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A True War
Incident. |
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“IN MEMORY OF THE BRAVE.” - |
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A |
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And on the plain, unmindful of defeat |
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Or victory, the slain and wounded lay. |
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Grim Death was busy still, unsatisfied, |
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Gathering the remnants of that sad day’s spoil. |
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As night drew on, |
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Two men of God were seen, moving amid |
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Those scenes of death and dying agony, |
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As, nerved by heavenly strength and tender care |
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For souls, they sought to comfort dying saints |
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By whispering in their ears His promises, |
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From Whom nor life nor death can separate; |
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And to the Lamb of God, Whose precious blood |
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Can cleanse from every sin, to point the gaze |
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Of those, whose day of life was almost past, |
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Their sins yet unforgiven. |
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And now they stand |
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Beside a manly form, outstretched alone. |
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His helmet from his head had fallen. His hand |
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Still firmly grasped his keen but broken sword. |
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His face was white and cold; and, thinking he was
gone, |
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They were just passing on, for time was precious, |
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When a faint sigh caught their attentive ears. |
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Life was still there; so, bending softly down, |
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They whispered in his ears most earnestly, |
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Yet with that hush and gentleness with which |
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We ever speak to a departing soul:-- |
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“Brother,
the blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, Cleanseth us from all sin.” |
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The pale lips moved, |
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And gently whispered, “Hush!” and then they closed, |
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And life again seemed gone:-- |
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But yet once more |
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They whispered those thrice-blessed words, in hope |
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To point the parting soul to Christ and Heaven, |
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“Brother, the precious blood of Jesus Christ |
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Can
cleanse from every sin.” |
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Again the pale lips moved; |
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All else was still and motionless, for Death |
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Already had his fatal work half done; |
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But gathering up his quickly failing strength, |
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The dying soldier--dying VICTOR--said, |
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“Hush!” the SAVIOUR calls the muster-roll; |
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I wait to hear my
name!” |
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They spoke no more. |
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What need to speak again? For now full well |
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They knew on Whom his dying hopes were fixed, |
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And what his prospects were; so, hushed and still, |
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They, kneeling, watched-- |
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And presently a smile, |
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As of most thrilling and intense delight, |
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Played for a moment upon the soldier’s face, |
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And with one last breath he whispered, “HERE!” |
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O! grand And blessed death! Quite ready for the
call, |
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He heard His Captain’s voice. Life’s battle fought-- |
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Life’s victory won--the soldier thus received |
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His welcome and his crown! |
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From: Confidence, Vol. VIII, No. 5, May
1915, pag. 83, |