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 sputtering;
on every hand and far down the receding and fading spreads 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 outpouring 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
faces alight with material dreams - visions of a 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 heros,
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 His mighty hand, make them strong and confident,
invincible in the bloody onset; help them to 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
our 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 grant it if such shall 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, the other not. Both have reached the ear of His Who
heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder
this - keep it in mind. If you beseech a blessing upon yourself,
beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at
the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop
which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse
upon 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 these 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 the Father fell
also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it
into words. Listen!
"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go
forth to 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 to 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 the wastes of their desolated
land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of
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 pilgrimage, make heavy their
steps, water their way with their tears, stain 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 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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