It was a most striking placard. The first letter of each word nearly eight inches in length, and in brilliant crimson, the other letters six inches long in deep, purple black.
As he sat back and regarded it where it hung, Tom Hammond mused on all that he had heard that afternoon, of the effects upon the lives of those who possessed a real heart apprehension of the truth of the near Return of the Lord.
“One can scarcely conceive,” he murmured, “what London, what all the civilized, and so-called Christian world, would be like, if every man and woman, who professes to be a christian, lived in the light of the truth that the Lord’s return was near, was imminent. ‘Every man’ (he was recalling the truth quoted that afternoon), ‘Who hath this Hope in him, purifieth himself even as He (Jesus) is pure.’”
The rest of the day was a busy one. Many callers came in. Everyone noticed the strange placard. Some asked what it meant. Modestly, but with strong purpose, and with perfect frankness, Hammond told each and all who enquired, of his change of heart, and how possessed with the fact that Christ’s return was imminent, he had had the placard done for his own, and for others quickening and reminder.
People smiled indulgently, but entered into no argument with him. He was too important a man for that, and, equally, they dare not pooh-pooh his testimony, wild as it appeared to most, if not all of them.
CHAPTER XXI.
WAS HE MAD?
Madge, a wife of barely eighteen hours, found her husband’s church packed in every nook and corner when she entered it on the Sunday morning.
The news of her sudden return, and equally sudden marriage, had helped to fill the church, though the knowledge that the Rev. Doig was to preach would, in itself, have been sufficient to have gathered an unusually large congregation.
During the pastor’s sickness the pulpit had been supplied by various good men, secured by the deacons from all over the county. Doig had preached twice before, and was already a great favourite with the people.