THE DEACON'S PRAYER. 147
All night before the Deacon's eyes The weary patriot army flies. He seems to hear the panting breath Of those to whom repose is death Or capture; those on whom depends His country's welfare; son and friends Are struggling there for right, not wrong; They ask but justice. " Lord, how long Wilt Thou withhold Thy mighty arm? Wilt Thou not save the weak from harm?"
These anxious, troubled thoughts will find
A place within the Deacon's mind
As he attends to the discourse
Of Elder Gray; and still will force
Itself upon him, that worn band
Of patriots; while with upraised hand
Seems Freedom standing at their side,
A suppliant. What will betide
Ere God the righteous cause shall seal,
And peace the wounded land shall heal?
By these and kindred thoughts possessed,
He hears good Elder Gray's request.
The Deacon paused, then slowly knelt. And prayed. The trouble which he felt Found utterance, and sore he plead That He who oppressed Israel led From bondage would this people free, And bless their land with liberty; Make right prevail, e'en though its price In pain, and woe, and sacrifice, Were great. And less for peace he prayed Than justice, and that God would aid The patriots in this their hour Of doubt, distress and waning power.
Like Moses, when he humbly dared To pray that Israel might be spared — Although the judgment of their God Had risen with its avenging rod To smite them — so this patriot stood Between his Lord and nation ; would Not let the wrestling angel go Until he would his grace bestow.
The congregation sat in awe, With faces pale or tearful, for The presence of the Lord seemed there In answer to the fervent prayer. And not one heart but many thrilled, As tremulous with feeling, filled Anon with deep entreaty, then With argument, and yet again
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