The Love That Prevailed

by Frank Frankfort Moore

And while he spoke the meaning of that message fell upon the multitude who listened. They felt that Peace of which he spoke falling gently upon them as cold dew at the close of a day of intolerable heat. They realised what it meant to them. The Peace descended upon them, and they were sensible of its presence. The dread that had been hanging over them all the day was swept away as the morning mist had been dispersed. The apprehension of the Judgment was lost in the consciousness of a Divine Love surrounding them. They seemed to have passed from an atmosphere of foetid vapours into that of a meadow in the Spring time. They drank deep draughts of its sweetness and were refreshed.

When he had begun to speak the sun was not far from setting in the depths of a crimson sky, and before he had spoken for half an hour the immense red disc, magnified by the vapours in the air, was touching the horizon. With its disappearance the colour spread higher up the sky and drifted round to the north, gradually changing to the darkest purple. Even then it was quite possible for the people to see one another's features distinctly in the twilight, but half an hour later the figure of the preacher was but faintly seen through the dimness that had fallen over the coast. The twilight had been almost tropical in its brevity, and the effect of the clear voice of many modulations coming out of the darkness was strange, and to the ears that heard it, mysterious. Just before it ceased there swept upon the faces of his listeners a cool breath of air. It came with a suddenness that was startling. During all the day there had not been a breath. The heat had seemed to be so solid, and now the movement of the air gave the impression of the passing of a mysterious Presence. It was as if the wings of a company of angels were winnowing the air, as they fled by, bringing with them the perfume of their Paradise for the refreshing of the people of the earth. Only for a few minutes that cool air was felt, but for that time it was as if the Peace of God had been made tangible.

When the preacher ended with the words with which he had begun, the silence was like a sigh.

The people were on their knees. There was no one that did not feel that God was very nigh to him.

And the preacher felt it most deeply of all. There was a silence of intense solemnity, before the voice was heard once more speaking to Heaven in prayer—in thanksgiving for the Peace that had come upon this world from above.

He knew how fully his prayer had been answered when he talked to the young men and maidens who had been among his hearers. The excitement of the evening had passed away from all of them. At the beginning of his preaching there had been the sound of weeping among them. At first it had been loud and passionate; but gradually it had subsided until at the setting of the sun the terror which had possessed them gave place to the peace of the twilight, and now there was not one of them that did not feel the soothing influence that comes only when the angel of the evening hovers with shadowy outspread wings over the world.

They all walked slowly to their homes; some belonged to Porthawn and others to the inland villages of the valley of the Lana, as far away as Ruthallion, and the light breeze that had been felt during the preaching became stronger and less intermittent now. It was cool and gracious beyond expression, and it brought with it to the ears of all who walked along the cliffs the soothing whisper of the distant sea. The joyous tidings came that the sea was returning, and it seemed that with that news came also the assurance that the cause for dread was over and past.

And all this time the preacher had made no allusion to the voice that had sounded along the shore in the early part of the evening predicting the overthrow of the world. All that he had done was to preach the coming of Peace.

“You may resume your journeying, Mr. Wesley, as soon as you please. May he not, friend Pullsford?” said Hartwell when he had returned to his house. “There is no need for us to keep Mr. Wesley among us when we know that he is anxious to resume his preaching further west. You never mentioned the man's name, sir, and yet you have done all—nay, far more than we thought it possible for you to accomplish.”

“There is no need for me to tarry longer,” replied Wesley. “But I pray of you, my dear friends, not to think that I do not recognise the need there was for me to return to you with all speed. I perceived the great danger that threatened us through Pritchard, and I was glad that you sent for me. I hope you agree with me in believing that that danger is no longer imminent.”