"
If the singing made me nervous the prayer intensified the feeling. In the
hot, midsummer air, so still the leaves scarce rippled on the trees, I
could, after a few seconds, distinguish every word the man uttered.
Accustomed to the decorous prayer of the German pastors our teachers
had taken us to hear, this impetuous prayer to the Deity awed me. He
talked with the invisible Jehovah as if they two were long tried friends,
between whom there was such perfect trust; whatever the man asked the God
would bestow. First there was intercession, pleading for forgiveness for
past offences, and for restraining grace for future needs. Afterward he
spoke of Death, the common inheritance of each of us, and the pain his
entrance had caused in this home, and then followed thanksgiving that
through Christ we could conquer even Death himself. I shall never forget
the triumphant ring in that man's voice as he passed on to the joy of
those who, trampling on Death, have passed safely within the light of
God.
"If one of the old masters had heard that man's prayer to-day, he would
have set it to some grand music. It reminds me of a _Te Deum_ or
oratoria," I said to Mrs. Flaxman, when the benediction was pronounced.
The tears were in her eyes, but her face was shining as if some inner
light were irradiating it.
"Did you ever hear so impetuous a prayer?" I asked.
She answered my question by asking another:
"Did you not like it?"
"I think it frightened me. The clergyman seemed to be talking to some one
right beside him.
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