I ran across this story a few years ago. I don’t know if it’s a real story or not. But, for some reason, I thought of it today:
There is a story about an old man and a young man on the same platform before a vast audience of people.
A special program was being presented. As a part of the program each was to repeat from memory the words of the Twenty-third Psalm.
The young man, trained in the best speech technique and drama, gave, in the language of the ancient silver-tongued orator, the, words of the Psalm.
“The Lord is my shepherd …” When he finished, the audience clapped their hands and cheered, asking him for an encore so that they might hear again his wonderful voice.
Then the old gentleman, leaning heavily on his cane, stepped to the front of the same platform, and in a feeble, shaking voice, repeated the same words-“The Lord is my shepherd. . .”
But when he was seated -no sound came from the listeners. Folks seemed to pray. In the silence the young man stood to make the following statement:
“Friends,” he said, “I wish to make an explanation. You asked me to come back and repeat the Psalm, but you remained silent when my friend here was seated. The difference? I’ll tell you. I know the Psalm, but he knows the Shepherd.”
I want to know the Psalm. But, more than that, I want to know the Shepherd.