I remember being in the camp and a man came to me and said, “You, when the war began I wanted to enlist. My mother, seeing I was resolved, said if I became a Christian I might go. She pleaded and prayed that I might become a Christian, but I wouldn’t. I said when the war was over I would become a Christian, but not till then.
All her pleading was in vain, and at last, when I was going away, she took out a watch and said: ‘My son, your father left this to me when he died. Take it, and I want you to remember that every day at 12 o’clock your mother will be praying for you.’ Then she gave me her Bible, and marked out passages, and put a few different references in the fly-leaf. I took the watch and the Bible just because my mother gave them.
I never intended to read the Bible. I went off to the city, and one day while on a long, weary march, I took out my watch, and it was 12 o’clock. I had been gone four months, but I remembered that my mother at that hour was praying for me. Something prompted me to ask the officer to relieve me for a little while, and I stepped behind a tree away out on those plains of Mexico, and cried to the God of my mother to save me.” My friends, God saved him, and he went through the war, “and now,” he said, “I have enlisted again to see if I can do any good for my Master’s cause.”