daresay that you have heard of the war in the crimea. perhaps you have a father or a brother in the army, and have often listened to stories of the brave and noble conduct of our soldiers on the terrible field of battle. i am going to tell you of one of the bravest and noblest actions that happened during the whole course of the war, though my hero never drew a sword nor fired a musket at the russians.
after the fearful battle of alma, when the victory had been won by the english and the french, after the cannon had ceased to roar or the foe to fight, a long[113] painful task remained for the victors—to attend to the wounded and to bury the dead.
at last our poor sufferers were removed to the ships, and only mounds of earth showed where hundreds of the killed lay in their bloody graves; and the army was ready to move on to attack the enemy in another place.
but more than seven hundred poor fellows were still stretched on the ground—not, like the dead, beyond reach of earthly pain, but covered with wounds and gore—some with their legs and arms shot away, some unable to move, groaning in terrible agony, and wishing in vain for death to put an end to their misery.
and who, do you think, were these wounded men? they were russians, and our enemies! their bayonets had been red with the blood of our brave soldiers; they had fired the shots which made so many widows and orphans in england. and now, what was to be done with all these miserable sufferers? our army could not carry them along with it; they must be left behind. poor helpless russians! if none dressed their wounds,[114] they must perish; if none gave them food, they must starve.
there was a british surgeon, of the name of thomson, who resolved to separate himself from all his friends, to stay behind to take care of his wounded enemies. we may fancy that he had a long struggle in his mind before he could decide upon this generous act. selfishness might whisper to him many reasons for leaving the poor russians to their fate.
“what!” we can imagine some friend saying to the surgeon, “would you remain here alone in the midst of enemies, some of whom, it is said, have even fired at englishmen who were bringing them relief. if the tartars should attack you, who will defend you? you cannot depend upon these wounded russians. then think of the labour which you are undertaking. no one man can possibly dress the wounds of seven hundred; you can only help a few, or die yourself of fatigue. no, be wise; leave these wretched men to the chance of some of their own people coming to assist them; you know that there is not one amongst[115] them who would not have willingly killed you, had it been in his power.”
dr. thomson may have heard words such as these, but they did not change his generous resolution. the british army marched away; he and his soldier-servant remained behind, saw their friends and comrades all disappear in the distance, and then turned to their noble but sickening work,—binding up the ghastly wounds of their enemies.
noble work.
do you not think that dr. thomson deserved a rich reward for all this? i do[116] not doubt that he has received a reward, but not from man, for his labours of love shortened his life. in a few days the generous, self-devoted surgeon followed to the grave the brave soldiers who died fighting for their queen. and shall not his name be honoured as well as theirs? we trust that he died prepared for the great change, full of faith and hope as well as charity; and we may also trust that some of those whose lives he had been the means of saving lived to know their saviour, and to serve god upon earth, and that they will one day meet their generous friend in heaven.
but it is not of dr. thomson that i would speak to you now, but of one of whose mercy and love all the noblest deeds of his servants are but as a faint, dim shadow.
and first let me ask you, dear child, do you know what sin is, that from which all sorrow comes? it is sin that causes cruelty and strife in the world. it is sin that gives a worse wound than any sword or cannon-ball; for they may destroy the body, but sin destroys the soul.
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and now let me ask you another question: do you know that we are all by nature wounded by sin; that we are all unable to help ourselves, even like those poor russians; that if left to ourselves we must all die—i mean, lose the everlasting life of heaven?
yes; this was the state of the whole world. it was all lying in wickedness, therefore lying in danger; and not one of us could have been saved—no, not one—had not the lord jesus christ, the son of god, taken pity on our sad state, and left heaven and all its glory, its light, and its joy, to come and labour to help miserable sinners. not only did he labour, but he died to save us; he suffered himself to be nailed to the cross, that he might heal the wounds which sin had made, and give us health and life never-ending!
but perhaps you will say: “i do not think that i am among the wounded. i do not think that i need any one to save me.”
oh! my child, have you ever thought over your life, or recalled your actions, words, and thoughts, during one day? have you never been disobedient to a parent, or[118] unkind to a companion? has your mouth never spoken words that were ill-natured or false? have you never been proud, discontented, or selfish? does not your conscience tell you that you have been wounded by sin? now, let me tell you how you may find healing.
and, first, you must believe on the lord jesus christ; you must believe that he died for sinners, and that he is willing to save all who ask him for pardon and mercy.
then you must be sorry for and leave off your sins, praying to god to help you to amend. a child who says that he repents, and then goes and sins just as readily as before, is like a wounded man who, when the surgeon has dressed the injured place, tears off the bandage and will not let it heal.
and oh! you must love the saviour with your whole heart. can you help loving him who has loved you so much? think of the glory which he left; was it not left for you? think of the blood which he shed; did it not flow for you? think of the death which he endured; was it not borne for you?
