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It
was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in
arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism;
the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping,
the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and
far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering
wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers
marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the
proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them
with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the
packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred
the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest
intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their
cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to
flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid
in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every
listener.
It
was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits
that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its
righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that
for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight
and offended no more in that way.
Sunday
morning came--next day the battalions would leave for the front;
the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces
alight with martial dreams--visions of the stern advance, the gathering
momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of
the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the
surrender!
Then
home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in
golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud,
happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and
brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the
flag, or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service
proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first
prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the
building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes
and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation:
God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest,
Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!
Then
came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of
it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The
burden of its supplication was that an ever-merciful and benignant
Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and
aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless
them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear
them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible
in the bloody onset; help them crush the foe, grant to them and
to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory--
An
aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up
the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body
clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white
hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy
face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following
him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended
to the preacher's side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the
preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued his moving prayer,
and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal,
"Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord and God, Father
and Protector of our land and flag!"
The
stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside-- which the
startled minister did--and took his place. During some moments he
surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned
an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:
"I
come from the Throne--bearing a message from Almighty God!"
The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived
it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant
your shepherd, and will grant it if such be your desire after I,
His messenger, shall have explained to you its import--that is to
say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of
men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of--except
he pause and think.
"God's
servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken
thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two--one uttered, and the other
not. Both have reached the ear of Him who heareth all supplications,
the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this--keep it in mind. If you
would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent
you invoke a curse upon your neighbor at the same time. If you pray
for the blessing of rain on your crop which needs it, by that act
you are possibly praying for a curse on some neighbor's crop which
may not need rain and can be injured by it.
"You
have heard your servant's prayer--the uttered part of it. I am commissioned
by God to put into words the other part of it--that part which the
pastor--and also you in your hearts-- fervently prayed silently.
And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard
the words `Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient.
The whole of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words.
Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory
you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory--must
follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit
of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth
me to put it into words. Listen!
"Lord
our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth
into battle--be Thou near them! With them--in spirit--we also
go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite
the foe. O Lord our God, help us tear their soldiers to bloody
shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields
with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the
thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing
in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane
of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows
with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with
their little children to wander unfriended in the wastes of their
desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun
flames in summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit,
worn with travail, imploring thee for the refuge of the grave
and denied it--
For
our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their
lives, protract their bitter pilgrimmage, make heavy their steps,
water their way with their tears, strain the white snow with the
blood of their wounded feet!
We
ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love,
and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are
sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.
(After
a pause.) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak!
The messenger of the Most High waits."
*
* *
It
was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there
was no sense in what he said.
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