“We will discuss the matter no more,” he said, presently, “but to-morrow in church let us try to meet in all sincerity as fellow-worshippers. Now I will show you the piece of oak we spoke of, and you shall take the measurements for the corner cupboard.”
There was no sleep that night for Dr. Coke, but, as Durdle often remarked, he was one of those whose looks did not pity them, and no one seeing the ruddy face and the long white hair had a notion what the man was undergoing when he took his place in the reading-desk on Sunday morning.
“Dearly beloved brethren,” he began, “owing to the present troubles in Church and State, it is not to-day in my power to use the Book of Common Prayer. I would remind you, however, that greatly as many of us love our liturgy, and helpful as we find it, God may be worshipped by us all in spirit and in truth, though our prayers be but halting and imperfect. I ask you, therefore, to kneel and to make after me, sentence by sentence, supplication to our Heavenly Father.”
The startled people knelt, and very earnestly repeated the brief petitions for a more perfect faith, for a wider hope, for a more self-sacrificing love. They prayed for peace and for the needs of soul and body, and then with a gasp of relief the Vicar began the Lord’s Prayer.
The ordeal was over, and with a most thankful heart he gave out the Hundredth Psalm, which was valiantly played by flute and fiddle and heartily sung by all the congregation.
After which, with the reading of che lessons, more psalm-singing and a sermon, the service came to an end.
“Well,” remarked Farmer Chadd, “Vicar may not ha’ spoken with the tongue o’ angels as the text said, but he certainly did make folk see what charity means.”
“Ay,” said Farmer Mutlow, “and though I’m with him in preferrin’ the Prayer-book, yet I will say it cheered my heart wonderful to pray for a good apple year, and above all to ask straight out for a blessin’ on the hops. Parson he knows well enough what plaguey uncertain things they be, and though the liturgy lumps ’em all in with ‘fruits o’ the earth that in due time we may enjoy them,’ yet I always did hold with prayer for each child by name, and if for children why not for crops?”
“Quite right, neighbour, quite right,” said Farmer Chadd. “We’ll ask him to say a word for the hops every Sunday.”