
I wonder if they will ever pause as they pass to think of the poor soldiers whose bones lie at the foundation of their security and happiness?
Or will the soul be permitted from some Pisgah summit to take a look at the future glory of the country I died to reclaim from fanatical thraldom?
Will the soul ever visit at evening twilight the scenes of my childhood, and listen to the sweet hymn of praise that goes up from the paternal altar at which I was consecrated to God?
Though unseen, may it not be the guardian angel of my loved ones?”
Checking himself, he said: “These are earthly desires, which I feel gradually giving way to a purer, heavenly sympathy.”
Then, in a low, sweet voice, he repeated-Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,
Take life or friends away,
I come to find them all again
In that eternal day.
He repeated the last line with an emphasis that threw a beauty and force into it which I never saw or felt before.
Seeing that he was communing with his own soul, and that spiritual things in the opening light of eternity were rising in bold relief before his vision of faith, I withdrew a short space from him, feeling it
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was holy ground, “where the good man meets his fate, quite on the verge of heaven.”
He then gently laid his hand on his Bible and the daguerreotype that lay near his side, and amid this profound stillness, surrounded by a halo of more than earthly glory, gently as the evening shadows the curtain dropped, leaving nothing visible to us but the cold and lifeless clay, on which a sweet smile rested, as though it had seen the happy soul enter the pearly gates of the New Jerusalem.
Thus, far from home and friends, this noble youth fell asleep in Jesus, swelling the long list of the honored dead; but, “though dead, he yet speaketh.”
The precious treasure, “The Soldier's Bible,” has been returned to the family, and is now one of those valued relics that bind many sad hearts with links of gold to bygone days.
