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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374827" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>When Brother Peetree Prayed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374827" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">’TWAS a sleepy little chapel by a wattled hill erected,<br>Where the storms were always muffled, and an atmosphere of peace<br>Hung about beneath the gum-trees, and the garden was respected<br>By the goats from Billybunga and the washer-woman’s geese.<br>In the week-days it was sacred to my young imagination<br>From its walls there oozed a sentiment of reverence profound;<br>And on Sabbath morns the murmuring of the childish congregation<br>Seemed to spread a benediction in the bush land far around.<br>But when Brother Peetree prayed all the parrots flew dismayed,<br>And the hill shook to its centre, and the trees and fences swayed;<br>And we youngsters heard the rumble of the Day of Judgment there,<br>When the pious superintendent wrestled manfully in prayer.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374827" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">They were horny-handed Methodists, and men of scanty knowledge,<br>Who controlled that ‘little corner of the vine-yard’ by the pound;<br>Their theology was not the kind that’s warranted at college,<br>But their faith was most abundant, and their gospel always sound.<br>Brother Peetree was a miner at the Band of Hope. His leisure<br>He employed in ‘sticking porkers’ for his neighbours, and his skill<br>Was a theme of admiration; but his soul’s sublimest pleasure<br>Was to speak a prayer on Sunday in the chapel ’neath the hill.<br>Froze the marrow in our bones at the sound of hollow groans,<br>And the shrieks of moral anguish, and the awful thunder tones;<br>And we saw the Hell-fire burning, and we smelt it in the air,<br>When dear Brother Peetree struggled with the Lord of Hosts in prayer.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374827" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Brother Peetree always started with a murmured supplication,<br>Knelt beside a form, serenely, with a meek, submissive face;<br>But he rose by certain stages to a rolling exhortation,<br>And a wild, ecstatic bellowing for sanctity and grace;<br>And he threw his arms to heaven, and the seats went down before him<br>As he fought his way along the aisle, and prayed with might and main,<br>With hysterical beseechings. Then a sudden peace fell o’er him,<br>And he finished, sobbing softly, at his starting-point again.<br>And the elders, to their ears pale with reverential fears,<br>And the sisters and the choir indulged in hot, repentant tears;<br>And the sinners for salvation did with eagerness declare,<br>When beloved Brother Peetree wrestled mightily in prayer.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</a></strong></div>