at, as they
came along, had seemed so unsympathetic. For here was a radiance equally
incongruous! Here was faith shining like a solitary star on a dark
night! Here was joy, singing her song, like the nightingale, amidst the
deepest gloom! It was as though a merry peal of bells was being rung on
a day of public lamentation.

II

'The words took hold upon me mightily!' wrote Walter Petherick to a
friend in 1682. I do not wonder. Quite apart from their singular
application to his own case, they are full of nobility and grandeur.
When, in 1782--exactly a century later--Benjamin Franklin was appointed
American Plenipotentiary at Paris, some of the brilliant French wits of
that period twitted him on his admiration for the Bible. He determined
to test their knowledge of the Volume they professed to scorn. Entering
their company one evening, he told them that he had been reading an
ancient poem, and that its stately beauty had greatly impressed him. At
their request he took from his pocket a manuscript and proceeded to read
it. It was received with exclamations of extravagant admiration.
'Superb!' they cried. 'Who was the author? Where did Franklin discover
it? How could copies be obtained?' He informed them, to their
astonishment, that it was the third chapter of the prophecy of
Habakkuk--the passage to which Mr. Petherick and his children listened
that sad but sunny morning at Twickenham.

The Petherick incident belongs to the _seventeenth_ century; the
Franklin incident belongs to the _eighteenth_; and they remind me of one
that belongs to the _nineteenth_. Daniel Webster was one morning
discussing with a number of eminent artists the subjects commonly chosen
for portrayal upon canvas. 'I have often wondered,' he said, 'that no
painter has yet thought it worth his while to draw his inspiration from
one of the most sublime passages in any literature.' 'And what is that?'
they asked. 'Well,' he replied, 'what finer conception for a masterpiece
could any artist desire than the picture of the prophet Habakkuk sitting
in the midst of utter ruin and desolation, singing, in spite of
everything, faith's joyous and triumphant song?'

III

_Suppose!_

It is a _Song of Suppositions_!

'_Suppose_ the fig tree shall not blossom!'

'_Suppose_ the vine shall bear no fruit!'

'_Suppose_ the labor of the olive shall fail!'

'_Suppose_ the fields shall yield no corn!'

'_Suppose_ the flock shall be cut off from the fold!'