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 hearth 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.