So, we all instantly seized on the motion, to gather in the church. A hymn was sung, a prayer offered for God's protection in the perils we well knew, we were about to meet. That He would help us to be brave men, and faithful unto death, as Southern soldiers; that He would give victory to our arms, and peace to our Country. A Scripture passage, the 91st Psalm, declaring God's defense of those who trust Him, was read. And then, our "talk meeting." It was resolved that "during the coming campaign, every evening, about sunset, whenever it was at all possible, we would keep up our custom, and such of us as could get together, _wherever we might be_, should gather for prayer."
And, in passing, I may remark, as a notable fact, that this resolution was carried out _almost literally_. Sometimes, a few of the fellows would gather in prayer, while the rest of us fought the guns. Several times, to my _very lively_ recollection we met _under fire_. Once, I remember, a shell burst right by us, and covered us with dust; and, once, I recall with _very particular_ distinctness, a Minie bullet slapped into a hickory sapling, against which I was sitting, not an inch above my head. Scripture was being read at the time, and the fellows were sitting around with their eyes open. I had to _look_ as if I had as lieve be there, as anywhere else; but I _hadn't_, by a large majority. I _could_ not dodge, as I was sitting down, but felt like drawing in my back-bone until it telescoped.
But, however circumstanced, in battle, on the battle line, in interims of quiet, or otherwise, we held that prayer hour nearly every day, at sunset, during the entire campaign. And some of us thought, and _think_ that the strange exemption our Battery experienced, our little loss, in the midst of unnumbered perils, and incessant service, during that awful campaign, was, that, in answer to our prayers, "the God of battles covered our heads in the day of battle" and was merciful to us, because we "called upon Him." If any think this a "fond fancy" _we don't_.
Well! to get back! After another hymn, and a closing prayer, we all shook hands, and then, we took a regretful leave of our dear little Church, and wended our way, quiet and thoughtful, to the road where we found the guns standing, all ready to go. Pretty soon the command--"Forward!" rang from the head of the line. We fell in alongside our respective guns, and with a ringing cheer of hearty farewell to the old Camp, we briskly took the road,--to meet, and to do, what was before us.