Part 25 (1/2)
In a few minutes I see a stir round the speakers' stand, and knew the speaker of the day, the great revivalist from the West, had come. And anon I see a tall n.o.ble figger pa.s.sin' through the crowd that made way for it reverentially. And lo and behold! I see as I ketched a glimpse of his profile that it wuz the minister I had hearn at Thousand Island Park. The same sweet smile rested on his face as he looked round on his brethren and the crowd before him, some like a benediction, only more tender like, and a light seemed to be s.h.i.+nin' through his countenance, ketched from some Divine power.
It wuz the same face I had framed that summer day in the Tabernacle at T. I. Park, and hung up in my mind right by the side of Isaiah and St.
Paul. Yes, I see agin the broad white forward with the brown hair mixed with gray thrown back from it kinder careless, his eyes had the same sweet sad expression, soft, yet deep lookin', and pitiful, as if he wuz sorry for us and would love to teach us the secret he had found of how to overcome the world and its sins and sorrows.
His prayer had the same power of lifting us up fur above the world and settin' down our naked souls in the presence of Him who searcheth the heart, searchin' and probin' to our consciences, and yet consolin', puttin' us in mind of that text, ”As a father pitieth his children”
and yet wants 'em to mind. It wuz a prayer for help and as if we would git it.
He read in that same sweet, melogious voice I remembered so well, Paul's wonderful words about how he wuz led from the blackness of unbelief up into the Great Light, and how he wuz caught up into the Third Heaven and saw things so great and glorious that it would not be lawful for man to speak of them, and where he goes on to tell of his belief, his hope and his faith. The text wuz Paul's words when he recalls those divine hours up on the heights alone with G.o.d:
”Wherefore not being disobedient to the heavenly vision.”
And as he went on, as uplifted as I wuz, I felt fearful ashamed to think how many times I had been disobedient to the Heavenly vision, the white ideals that shone out in my mind so high and clear in the mornin' light, and I wuz so sure I could reach. But havin' set down to rest in the heat of the day, and bein' drawn off into the shadders and thickets of environin' cares and perplexities, I didn't git nigh enough to grasp holt of, and I whispered as much to my pardner.
And he said he felt different, he had always ever sence he sot out marched right straight towards the Kingdom.
Sez I, ”Josiah Allen, hain't you ever meandered at all from that straight and narrer way?”
”No mom, not a inch, not a hair's breadth.” I wuz dumb-foundered by his conceit as many times as I had witnessed it.
The sermon that follered wuz white and glowin' with the light of Heaven. You could see that _he_ had not been disobedient to that Divine vision that had been revealed to him. The deep sweet look of his eyes told of them supreme heights his own soul had reached.
Upliftin', sympathizin', soul searchin', callin' on the best in every heart there to rise up and try to fly Heavenward.
His looks and words rousted up my soul and carried me off so fur from the world and Piller Pint, that I lost sight entirely of the crowd around me. But anon I hearn a voice at my side and I see Faith had come back onbeknown to me (she had been in Sister Meechum's tent mendin' a rent in her dress). But when I looked at her I realized how the face of St. Stephen looked. It sez, ”His face shone like the face of an angel.” Faith's looked jest so, only tears wuz slowly droppin'
from her eyes and runnin' down her white cheeks. Sez I, whisperin' to her with or in my axents,
”What is it, Faith? What is it, dear? Is it the Power?”
I most knew it wuz, and I wuz mekanically turnin' it over in my mind what I should do with her if she fell over prostrate, and where I should lay her out. When she turned, her glowin' awe-struck eyes held a world of joy and glory in each one on 'em.
”Yes, it is the Power, the power and goodness of G.o.d.” And she whispered in blissful axents, ”It is Richard, Richard redeemed and working for my Master.”