But what was it, after all, which seized and held these three hundred
boys, dragging them out of themselves, willing or unwilling, for twenty
minutes, on Sunday afternoons? True, there always were boys scattered up
and down the School, who in heart and head were worthy to hear and able
to carry away the deepest and wisest words there spoken. But these were
a minority always, generally a very small one, often so small a one as
to be countable on the fingers of your hand. What was it that moved
and held us, the rest of the three hundred reckless, childish boys, who
feared the Doctor with all our hearts, and very little besides in heaven
or earth; who thought more of our sets in the School than of the Church
of Christ, and put the traditions of Rugby and the public opinion of
boys in our daily life above the laws of God? We couldn't enter into
half that we heard; we hadn't the knowledge of our own hearts or the
knowledge of one another, and little enough of the faith, hope, and love
needed to that end. But we listened, as all boys in their better moods
will listen (ay, and men too for the matter of that), to a man whom we
felt to be, with all his heart and soul and strength, striving against
whatever was mean and unmanly and unrighteous in our little world. It
was not the cold, clear voice of one giving advice and warning from
serene heights to those who were struggling and sinning below, but the
warm, living voice of one who was fighting for us and by our sides, and
calling on us to help him and ourselves and one another.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161