July SATURDAY 4, 1863
Vicksburgh, surrendered this morning1 and an exulting foe, madened by success, imagines the Rebellion crushed—poor deluded fools—tis just begun. Tis God’s will you should prosper, and devastate our lovely land so far, and it may be even more than this, yet our faith is perfect. God will bless us. No matter how dim the Star of Liberty may grow, even in Months to come. We are content my Savior, thy will, not ours, be done. “Blessed is the man, whose trust is in thee.” God is our Sun and Shield, and we will yet come out victoriously free. My poor, poor Gratz where is he—what has he to brighten his hopes. Oh! my Savior, in thy mercy shield him, guide him from all temptation, protect him from disease and harm. And oh! my Father hasten the day which will make us twain. Do not permit me to make him an Idol. I can but tremble even now, with fear, for my deep and holy love. Oh! Gratz, Idol of my heart.
- This entry was written at a later date and back-dated. With the telegraph down, news of the fall of Vicksburg didn’t reach Memphis for several days, though there were certainly rumors.