The imam's voice was deep and strong, belying his old age and frailty.
Leading a small group of worshippers in prayers, the silver-bearded cleric recited a Quranic verse recounting the tale of stone-throwing birds dispatched by God to defend the Ka'ba, Islam's holiest shrine in Mecca, against an invading African army.
The message was clear: God will stand by the Iraqis against American and British invaders. It may have provided some comfort to the worshippers who risked their lives leaving their homes and shelters to come to sunset prayers.
Baghdad's 5 million people, or at least those who haven't fled the city, are bracing for what promises to be a brutal battle for control of the Iraqi capital. Allied warplanes and helicopters have begun attacking Saddam Hussein's elite Republican Guard units defending the city, and U.S. forces pounded military targets to the south with howitzers and rockets Tuesday in an all-night artillery barrage.
Baghdad's residents have endured nearly a week of allied bombings that, according to Iraqi officials, have left hundreds wounded or dead and damaged private property. But many believe the worst is yet to come, and some are seeking comfort in religion, while others have abandoned the "let-them-come" bravado and succumbed to fear.
"I was not afraid a week ago," a store owner in central Baghdad said Tuesday. "Now, I'll be lying to you if I say I am not afraid."
Baghdad was blanketed Tuesday in yellow as a sandstorm lashed the capital, concealing the gray smoke clouds that have hung over it for three days since authorities started oil fires around Baghdad to try to hide targets.
The severity of the storm forced residents to hunker down, with few people and cars left on the streets by late afternoon.
Earlier Tuesday, shops were open in several parts of the city and some buses were running. Garbage trucks reappeared on some streets and street sweepers were hard at work in some areas. Still, uncollected garbage piled up elsewhere.
More and bigger trenches were being dug around the city, including one in the courtyard of the Iraq museum, home to priceless antiquities, some dating back 7,000 years or more. Additional security and policemen were on the streets, and residents said members of the feared intelligence agencies were also deployed.
State radio and television continued broadcasting patriotic songs and archival footage of Saddam Hussein, together with emotional messages of support from Iraqis for their president of 23 years.
At Ramadan 14 Mosque on Paradise Square in the heart of the capital, only birds could be heard until the melancholic call to prayer pierced the tranquility of dusk on Monday. Worshippers trickled in ordinary folks, policemen, security men and members of the ruling Baath Party in olive-green uniforms.
They squatted on the floor, some murmuring prayers. Then came the call for prayers, sung by a police officer in uniform.
Nearly 12 hours later, it was time for dawn prayers, a ritual only the most pious perform. Eight showed up, many with kaffiyehs wrapped around their heads against Tuesday's cold morning air. Taking copies of the Quran off a shelf at the mosque entrance, they sat down to read.
The imam this time was a bearded man in his mid-30s. None of the faithful stirred as explosions rumbled in the distance. The crystal in the mosque's huge chandelier swayed, sounding like wine glasses clinking in a gentle toast.
"God, we thank you for what you have made us endure," the imam intoned. "We implore you to make us victorious over the Americans and the Zionists."
"Amen," the worshippers said.
Youssef Abu Yehia, a 33-year-old shopkeeper and father of four, said he had not been able to sleep for the past six days because of the incessant bombing. "I could not go to sleep until 5 a.m. today," he said. "We have been giving the children sleeping pills so they can sleep."
"This war looks like it will go on for some time. A month or something," Abu Yehia whispered to a visitor. "But Allah kareem," God will be generous, he added with a weary smile.