He began by drawing a picture of heaven, the dwelling-place of the saints. He measured the thousand furlongs of the city; he depicted the streets of gold and the gates of pearl; he garnished the walls with chrysolite, beryl and amethyst. His voice at times was low and soft, and then suddenly it became loud and dramatic, and almost shook the little building. Hazel awoke from her absorption in his manner to note his words when he called out:
“And the building of the wall was jasper.”
“There,” she thought triumphantly, “I was right that day and Charity was wrong. Jasper isn’t something to eat.”
She was wholly unaccustomed to hearing the congregation take a spontaneous part in the service, and was amazed at their frequent cries of “That’s so,” and “Amen.”
But the preacher did not mean to dwell long this evening on the celestial sphere. He was concerned with showing his hearers the terrors of the underworld. In a few moments he depicted them as standing in the lake of fire and brimstone, burning, burning, not for a day but forever and ever. The flames seemed to leap up as the minister shouted: “And the devil will reach out for you, ye generation of vipers, he’ll reach out for you across the flames, and he’ll catch you and draw you into the burning lake.”
“Lord save us!” “Please have mercy, Jesus,” came from the moaning crowd.
Hazel was aghast.
“Come to the Lord and be saved,” cried the preacher. “Be saved by the blood of the Lamb!”
A change came over the congregation. The moaning ceased. From different parts of the room arose calls of “Yes, Jesus,” “I’s coming, Lord.” Women began to sway back and forth, crying loudly for salvation.
Hazel looked at Granny. The old woman had forgotten her.