Open thy mouths in praise, that the gratitude
of a penitent be not hid!"
As the deep tones of the speaker ceased, his stern eye fell upon the
features of the nearest youth, and it seemed to demand an audible response
to his own lofty expression of resignation. But the sacrifice exceeded the
power of the individual to whom had been made this silent, but
intelligible, appeal. After regarding the relics that lay at his feet,
casting a wandering glance at the desolation which had swept over a place
his own hand had helped to decorate, and receiving a renewed consciousness
of his own bodily suffering in the shooting pain of his wounds, the young
borderer averted his look, and seemed to recoil from so officious a
display of submission. Observing his inability to reply, Mark continued.--
"Hath no one a voice to praise the Lord? The bands of the heathen have
fallen upon my herds; the brand hath been kindled within my dwellings; my
people have died by the violence of the unenlightened, and none are here
to say that the Lord is just! I would that the shouts of thanksgiving
should arise in my fields! I would that the song of praise should grow
louder than the whoop of the savage, and that all the land might speak
joyfulness!"
A long, deep, and expecting pause succeeded.
Pages:
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364