I remember hearing a story in connection with our battlefields. One weary, dreary night, while our army was on the eve of a great and important battle, a soldier paced up and down before the tent of his general. Wearied with his work, he began to sing, half to himself,
When I can read my title clear.
After a little his voice grew louder, and he sang the hymn as though it were a song of victory. His tones rang out on the still night air. After a little, another soldier, off yonder, hearing the music, and fascinated by it, joined in. There was a duet. A little longer, and another voice, farther off, joined, and there was a chorus; and it was not long before the whole army, as far as the sound could reach on either side, were joining in that wondrous chorus, and singing in the presence of the enemy:
When I can read my title clear,
To mansions in the skies.
