Factories closed so workers could attend services, mosques and synagogues welcomed the faithful and offered hopes of peace. Town squares from the West Coast to the East were filled with words of promise, songs of prayer and, in some cases, cheers for the country.
In Washington, President Bush led the country in a day of remembrance at the National Cathedral. In attendance were his father and three other former presidents, congressional leaders, all nine Supreme Court justices and hundreds of everyday citizens, some who sobbed quietly, others who wept openly.
Bush appeared to be fighting back tears as he greeted his father with a handshake, but as he stood before those assembled he spoke hopefully of heaven for those who were lost and threateningly of war for those who took more than 5,000 lives in Tuesday's attacks.
"This nation is peaceful, but fierce when stirred to anger," the president said. "This conflict was begun on the timing and terms of others. It will end in a way and at an hour of our choosing."
When the president finished his remarks and returned to his seat, his father reached over, grabbed his hand and offered a paternal squeeze of approval.
As if to underscore the delicate balance of sorrow, unity and conviction, sitting next to each other and together singing the Lord's Prayer were former President Bill Clinton and his predecessor, the elder George Bush.
Later they, and Al Gore, joined the others in attendance in singing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," voices reverberating off the marble floors to the ceilings of the soaring cathedral as tears slid silently down cheeks.
The Rev. Billy Graham, stooped in illness, rose to offer the main sermon after remarks by Muslim and Jewish spiritual leaders.
"Today, we say to those who masterminded this cruel plot and to those who carried it out, the spirit of this nation will not be defeated by their twisted and diabolical schemes," Graham said.
"We're facing a new kind of enemy. We're involved in a new kind of warfare, and we need the help of the spirit of God."
At the Pentagon, one-third of which is out of commission because of damage from one of the hijacked planes, about 350 people representing all service branches crowded into a fifth-floor auditorium for a noon prayer service. An additional 75 people sat in folding chairs and watched on closed-circuit television in a corridor outside the auditorium.
Blown-out windows and missing sections of roof were visible from the corridor's windows.
There was moment a silence for the dead, many of whom were known by those at the service. A gospel singer sang the Lord's Prayer, and civilians and uniformed personnel clasped hands.
The need for prayer was nowhere more pronounced than in New York.
There, lines of people snaked outside overflowing midtown churches. People traveled from one church to another trying to find a seat, thousands of them succeeding, thousands more not.
At St. Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue, a driver pulled his yellow cab to a stop. He had no passenger. He got out of his car, stood next to it for 10 minutes with head bowed and then drove away.