army work, and eternity alone will be able to estimate the glorious results of these army revivals. But was this a genuine and permanent work of grace? Was it not a mere animal excitement produced by the dangers to which the men were exposed, and liable to pass off when those dangers were removed? Are not the accounts of this army work exaggerated? Was not there an abounding wickedness in the army, even to the close of the war? Most certainly there was wickedness in the army. I have been unfortunate if, in endeavoring to portray vividly the power of religion in the Confederate army, I have been understood as representing that the millennium dawned upon us, or that wickedness and vice were entirely banished from our camps. Far from it. It was not uncommon, even during our most powerful revivals, to see a party playing cards not far from where the preacher stood, and to hear the profane oath as you came from the place of prayer, and visitors would be, naturally, greatly shocked at this state of things. But during the most powerful revivals in towns and cities, precisely the same state of things constantly exists, only green blinds or stained glass hide the view, and the church walls obstruct the sound. In the camps all was open and could be seen and heard. There is no doubt that some of the professions of religion in the army were spurious. This has been true in every revival, from the days of Judas Iscariot and Simon Magus, and it was not to be expected that our army work would prove an exception. And yet the conversions in our camps were as genuine works of grace as any that occur in our churches at home, and as large a proportion of the converts proved the reality of their professions as in any revivals. The very material of which our congregations were composed was a safeguard against undue animal excitement in the meetings. We had not women and children, but men to deal with, men who were accustomed to go into the "leaden and iron hail of battle," and
