The lifeless organ had become animate under the touch of human fingers, and the crowd of worshippers, hearing their own supplications as if rising from a stronger heart than theirs, were soothed by the musician's skill. Imploring and praying with fresh confidence, they were strengthened by renewed faith, until at length tears came, and in those tears they found relief.
It seemed as if the choir had been waiting for this moment, for scarcely were the tears seen on the people's faces before it sent forth another moving entreaty, and all hearts burnt with fresh ardour.
Once again the people groaned and prostrated themselves, weighed down by the load of sighs drawn from their aching hearts.
I groaned with them. I prayed still more fervently, stretching out my hands more beseechingly to the stern God. I held my breath still longer, always expecting a visible miracle. But God was silent, and my childish hopes were shattered.
The choir led the people in a new and still more ardent prayer.
"O God, my God, when will this dreadful praying end?"
I felt my strength was failing me, and that to pray thus any longer would be impossible. I clung to my dear father, who was praying beside me, hoping he would soothe me, as was his way. But my father did not see me, although he bent down to me, for his eyes were full of tears, and I only heard his heated whisper:
"Pray, my child; pray, dear boy, and never forget this wonderful prayer!"
So I prayed once more, concentrating all my thoughts and feelings in this one prayer. The perspiration stood in large drops on my forehead; I held my breath still longer, and waited—waited in vain! God was silent. But the choir raised a fresh entreaty.
"O God, my God, why art Thou so long in hearing us?"