high position? Will he punish him for his breach of court etiquette? Or
can it be that this is a heaven-sent opportunity in which he may make
his request? He answers at once:

'Let the king live for ever: why should not my countenance be sad, when
the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the
gates thereof are consumed with fire?'

And the king, quite understanding from Nehemiah's speech that he wants
something from him, asks immediately:

'For what dost thou make request?'

Oh, what a critical moment! How much depends on Nehemiah's answer to
this unexpected question! What shall he say? What dare he propose? The
whole future of Jerusalem may hang on his answer to the king's question.

There is a moment's pause, but only a moment's, and then Nehemiah's
answer is given. Only a moment, and yet great things have been done in
that short time. 'I prayed,' says the Rab-shakeh, 'to the God of
Heaven.'

Did he then rush away to his own apartment to pray? Did he kneel down in
the midst of the banqueting hall and call upon his God? No, he spoke no
word aloud, he did not even close his eyes. The king saw nothing, knew
nothing of what was going on; yet a mighty transaction took place in
that short time between the silent man, who still stood holding the cup
in his hands, and the King of Heaven.

We are not told what the prayer was, perhaps it was only, 'Lord, help