The romantic sounds of a grand organ echoed through the open front doors of Holy Comforter-St. Cyprian Catholic Church yesterday afternoon, beckoning passers-by who were instantly mesmerized by what they saw. Inside, standing at a candlelit altar beneath a huge cathedral ceiling, were a man and woman: she angelic in a long, flowing white dress and silken veil, and he, dapper and effervescent in a shiny gray-green tuxedo. Cars were double-parked for half a block, causing those who live near the church at 14th and East Capitol streets to wonder what famous person was about to tie the knot. But Willie and Angela Scott were not so well known as simply well loved by family and friends, just ordinary folks about to do something that everyone agreed was most extraordinary. Angela, 42, and Willie, 47, were renewing their wedding vows after 25 years of marriage. Childhood sweethearts, they had grown up together around Third and P streets NW, had graduated from Dunbar High School and had shocked the world as they knew it with the announcement, in 1964, that they were getting married. Yesterday, having beaten the odds against marrying young and eventually outlasting most marriages in general, having survived riots, wars, recessions, six presidents of the United States and a move to Seat Pleasant, where they reared six children, the Scotts celebrated their silver anniversary with the fervor and passion of newlyweds. "It's not a miracle to celebrate a 25th anniversary," the Rev. Raymond B. Kemp told the congregation. "But it is rare, and in fact it's getting so rare that it may soon be talked about as a miracle." "Amen," said a knowing crowd. In a truly beautiful ceremony, complete with exchange of vows, rings, gifts and blessings, Kemp praised the couple for their strength, endurance, fidelity and faithfulness. Nevertheless, he appeared to be as much in awe of them as was everyone else. "Twenty-five years of wedded bliss," Kemp exclaimed. "Well, maybe it wasn't all bliss. Has she always been a little angel, Willie?" Willie nodded yes. "So tell me, Angela," Kemp continued. "Has Willie always been that distinguished, upstanding person that you married at age 17?" When Angela replied, "Yes, he has," some of the unmarried ladies shouted with renewed optimism, "All right!" "Talk about fine wine," Kemp smiled. "You know some wine is fermented real fast, and it comes out nasty. Good wine takes time. You need good grapes, and somebody who knows the process. You all must come from good stock." With that, Kemp asked for the parents of the couple to stand and take a bow. But really, Kemp knew, as did the congregation, that there was something more, something deep and often fathomless, that went into this seemingly magical mix. The secret, Mr. Scott said, was "the Lord and hard work." Mrs. Scott explained. "Willie taught me about agape love -- as opposed to eros, or erotic love. It is the kind of selfless love that the disciple Paul used to describe, the love that Jesus has for us." "Now that is real love," said Kemp. "It does not ride on immediate gratification. It rides on sacrifice, on a sense of pouring one's life out for another and not counting costs, on enduring colds and coughs and sleepless nights and putting up with disappointments and frustrations. It rides on the power of the spirit." "My guess," Kemp said to the blushing lovebirds, "is that you have been raised from the dead many times. But you seem to realize that grapes have to be crushed before they can be made into wine." And here they were, 25 years later, sweet and mellow as could be -- Willie, a roofer for the MJC Corp. of Cheverly, and Angela, who is employed by the Department of Interior's Bureau of Mines -- smiling and holding hands as they reveled in the fruits of their love for each other. When time came to kiss the bride, the two embraced as if they had not seen each other in years, Angela locking her arms around Willie's neck as Willie put a snug bear hug on her. What followed was a demonstration of a technique d'amour that had been perfected over a quarter of a century. And when their lips finally parted, the congregation was moved to sigh, "Whew!" and give them a hearty round of applause.