“Glad to see you,” she whispered, guarding her lips with her gloved hand.
One of the preachers rose slowly from his chair. He was a stout man of fifty, mild-appearing and pleasant, with clean-shaven face and grey hair. He walked forward to the edge of the carpeted platform, rested his elbow on the side of the pulpit and raised his face to gaze slowly over the quieting congregation. “My dear friends,” he said in soft, silver tone, “I thank God for the hymn we have just been singing. It has been indeed very inspiring. Brother Tooker and myself have been in your little town for two weeks now, and have grown so fond of the people that we view to-night’s meeting with inevitable feelings of regret, because, so far as we can see the divine guidance, it will be our last night with you. But we have also feelings of hope, because we are praying that there may be a great turning to God as a result of this meeting.”
As he paused to shift his weight slowly to his other foot and clasp his hands behind his frock coat, the congregation was silent. Only the sound of a horse stamping in the shed could be heard.
“During our fortnight with you,” he continued, “many souls have been led to the Cross. We thank God for that. But there are many more who are still living in sin—some of them are here to-night.”
As his glance shifted over the mass of upturned faces, Mauney fancied he paused perceptibly as he looked his way.
“It is to you, who are in sin, that we bring a message of hope. You have only to take God at his word, who sent His Son to save that which was lost.”
“Amen!” came a vigorous response from an old man in the front pew.
“You have only to believe on Him who is righteous and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
“Amen!” from near the back.