  When faced by the stern realities of life and death, it is not easy for any person to practice the subtle art of camouflage so far as faith and destiny are concerned. The experiences of G. A. Studdert-Kennedy, one of the war chaplains at the Front, were similar to those of other men engaged in ministering to the religious needs of the soldiers. He was once brought face to face with one of the boys in a crisis, and was asked the pointed question: “What is God like?” The soldiers who know that God is like Christ the Sufferer and Sympathizer, have an assurance that gives them courage to go through the rough and distracting ordeal on the field of battle. This was true in the World War and in all similar grim encounters. Another chaplain, Thomas Tiplady, wrote that when the great hours draw near, and even in the lighter hours, the soldiers like hymns most of all, and at the religious services they cannot have too many hymns. They care little for patriotic songs since they are living their patriotism in the severe These incidents belong to our Civil War and to later wars. But in essence they bear on the same themes and frankly reveal the recesses and the resources of the soul. The unexpected turns in war are illustrated in A Memory of Pickett’s BrigadeReminiscences were being exchanged by veterans of both sides of the Civil War at a banquet given in their honor by the Board of Trade of New York City. Colonel J. J. Phillips, of the Ninth Virginia Regiment, Pickett’s Division, presided. Speaking of night attacks, he recalled one in particular because of the peculiar circumstances which resulted almost in the compulsory disobedience of orders, in response to a higher command. “The point of attack had been carefully selected,” said Colonel Phillips, “the awaited dark night had arrived, and my command was to fire when General Pickett should signal the order. “There was that dread, indescribable stillness; “Suddenly the awesome silence was broken by the sound of a deep, full voice rolling over the black void like the billows of a great sea, directly in line with our guns. It was singing the old hymn, ‘Jesus, Lover of My Soul.’ “I have heard that grand old music many times in circumstances which intensified its impressiveness, but never had it seemed so solemn as when it broke the stillness in which we waited for the order to fire. Just as it was given there rang through the night the words: ‘Cover my defenseless head With the shadow of Thy wing.’ “‘Ready, aim! Fire to the left, boys!’ I said. “The guns were shifted, the volley that blazed out swerved aside, and that ‘defenseless head’ was ‘covered’ with the shadow of His wing.” A Federal veteran who listened to this story spoke up and said, “I remember that night, Colonel, and that midnight attack which carried off so many of my comrades. I was the singer.” Such confirmation produced a deep impression, and after a silence “Jesus, Lover of My Soul” was The reference to the same leader is brought out under exceptional circumstances in The Song of the Defeated“Written in Defeat, After the Battle of Five Forks,” is the heading given to a letter written by General George E. Pickett to his wife, April 2, 1865. It is included by Arthur Crew Inman in his volume, A Soldier of the South. “All is quiet now, but soon all will be bustle, for we march at daylight. Oh, my darling, were there ever such men as those of my division? This morning after the review I thanked them for their valiant services yesterday on the first of April, never to be forgotten by any of us, when they fought one of the most desperate battles of the whole war. Their answer to me was cheer after cheer, one after another calling out, ‘That’s all right, Marse George!’ and ‘We only followed you!’ Then in the midst of these calls, silencing them, rose loud and clear old Gentry’s voice, singing the old hymns which they all knew I loved: ‘Guide me, oh, Thou great Jehovah, Pilgrim through this barren land.’ “Voice after voice joined in till from all along the line the plea rang forth: ‘Be my sword and shield and banner, Be the Lord my righteousness.’ “I do not think, my Sallie, the tears sounded in my voice as it mingled with theirs; but they were in my eyes, and there was something new in my heart. “When the last line had been sung, I gave the order to march ...” What the soldiers felt in the depths of their life is revealed in A Chorus of Ten ThousandThe night after the Battle of Shiloh, when there were thousands of wounded on the field, one Christian soldier as he lay there dying under the starlight began to sing, “There is a land of pure delight.” When he reached the next line there were scores of voices singing, “Where saints immortal reign.” The song was caught up all through “Could we but climb where Moses stood, And view the landscape o’er, Not Jordan’s stream, nor death’s cold flood, Should fright us from the shore.” Mrs. Margaret Bottome relates an incident about Marching to Music“I had a brother who was in the Battle of the Wilderness during the Civil War. He told me of a day in that dreadful wilderness when the Connecticut regiment was traveling through such deep mud that they could hardly pull their boots out of it as they took one step after another. They were thoroughly dispirited and they had no music—the band was far in the rear, but all at once they heard the sound that told them the band was coming, and as it drew nearer they caught the strain. The band was playing a tune known to every Methodist: ‘Come on, my partners in distress, My comrades through the wilderness, Who still their bodies feel. Awhile forget your griefs and fears And look beyond this vale of tears To that celestial hill.’ “My brother said it acted like magic on that regiment, the largest proportion of which were Methodists; new life entered into them. A moment before their feet had stuck in the mud, and they did not see how they were ever to get along, for again and again they had to pull their boots out of the mud with their hands, but from the time that tune, with the words that memory made so distinct, was heard, not a step faltered.” This story from the Crimean War might be duplicated from other wars for it tells of A Soldier Saved by SongDuncan Matheson, a Bible reader to the soldiers in the Crimea, was returning one night to his lodgings in an old stable. Sickened by the sights he had seen, and depressed with the thought that the siege of Sebastopol was likely to last for months, he trudged along in the mud, knee-deep. Happening to look up, he saw the stars shining calmly in the “How bright these glorious spirits shine! Whence all their bright array?” The next day was wet and stormy. While going his rounds he met a soldier, soiled and in ragged clothes; his shoes so worn that they did not keep his feet from the mud. In the course of conversation this man said: “I am not what I was yesterday. Last night I was tired of life and of this blundering siege. I took my musket and went down yonder, determined to blow out my brains. As I got around that hillock I heard some one singing, ‘How bright these glorious spirits shine!’ It recalled to me the Sunday School where I used to sing it, and the religious truths I had heard there. I felt ashamed of being such a coward. I said to myself, ‘Here is a comrade as badly off as I am, but he is not a coward—he’s bearing it!’ I felt that man had something which I did not possess to make him accept with cheerfulness our hard lot. I went back to my tent, and today I am seeking that thing which made the singer so happy.” Here is another from the World War, related in The War Romance of the Salvation Army, by Booth and Hill, Sunshine Came Into a Soldier’s HeartIt was one Sunday afternoon in Bazeilles, France, at a service conducted by three Salvationists. One of the girls sang: “There’s sunshine in my soul today, More glorious and bright Than glows in any earthly skies, For Jesus is my light. O there’s sunshine, blessed sunshine, When the peaceful, happy moments roll; When Jesus shows His smiling face, There is sunshine in the soul.” The sequel is best explained in a letter written to his mother by one of the boys: “You will be surprised to hear that I am in the hospital, but I am getting well quickly and am having a good time. But best of all, some Salvation Army people came along and sang and talked about sunshine, and while they were talking the sunshine came through my window—not into my An incident from the Spanish-American War reveals the unity of Christian faith in the way American Soldiers Greeted ChristmasChristmas Eve, 1898, found the Seventh Army Corps encamped along the hills at Quemados, near Havana, Cuba. Suddenly from the camp of the Forty-ninth Iowa rang a sentinel’s call, “Number ten; twelve o’clock, and all’s well!” Lieutenant-Colonel Curtis Guild thus wrote about it: “It was Christmas morning. Scarcely had the cry of the sentinel died away, when from the bandsmen’s tents of that same regiment there rose the music of an old, familiar hymn, and one clear baritone voice led the chorus that quickly ran along the moonlit fields: ‘How firm a foundation ye saints of the Lord!’ Another voice joined in, and another, and another, and in a moment the whole regiment was singing, and then the Sixth Missouri joined in with the Fourth Virginia, and all the rest, till there on the long ridges above the city ... a whole American army corps was singing: ‘Fear not, I am with thee, O be not dismayed, For I am thy God, and will still give thee aid; I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand, Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.’ Protestant and Catholic, South and North, singing together on Christmas day in the morning,—that’s an American army!” We next go to Palestine for two stories. One is about Soldiers and Sankey’s HymnsAt a meeting in Blackheath, London, some time ago, according to a writer in The British Weekly, a missionary to the Jews related one of his experiences at a Jewish settlement in Palestine. He asked to see the head of the settlement, who said, “Are you an Englishman?” He answered, “Yes,” feeling that perhaps he would not be pleased. Then he said, “Are you a missionary?” And he answered “Yes,” feeling certain now he would not be pleased. To his astonishment the man said, “Oh, I am so glad, so very glad. And can you play the piano?” to which he answered “Yes.” The missionary was then told that when the soldiers The other is from Mrs. Carrie J. Bond about Marching Men“A few years ago I was in Jerusalem in the American Colony Home. It was a bright moonlight night and I heard the marching feet of soldiers. Soon they began singing ‘The End of a Perfect Day.’ I looked out to see about twelve soldiers marching by. In the morning I asked my host about it and he brought out an old worn sheet of ‘A Perfect Day’ and told me this story: Two American boys had been billeted to the American Colony House and every evening during their stay one had played and the other had sung that song. When they were well enough to leave they left the music as a token of their gratitude.” Now we go to the Transvaal for a testimony to the influence of Fanny Crosby’s hymn, “Blessed Assurance,” as related by Mr. Sankey, “Six Further On”“‘During the recent war in the Transvaal,’ said a gentleman in my meeting in Exeter Hall, London, in 1900, ‘when the soldiers going to the front were passing another body of soldiers whom they recognized, their greetings used to be, “Four-nine-four, boys, four-nine-four;” and the salute would invariably be answered with “Six further on, boys; six further on.” The significance of this was that, in “Sacred Songs and Solos,” a number of copies of the small edition of which had been sent to the front, Number 494 was “God Be With You Till We Meet Again”; and six further on than 494, or Number 500, was “Blessed Assurance, Jesus Is Mine.”’” The last incident brings us back to the World War in the touching words, “Sing It Again, Laddie”In times of stress, Scotsmen turn toward God, The sermon had a reference to a young Highlander who was wounded in a recent battle and lay stretched on the field. In his youth he had learned “I to the hills” in Gaelic. He now began to sing that old Psalm in his native tongue, and out over the field his singing reached as far as his voice would carry. Just then a Scotch regiment came marching by and the men heard it. One of them noted the spot from which the song proceeded and at night, after the conflict, he went back to look for the singer. All was quiet as this Highlander wandered backward and forward and it seemed as though his quest would be futile. He then raised his voice and called out: “Sing it again, laddie, sing it again.” The laddie heard and responded and sang on till the searcher found him and carried him back to the base. In due course he returned home wounded but thankful that He had not slumbered who kept him. The higher unity of faith carries further than A Violinist in the TrenchesOutside of the dugout, shells whined and machine guns spattered with a staccato of rat-tat-tats. Inside a violin sang and sobbed. The magic of its music made men forget. They forgot the homesickness. They forgot the mud. They forgot the cold. They forgot the ever presence of danger and death. They listened, heads propped up on sand bags and feet wrapped in blankets as they stretched on mattresses of sand bags covering the rough planks of their underground cots. In another dugout, across No Man’s Land on the German side, others were also listening. They heard the strains of Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song,” as sweet and gentle and refreshing as an early summer shower. A strange thing happened. A German picked up a cornet, and floating to the Allies’ dugout came the notes of the horn harmonizing with the violin. |
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