"Will you go to meeting with me this afternoon, Mabel? Come; this is
your last day here; do go once before you leave the White Mountains."
"What do you do in 'meeting'?" asked the gay, beautiful, "High Church"
New York belle, with just a shade of contemptuous inflection in her
voice.
"Well,--there will be no sermon; there never is in the afternoon. The
good minister sits in the aisle, in front of the pulpit, and invites
any one he likes to make a prayer. Any other one, who feels the need
of it, may request that he or she be mentioned personally in the
petition; and those who wish it may relate their experience."
"How very funny! All the old women 'speakin' in meetin',' and scaring
themselves dreadfully. I'll go. I dare say I shall have a good laugh,
if I don't fall asleep."
So we walked through the long, hilly street of Bethlehem, in the
pleasant hour before sunset, in the sweet, warm, hazy air of early
autumn. The glory of the Lord shone round about us; for all the
mountains were burnished, splendid, gorgeous, in purple and crimson
and gold. Mabel's deep gray eyes grew large and luminous as her
artist-soul drank in the ineffable beauty.
The building was so crowded with the villagers and many visitors that
it was with difficulty we obtained seats, apart from each other. Mabel
found a place next to a young, sweet-faced country woman, and looked,
with her flower-like face and French costume, like some rare exotic by
the side of a humble mountain daisy.
The minister opened the services with a few fervent, simple words, and
then said, "Brother----, will you lead in prayer?"
A plain old country farmer knelt in the aisle before us. His
prayer--sincere, and, I doubt not, as acceptable, because sincere, as
if it had been offered in polished language--made Mabel shake with
laughter.
He rose, and there was utter silence for a moment. Then a high, sweet
woman's voice, far in front of us, sang out, clear as a bell,--
"Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
That calls me from a world of care,
And bids me at my Father's throne,
Make all my wants and wishes known."
The congregation joined in; only one verse was sung, and again the
strange, solemn silence fell upon us.
It was broken by the sudden rising of a lank, awkward boy, who uttered
a few words in a frightened nasal whine.
This time Mabel was convulsed with laughter; but the sweet singer, who
saw in this utterance only the contrite soul of the speaker, burst
forth triumphantly with--
"Oh, gift of gifts! oh, grace of faith!
My God, how can it be
That thou, who hast discerning love,
Shouldst give that gift to me?"
Only one verse, as before. Then the pure notes, high above all the
other voices, died away, and a strange-looking woman arose.
"I haven't any gift of language," said she, "but I want to give in my
testimony. I've always been a wicked woman; I've always gone against
my conscience. I've made my folks at home miserable for many a long
year; and that's the reason God poured trouble after trouble down on
me, till I was about to take my own life, when some one--it must have
been one of God's angels--went singing through the woods. Shall I
ever forget the words?--
"'With tearful eyes I look around;
Life seems a dark and stormy sea;--'"
She stopped, her voice breaking into a hoarse sob, when the other
sweet voice immediately went on--
"Yet, mid the gloom, I hear a sound,--
A heavenly whisper,--'Come to me.'
"Oh, voice of mercy! voice of love!
In conflict, grief, and agony,
Support me, cheer me from above!
And gently whisper--'Come to me.'"
I looked at Mabel. She was not laughing. A strange, awed expression
rested upon her features; her head was bowed down as the sweet-faced
woman at her side rose and, turning to the last speaker, said, in a
low, gentle voice,--
"My sister, we all thank our heavenly Father that he put his strong
arm of protection about you while it was yet time; and since you have
joined with us in profession of your faith, there has been no one more
earnest in those good works without which faith is nothing."
Then reverently kneeling, she prayed that God would strengthen her
dear sister, and give them all love and charity, one for another, and
his peace, which passeth all understanding.