“And can I thus calmly commend my spirit to my heavenly Father?” thought Fritz. “If, as is likely enough, I am to be one of those who will lie stiff and stark in yon valley before the setting of to-morrow’s sun, am I sure that I have made my peace with God so that death need have no terrors for me?”—In how many brave souls must such thoughts arise on the eve of battle!
“My mother has often told me that we are saved by faith”—thus Fritz went on with his musings—“and I can say from my heart that I do believe. Yes! I believe in Him through whom is forgiveness of sins; I believe in His mercy, His merits, His Word”—Fritz almost started, for at that moment one sentence spoken by the Holy One flashed across his memory, and by that sentence he stood condemned:—“If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” Fritz Arnt thought of Carl Gesner.
“Have I not nourished hatred and malice in my heart for years?” thought the young soldier. “Then have my very prayers been a mockery; then am I still UNFORGIVEN. I dare face an earthly foe, but how dare I face a heavenly Judge? But how can I conquer these feelings of dislike and revenge—these enemies in my heart? They seem to be part of my very nature.”
Then the night breeze seemed to whisper to the young soldier the words last heard from the lips of his mother,—“It is God that giveth the victory.” Fritz sank on his knees and prayed, not now for help in the coming strife with the enemies of his country, but for help in the present struggle with the enemies of his soul.
Very fearful was the battle on the following day. Let us pass over the fearful details, nor describe how God’s creatures destroyed each other by thousands, till the Germans fought their way to victory over heaps of the slain. Their triumph was dearly purchased indeed; numbers of their bravest fell beneath the deadly fire of the French. Fritz rushed forward, with a few soldiers of his own and of another regiment, to seize a French gun which had made terrible havoc in the Prussian lines. Almost before the smoke from the last discharge of that gun had cleared away, there was a hand-to-hand struggle around it. In the confusion of that struggle Fritz saw a Prussian fall under a blow from a Frenchman’s sword. Even as he fell, Fritz caught a glimpse of his face: begrimed as it was with smoke and dust, the young soldier recognized the features of Carl Gesner! The Frenchman’s sword was raised again to kill the prostrate Prussian; but Fritz sprang forward, warded the blow, and at the same moment himself fell to the earth, struck in the thigh by a musket ball from another quarter.
Sudden darkness seemed to come over the wounded youth. A rushing noise in his ears drowned even the roar of cannon and the sound of tumult and shouting. Fritz Arnt swooned, and lay for many hours senseless under the muzzle of the gun which he had helped to capture.
When Fritz again opened his eyes, the tumult had died away; the battle was over; the calm stars were looking down from the midnight sky upon heaps of dead and dying. Fritz was in severe pain, but gradually quite recovered his senses, and could think again on his mother, and silently lift up his heart in the battle-prayer.
“Oh for one drop of water! I am dying of thirst!” groaned a wounded Prussian beside him.
The voice was that of Carl Gesner, who lay within a yard’s length of the youth who had saved his life from the Frenchman’s sword. Fritz made no reply. His lips too were parched and dry, and the fever thirst was upon him. Oh, how he longed for one draught of the pure fresh spring which gushed forth near the home of his widowed mother!
Presently lights were seen moving over the dark field: helpers of the wounded were going about on their errand of mercy. But there were too few of them to do the work quickly; for so many poor soldiers lay low that it was impossible in one night to relieve the terrible wants of all. With keen anxiety Fritz watched the distant lights, while Carl Gesner lay groaning beside him. At last a torch-bearer drew near, with a companion who bore a red cross on his arm and a large water-flask in his hand.