DURING the civil war in America several earnest Chris. tians left their comfortable homes for the scene of conflict, in order to minister comfort and blessing to the wounded and dying on the battle-field.
On one occasion, in carrying out his work of love, one of them required to move, to a distant part of the camp. This had to be done under cover of night.
During a short lull in the cannons’ roar, having obtained the password, he started, taking his perilous journey on horse-back.
On reaching one of the outposts, he was met by the sentinel’s challenge, “Who goes there?”
“A friend,” he answered.
“Advance, friend, and give the countersign.”
He advanced to the very muzzle of the loaded gun, and gave the word, “Massachusetts.”
The soldier raised his musket to his shoulder, and was ready to fire.
There was a dead silence. The Christian stood trembling; another minute and he might be hurried into eternity.
What a moment of suspense!
The silence was at last broken by the soldier. “You have given the wrong password. I know you. But for this knowledge you would have been a dead man by this time. At the risk of my own life I’ll spare yours. Go back at once, and get the right word.”
Hurrying back, he reached headquarters, from whence he had started.
“Whatever is the matter?” was the inquiry.
“You have given me the wrong password, ‘Massachusetts.’”
“Yes, then, indeed we have! It was changed tonight, after you started, and ‘Lincoln’ is the word now.”
With this new word he again took his journey, and on reaching the outpost was again challenged by the sentinel:
“Who goes there?”
“A friend.”
“Advance, friend, and give the counter-sign.”
He advanced, and boldly gave the word, “Lincoln,” “Lincoln.”
“Pass on, and all’s well.”
He passed on, but only for a step or two; then turning to the soldier, he said, “Friend, I cannot pass on without at least first grasping your hand, and thanking you for sparing my life. You and I are traveling to eternity. The weary march of life will soon be over. You, no doubt, hope to reach heaven, and spend eternity with God’s beloved Son, and yonder throng, who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb?”
“I do, indeed, hope to be there!” was the reply.
“But a password for heaven is wanted, and will be asked for; and if you pass the narrow archway of time into the wide expanse of eternity with the wrong word, how awful will be the result. You will not then have the opportunity you kindly allowed me tonight, of returning to have it changed. Now, may I ask if you know the password for heaven?”
“I do.”
“What is it?”
“JESUS.”
“Blessed, precious, never-failing password! Tell we where and when did you learn this?”
“I learned it when a boy from your own lips at your Sunday-school in P—.”
Reader, do you know Him—JESUS? Is His name your password? He is indeed the chiefest among ten thousand; the altogether lovely One.
ML 08/05/1906