The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1896-01-18


the trouble and proffered their SER
vices as arbitrator. The leader was
firm, the preacher was adamant. Fl
nally the latter said: 'I'll tell you
what I'll do; will give the choir the
hymns for the next six months, and
the leader may have rehearsal any
time that best suits him."
The deacons carried the PROPOSE
ton to the choir; it was accepted;
the gallery and the pulpit were re-
conciled; the preacher was meekly
submissive, the leader was radiantly
triumphant But, being disposed to
be gracious and magnanimous, he
gave the preacher two or three days
to get over the first sharp humiliation
and papg of defeat, then called on
him for the hymns. The preacher
sat down and wrote long column of
numbers, beginning at l and running
in regular progression-2, 3, 4, 5, 6,
Z, 8, etc.-up to 1876.
"There," he said, with the air of a
defeated man, 'sing them as they
come"
The leader bowed as he took the
list with the kindly condescension of
a big hearted conqueror and retired
The Sunday morning after the
treaty of peace was made, the church
meeting house was crowded. In his
pew, far up in front of all others, sat
Deacon Robert Standfast. He was a
prosperous cattle man, very Jacob,
and had been out on the prairies with
his hocks and herds when all this
trouble occurred. He loved his pas
tor with all the tenderness of a big
man. Deacon Standfast fairly blazed
with indignation when he heard how
his pastor had been treated. He de-
clared that it should never happen so
again. He reached town late Satur-
day night and had heard only about
the war. He knew nothing of the
declaration of peace, or, rather, knew
nothing of the armistice of six
months.
So, when the first hymn was given
out, the choir made that pause of
little minute, futtering its wings and
smoothing it's plumsge before it
broke into song. The silence smote
upon the heart of Deacon Standfast,
still ranking with sense of the in
dignity put upon his beloved pastor.
He arose to his feet, drew up his
muscular figure until he doomed up
like Saul among his brethren-"from
his shoulders and upward higher
than any of the people"-filled his
lungs, and in a mighty voice that had
echoed over the surging backs of
many horned herd on the storm
swept prairies,-a resounding shout
of far-reaching cadences that was
qualified to paralyze stampeded
steer into forgetfulness of the terror
that was driving him into frenzy-he
raised the tune" Alas, for the SER
vice of the sanctuary, out of that
strength came forth no sweetness, for
Deacon Standfast could not distin-
guish funeral dirge from college
yell. And he reared off the first verse
of that hymn by himself. But he was
enough. He needed no reinforcement.
With open mouths, dumb with amaze
ment, that choir stood in its silent
place waiting for him to reach the end
of the stanza, intending to waylay
him and head him off on the second.
Vain hope. They did not know his
powers of endurance. He drew but
one long, deep breath at the end of
the closing line and went right on,
with the next verse, developing Gu
mulative power with the exhilaration
of his work, until he wound up the
long hymn with long-drawn halloo
that sounded like a cross between
war whoop and hallelujah. One by
one the silent choir sat down as the
tuneless hymn progressed, but the
congregation, although not venturing
to "assist," stood by most nobly while
Deacon Standfast Justify sang his
first and last solo in that church. l
believe he never sang again; not even
in chorus.
After that break, however, all went
fairly we'll for several weeks, maybe
a month. Then the congregation
stood up at eight o'clock one Sunday
night and sang:
.'Once more, my soul. the rising cay
Statutes thy waking eyes,
And once the morning service
opened with the hymn:
Lord dismiss us with thy blessing"
But as not more than one singer in
a hundred, perhaps, sings hymn
with any thought of its meaning,
l.