The revival into which were merged the special meetings at Dr. Guide's
church continued so long that religion became absolutely and
enthrallingly fashionable in Bruceton. Many drinking men ceased to
frequent the bar-room of the town, some old family feuds came to an
end, and several couples who should have been married long before were
joined in the holy bonds of wedlock.
Nevertheless, the oldest inhabitants agreed that never before had life
in Bruceton been so pleasant. Everybody was on good terms with
everybody else, and no one, no matter how poor or common, lacked
pleasant greetings on the street from acquaintances of high degree.
There had been some wonderful conversions during the meetings;
hard-swearing, hard-drinking men had abandoned their evil ways, and
were apparently as willing and anxious as any one else to be informed
as to how to conform their lives to the professions which they had
made. All the other churches sympathized with the efforts which Dr.
Guide's flock had been making, for they themselves had been affected to
their visible benefit.
Dr. Guide himself became one of the humblest of the humble. Always a
man of irreproachable life and warm heart, it never had occurred to him
that anything could be lacking in his church methods. But he also was a
man of quick perceptions: so, as the meetings went on, and he realized
that their impetus was due not at all to anything he had said or done,
but solely to the personal example of Sam Kimper, he fell into deep
thought and retrospection. He resolutely waived all compliments which
his clerical brethren of other denominations offered him on what they
were pleased to call the results of his ministrations, and honestly
insisted that the good work was begun by the example set by Sam Kimper,
the ex-convict.
Dr. Guide was an honest believer in the "church universal," but he had
been trained to regard the Church of Rome as the "scarlet woman" of
Revelation, and whenever he met Father Black in the streets he
recognized him only with a dignified bow. The day before the closing
meeting, however, he encountered the priest at the turning of a
corner,--too suddenly for a change of manner.
"My dear brother!" exclaimed Father Black, extending both hands and
grasping Dr. Guide's hands warmly, "God bless you for the good work you
have been doing!"
"My dear sir," said the pastor, rallying all his powers to withstand
the surprise, "I am very glad that you are pleased to regard the work
as good."
"How can I help it?" said the priest, impetuously. "The spirit which
your church efforts have awakened has spread throughout the town and
affected everybody. There are men--and some women--of my flock whom
I've been trying in vain for years to bring to confession, so as to
start them on a new life. I've coaxed them, threatened them, prayed for
them with tears of agony, for what soul is not dear to our Saviour? The
worse the soul, the more the Saviour yearns to reclaim it. You remember
the parable of the ninety-and-nine?"
"Who can forget it?" said the reverend doctor, tears springing to his
eyes.
"No one, my dear brother,--no one," replied the priest. "Well, my lost
sheep have all come back. The invisible Church has helped the visible,
and--"
"Is my Church, then, invisible?" asked Dr. Guide, with a quick relapse
into his old-time manner.
"My dear brother," exclaimed the priest, "which is the greater? Which
exists only for the other?"
"I beg your pardon," said Dr. Guide, his face thawing in an instant.
"Again I thank you from the depths of my heart," said the old priest,
"and--"
"Father Black," interrupted the pastor, "the more you thank me the
more uncomfortable I feel. Whatever credit is awarded, except to
Heaven, for the great and unexpected experiences which have been made
manifest at my church, belongs entirely to a man who, being the lowest
of the low, has set forth an example of perfect obedience."
"That poor cobbler? You are right, I verily believe, and I shall go at
once to pour out my heart to him."
"Let me go with you, Father--_Brother_, Black. I--" here Dr. Guide's
face broke into a confidential smile,--"I want to go to confession
myself, for the first time in my life, if you will allow the cobbler to
be my priest. I want a reputable witness, too."
Then the two clergymen, arm in arm, proceeded to Sam Kimper's shop, to
the great astonishment of all the villagers who saw them.
That night, at the closing meeting of the revival series, Dr. Guide
delivered a short but pointed talk from the text, "Verily I say unto
you, the publicans and harlots go into the kingdom before you."
"My friends," said he, "these words were spoken by Jesus one day when
the chief priests and elders, who were the types of the clergymen and
formal religious people of our day, questioned Him about His works and
His authority. They had a mass of tradition and doctrine by which they
were justified in their own eyes, and the presence, the works, the
teachings and the daily life of Jesus were a thorn in their flesh. It
annoyed them so that they crucified Him in order to be rid of His purer
influence. We, who know more of Him than they, have been continually
crucifying our Lord afresh by paying too much attention to the letter
and ignoring the spirit. 'These things should ye have done, and not
left the others undone.' I say these words not by way of blame, but of
warning. Heaven forbid that I ever shall need to repeat them!"
As the congregation looked about at one and another whom the cap might
fit, everybody chanced to see Deacon Quickset arise.
"My friends," said the deacon, "I'm one of the very kind of people
Jesus meant when He said the words that our pastor took for his text
to-night; and, for fear that some one mayn't know it, I arise to own up
to it myself. Nobody's stood up for the letter of the law and the plan
of salvation stronger than I, and nobody has taken more pains to dodge
the spirit of it. The scales have fallen from my eyes lately, but I
suppose all of you have been seeing me as I am for a long, long time,
and you've known me for the hypocrite that I now can see I've always
been. I've done a good many things that I oughtn't to have done. I've
told half-truths that were worse than lies. I've 'devoured widows'
houses, and for a pretence made long prayers,' as the gospel says. But
the worst thing I've done, and the thing I feel most sinful about, is
that when an unfortunate fellow-citizen of ours came back to this town
and tried to live a right life I did all I could to discourage him and
make him just like myself. I want right here, encompassed about by a
mighty cloud of witnesses, to confess that I've done that man an awful
wrong, and I'm sorry for it. I've prayed to God to forgive me; but I'm
not going to stop at that. Right here before you all I want to ask that
man himself to forgive me, as I've asked him in private. I'm not going
to stop at that, either. That man's life has opened my eyes, in spite
of myself, to all the faults of my own; and I want to show my sincerity
by promising, before you all, that I am that man's brother from this
time forth until I die, and that whatever is mine is his whenever and
however he wants it."
The deacon sat down. There was an instant of silence, and then a
sensation, as every one began to look about for the ex-convict.
"If Brother Kimper feels inclined to make any remarks," said Dr. Guide,
"I am sure every one present would be glad to listen to him."
People were slowly arising and looking towards one portion of the
church. Dr. Guide left the pulpit and walked down one of the aisles
towards the point where all eyes were centred. In a seat in the back of
the church he saw the ex-convict, with one arm around his wife and the
other around his daughter Jane: Sam looked smaller and more
insignificant than ever, for his chin was resting on his breast and
tears were chasing one another down his pale cheeks. Dr. Guide hurried
back to the altar-rail, and exclaimed, in his loudest and most
impressive voice,--"Sing
'Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!'"
THE END.