Acres of Diamonds [34]
that must have been-McKinley, Garfield, and Conwell--``we talked together, and after a while we got to the subject of hymns, and those two great men both told me how deeply they loved the old hymn, `The Old-Time Religion.' Garfield especially loved it, so he told us, because the good old man who brought him up as a boy and to whom he owed such gratitude, used to sing it at the pasture bars outside of the boy's window every morning, and young Jim knew, whenever he heard that old tune, that it meant it was time for him to get up. He said that he had heard the best concerts and the finest operas in the world, but had never heard anything he loved as he still loved `The Old-Time Religion.' I forget what reason there was for McKinley's especially liking it, but he, as did Garfield, liked it immensely.''
What followed was a striking example of Conwell's intentness on losing no chance to fix an impression on his hearers' minds, and at the same time it was a really astonishing proof of his power to move and sway. For a new expression came over his face, and he said, as if the idea had only at that moment occurred to him--as it most probably had--``I think it's in our hymnal!'' And in a moment he announced the number, and the great organ struck up, and every person in the great church every man, woman, and child --joined in the swinging rhythm of verse after verse, as if they could never tire, of ``The Old- Time Religion.'' It is a simple melody--barely more than a single line of almost monotone music:
_It was good enough for mother and it's good enough for me! It was good on the fiery furnace and it's good enough for me!_
Thus it went on, with never-wearying iteration, and each time with the refrain, more and more rhythmic and swaying:
_The old-time religion, The old-time religion, The old-time religion-- It's good enough for me!_
That it was good for the Hebrew children, that it was good for Paul and Silas, that it will help you when you're dying, that it will show the way to heaven--all these and still other lines were sung, with a sort of wailing softness, a curious monotone, a depth of earnestness. And the man who had worked this miracle of control by evoking out of the past his memory of a meeting with two of the vanished great ones of the earth, stood before his people, leading them, singing with them, his eyes aglow with an inward light. His magic had suddenly set them into the spirit of the old camp-meeting days, the days of pioneering and hardship, when religion meant so much to everybody, and even those who knew nothing of such things felt them, even if but vaguely. Every heart was moved and touched, and that old tune will sing in the memory of all who thus heard it and sung it as long as they live.
V
GIFT FOR INSPIRING OTHERS
THE constant earnestness of Conwell, his desire to let no chance slip by of helping a fellowman, puts often into his voice, when he preaches, a note of eagerness, of anxiety. But when he prays, when he turns to God, his manner undergoes a subtle and unconscious change. A load has slipped off his shoulders and has been assumed by a higher power. Into his bearing, dignified though it was, there comes an unconscious increase of the dignity. Into his voice, firm as it was before, there comes a deeper note of firmness. He is apt to fling his arms widespread as he prays, in a fine gesture that he never uses at other times, and he looks upward with the dignity of a man who, talking to a higher being, is proud of being a friend and confidant. One does not need to be a Christian to appreciate the beauty and fineness of Conwell's prayers.
He is likely at any time to do the unexpected, and he is so great a man and has such control that whatever he does seems to everybody a per- fectly natural thing. His sincerity is so evident, and whatever he does is done so simply and naturally, that it is just a matter of course.
I remember, during one church service, while the singing was going on, that he suddenly rose from his chair and, kneeling beside it,
What followed was a striking example of Conwell's intentness on losing no chance to fix an impression on his hearers' minds, and at the same time it was a really astonishing proof of his power to move and sway. For a new expression came over his face, and he said, as if the idea had only at that moment occurred to him--as it most probably had--``I think it's in our hymnal!'' And in a moment he announced the number, and the great organ struck up, and every person in the great church every man, woman, and child --joined in the swinging rhythm of verse after verse, as if they could never tire, of ``The Old- Time Religion.'' It is a simple melody--barely more than a single line of almost monotone music:
_It was good enough for mother and it's good enough for me! It was good on the fiery furnace and it's good enough for me!_
Thus it went on, with never-wearying iteration, and each time with the refrain, more and more rhythmic and swaying:
_The old-time religion, The old-time religion, The old-time religion-- It's good enough for me!_
That it was good for the Hebrew children, that it was good for Paul and Silas, that it will help you when you're dying, that it will show the way to heaven--all these and still other lines were sung, with a sort of wailing softness, a curious monotone, a depth of earnestness. And the man who had worked this miracle of control by evoking out of the past his memory of a meeting with two of the vanished great ones of the earth, stood before his people, leading them, singing with them, his eyes aglow with an inward light. His magic had suddenly set them into the spirit of the old camp-meeting days, the days of pioneering and hardship, when religion meant so much to everybody, and even those who knew nothing of such things felt them, even if but vaguely. Every heart was moved and touched, and that old tune will sing in the memory of all who thus heard it and sung it as long as they live.
V
GIFT FOR INSPIRING OTHERS
THE constant earnestness of Conwell, his desire to let no chance slip by of helping a fellowman, puts often into his voice, when he preaches, a note of eagerness, of anxiety. But when he prays, when he turns to God, his manner undergoes a subtle and unconscious change. A load has slipped off his shoulders and has been assumed by a higher power. Into his bearing, dignified though it was, there comes an unconscious increase of the dignity. Into his voice, firm as it was before, there comes a deeper note of firmness. He is apt to fling his arms widespread as he prays, in a fine gesture that he never uses at other times, and he looks upward with the dignity of a man who, talking to a higher being, is proud of being a friend and confidant. One does not need to be a Christian to appreciate the beauty and fineness of Conwell's prayers.
He is likely at any time to do the unexpected, and he is so great a man and has such control that whatever he does seems to everybody a per- fectly natural thing. His sincerity is so evident, and whatever he does is done so simply and naturally, that it is just a matter of course.
I remember, during one church service, while the singing was going on, that he suddenly rose from his chair and, kneeling beside it,