"Might be true if I counted myself among worms, but I don't--I may look like a worm, Brother Cartwright, or a pair of worms, or even four worms of the dust tied together, but I haven't none of that wormy feelin' you hint at, and I don't take stock in wormy religion. The Good Book is full of more upliftin' texts than the wormy ones. I'd forget about hell fire and worms of the dust for a while if I was a preacher." "What would you preach, Abe?" Mentor Graham asked. "Want to know, do you?" "Yes--yes," the answer was given by both Rutledge and Doctor Allen. Lincoln arose. For a moment he seemed slouchy, bent, and ill at ease. Then he straightened up and announced his text, "'Beloved, now are ye the sons of God, and it does not yet appear what we shall be.'" As he spoke, a wonderful change came over him. His face lit up, his gestures grew natural and strong, his voice, thin-sounding at first, took on melody, his ill-fitting clothing was forgotten. He seemed for the moment lifted away from his surroundings, and those listening were lifted with him. As he reached the end of his brief speech and declared, "'And every man that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself,'" he was measuring up to some far heights. When he finished his short sermon he stood a few seconds. Then his shoulders drooped, the bright spark faded from his eye and gave place to the quiet, almost dull gray, and a quizzical smile softened his face as he said, in sitting down, "Let those who feel like worms be as decent as they can. Let those that feel themselves sons of God go forward toward better things. Isn't this the Scripture, Brother Cartwright?" The small, bright eyes of the great exhorter were fastened on the face of the homely youth. Here evidently was a specimen whose like he had not seen. "There be those," answered Cartwright, "who wrest the Scriptures to their own damnation. We were created sons of God to be sure. But we have been separated by the fall of Adam and eternally lost unless we return to the fold by the one way." "That's just it, which is the right way? Doctor Allen here goes by the Predestinarian gate. Graham goes by the Hard-Shell gate. The New Lights have their way, the Free Wills theirs, the Dunkards and the Shakers have theirs, and you choose the shouting Methodist way. Which of them all is right?" "Right--Why _I am right_, as I can prove by the Scriptures." Lincoln laughed. "Come to hear me preach and I can _prove_ to you that I am right. You're tall and mighty in your own opinion, but I've seen the tall and lofty sons of Belial bite the dust. Come to hear me! I'll get the scales from your eyes and the stiffness out of your knees. Let us pray. To your knees, people," and with fervid honesty and all his consecrated lung power, the great exhorter called on _all_-mighty God to have mercy on the self-satisfied sinner in their midst. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 1: From "Autobiography of Peter Cartwright."] CHAPTER XII THE RIGHTEOUS SHOUT