The _Dreissigers_, however, will take no heed. Arrogant and secure in the possession of their stolen wealth, supported by the mouthpieces of the Church and the State, they feel safe from the wrath of the people--till it is too late. But when the storm breaks, they show the yellow streak and cravenly run to cover. The weavers, roused at last by the poet's description of their condition, urged on by the inspiring enthusiasm of the _Beckers_ and the _Jaegers_, become indifferent to the threats of the law and ignore the soft tongue of the dispenser of the pure word of God,--"the God who provides shelter and food for the birds and clothes the lilies of the field." Too long they had believed in Him. No wonder _Pastor Kittelhaus_ is now at a loss to understand the weavers, heretofore "so patient, so humble, so easily led." The _Pastor_ has to pay the price for his stupidity: the weavers have outgrown even him. The spirit of revolt sweeps their souls. It gives them courage and strength to attack the rotten structure, to drive the thieves out of the temple, aye, even to rout the soldiers who come to save the sacred institution of capitalism. The women, too, are imbued with the spirit of revolt and become an avenging force. Not even the devout faith of _Old Hilse_, who attempts to stem the tide with his blind belief in his Saviour, can stay them. _Old Hilse._ O Lord, we know not how to be thankful enough to Thee, for that Thou hast spared us this night again in Thy goodness ... an' hast had pity on us ... an' hast suffered us to take no harm. Thou art the All-merciful, an' we are poor, sinful children of men--that bad that we are not worthy to be trampled under Thy feet. Yet Thou art our loving Father, an' Thou wilt look upon us an' accept us for the sake of Thy dear Son, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. "Jesus' blood and righteousness, Our covering is and glorious dress." An' if we're sometimes too sore cast down under Thy chastening--when the fire of Thy purification burns too ragin' hot--oh, lay it not to our charge; forgive us our sin. Give us patience, heavenly Father, that after all these sufferin's we may be made partakers of Thy eternal blessedness. Amen. The tide is rushing on. _Luise_, _Old Hilse's_ own daughter-in-law, is part of the tide.