There was a "hiding" somewhere in this world, and she had had
it in a time of trouble. One moment more out upon the open, and the
terrible man might have seen her.
There came a time of prayer in which all heads were bowed, and a voice
here and there murmured a few soft little words which she did not
comprehend; but at the close they all joined in "the prayer"; and, when
she heard the words, "Our Father," she closed her eyes, which had been
curiously open and watching, and joined her voice softly with the rest.
Somehow it seemed to connect her safety with "our Father," and she felt a
stronger faith than ever in her prayer.
The young man listened intently to all he heard. There was something
strangely impressive to him in this simple worship out in what to him was
a vast wilderness. He felt more of the true spirit of worship than he had
ever felt at home sitting in the handsomely upholstered pew beside his
mother and sister while the choir-boys chanted the processional and the
light filtered through costly windows of many colors over the large and
cultivated congregation. There was something about the words of these
people that went straight to the heart more than all the intonings of the
cultured voices he had ever heard. Truly they meant what they said, and
God had been a reality to them in many a time of trouble. That seemed to
be the theme of the afternoon, the saving power of the eternal God, made
perfect through the need and the trust of His people.
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