Gordon read
the hymns and Scripture with a feeling so intense the people were
thrilled. His prayer had been simple and heartfelt, and had melted
scores of people to tears.
He rose and faced the crowd with the keenest sense of solemnity.
The hour was propitious; he could feel the hearts of the people
beat responsive to his slightest tone, word or gesture.
As he swept rapidly through his introduction and into his theme
he knew he was holding these thousands of breathless listeners in
the hollow of his hand. He could feel their heartstrings quiver
as he touched them with tenderness or struck them with some mighty
thought.
His soul was singing with triumph, when suddenly a ripple of laughter
ran along the front tier of the gallery, and a hundred heads were
turned upward to see what the disturbance meant.
Had a bolt of lightning struck his spinal column he could not have
been more shocked.
He repeated mechanically the last sentence in a dazed sort of
way, and a louder ripple of laughter ran the entire length of both
galleries and echoed through the main floor.
He stopped, fumbled at his notes, and turned red. The people
before him were smiling and craning their necks to see more plainly
something on the wide platform of the pulpit.
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