Dear Sister Fleet,
I will not deny myself the mournful privilege of assuring you of my very sincere and deep sympathy in your recent and severe affliction. I could but hope that the rumor of your son's death was false, but yesterday I saw Lieut. Ryland who has not only confirmed the report, but given me the sad particulars of the event. Well, it did not occur by chance. It was directed, as to time and circumstances, by the hand of one who loves you, and who designs to do you good and not evil, and who however dark and inscrutable his ways may be, can make no mistake. And yet, while your judgment may be convinced of the equity, wisdom and kindness of the dispensation, the heart feels it to be a sore trial. And rightly, too, "For no chastisement for the present seemeth to be joyous but grievous." It would be unnatural if you did not feel, and feel deeply the death of a son, at an age so promising, and under circumstances so distressing. Under such a bereavement any seeming extravagance of grief should be viewed with toleration and sympathy. But, "is there no balm in Gilead? is there no physician there?" I know earth has no solace for the sorrows that you feel. Vain were all its wealth, splendors and enjoyments to minister consolation to a heart, like yours, bereaved, desolate and grieved. I need not point you to the sources of consolation- you know them - you have often had access to them - and you have experienced their fullness and sufficiency. God is the fountain of all comfort, but this comfort flows to us through such channels as he in his wisdom may appoint- his word, his ordinances, the sympathies of his people, and the gracious inrfluences of his spirit. When Jesus was in an agony he prayed; and what better can we, poor, sinful mortals do, in our heart breaking troubles, than to call on him, who has said, "Call on me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me."
This war has demanded great and terrible sacrifices at our hands. You have been called to lay your gift upon the altar- probably not the offering you had selected, but that which your heavenly Father chose- a precious gift. This may not be the last sacrifice demanded of you in our fearful national struggle. We know not what awaits us. So far as we can discern, we must have a sanguinary (?) conflict, such as the world has rarely seen, or submit to a degradation and ruin, such as no nation in modern times has been called to endure. In a cause so just, and contending against enemies unnatural, barbarous and fiendish, we may well suffer with patience, fortitude and submission. We are shut up to the necessity of enduring whatever bereavements and suffering the maintenance of our cause may require. But while these consideratins may serve us to uncomplaining endurance, they cannot sweeten the bitter cup pressed to our lips. I preached the funeral of a noble son, of my dearest friend, Rev. D. Witt. He remarked, with a resigned but sorrowful spirit, "The war will end - we shall have peace - prosperity will once more return to the land - but my son is dead." Independence, peace, national prosperity will signify but little to the parent whose hopes have been crushed, and whose affections have been entombed.
I am sorry that my personal knowledge of your son, does not enable me to make any remarks concerning him for your consolation. I do not even know whether he was a professor of religion. If he was, that is a comfort to you; if he was not, let it be your consolation that grace is often real where it is not apparent. Many children religiously educated possess the genes of piety long before they are developed. Few persons, indeed, know the time of their conversion. Many date their conversion from some period of deep and well remembered emotion, whose renovation commenced at an earlier time. We must commit our loved ones when they depart to the Judge of all the earth who will do right.
Our friend, sis. Spotts, is lingering on the shore of mortality, but ready and waiting for the divine command to launch and bear away to a brighter life. A lovelier specimen of a matured Christian has never been seen. She is cheerful, devout, using the world as a means of doing good, but having her treasures quite beyond the perils of war. Her life, I judge, cannot be much longer extended.
With my apology for trespassing so long on your sorrow, and with assurance of my sincere condolence with yourself, & Dr. Fleet, I subscribe myself your friend in hope of a blessed immortality.
J. B. Jeter
Green Mount roses in memory of Benny
