doors opened--appears, and
all the people in that long pew rise up, and he, followed by his
minister, erect and engrossed, walks in along the seat, and they
struggle up to the pulpit. We all know what he is to speak of; he looks
troubled even to distress;--it is the matter of Uriah the Hittite. He
gives out the opening verses of the 51st Psalm, and offering up a short
and abrupt prayer, which every one takes to himself, announces his
miserable and dreadful subject, _fencing_ it, as it were, in a low,
penetrating voice, daring any one of us to think an evil thought; there
was little need at that time of the warning,--he infused his own
intense, pure spirit, into us all.

He then told the story without note or comment, only personating each
actor in the tragedy with extraordinary effect, above all, the manly,
loyal, simple-hearted soldier. I can recall the shudder of that
multitude as of one man when he read, "And it came to pass in the
morning, that David wrote a letter to Joab, and sent it by the hand of
Uriah. And he wrote in the letter, saying, Set ye Uriah in the forefront
of the hottest battle, and retire ye from him, that he may be smitten
and die." And then, after a long and utter silence, his exclaiming, "Is
this the man according to God's own heart? Yes, it is; we must believe
that both are true." Then came Nathan. "There were two men in one city;
the one rich, and the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks
and herds; but the poor man had nothing, save one little ewe lamb"--and
all that exquisite, that divine fable--ending, like a thunder-clap, with
"Thou art the man!" Then came the retribution, so awfully exact and
thorough,--the misery of the child's death; that brief tragedy of the
brother and sister, more terrible than anything in AEschylus, in Dante,
or in Ford; then the rebellion of Absalom, with its hideous dishonor,
and his death, and the king covering his face, and crying in a loud
voice, "O my son Absalom! O Absalom! my son! my son!"--and David's
psalm, "Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy loving-kindness;
according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my
transgressions,"--then closing with, "Yes; 'when lust hath conceived, it
bringeth forth sin; and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.
Do not err,' do not stray, do not transgress ({me planasthe}),[30] 'my
beloved brethren,' it is first 'earthly, then sensual, then devilish;'"
he shut the book, and sent us al