In a few words the
pastor explained why it was thus, and then offering a prayer in which
all joined he proceeded to give me one of the classes, while he began
to question the others.
It was a novel group, the women in black skirts, with square boddices,
surmounted by white kerchiefs, with long flowing sleeves of white. But
the head had the strangest appearance. The more elderly women wore a
black cap, from the edge of which depended a trimming rising
perpendicularly from the cap from four to eight inches and gave to the
head the appearance of wings. Strange as it at first seemed, I soon
forgot all but their eager, animated attention. The theme was the love
of God in giving his only Son to be the propitiation for our sins.
Very evidently, it was no stranger of whom we were speaking. Not
satisfied with a mere bearing of his name, they knew and loved him.
His divine arm had been reached down to them. Charmed with his sweet
countenance, and won by his gentle, loving words, "Come unto me,"
they came with the trust and confidence of little children,
acknowledging their sin, but taking him at his word, "I, even I am he
that blotteth out thy transgressions, for my own sake, and will not
remember thy sins." It was sweet to talk of him, this Saviour, who had
done so much for them; and before I was aware the tears were running
down my own cheeks, and my words were broken and fragmentary. In the
meantime other worshippers came in. The hour for this kind of
instruction was over.
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