" He felt with the whole strength of his soul the
force of the words. This deity to whom he knelt might in a breath
change all his agony; might out of overflowing power and dominion and
splendor spill but one unnoted drop, yet flood all his tortured being
with richest happiness. The contrast between his weakness, his
helplessness, his insignificance, and the superabundant resources of
the Infinite crushed him. He was transported with aching pity for
himself and for all poor mortals. He repeated, no longer in entreaty
but with passionate reproach: "For _Thine_ is the kingdom and the power
and the glory." It seemed an insult to the clemency of Heaven to call
so piteously when it were a thing lighter than the puffing away of a
flake of swan's down for One with all power to help and to comfort. If
he were in the hands of a God to whom belonged the universe, why this
agony of doubt? Then he cried out to himself that this was the
temptation of the devil. He cast himself upon the ground, beating his
breast and moaning wildly: "Mea culpa! Mea culpa!" With quick
histrionic perception he was affected by the intensity and the
effectiveness of his penitence, and redoubled his fervor.
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