Love stories; Montana -- Fiction; Religious fiction; Western stories
It seemed as though the Lord Himself was leading the girl in a very
special way. At scarcely any other church in a fashionable quarter of the
great city would Elizabeth have heard preaching so exactly suited to her
needs. The minister was one of those rare men who lived with God, and
talked with Him daily. He had one peculiarity which marked him from all
other preachers, Elizabeth heard afterward. He would turn and talk with
God in a gentle, sweet, conversational tone right in the midst of his
sermon. It made the Lord seem very real and very near.
If he had not been the great and brilliant preacher of an old established
church, and revered by all denominations as well as his own, the minister
would have been called eccentric and have been asked to resign, because
his religion was so very personal that it became embarrassing to some.
However, his rare gifts, and his remarkable consecration and independence
in doing what he thought right, had produced a most unusual church for a
fashionable neighborhood.
Most of his church-members were in sympathy with him, and a wonderful work
was going forward right in the heart of Sodom, unhampered by fashion or
form or class distinctions. It is true there were some who, like Madam
Bailey sat calmly in their seats, and let the minister attend to the
preaching end of the service without ever bothering their thoughts as to
what he was saying. It was all one to them whether he prayed three times
or once, so the service got done at the usual hour. But the majority were
being led to see that there is such a thing as a close and intimate walk
with God upon this earth.
Into this church came Elizabeth, the sweet heathen, eager to learn all
that could be learned about the things of the soul. She sat beside her
grandmother, and drank in the sermon, and bowed her lovely, reverent head
when she became aware that God was in the room and was being spoken to by
His servant. After the last echo of the recessional had died away, and the
bowed hush of the congregation had grown into a quiet, well-bred commotion
of the putting on of wraps and the low Sabbath greetings, Elizabeth turned
to her grandmother.
"Grandmother, may I please go and ask that man some questions? He said
just what I have been longing and longing to know, and I must ask him
more. Nobody else ever told me these things. Who is he? How does he know
it is all true?"
The elder woman watched the eager, flushed face of the girl; and her heart
throbbed with pride that this beautiful young thing belonged to her. She
smiled indulgently.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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