Wonderful- people "praying for revenge"---
It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in
arms,the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the
drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the
bunched firecrackers hissing and sputtering; on every hand and far down
the receding and fading spreads of roofs and balconies a fluttering
wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched
down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers
and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked
with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings
listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their
hearts and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of
applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the
pastors preached devotion to flag and country and invoked the God of
Battles, beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpouring of fervid eloquence which moved every listener.


It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that
ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness
straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal
safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.


Sunday morning came-next day the battalions would leave for the front; the
church was filled; the volunteers were there, their faces alight with material
dreams-visions of a stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing
charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping
smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender!-then home from the war, bronzed
heros, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the
volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors
and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of
honor, there to win for the flag or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths.
The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the
first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the
building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and
beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation -- "God the all-
terrible! Thou who ordainest, Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!"
Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for
passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its
supplication was that an ever--merciful and benignant Father of us all
would watch over our noble young soldiers and aid, comfort, and
encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in His
mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody
onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory -


An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the
main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe
that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy
cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to
ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent
way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there,
waiting.

With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued his
moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent
appeal,"Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God,
Father and Protector of our land and flag!"


The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside -- which the
startled minister did -- and took his place. During some moments he
surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes in which burned an
uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said

"I come from the Throne-bearing a message from Almighty God!" The words
smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no
attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd and grant
it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to
you its import-that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the
prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of-
except he pause and think.

"God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken
thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two- one uttered, the other not. Both
have reached the ear of His Who hearth all supplications, the spoken and
the unspoken. Ponder this-keep it in mind. If you beseech a blessing upon
yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at
the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which
needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some
neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

"You have heard your servant's prayer-the uttered part of it. I am
commissioned by God to put into words the other part of it-that part which
the pastor, and also you in your hearts, fervently prayed silently. And
ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard these
words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient. The whole
of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations
were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for
many unmentioned results which follow victory-must follow it, cannot help
but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God the Father fell also the
unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!

"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle-
be Thou near them! With them, in spirit, we also go forth from the sweet
peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to
tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their
smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the
thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain;
help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to
wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us
to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended the
wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the
sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn
with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it-for
our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives,
protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way
with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet!
We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who
is ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid
with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.

(After a pause)

"Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the
Most High waits."

It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.



-Mark Twain