LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF ARMY LIFE: Or Pen Pictures from the Battlefield, the Camp, and the Hospital.

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Page 218 - ... the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied—- We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.
Page 174 - Jesus saith unto her, Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father.
Page 199 - Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try ; Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high. Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air; His watchword at the gates of death; He enters heaven by prayer. Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice Returning from his ways; While angels in their songs rejoice, And say,
Page 219 - A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun, A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow : Long had I watched the glory moving on O'er the still radiance of the Lake below. Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow .' Even in its very motion there was rest : While every breath of eve that chanced to blow, Wafted the traveller to the beauteous West.
Page 210 - His spirit with a bound Left its encumbering clay ; His tent at sunrise on the ground A darkened ruin lay.
Page 371 - The voice at midnight came; He started up to hear ; A mortal arrow pierced his frame — He fell, but felt no fear.
Page 62 - Mid little ones who weep or wonder, And bravely speaks the cheering word, What though her heart be rent asunder, Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear The bolts of death around him rattle, Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er Was poured upon the field of battle ! The mother who conceals her grief While to her breast her son she presses, Then breathes a few brave words and brief, Kissing the patriot brow she blesses, With no one but her secret God To know the pain that weighs upon her, Sheds holy blood...
Page 69 - Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are, While on his breast I lean my head, And breathe my life out sweetly there.
Page 125 - For thou, LORD, art good, and ready to forgive ; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee.
Page 176 - Yet few remember them. They lived unknown Till persecution dragged them into fame And chased them up to heaven. Their ashes flew — No marble tells us whither. With their names No bard embalms and sanctifies his song ; And history, so warm on meaner themes, Is cold on this.

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