The old farmer kneeling at a soldier's grave in the Confederate cemetery near Nashville leaves us a good example of gratitude. Some one asked him, "Why do you pay so much attention to that grave? Is your son buried there?"
"No," he said; "during the war my family were all sick. I felt that I could not leave them, but I was drafted. One of my neighbors came over and said: 'I will go for you; I have no family.' He went. He was wounded at the battlefield of Chickamauga. He was carried to the hospital, and died there. And, sir, I have come a great many miles that I might write over his grave these words: 'He died for me.'"
Do you realize that the Saviour died for you and me?