CHAPTER XII. THE EASTERN ARMIES. FROM THE INVESTMENT OF PETERSBURG UNTIL THE CLOSE OF THE WAR. (Continued.) June 1864-April 1865. It was the soldier's deep trust in God which best prepared him for sacrifice. Rev. Abel Wood1 writes of an interview between Henry C. Smith, 8th Mich. Regiment, and his Chaplain : The soldier had had his left arm amputated, but his life could not be saved. Towards evening of July 30th he sent for his Chaplain and asked him to pray once more with him. The Chaplain inquired as to his trust in Jesus. The man answered clearly and earnestly. Dying that the Land might be Righteous. "Have you no home messages ?" the Chaplain asked. "No, that's all done." "You have been a brave soldier and done your duty; now if you can trust the Great Captain of your salvation, all is well.” "All is well, Chaplain," the soldier answered. Prayer was offered, after which the two bade each other farewell. A little after midnight, as the Sabbath began, the man commenced praying in a clear, strong voice; first fervently committing his own soul to Christ, then offering a petition for the President and the country, and finally asking that his own death might contribute something to the establishment of a righteous peace. With this prayer, scarce escaped from his lips, he expired. 1 Professor in Kimball Union Academy, Meriden, N. H. In August Mr. C. H. Richards relates an incident which shows the power for good of a consistent, manly life before God: Living it into Them. An interesting boy from one of the Middle States joined the army in Virginia. He soon fell in with the most wicked man of the regiment, who seemed to make it his chief delight to lead the youth into lower and lower depths of vice. Fascinated by his companion, the young soldier went to such extremes of wickedness as would have shocked him beyond measure before leaving home. At last his attention was drawn to a pious German in the regiment. He had never spoken with him about religion, but he saw him constantly reading his Bible with apparent pleasure; he heard his voice often in prayer; there was a cheerfulness in his face, the index of an abiding joy in his heart; his faithfulness in every duty was manifest, and his courage was calm and deep in the face of danger. Somehow he could not keep from watching the old man, and believing that there was a reality about this religion, which made the Christian the happiest man in the regiment. Each day the new fascination grew. At length, after a campaign of more than ordinary peril, he went to the old German and asked him how it was that he was always so happy. He was told that trust in Christ was the secret, and assured that if he would but give himself away to Him, the same joy would fill his soul. At once deserting his profligate companion, he determined to follow the advice of his new friend. God gave him His promised faith and joy, and he too began to live his religion in his life; so there were two lights in that one regiment, shining before men; others were attracted as the youth had been; and so the influence went out and on, until God only can tell the blessed result. It was not the "tongues of men or of angels" that preached Christ here, but the devoted and surrendered lives of humble followers of Him who came to do, not His own will, but the will of the Father that sent Him. On the night of August 17th there had been some fighting with the Rebel cavalry on the left. Some of our men were surrounded and had to cut their way back with severe loss. Among the wounded was Sergeant W. H. Boston, of St. Albans, Vt. Rev. Chas. L. Nichols,1 who ministered to him, writes: Removed Above. I went through the little flying hospital, and found one man deeply anxious about a comrade whom he had seen fall from his horse. I went as soon as I could to the scene of action to search for the missing soldier, whose name was Boston. I found that he had crawled a short distance from where he fell. He was shot through the lungs, and death was approaching. "Water,” was his first word. I gave him a taste of punch, but he wanted water; finding a cup lost by a soldier in the fray, I gave him a drink. When I had washed his face and wounds he desired me to turn him. I did so. He smiled and asked me to sit down: "Sha'n't I go first and get some help to remove you ?" He smiled again, and answered "Before you could come back I should be removed up there," pointing upwards with his finger. He dictated a most loving letter to his wife, and another to his mother. We talked a few minutes, when he asked me to raise him up. I did so. Without a groan or struggle he almost immediately passed away. Contrasting sadly with this triumphant death-record, is an incident related by Rev. Chas. Cutler:2 While I was working at Cavalry Hospital, City Point, in September, a young man was brought in, who was shot in the neck and completely paralyzed. I spoke to him of preparation for death. Honor that Dishonors. "I might as well own up," said he; "I'm not prepared; I've lived a bad life and been a great trouble to my mother. I've got no religion, and I don't want I won't burn out my candle now, and throw the snuff in God Almighty's face. I'll die as I've lived. It's honester." any. I argued with him, plead the promises, entreated him, but all to no purpose: 1 Pastor of Congregational Church, Princeton, Me. 2 Pastor of Congregational Church, Francestown, N. H. "I deserve no mercy; I sha'n't ask for any. I'm not going to do so now," I've never prayed ; Shortly he began to recover the use of his limbs, and it seemed likely that he would get better. But he always turned away when I approached, and was unwilling to converse. I was obliged to leave. the army without seeing any impression made upon him. Rev. Frank F. Jewell1 writes in October: In one ward of the General Hospital at City Point there were three conversions. One of these was that of a member of the 111th N. Y., who, before his entrance into the army, had been a great wanderer. Disabled in the Wilderness, he was permitted to go home on a furlough of a few weeks. When about to return, his little boy of seven years caught him by the knee, and said— "Pa, when will you come back?” "Who'll be my Pa?" The father replied, "I don't know, my son, whether I shall ever come back." "Well," said the child, "who will be my pa if you don't come back?" The question rooted itself in that father's mind; amid the excitement of battle-scenes he had not forgotten the parting words of his little boy. And when I came to sit down by his side, and urge him to attend to his salvation, the work seemed to be already begun. He at once made up his mind to seek Christ. The next time I met him, he was writing a letter to his wife, in which he said to her "I know now how to answer little Henry's question. Tell him the Saviour will be his pa, if I don't come back." Here is a sad little picture of disappointment, from the pen of Rev. D. Hoyt Blake:2 "George" was a fine-appearing soldier from Jersey City. Before I left, I was called to accompany him to the last resting place; and then into my hands were put his letters and two well-worn pictures 'Pastor Meth. Epis. Church, Adams, N. Y. 2 Of Brooklyn, N. Y. with severe loss. Among the wounded was Sergeant W. H. Boston, of St. Albans, Vt. Rev. Chas. L. Nichols,' who ministered to him, writes: I went through the little flying hospital, and found one man deeply anxious about a comrade whom he had seen fall from his horse. I went as soon as I could to the scene of action to search for the missing soldier, whose name was Boston. I found that Removed Above. he had crawled a short distance from where he fell. He was shot through the lungs, and death was approaching. "Water," was his first word. I gave him a taste of punch, but he wanted water; finding a cup lost by a soldier in the fray, I gave him a drink. When I had washed his face and wounds he desired me to turn him. He smiled and asked me to sit down: I did so. "Before you could come back I should be removed up there," pointing upwards with his finger. He dictated a most loving letter to his wife, and another to his mother. We talked a few minutes, when he asked me to raise him up. I did so. Without a groan or struggle he almost immediately passed away. Contrasting sadly with this triumphant death-record, is an incident related by Rev. Chas. Cutler:2 "I'm not pre While I was working at Cavalry Hospital, City Point, in September, a young man was brought in, who was shot in the neck and completely paralyzed. I spoke to him of preparation for death. "I might as well own up," said he; pared; I've lived a bad life and been a great trouble to my mother. I've got no religion, and I don't want I won't burn out my candle now, and throw the snuff in God Almighty's face. I'll die as I've lived. It's honester." Honor that Dishonors. any. I argued with him, plead the promises, entreated him, but all to no purpose: 1 Pastor of Congregational Church, Princeton, Me. 2 Pastor of Congregational Church, Francestown, N. H. |