Mysterious Providence III

Daniel Webster Whittle was a major in the Union army during the American Civil War during the 1860’s. He later became a well known preacher of the gospel, and he often related how he became a Christian during the bloody conflict between the States. He said, ‘When the Civil War broke out, I left my home in New England and came to Virginia as lieutenant of a company in a Massachusetts regiment. My dear mother was a devout Christian, and parted from me with many a tear, and followed me with many a prayer. She had placed a New Testament in a pocket of the haversack that she arranged for me. We had many engagements, and I saw many sad sights, and in one of the battles I was knocked out, and that night my arm was amputated above the elbow. As I grew better, having a desire for something to read, I felt my haversack, which I had been allowed to keep, and found the little Testament my mother had placed there. I read right through the book – Matthew, Mark, Luke, to Revelation. Every part was interesting to me; and I found to my surprise that I could understand it in a way that I never had before. When I had finished Revelation, I began at Matthew, and read it through again. And so for days I continued reading, and with continued interest; and still with no thought of becoming a Christian, I saw clearly from what I read the way of salvation through Christ.’
And then a most amazing event happened in this prison hospital. Whittle continues with his description: ‘While in this state of mind, yet still with no purpose or plan to repent and accept the Savior, I was awakened one midnight by the nurse, who said: “There is a boy in the other end of the ward, one of your men, who is dying. He has been begging me for the past hour to pray for him, or to get someone to pray for him, and I can’t stand it. I am a wicked man, and can’t pray, and I have come to get you.” “Why,” I said, “I can’t pray. I never prayed in my life. I am just as wicked as you are.” “Can’t pray!” said the nurse; “why, I thought sure from seeing you read the Testament that you were a praying man. And you are the only man in the ward that I have not heard curse. What shall I do? There is no one else for me to go to. I can’t go back there alone. Won’t you get up and come and see him at any rate?”
‘Moved by his appeal, I arose from my cot, and went with him to the far corner of the room. A fair-haired boy of seventeen or eighteen lay there dying. There was a look of intense agony upon his face, as he fastened his eyes upon me and said: “Oh, pray for me! Pray for me! I am dying. I was a good boy at home in Maine. My mother and father are members of the Church, and I went to Sunday School and tried to be a good boy. But since I became a soldier I have learned to be wicked. I drank, and swore, and gambled, and went with bad men. And now I am dying, and I am not fit to die! Oh, ask God to forgive me! Pray for me. Ask Christ to save me!”’ Whittle got on his knees and prayed earnestly for the boy, and the boy pressed his hand as he pleaded the promises. When he got up from his knees, the boy was dead; yet Whittle believed the boy had his attention fixed on Christ when he died and that he had trusted in the Savior. And right there at that very hour, Whittle himself got down on his knees and came to saving faith in Jesus Christ. Over the years, Whittle the preacher was overheard saying, ‘I was the second person that I led to Christ.’