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No more would the burden of his message be a stern
denunciation of these faults and sins. Standing there to-day, he could
only wonder at his former blindness and stupidity and pride.
"Who am I," he said in bitter self-humiliation, "that I should judge my
comrades? How little I knew myself."
"A man of God," his superintendent had said in his last letter to him.
Yes, truly a man of God! A MAN not God! A MAN not to sit in God's place
in judgment upon his fellow sinners, but to show them God, their Father.
Barry thought of the frequent rebukes he had administered to the
officers and men for what he considered to be their sins. He groaned
aloud.
"God will forgive me, I know," he said. "But will they?"
He tried to recall what the burden of his message to his battalion
had been during these past months, but to him there came no clear and
distinct memory of aught but warnings and denunciations, with reference
to what he judged to be faulty in their conduct. To-day it seemed to him
both sad and terrible.


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