The minister prayed fervently for mercy. None present but believed that an assault of the demons upon God’s house was about to be made.
The rain began to fall heavily, beating in at places through the rafters. Flashes of lightning would illumine the church, now bringing into vivid relief the row of judges, now the scarlet-coated soldiers, or the golden head of a child and its terror-stricken mother, again playing on and about the pulpit where the impassioned minister, his face ghastly above his black vestments, called unceasingly upon the Lord for succour.
The building was shaken to its foundations. Still to an heroic degree the people maintained their self-control.
Suddenly there was a more brilliant flash than usual, followed by a loud crash.
When this terrific shock had passed, and each person was beginning to realize dimly that he or she had survived it, the minister’s voice was heard singing the fifty-second psalm.
“Mine enemies daily enterprise
to swallow me outright;
To fight against me many rise,
O, Thou most high of might.”
And this first verse he sang unwaveringly through alone.