“Our Father which art”—­but what came next?  That was where he had always had to be prompted, and now, in his confusion, all the rest had fled from his mind.  But now it seemed that with the words the Presence had drawn near, was standing close by the chair.  His mind leaped forth with the consciousness that he might talk with this invisible Presence, unfold his own perplexities and restlessness, and perhaps find out what it all meant.  With scarcely a hesitation his clear voice went on eagerly now: 

“Our Father, which art in this room, show us how to find and know You.”  He could not remember afterward what else he said.  Something about his own longing, and the old woman’s pain and loneliness.  He was not sure if it was really a prayer at all, that halting petition.

He got up from his knees greatly embarrassed; but more by the Presence to whom he had dared to speak thus for the first time on his own account, than by the little old woman, whose hands were still clasped in reverence, and down whose withered cheeks the tears were coursing.  The smoky walls, the cracked stove, the stack of discouraged dishes, seemed to fade away, and the room was somehow full of glory.  He was choking with the oppression of it, and with a kind of sinking at heart lest the prayer had been only an outbreak of his own desire to know what this Force or Presence was that seemed dominating him so fully these days.

The old woman was blessing him.  She held out her hands like a patriarch:  “Oh, that was such a beautiful prayer!  I’ll not forget the words all the night through and for many a night.  The Lord Himself bless ye!  Are you a preacher’s son, perhaps?”

He shook his head; but he had no smile upon his face at the thought, as he might have had five minutes before.

“Well, then, yer surely goin’ to be a preacher yerself?”

“No,” he said; then added, thoughtfully, “not that I know of.”  The suggestion struck him curiously as one who hears for the first time that there is a possibility that he may be selected for some important foreign embassy.

“Well, then, yer surely a blessed child o’ God Himself, anyhow, and this is a great night fer this poor little room to be honored with a pretty prayer like that!”

Scarcely hearing her, he said good night and went thoughtfully down the dark stairs, a strange sense of peace upon him.  Curiously enough, while he felt that he had left the Presence up in that little dismal room, it yet seemed to be moving beside him, touching his soul, breathing upon him!  He was so engrossed with this thought that it never occurred to him that he had given the old woman every cent he had in his pocket.  He had forgotten entirely that he had been hungry.  A great world-wonder was moving within his spirit.  He could not understand himself.  He went back with awe over the last few minutes and the strange new world into which he had been so suddenly plunged.