The Camden Journal

"Into Thy Holy Keeping."

The following most eloquent, impressive and touching prayer was offered up by Rev. C. C. Williams at the unveiling of the Confederate monument at Augusta, Ga., on the 31st ult:

Almighty God, Father of all Mercies, we, Thy unworthy servants, do give Thee most humble and hearty thanks for all Thy goodness and loving kindness to us and to all men. More especially do we bless and thank Thee this day for the good examples of all those, our countrymen, who at the call of duty were content to go forth and die. Grant, we pray Thee, their name and their fame may be ever fresh in the hearts of a grateful people, and that their children's children may rise up to bless and honor them.

Blessed be Thy name, O Lord God, that it hath pleased Thee to put into the hearts of Thy servants to build here an everlasting memorial of our Confederate dead, to place this living crown of beauty upon the cold brows of those who were faithful unto death.

Guard it, we beseech Thee, from all evil powers of the air, that no blast of the lightning may come nigh to hurt it, and no fury of the storm to cast it down. If the noise of war and tumult or sedition be heard again in our land, and the wild passions of men shall surge and swell through these now peaceful streets, grant that, as the flaming sword of cherubims turned every way to guard the Tree of Life, so Thy watchful care and Providence may be round about this marble plinth, that no unholy hand may ever be lifted up against this fair memorial of our honored dead.

Grant that it may stand here a sign and a witness to all generations forever. As its marble shaft towers up pure and white from the very midst of the crowded streets, looking down upon the seething, busy life of trade that roars all day about its base, may it speak to us from the lofty height of its calm repose, and tell us by sunlight and by starlight how noble a thing it is to do one's duty. May the martial memories of Wellington and Nelson mingle with those of our own heroes, and echo through the light and through the darkness that sublime lesson of duty done in the very teeth of death.

When all through the busy hours men are hurrying past it in their feverish race for gain, when the hard driven bargain and the false weight and the deceitful balances are changing men's hearts and consciences into the world's hard coin, even here, within the shadow of its purity, may they stop one moment to read the story that is carved on yonder stones, and feel their selfishness rebuked. May the thought of those who gave up life and all for their country teach them the golden lesson of humanity, that men love their fellow-men.

If, sometime, in the darkness of the night, the outcast or the profligate shall pass along this way; if the life that has been wrecked of its purity and its hope shall stand, perhaps, in the shaded corners of yonder street—seeing no future but despair, and seeking only to steep itself more deeply still in vice—then may this marble pillar gleam out whitely in the darkness: may it rise up there before them like the fair phantom of their lost innocence; may they be beckoned to draw near that they, too, may read the story that is carved upon these sculptured panels. May that story of lives laid down that other men might live give them fresh faith and courage to redeem their own. And as they see this towering column pointing ever to the sky, may their hearts be lifted thitherward, and their stained and sinful lives be led to Him, who gave His own most precious life for them and us, Thine only Son, our Lord.

If a time shall ever come when Thy people shall fall away from that faith in which these brave men died; if, when they have beaten their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks, their love of country and of duty shall grow cold; or if distress and trouble come upon Thy people and men's hearts fail them, as they look abroad and see the storm cloud gathering about them, then let their faces be turned toward this monument which we have dedicated to our dead. Let this stately column be to them a pillar of fire to cheer and to lead them in the day of their despondency and gloom. Let those noble forms, which stand like sleepless sentinels guarding the honor of their comrades' fame, speak to the four corners of the earth, and let their words be borne, like the archangel's trumpet, upon the four winds of heaven, and tell throughout the world how grand and how noble a thing it is to die even for a cause which men call lost. And so through all the ages, in the brave times of prosperity and in the faint-hearted times of adversity, let this stately pile stand like the 'smitten rock in the desert, round which the people gathered in their thirst.'

And now, O Lord, we commend it and its sacred memories into Thy holy keeping. If angry, or bitter, or revengeful thought be in our hearts to-day as we stand here to commemorate our dead, let it not stain or sully the purity of the offering which we have made and reared to their name, but hear Thou in heaven, Thy dwelling place, and where Thou hearest, forgive! Grant that the burning words of eloquence which we have heard this day may be so grafted in our hearts that they bring forth in us the fruit of the unselfish life. Pour out Thy blessing, O Lord, upon this our land, and especially upon this commonwealth of ours. Bless us in the city and in the field, in our going out and coming in, that 'peace and happiness, truth and justice, religion and piety, may be established among us for all generations.' All of which we ask in His name who gave His life for a world's transgressions, Thy Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.