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 spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread 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 outpourings 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 young faces alight with martial dreams -- visions
of the 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 heroes, 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 the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear
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 with 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 will 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 Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken.
Ponder this -- keep it in mind.
If you would 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 of 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 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 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 the 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.