We clip the following from Lossing’s Pictorial Field Book of the Civil War, Vol. 3, p. 79. It is certainly a remarkable evidence of God’s power to deliver them that put their trust in him. — Editor.
There were some Friends or Quakers from South Carolina in the battle at Gettysburg, who were forced into the ranks, but who, from the beginning to the end, refused to fight. They were from Guilford county, which was mostly settled by their sect, and as the writer can testify by personal observation, presented the only region in that state where the evidences of thrift, which free labor gave in a land cursed by slavery, might be seen. These excellent people were robbed and plundered by the Confederates without mercy. About a dozen of them were in Lee’s army at Gettysburg and were among the prisoners captured there. They had steadily borne practical testimony to the strength of their principles in opposing war. They were subjected to great cruelties.
One of them who refused to fight was ordered by his colonel to be shot. A squad of twelve men were drawn up to shoot him. They loved him as a brother because of his goodness, and when ordered to fire every man refused. The remainder of the company was called up and ordered to shoot the first twelve if they did not execute the order. The intended victim folded his hands, and raised his eyes, and said: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” The entire company threw down their muskets and refused to obey the order. Their exasperated captain, with a horrid oath, tried to shoot him with his pistol. The cap would not explode. Then he dashed upon him with his horse, but the meek conscript was unharmed. Just then a charge of some of Mead’s troops drove the Confederates from their position, and the Quaker became a prisoner. He and his co-religionists were sent to Fort Delaware, when the fact was made known to some of their sect in Philadelphia. It was laid before the President, and he ordered their release.
Theodore Clapp, for many years a minister of religion in the city of New Orleans, narrates the following incident, which occurred within his experience:Several years ago there was a lady, mother-, residing in one of the Northern States, distinguished for her wealth, social position, and religious character. She had a favorite son, for whose advancement in life great efforts had been made. But notwithstanding, he became a profligate and vagabond. I had known the youth in our school-boy days.
The mother addressed to me a letter concerning her lost child. From the latest information she believed that he was wandering in the Southern States. She besought me, if I should meet the hapless fugitive, to acquaint her with the facts, and extend to him such offices of kindness as I might judge expedient. A few days after the receipt of this letter, the young prodigal made his appearance in New Orleans, and found his way to my study. He was in a most woeful plight, both physically and morally. In manners he was rude, audacious, and grossly profane. He wanted money. “Money will do you no good,” said I, “unless you reform your life.” “Reform! ” repeated he; “it is impossible. It is entirely too late. I have no hope; I can never retrieve my steps. I have nothing to live for. I am the execration of all who kn6w me. I have not a friend left in the wide world.”
On his saying this I went to my desk, and took out the letter from his mother. Showing him the superscription, I asked him if he knew the hand-writing. A change came over his manner. He replied with a thoughtful air: “It is my dear mother’s.” I opened the letter, and read to him a single paragraph; and this was-the sentence I read to him “O my Heavenly Father, I beseech Thee to preserve, forgive, and redeem my poor lost child; in Thy infinite mercy, be pleased to restore him to my embrace, and to the joys of sincere repentance.” In a moment he seemed as if struck by some unseen power. He sank down upon his chair, burst into tears, sobbed aloud, and convulsively exclaimed: “O God, forgive my base ingratitude to that beloved mother!
Yes, the thought of that fond parent, in a far-distant and dishonored home, who cherished for him an undying affection, who overlooked all his baseness, who never failed to mingle his outcast name with her morning and evening prayers, the thought of such tenderness broke his obdurate heart, and the waters of penitence rushed forth. From that hour he was a reformed man. He is now an inhabitant of his native place, shedding around him the blessed influence of a sober, useful, and exemplary life. — Mother, Home, and Heaven.
Shall I repeat a true story told me by the sufferer himself a few weeks ago? And may I repeat it, so far as memory serves me, in his own language? I can never forget the passionate energy of my friend, as he walked again in the darkened chambers of a wrecked life, and recalled the scene when alone he met the tempter. But to the story.
“I left my New England home in boyhood. As I kissed my mother good-bye, she put her hand on either side of my cheeks, and said: “You are pure now, my son. Ever keep your soul sweet and clean, and never touch a glass of intoxicating liquor.’ The pledge I then made to her I kept under strong temptations, and in circumstances that severely tried my good resolutions. Serving through the war, I came out with a cough that threatened quick-consumption. My physician recommended cod-liver oil and whiskey. I took his prescription. The former cured me of one disease; the latter brought on one of deeper and deadlier nature.
Yet I was not conscious of it, till one day a friend roused me with the words: “Major, you must be careful. You are bringing disgrace to your family.” I was shocked, and resolved that this should never be said of me again; but I still pursued the vile way .
“A little later, my brother repeated the warning, and I pledged him that I would heed his kindly words. That pledge was broken. I had a delightful home, was blessed with wife and children, and to her wifely pleading I again said: “I’ll drink no more,” and went on to disgrace the name she bore.
“One morning as I passed the open door of my daughter’s room, I saw her on her bended knees, and heard her sweet voice crying out: “O God, spare my father, and save him from a drunkard’s grave.” Then and there, I vowed before God that I would never drink again. I was drunk before night! A little later I was summoned to see a loving sister that was sick. I hastened to her bedside only to find in a darkened room her dead body. As I leaned over that marble form, and my tears fell on her cold cheeks, there, with clasped hands, alone with the dead, I told my God that the cup should never again soil my lips. In three days I was as bad as ever! At last, in a fit of desperation, I sent for my father and mother to visit my home, securing for them a palace car, making their long journey as pleasant as possible.
They came to my charming home to meet their drunkard son. The dear mother begged and prayed with and for me, that my purity might be restored. “After their return, with the echo of her agonizing petition sounding in my ears, I said: “I will once more take the pledge, and if broken now, I will go to the Pacific coast, leaving wife and children, to hide myself where they shall never hear of me again. “With this came the resolve to invite in a few friends to take one more social glass together, and then to sign the pledge. I sent to Boston for the choicest liquors, and one night when I had been left alone in the house, invited them in. For an hour I waited, and no one came. I paced the floor, and looked out into the moonlight, longing for their presence, that I might satisfy the appetite that began to clamor.
“And the clock struck nine, and no friends came. Then rushed into my soul visions of my childhood, and the voice of my mother sounded out: “‘Keep your soul pure and clean, my son;” and her words of tenderness awakened memories that had long been sealed. I opened the Bible, and read: ‘No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God.” Ah! Does that mean me? Closing the book I paced the room, and longed for companionship, that these busy thoughts might be dispelled, and the clock struck ten. I listened for voices, but there was quiet everywhere save in my own tempest-tossed soul. Then it flashed upon me that alone I must meet the tempter, and alone take the promised pledge. I reached out my hand to unseal the bottle that never looked so attractive, when a voice seemed to sound. “Let it remain untouched-now is the decisive hour;” and again I paced the room, and again with greater force, appetite begged for satisfaction. The struggle began to be more bitter, the tempter made a heavier assault, the hour dragged wearily along, and the clock struck eleven. Then I felt that the next hour must be the point on which my destiny for eternity was poised. For I was impressed by the thought that if I could resist the tempter until midnight, in some way, I knew not how, God would bring to me a way of escape. Oh, how I longed to break the bottle, the contents of which were more attractive than anything on earth; and yet that voice sounded out: “Touch but a single glass, and you are lost.”‘ Then said the tempter: “Why not drink just once? You have resolved tonight to take the pledge; it will be all right to indulge in a parting farewell to an old friend.”
I again opened the Bible, and read: “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” I fell on my knees, and with the open Bible before me, and the bottle by my side, implored and prayed for strength to hold on till midnight. Oh! how appetite begged and clamored; and yet I was conscious that if I yielded it would be fatal, and my soul would be lost. The minutes dragged along, oh! so slowly, till eleven and a half o’clock, and the voice cried: “Only hold on till twelve, and you are safe.” Fifteen minutes passed, and then came the sorest, bitterest conflict of soul that man ever experienced. I had been in the midst of great physical peril on the battlefield many a time, when death came on the right and on the left in fearful form, but never had been in such deadly danger as now; for it was a conflict with heaven on one side and hell on the other. One who has never been under the maddening control of a master passion cannot realize the agony that can be concentrated, into even a few moments; and so the bitterness of that last fifteen minutes seemed prolonged into hours. Can I hold out? Will this struggle end in life and peace? Will the tempter vanish, a defeated, baffled spirit, and leave me free? Five minutes more and the agony increased, as appetite begged and clamored with tenfold power. There pealed out on the still hour of the night the stroke of the distant clock: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve! I leaped to my feet and shouted, Victory! Saved by the grace of God! The burden rolled into the open sepulchre, and I felt that I was saved, and saved forever. I went out on my back piazza, and held the bottle up in the moonlight, and looked at it as calmly as a mother would look at a sleeping child; and then, hurling it upon the pavement, fell upon my knees in glad thanksgiving, and then and there yielded my soul, my life, my all, to Him who had redeemed me with His precious blood. The final stroke of the midnight bell, as it heralded a new day, was the dawn of a new life for me. I was made conscious on the instant, my sins were washed away. From that hour to this I have had no taste or craving for liquor, and my life is devoted to scattering the leaves which shall be for the healing of the nations.”
Such is the story of my friend, who, in a Western city, is today doing service for the Master. Years have passed since that midnight conflict, and his life has been one of consecration, and many a soul has been lifted and inspired by his burning, loving words:
“Touch not, taste not, handle not,” even though it is placed to your lips under the seductive guise of “only a medicine.” — Congregationalist.
A few years ago we were led out to pray for means to make a payment on our home, in Grand Rapids, Mich. The amount was one hundred dollars, and it was due in two weeks. We had no way of getting the money; and, realizing the promises of God to be reliable, we laid the matter before the Lord in prayer.At the time, we were holding meetings in the southern part of Michigan. When the answer to prayer came, we wrote home to wife, telling her that we had the evidence beyond every possibility of a doubt, that the Lord would send the money in time.
In a few days we received a letter from a brother in Texas, whom we had only met but once, saying that he was impressed to send us fifty dollars; which was enclosed in the letter. In a short time twenty-five dollars were received from a friend in our own State. The balance came in smaller sums.At the time the obligation was due, the money was on hand, and we praised God for his special help in a time of need. — Editor
Charles G. Finney, during his life-time, was familiar with the circumstances connected with the remarkable healing of a sick lady in Oberlin, OH., the wife of R.D. Miller, and these facts were vouched for as unquestionably authentic. Mr. Finney says:
Mrs. Miller is the wife of a Congregational minister, and a lady of unquestionable veracity. However the fact of her healing is to be accounted for, her story is no doubt worthy of entire confidence, as we have known her for years as a lame, suffering invalid, and now see her in our midst in sound health.
This instantaneous restoration will be accounted for by different persons in different ways. Mrs. Miller and those who were present, regard the healing as supernatural, and a direct answer to prayer. The facts must speak for themselves. Why should not the sick be healed in answer to the prayer of faith? Unbelief can discredit them, but faith sees nothing incredible in such facts as are stated by Mrs. Miller. Mrs. Miller’s own statement is as follows, and it is fully endorsed by the most reliable citizens and members of the First Church at Oberlin:
“From my parents I inherited a constitution subject to a chronic form of rheumatism. In early life I was attacked with rheumatic weaknesses and pains, which affected my whole system.
For nearly forty years I was subject to more or less suffering from this cause; sometimes unable to attend meeting for months at a time. For seven years, until the last three months, I have been unable to get about without the aid of crutch or staff, generally both. I have used many liniments and remedies, but with no permanently good result. I have been a Christian from early life, but last Spring, in our revival, I received a spiritual refreshing from the Lord, which gave a new impulse to my faith. Since then my religion has been a new life to me.
“Last Summer, several of us Christian sisters were in the habit of spending short seasons of prayer together, that the Lord would send us a pastor. Some of our number had read the narrative of Dorothea Trudel, and had spoken to me on the subject of healing in answer to prayer.
My faith had not then risen to this elevation. I had in fact accepted what I supposed to be the will of God, and made up my mind to be a lame and suffering invalid the rest of my life. I had long since ceased to use remedies for the restoration of my health; and had not even thought of praying in regard to it, for I regarded it as the will of God that I should suffer in silent submission.
“Notwithstanding what had been said to me, I remained in this opinion and in this attitude until the 26th of September, 1872, when several ladies met at our house, by appointment, for a prayer-meeting. I had been growing worse for some time, and was at that time unable to get out to attend a meeting. I was suffering much pain that afternoon; indeed, I was hardly able to be out of my bed. Up to this time, none of the sisters who had conversed with me about the subject of healing by faith, had been able to tell me anything from their own experience.
That afternoon, one lady was present who could speak to me from her own experience of being healed in answer to the prayer of faith. She related several striking instances in which her prayers had been answered in the removal of divers forms of disease to which she was subject.
She also repeated a number of passages of Scripture, which clearly justified the expectation of being healed in answer to the prayer of faith. She also said that Jesus had shown her that he was just as ready to heal diseases now as he was when on earth; that such healing was expressly promised in Scripture, in answer to the prayer of faith, and that it was nowhere taken back.
These facts, reasonings, and passages of Scripture, made a deep impression on my mind, and, for the first time, I found myself able to believe that Jesus would heal me in answer to prayer. She asked me if I could join my faith with hers, and ask for present healing. I told her I felt that I could. We then knelt, and called upon the Lord. She offered a mighty prayer to God, and I followed.
While she was leading in prayer, I felt a quickening in my whole being, whereupon my pain subsided; and when we rose from prayer I felt that a great change had come over me, that I was cured. I found that I could walk without my staff or crutch, or any assistance from any one. Since then my pains have never returned; I have more than my youthful vigor; I walk with more ease and rapidity than I ever did in my life; and I never felt so fresh and young as I now do, at the age of fifty-two.
“Now, the hundred and third psalm is my psalm, and my youth is more than renewed, like the eagle’s. I cannot express the constant joy of my heart for the wonderful healing of my soul and body. I feel as if it was every whit made whole.”
The testimony of eye-witnesses to this healing is as follows: “We were all present at the time of the healing, and know the facts to be true. We are all Christians, and have no interest in deceiving anybody, and would by no means dishonor God by stating more than the exact truth.
Since the healing, Mrs. Miller is still with us, and in excellent health. Neither the severe cold of last winter, nor the extreme heat of this summer, has at all injured her health. From our first acquaintance with her, she had been so lame as to be unable to walk, except by the aid of crutches. Since which time she has been able to walk without help, and appears perfectly well.”
Her husband, also adding his testimony, says: “She has been unable to walk without crutches for a series of years — A long time ago, we tried many remedies and physicians, with no lasting good results, and were expecting she would remain an invalid.
Of late, she had applied no remedy, nor taken any medicine. At the time of her cure, she was much worse than for a long while before, being in great pain continually, until the moment she fully believed; and, in an instant, she was restored to perfect soundness. From that moment to this, she has not felt a particle of her former complaint.
“She can now walk for miles as fast as I wish to, without feeling very much fatigue, does all her own housework, and attends seven meetings during the week. In short, she is stronger, and seems as young and spry, as when we were married, thirty-two years ago. The work of the dear Savior in her cure seems to be perfect, and she is an astonishment to all who knew her before and see her now. To His name all the praise.
“Another lady, the same week my wife was healed, a member of the First Congregational Church, confined to her bed with a complicated disease, was prayed for, and restored at once to soundness.”– Wonders of Prayer.
This is my personal collection of thoughts and writings, mainly from much smarter people than I, which challenge me in my discipleship walk. Don't rush by these thoughts, but ponder them.
Milo 