WE delight to remember that whether beneath tropical skies, or amidst arctic winters, a loving Father's watchful eye gazes upon His children, and His ever-attentive ear listens to their cry. It is sweet also to know that the workshop and battle-field have alike witnessed that wonderful scene, which sends a thrill of joy through all heaven as the cry goes up to the golden gates, "Rejoice! I have found My sheep," when that which was lost is found.
Perhaps the lost one may have been the son of many prayers. Careless and indifferent, he went from home, leaving aching hearts behind him, but as comrade after comrade is shot down before his eyes, he begins to think, and to think of God. From him, mortally wounded on the battle-field, or in the hushed wards of the military hospital, the prayer goes up, "God, be merciful to me a sinner!" and the answer is heard by his soul when his ears are growing deaf to every earthly sound, "Today shalt thou be with Me in paradise.”
The following incident was related to us by an officer whose regiment served in Zululand:—
“It was about this day last year, the night before the battle of Ulundi; and a brother officer and myself were on picket on the banks of the Umvolosi River, within a few miles of Ulundi. There had been a skirmish with the enemy that day just across the river, and our cavalry had lost several men. We left them where they fell, down in the valley; and as we stood there in the moonlight, on the still night air we heard a sound like a distant waterfall, waxing louder and louder. This was caused by some thousands of Zulus who had come down to the opposite bank of the river to sing their war-song.
“For an hour, as we stood there in the moonlight, we listened to the weird, unearthly sound, and knew well what they were doing— mutilating the bodies of our comrades. Of course that mattered nothing to them; still it gave us a queer kind of feeling to think that it might be our own fate next day, for we knew that there would be a battle on the morrow.
I tell you what my feeling was then: death makes everything very real! When a man knows he has to face death, there can be no sham then, no trifling then!
“Well, my friend and I read a chapter by the moonlight, standing with our swords in our hands. He had not been decided before, but as we parted later on, each going to our different tents, I asked him how he felt about facing the morrow. He replied—
“Well, whatever comes, I believe I aim safe for to-morrow, as I am trusting in Christ.'
“The battle of Ulundi was fought next day, and the Lord preserved us both. While some were taken, we have been spared to tell of His goodness, and praise His name, and serve Him down here. And we have cause to praise Him for His great deliverance, have we not? We should not merely speak His praise, and sing His praise, but live His praise.”
What a glorious testimony! Far away from home and friends, beneath the silent starry skies, those two young officers could calmly speak of facing death in an appalling form on the morrow, with the quiet assurance that for them all would be well, because they were trusting Christ.
Dear reader, can you catch this message wafted from the battle-fields of Zululand? and can your heart truly echo the words, "I am safe for to-morrow, as I am trusting in Christ.”
“We expect a bright to-morrow,
All will be well;
Faith can sing through days of sorrow,
All, all is well;
On our Father's love relying,
Jesus every need supplying,
Or in living, or in dying,
All must be well.”
A. S. O.