" There was a shuffling and scraping of feet as the congregation
sat down and prepared itself to listen to the preacher.
He was a tall, lean man of fifty-five, with a thin grey beard and a hawk
nose, and eyes that burnt with the intensity of inner fire. He was the
ascetic, the fanatic, the man with a burning message to deliver. His
eyes sought round his congregation before he gave out his text, seeking
for the souls that might be ready for the saving.
"And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the
angels into Abraham's bosom; the rich man also died, and was buried. And
in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar
off, and Lazarus in his bosom. And he cried and said, Father Abraham,
have mercy on me and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger
in water, and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame. But
Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy
good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted,
and thou art tormented."
The preacher read out the words with a slow, even intensity, making them
carry the weight of the inevitable. He paused for them to sink in before
he began the delivery of his own message.
"My friends," he said, "listen to this story from life. Many years ago
there was a young man in this very city who had a great temptation
placed before him. He was a clerk in an office, as many of you are.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180