Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1913-01-28
JOHN BRfkEhRlDGEElL6
rivh. fo1a. TIE Bohb.- Merrill, Company

.cYklWL LLLLC
Merrill Company. ..
stentorian voice of the exhorter, above
! the prayers and exclamations of the
seekers" sudden shout of exulta-
/ tion-"Bless the Lord or a raptur-
, GUS "A-a-men!" Then kneeling
! figure would rise, and the exhorter
would break off his plea to cry, "Our
brother has found the Lord"
| From the hundred members of the
choir, Fran singled out the man she
| had been seeking for SO many years.
1t was easy enough to distinguish him
from the singers who crowded the
platform, not only by his baton which
! proclaimed the choir leader, but by
his resemblance to the picture she had
discovered in New York Sunday
supplement-
Hamilton Gregory was clean shaved
except for silken reddish mustache;
his complexion was fair, his hair a
/ shade between red and brown, his eyes
blue. His finely marked face and
striking bearing were stamped with
distinction and grace.
1t was strange to Fran that he did
not once glance in her direction. True.
there was nothing in her appearance
to excite especial attention but she
had looked forward to meeting him
| ever since she could remember. Now
that her eyes were fastened on his
! face, now that they We're 50 near,
sheltered by a common roof, how
could he help feeling her presence?
The choir leader rose and lifted his
baton. At his back the hundred men
| and women obeyed the signal. while
hymn-books fluttered open throughout
| the congregation. Suddenly the leader
! Of the choir started into galvanic life.
He led the song with his sweet voice,
his swaying body. his frantic baton,
his wild arms. his imperious feet.
With all that there was of him, he
conducted the melodious charge up
| the ramparts of sin and Indifference
If in repose, Fran had thought MIN
singularly handsome and attractive,
she now found him inspiring. His
blue eyes burned with exaltation
while his magic voice seemed to thrill
! with more than human ecstasy. The
strong, slim. white hand tensely grasp
ing the baton, was the hand Of a
powerful chieftain welded in behalf Of
the God Of battles
On the left, the heavy bass was
singing,
zone thing we know,
Wherever we 60
/ We reap what we SOW.
We reap what we SOW"
! N AL, =
out at long and impressive intervals,
like the tolling of heavy bell. more
than a hundred soprano voices were
hastily getting in their requisite num-
Der of half notes. thus a.
$50 scatter little, scatter little. scat
ter little.
Scatter little seeds of Kindness"
In spite Of the vast valume of sound
produced by these voices. as we'll as
by the accompaniment Of two pianos
enG snare drum. the voice Of Hamil.
ton Gregory. soaring flute-like toward
heaven. seemed to dart through the
interstices of rests" to thread its
slender way along infinitesimal crew
ices of silence. One might have sup
posed that the booming bass. the
eager chattering soprano, the tenor
with it's thin crust Of upper layers.
and the throaty Filings of the alto.
could have left no vantage points for
an obligato. Yet it was Hamilton
Gregory's voice that bound all to-
gether in divine unity. AS one listened
it was the inspired truth as uttered by
Hamilton Gregory that brought the
message home to conscience. AS il
one had never before been told that
one reaps what one sows uneasy
memory started out of hidden places
with it's whisper of seed sown amiss.
Tears rose to many eyes, and smoth-
cred sobs betrayed intense emotion.
OF those who were not in the least
affected, Fran was one. She saw and
heard Hamilton ,Gregory's impas-
stoned earnestness. and OWNED his
yearnine to touch many hearts: nor
did she doubt that he would then and
there have given his life to press home
upon the erring that they must ulti
mately reap what they were sowing.
Nevertheless she was altogether un-
moved. 1t would have been easier for
her to laugh than to cry
Although the Lreac cher had ceased
his exhortations Cor the singing of the
evangelistic hymn. he was by no
means at the end of his resources.
Standing at the margin of the plat
form, looking out on the congreea-
ton. he slowly moved back and forth
his magnetic arms in parallel lines.
Without turning his body. it was AS
if he were cautiously sweeDing aside
the invisible curtain of doubt that
swung between the unsaved and the
altar. "This way" he seemed to say.
"Follow my hands"
Not one word did he speak. Even
between the verses. when he might
have striyen aga;rsT the pianos and
the snare drum he maintaired his ter
rible silence. But as he fixed his
ardent eyes upon space, as he moved
those impelling arms. a man would
rise here. woman S lrt up there
reluctantly. Or eagerly the unsaved
would press their way to. the grouD
kneeling at the front. Prayers and
groans rose louder Jubilant shouts Of
religious victory were more frequent.
One could now hardly hear the choir