O the looks that came from those
faces! There were two or three I shall probably never forget. Nothing
at all markedly repulsive or hideous--strange enough I did not see one
such. Our common humanity, mine and yours, everywhere:
"The same old blood--the same red, running blood;"
yet behind most, an inferr'd arriere of such storms, such wrecks, such
mysteries, fires, love, wrong, greed for wealth, religious problems,
crosses--mirror'd from those crazed faces (yet now temporarily so
calm, like still waters,) all the woes and sad happenings of life and
death--now from every one the devotional element radiating--was it
not, indeed, _the peace of God that passeth all understanding_,
strange as it may sound? I can only say that I took long and searching
eyesweeps as I sat there, and it seem'd so, rousing unprecedented
thoughts, problems unanswerable. A very fair choir, and melodeon
accompaniment. They sang "Lead, kindly light," after the sermon.
Many join'd in the beautiful hymn, to which the minister read the
introductory text, _In the daytime also He led them with a cloud, and
all the night with a light of fire_. Then the words:
Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on.
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
Lead thou me on.
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.
I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that thou
Should'st lead me on;
I lov'd to choose and see my path; but now
Lead thou me on.
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