The Washington herald., 1913-03-02

seekers" a sudden shout OF exultation
Bless the Lord" or rapturous
"A-a-menr" Then a kneeling figure
would rise and the eNhorter would
break off his plea to cry, Our brother
has found the Lordw
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 a New York Sunday sup
plement.
Hamilton Gregory was clean-s 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 were so near. shell
tered by 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 fluttercd 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 conduct
ed the melodiouS charge up the ram
parts OF sin and indifference. If in re-
pose. Fran had thought him 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
tcnSely Grasping the baton, was the
hand of powerful chieftain welded in
behalf OF the God of battles.
One the left, the heavy bass was
singing:
One thing We know,
Wherever we 60
We reap what we SOW,
We reap what We SOW
While these words were being dolcd
On at long and impressive intervals,
like the tolling OF d heavy bell, more
than half a hundred soprano voices
were hastily getting in their requisite
number Of half notes. thus
so scatter little, scatter little. scatter
little. scatter little,
Scatter little seeds OF kindness"
In spite of the vast volume OF sound
produced by these voices, a. well as
BY the accompaniment of two pianos
and a Snare-drum. the voice of Ham
ilton Gregory, soaring futelikc toward
heaven, seemed to dart through the
interstices of rests" to thread its
slender way along inhnitesimal crew
ices of silence. One might have sup
posed that the booming bass. the eager
chattering soprano. the tenor with its
thin crust of upper layers. and the
throaty filings OF the alto, could have
left no vantage points for an obligato.
Yet il was Hamilton Gregory's voice that
bound all together in divine unity. A
one listened. ii was the inspired truth
as uttered by Hamilton Gregory that
brought the message home to con-
science As if one had never before
been told that one rcaps what one
sows. uneasy memory started out OF
hidden places with its whisper of seed
sown amiss Tears rose TO many eyes.
and smothcrcd sobs betrayed intense
emotion.
or those who we're not in tho least
affected. Fran was one. She saw and
heard Hamilton Gregory's impassioned
earnestneSs, and OWNED his yearning
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-
n:ately reap what they were sowing.
Nevertheless she was altogether I'M
moved. 1t would have been easier for
her to laugh than to cry.
Although the preacher had ceased
his exhortationS for the singing of the
evangelistic hymn. he was by no means
at the end of his resources. Standing
at the margin of the platform, look
ing out on the congregation. he slowly
moved back and forth his magnetic
arms in parallel lines. Without turn
ing his body. it was as if he were
cautiously sweeping 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 be might have
striven against the pianos and the
snare-drum. he maintained his terrible
silence. But as he fixed his ardent eyes
upon space, as he moved those impell
ing arms. man would rise here, a
woman start up Extraordinarily, or
eagerly, the unsaved would press their
way to the group kneeling at the front
Prayers and groans rose louder Jubi-