(An Incident of the American War.)
A BATTLE had been fought
And on the plain, unmindful of defeat
Or victory, the slain and wounded lay.
Grim Death was busy still, unsatisfied,
Gathering the remnants of that sad day’s spoil.
As night drew on,
Two men of God were seen moving amid
Those scenes of death and dying agony,
As, nerved by heavenly strength, and tender care
For souls they sought to comfort dying saints
By whispering in their ears His promises,
From whom nor life nor death can separate;
And to the Lamb of God, whose precious blood
Can cleanse from every sin, to point the gaze
Of those whose day of life was almost past,
Their sins yet unforgiven.
And now they stand
Beside a manly form, outstretched alone.
His helmet from his head had fallen. His hand
Still firmly grasped his keen but broken sword,
His face was white and cold; and thinking he was gone,
They were just passing on, for time was precious,
When a faint sigh caught their attentive ears.
Life was there still; so, bending softly down,
They whispered in his ears most earnestly,
Yet with that hush and gentleness with which
We ever speak to a departing soul,
“Brother, the blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son,
Cleanseth from every sin!”
The pale lips moved,
And gently whispered, “Hush!” and then they closed,
And life again seemed gone.
But yet once more
They whispered those thrice-blessed words, in hope
To point the parting soul to Christ and heaven,
“Brother, the precious blood of Jesus Christ
Can cleanse from every sin!”
Again the pale lips moved;
All else was still and motionless, for Death
Already had its fatal work half done;
But, gathering up his quickly failing strength
The dying soldier―dying victor―said,
“Hush! for the Saviour calls the muster roll:
I wait to hear my name!”
They spoke no more,
What need to speak again? For now full well
They knew on whom his dying hopes were fixed,
And what his prospects were; so hushed and still,
They, kneeling, watched.
And presently a smile,
As of most thrilling and intense delight,
Played for a moment on the soldier’s face,
And with his one last breath he whispered, “Here!”
O grand
And blessed death! Quite ready for the call,
He heard his Captain’s voice.
Life’s battle fought―
Life’s victory won―the soldier thus received
His welcome and his crown!
ANON.
“The death of Christ forms the foundation of the glory of God, and also forms the foundation of the perfect forgiveness of sins to all who put their trust in it. This latter, blessed be God, is but a secondary, an inferior application of the atonement, though our foolish hearts would fain regard it as the very highest possible view of the cross to see in it that which puts away all our sins. This is a mistake. God’s glory is the first thing; our salvation is the second. To maintain God’s glory was the chief, the darling object of the heart of Christ.”
C. H. M.