"Made by one who is blind. Oh! How I long to see the dear old flag you are fighting under!"
The following lines were found under the pillow of a Union soldier, who was lying dead in a hospital. They seem more like an inspiration than like a literary effort, and carry intrinsic evidence of their genuineness under .the circumstances. There is something very touching in the perfect simplicity of this little poem. Unconsciously, the writer, in his artlessness, has reached the highest triumph of art.
I lay me down to sleep,
With little thoughts of care
Whether my waking find
Me here or there.
A bowing, burdened head,
That only asks to rest,
"Unquestioning, upon
A loving breast.
My good right hand forgets
Its cunning now —
To march the weary march
I know not how.
I am not eager, hold.
Not strong, all that is past;
I am ready not to do
At last, at last.
My half day's work is done,
And this is all my part;
I give a patient God
My patient heart —
And grasp his banner still,
Though all its blue be dim;
These stripes, no less than stars,
Lead after him.
Among the numerous wounded officers and soldiers whom I visited in the Hospitals at Vining Station, none seemed to bear their terrible sufferings with so much composure and cheerfulness as Captain John A. Norris of the 98th O. V. I. Captain Norris held a very distinguished place in the desperate battle of Peach Tree Creek — and of popularity for chivalrous daring, he has obtained a large share. This is not to be wondered at, when it is remembered, how gallantly, and promptly he dashed into that fight. In this engagement, he lost a leg and his glorified wounds attest that he was the "bravest of the brave." Captain Norris is esteemed both in private and public life as a ripe scholar, an accomplished gentleman, and an undaunted patriot.
A NEGRO PRAYER MEETING THE NEGRO PREACHER.
While at Atlanta we strayed to an African church, and the post of honor was assigned to us white folks on the right of the desk. As we entered, a row of colored brethren were singing a monotonous tune, keeping time by the swaying of their bodies, and thus for nearly an hour one song after another was sung in the same dismal, weary strain. At length the regular exercises commenced. A jolly-looking full faced young man preached, in which his main object was evidently to create an excitement. His voice was raised to an unnatural pitch, while he assumed the manner of a stage actor, in the course of his sermon he raised hands and eyes toward Heaven, and shrieked out, “I see Him now. I see Him on the Roman cross. I hear the driving of the nails into His blessed hands and feet! O, I hear those awful sounds. I hear them now!" Accompanying these remarks with acting out the driving of the hammer, moved the audience to an almost fearful excitement One tall, gaunt, weird-like woman, rose from her seat, and bounding up and down, cried out, glory! Glory! till almost exhausted, and then passed around among the sisters, most solemnly shaking hands, while the preacher, satisfied with this visible effect of his preaching, gradually subsided.
Then arose a thin, wiry, emaciated, old man, whose gray locks, wrinkled features, sunken eyes, were almost spectral, and leaning on the desk, seemed almost on the very verge of dissolution. In a weak and tremulous voice, he addressed the audience after this manner: "My children, I have not spoken to you before for a six month, and the Master will, I fear, allow me only this opportunity of addressing you again this side of the grave. I am old and feeble, and near the border land, but I want to tell you of Jesus." Then for nearly half an hour he spoke in a strain of impassioned eloquence, such as I have seldom heard surpassed. His frame expanded, and his voice was shrill and clear, while those deep set, cavernous eyes, gleamed and glistened and glared like coals of fire and the listeners were held spell bound by the fiery eloquence and burning words of the patriarch. Said he: “My brothers, take up the cross and bear it ruefully, take it up and hold it before you; do not attempt to drag it on the ground, for of if you do, the devil will get on to the other end, and you will have to drag him too.” This was noted out by the representation of dragging the cross so masterly, that one almost suspected to see his Satanic Majesty rising up before him.
Again, said he, "The Bible nowhere tells us that we walk through the valley of death; it says we only pass through the shadows of it."
The form of that emaciated old man, standing up like a prophet of old, is still before me, though ere this, he may be in the presence of Him who is no "respecter of persons."
About half of the time in the meeting was taken up with singing. The leader repeated large portions of Bible history, or religious sentiment, and the congregation sang it after him. If the meter was short, or excessive in any part, it made no difference. At regular intervals they tacked on a chorus, which, at first, was pertinent to the subject, but which very soon was entirely foreign to the sense, yet the chorus must be had at all events. The excitement gradually grew intense. The women stood up and swayed to and fro to the sound of the music. The young men stood, and at each repetition of the chorus, rose up on tiptoe, and had it not been for the restraining influence of three or four delegates in attendance, they would very likely have had more or less dancing. But it was all the natural expression of deep, religious enthusiasm to those untutored minds, even as it might have been with David, who "danced before the Lord with all his might."
Their prayers were the best part of the meeting, full of strong faith, earnest feeling and deep humility. One brother prayed for the army, for the Christian Commission, for the sick in the hospital, for the President and his own colored brethren; “and now Lord," said he, "when you's 'membered all the rest, then come down and member poor, unworthy me, who am less than the least of all saints, if I am anything at all!"
Another prayed that the Lord would save the unbelievers present from that fire that burns without any blowing!
The warm imaginations of the Negro were continually shooting forth in tropical luxuriance. One prayed the Lord to bless all men as far as the winds blow and the waters run.
Another: "Lord you know brudder Sam. He's bery wicked. Please, Lord, take him by the collar, and shake him over hell till he turn to de Lord; but do Lord, be careful not to let him fall!"
Another; “Lord, get on your Great White Horse of Salvation, and ride through every impenitent heart in Atlanta, "to which a response was duly made: "Yes, Lord, get on to de fastest!"
After all, that is not very different from a good white prayer, where He is besought to allow his chariot wheels to make no tarrying. The image only differs, and is somewhat bolder.
At the commencement of the services prayer was duly offered for the leader, that God would please to douse his head in wisdom.
Their imaginations were certainly more developed than their theology, but even in their most erroneous conceptions, they evidently showed strong faith. One of them declared that he was not afraid of any misfortune. "I serve that Master who always is awake when everybody else is asleep, and when he can not attend to me himself, he sends two of his strongest angels to act in his stead."
The speaker told them that the Lord Jesus had been so watchful for their salvation, while he sat upon his Throne of Mercy, that he neither ate, drank, nor slept, but waited and watched for their repentance and conversion, but on the morning of the resurrection, "all this," said he, "will be over. He will get down from his Throne of Mercy, and will ascend upon one of justice, and then you will find that he will wait upon you no longer."
He drew on his imagination once more, while attempting to encourage Christians in view of death. "On the bright resurrection morning, the Lord Jesus will throw open all the windows and doors, and he will come down for you. He will send Death around to all your doors. Don't be afraid of him! He's only a coachman to bring you home to
glory!”
At the close of the meeting he administered an exhortation, the substance of which might be applied to the young people in many of our congregations, who, as they depart from the house of prayer, are very apt to destroy all the good impressions they have received by thoughtless levity as they retire to their homes. Should any clerical reader be disposed to imitate the example of his colored brother, it will probably be necessary to change the form of the exhortation.
"Now we has drove de devil out of dis meeting, and he is waiting for you out dar in de dark, agin you come out. Go 'long straight home, and don't trip up one 'nother's heels by de way, and den de devil won't trouble you."
I will only add that the more we become acquainted with negro character, both as men and Christians, the more we are compelled to respect them. The Power, which, through the instrumentality of external circumstances, has led them out to freedom, is likewise in their hearts, working there in harmony with his other working, for their good.
CHAPTER XIII.
Chaplains — Their Trials and Discouragements. — Sketches of Chaplains Chittenden, Drake, Tracy, Coony, Fry, Springer, Sewell, Bennett, & c.
Those who have had the best opportunities for observing army life, pronounce emphatically in favor of the Chaplaincy. A set of reckless newspaper reporters and hypocritical legislators, have used every method to misrepresent and ignore the services of Clergymen in the field. Profligate and worthless officers, many of whom for the first time have been dressed in a little brief authority, have spoken with scorn and contempt of these worthy and useful men. One of the saddest mistakes of the war, is the legislation of the rulers in regard to Chaplains. Had the Chaplaincy been put on the same footing with the Medical and Pay Department, a very different result would have been attained. Had the Chaplain ranked as Major or Colonel, and been respected accordingly, immense good might have been done.
It is false, meanly false, to denounce all Chaplains as worthless. There is not a class of men in the army who commanded the respect, independent of rank, which the Chaplains did. How different is the practice of our legislators now in this respect, and that of Washington! An instance: A week or two after the treason of Arnold was discovered, a young Chaplain of the 4th Massachusetts Regiment, who, to fit him for the chaplaincy, had studied theology six weeks, and was licensed; preached a sermon on the Treason of Arnold, and the future Glory of America. This brought him into notice with the officers, and Washington placed the young Chaplain, then twenty-three years of age, on his right, and had Sterling, a Major-General, on his left, and Washington called on him to ask a blessing. What a contrast is this to the wretched legislation on the chaplains, we have had in our days.
The upright and well-informed minister of the Gospel is highly esteemed in army circles, and his presence is everywhere hailed with warm expressions of delight. Let those who are sceptical as to the usefulness of this institution, visit the contested field, when the flames of battle have subsided, and they will find the worthy Chaplain bending over the prostrate form of the dying soldier, soothing his last moments with clusters of grapes from Heaven's own vineyard, and drops of myrrh from Jesus' own lips. In the Hospital he may be seen watching the sick, communicating to their physical wants, and receiving messages of love for the loved and absent ones at tome. Then watch him as he visits from tent to tent, producing by his presence, a hushed impiety, and not unfrequently the willing tear that tells of a heart subdued by Christian hope.
Many a Sabbath in the army has been observed and made tranquil, which, but for the Chaplain, might have been desecrated and devoted to Baal. The Bible class, the reverent congregation gathered round the preacher, with him, holding "communion with the skies" are scenes which cannot easily be forgotten.
It is true, and-it is a pity that it is true, that there have been drones among the army Chaplains, — a class of uneducated impostors, who have easily yielded to the demoralization of camp life, associating with officers in their habits of profanity, drunkenness, and other like vices. But to measure the whole class by these exceptions, to deny all the good the order has performed, to detract from the benign influence, it radiates through the land, and to undermine the confidence of the people in these conservators of the public heart, is cruel, uncalled for, and iniquitous.
Among the courageous Chaplains who fell in the country’s cause, none is deserving of more honorable mention than the Rev. John R. Eddy, who was killed in one of the engagements at Chattanooga. I wish it were in my power to do justice to the character of this valued Christian minister. It is not, however, easy to trace the intellectual and moral features, so that every characteristic shall be faithfully embodied; and this is the more difficult when the individual was distinguished not so much for any one virtue as a union of excellences. Regarding our friend Eddy in his mental character, my own impression is, that his mind was distinguished for solidity rather than acuteness; the reasoning faculties were more developed than the imaginative; in him the predominant qualities were the sound, the good, the useful, not the brilliant
Mr. Eddy was eminently the Christian. The graces of the spirit were as beautifully blended in his life as the primary colors of the rainbow. He was emphatically a good man, an Israelite indeed, in whom was no guile. His moral excellencies could hardly be exaggerated — profoundly did he sympathize with the religiously true, the morally beautiful— he was indeed a choice specimen of Christian virtue— there seemed to be no deformity in his moral character, it was beautifully symmetrical. There was not the slightest tinge of envy in his nature, not even a taint of sectarian bigotry; he was remarkably free from selfishness, conscientious in the highest degree, It has been said of some, that they never wrote a line, which they needed to blush for, or wish to erase, so I might say of chaplain Eddy, he hardly ever uttered a word, he would wish to erase or desire to recall.
What Rogers said of Howe, may be applied to our friend. "It is not more evident that the sculptor intends those little strokes and delicate touches by which his chisel operates on the marble to the complete development of that image of beauty, which as yet only exists in his imagination, than it is that our friend intended to subordinate to the purposes of moral discipline all the occurrences of life. As a patriot, Eddy was not a recluse; he had no sympathy with the foolish dogma that ministers have nothing to do with politics. He was the foe of oppression, a true American, and while he loved his country he regarded himself as a citizen of the world, such men never die; it needs no spices to embalm, no monument to perpetuate their memory; their deeds live; their very names are fragrant as the morning breath, and sweet as the flowers of spring. A near relative pays the following touching tribute to the memory of this excellent man.
His brother pays this beautiful tribute to his memory:
Our brother, Rev. John R. Eddy, of the North-Western Indiana Conference, has fallen upon the field of battle. A short time since, he was appointed Chaplain of the 72d Indiana Volunteers. Scarcely a fortnight elapsed from the time of his leaving Indianapolis till he fell! A six-pound shot struck him in the breast, killing him instantly! It seems hard to realize it. He was so young, so full of promise, had so much of hope before him! Gone! Slain! We are joined in affliction to the host of mourners all over this broad land! How long shall it last? How long shall the noblest perish while cowards and treason sympathisers remain at home to baffle their purposes and prevent their success?
"He was a Christian minister. He gave up a lucrative mercantile partnership that he might follow his convictions in devoting himself to the ministry of the Word. He left a pleasant charge to enter the service of the country— conscientious, full of Christian chivalry, he has fallen! We are sure he died well. He long ago gave up all, that he might follow the Master. He died in communion with God. He died for his country. He loved the starry flag of his country, and with him it was only below the Cross. For both, he lived and died. His aged parents are bowed beneath the stroke. This is the third adult child that has died without the privilege of t
heir being with them. Yet they know in whom they have believed. He leaves, to the scanty heritage of an itinerant, his wife and four little ones. We can write no more. Bereaved readers, we will pray for and suffer with each other."
Father Tracev of the 4th Regular Cavalry, is one of the most noted and distinguished chaplains of the Army. He has served in the regular and volunteer service for many years. He was the constant companion of Rosecrans in all his campaigns. He now is on the staff of General Stanley of the Fourth Corps.
He was very popular with the troops, both as a Christian minister and true patriot.
On one occasion a rebel officer was lying wounded between our lines and the rebels. No one dare approach the poor fellow, as the rebels were sweeping the place with their fire. Despite all remonstrance, Father Tracy rode down to him and removed the poor fellow, whose leg was broken, to the shelter of some trees. The officer afterwards sent him a valuable gold cross, set with diamonds, as an acknowledgement of his Christian services in saving his life.
Rev. Chaplain Drake, of the 121st Ohio, was a model Chaplain.
"Ever was he seen a faithful pastor,
And he was eloquent as one instruct:
With Heaven's own spirit. In admonition warm
Oft did he caution the too thoughtless tribes
Against each sin that easily besets the heart,
And oft, more anxious than their sires,
Taught the surrounding innocents, who loved .
His friendly smile, the lesson to be good."
Chaplain Drake's greatest forte was in the Hospitals, among the sick, where he spent most of the time. The appearance of Mr. Drake in the pulpit is prepossessing. His figure and address are dignified. His voice is powerful, melodious and finely modulated. His action chaste and appropriate. His sermons abound with original observations, which are enforced in a style of fervid eloquence, assisted by the varied illustrations of a mind richly imbued with the knowledge of Christianity, of nature, and of general literature.
Personal Recollections of Sherman's Campaigns in Georgia and the Carolinas Page 19
