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.
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 He Who heareth 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!
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."