. After a time,
they who went away built another house in which they might worship the
God of their fathers; and it was at the time of the opening of this
house that the Lord visited his people.

A few of those to whom even the dust of Zion is dear, seeking to
consecrate the house, and with it themselves, more entirely to God's
service, met for prayer for a few nights before the public dedication;
and from that time for more than a year not a night passed in which the
voice of prayer and praise did not arise within its walls. All through
the busy harvest-time, through the dark autumn evenings, when the unmade
roads of the country were deep and dangerous, and through the frosts and
snows of a bitter winter, the people gathered to the house of prayer.
Old people, who in former years had thought themselves too feeble to
brave the night and the storm for the sake of a prayer-meeting, were now
never absent. Young people forsook the merry gatherings of singers and
dancers, to join the assemblies of God's people.

It was a wonderful time, all say who were there then. Connected with it
were none of those startling circumstances which in many minds are
associated with a time of revival. The excitement was deep, earnest,
and silent; there was in use none of the machinery for creating or
keeping up an interest in the meetings. A stranger coming into one of
those assemblies might have seen nothing different from the usual weekly
gatherings of God's people. The minister held forth the word of life as
at other times. It was the simple gospel, the preaching of Christ and
him crucified, that prevailed, through the giving of God's grace, to the
saving of many.

At some of the meetings others besides the minister took part. At first
it was only the elders or the old people who led the devotions of the
rest, or uttered words of counsel or encouragement; but later, as God
gave them grace and courage, younger men raised their voices in
thanksgivings or petitions, or to tell of God's dealings with them. But
all was done gravely and decently. There was no pressing of excited and
ignorant young people to the "anxious seats," no singing of "revival
hymns." They sang the Psalms from first to last--the old, rough
version, which people nowadays criticise and smile at, wondering how
ever the cramped lines and rude metre could find so sure and permanent a
place in the hearts and memories of their fathers. It is said now that
these ol