The following notice appeared in the Government Gazette not very long ago: — “The Queen has signified her intention of conferring the Victoria Cross upon Lance-Corporal William James Gordon, West India Regiment, for conspicuous bravery during the attack on the stockaded town on Toniatava, Gambia River, on March 3rd last.” The official account of this act of conspicuous bravery states “that Major G. C. Madden, in command of the troops, was superintending a party of twelve men, who were endeavoring with a heavy beam to break down the south, gate of the town, when suddenly a number of musket muzzles were projected through a double row of loopholes which had been masked (i.e., concealed).” Some of these were within two or three yards of that officer’s back, and before he realized what had happened, Lance-Corporal Gordon threw himself between Major Madden and the muskets, pushing that officer out of the way, and exclaiming: “LOOK OUT, SIR! and at the same moment Lance-Corporal Gordon was shot through the lungs. By his bravery and self-devotion the Lance-Corporal probably saved the life of his commanding officer.
Terrible as war is, and horrible as its surroundings must be, who could read the above short but descriptive notification of a colored soldier’s gallantry (for all the West Indian Regiment, except the officers and a few of the superior noncommissioned officers, are negroes), unmoved, and not feel how justly the highest distinction a soldier (be he officer or man) can earn, and one coveted of all ranks, was awarded to this gallant fellow.
Gordon risked his own life for that of his officer, receiving the bullet in his own breast which was intended for the major; and though severely wounded was raised up to be rewarded by his sovereign as above recorded.
All honor to the gallant Lance-Corporal, on whose wounded breast now hangs the cross of bronze suspended by crimson ribbon, the most honored of all honorable distinctions, the Victoria Cross.
But what “Message from God” is there in all this to me, say you?
On reading the above it brings to my mind these lines of a hymn familiar to many: —
THINE open bosom was MY ward,
It bore the storm for ME,
For ME, Lord Jesus, Thou hast died,
And I have died in Thee.
Did not that Major learn practically what substitution meant? And have you, my reader, learned what it is to ‘have had One—the Son of God—Jesus as Son of man, to bear whet was due to you as a sinner: if not, may the story be applied by the Holy Spirit to your soul, for to YOU one would say: “Look out, Sir.” Judgment is coming, He is “ready to judge the quick and the dead,” and if you refuse Him as a substitute; refuse the One God Himself provided to bear your sins in His own body on the tree, and to sustain all God’s righteous wrath against sin, then you must bow to Him as the judge. Yes, indeed, “Look out, Sir.” For that judgment is nearer to you, or you to it, even since your eye first glanced at this paper. Oh! do see to this. How long have you refused the offer of mercy, the beseeching’s of the Gospel? And how much longer will you refuse or God delay?
Had you died last night, or the Lord Himself had come, where would you be now? Do settle that question earnestly before God, and then owning you would have been lost, and you know you would, I would now say, “Look up, Sir” as He says: “Look unto me and be ye saved.” Looking (off) unto Jesus, and seeing Him seated at God’s right hand, the wounds in His hands, side and feet— (which He showed in resurrection to His disciples)— still visible to the eye of faith; the wounds He received in the house of His friends, whence came the precious blood which cleanses from ALL sin (¤ John 1-7). “Look up,” I say, and there learn “He was bruised FOR MY iniquities—He was wounded FOR MY transgressions,” but read the whole chapter (Isa. 53).
What wondrous love and grace! The Lance-Corporal did what he did for a well-known respected superior officer. Jesus died for you and me, His enemies, is it not so?
Love that no tongue can teach,
Love that no thought can reach,
No love like His!
Yes, and this love is for you, wherever you are this moment, no matter how vile a sinner you are, it was for just such He died; none are too bad, many too good, alas! for Jesus. Do “Look out, Sir!” and then do “Look up, Sir!” you will then sing: —
How shall I meet those eyes,
Mine on Himself I cast,
And own myself the Saviour’s prize,
MERCY from first to last.
S. V. H.