“Is there no other elder who could do it?”
“Not wan, sir. I’m afraid we will hev to dismiss the congregation.”
At this point, to the laird’s relief and no little surprise, Jackman leaned forward, and said in a low voice, “If you have no objection, I will undertake to conduct the service.”
The elder gave the laird a look which, if it had been translated into words, would probably have conveyed the idea— “Is he orthodox?”
“By all means, Mr Jackman,” said the laird; “you will be doing us a great favour.”
Accordingly Jackman went quietly to the precentor’s desk and mounted it, much to the surprise of its proper occupant, a man with a voice like a brass trumpet, who thereupon took his seat on a chair below the desk.
Profound was the interest of the congregation when they saw this bronzed, broad-shouldered, big-bearded young man pull a small Bible out of his pocket and begin to turn over the leaves. And it was noted with additional interest by several of the people that the Bible seemed to be a well-worn one. Looking up from it after a few minutes, during which it was observed that his eyes had been closed, Jackman said, in an easy, conversational tone, that quite took the people by surprise—
“Friends, it has been my lot in life to wander for some years in wild and distant lands, where ministers of the Gospel were few and far between, and where Christians were obliged to conduct the worship of God as best they could. Your minister being unable to attend, owing to an accident, which I trust may not turn out to be serious, I shall attempt, with the permission of your elder, to lead your thoughts Godward, in dependence on the Holy Spirit. Let us pray.”
The jealous ears of the rigorously orthodox heard him thus far without being able to detect absolute heresy, though they were sensitively alive to the unusual style and very unclerical tone of the speaker’s voice. The same ears listened reverently to the prayer which followed, for it was, after the pattern of the Lord’s Prayer, almost startlingly short; still it was very earnest, extremely simple, and, all things considered, undeniably orthodox.
Relieved in their minds, therefore, the people prepared themselves for more, and the precentor, with the brazen but tuneful voice, sang the first line of the psalm which the young preacher gave out— “I to the hills will lift mine eyes”—with rasping energy. At the second line the congregation joined in, and sang praise with reverent good-will, so that, when a chapter of the Word had been read and another psalm sung, they were brought to a state of hopeful expectancy. The text still further pleased them, when, in a quiet voice, while turning over the leaves of the well-used Bible, Jackman said, “In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.”