A NEW SUNDAY
Sunday morning found four people seated in the comfortable pew which
the iron merchant was able to pay for. And, by the way, what a
comfortable thing is wealth in the various ramifications of life, even
to one's church relationships! No fear of the unwelcome bidding, "Sit
thou here under my footstool"--in the undesirable front seats where
one's neck must be craned backward to admit of seeing the minister; nor
of being relegated to the back pews when ears have become a little dull
with age. How thankful should one be whose lot in life is thus
favorably cast! But we have not admitted to our consciousness a
thankfulness that the Epistle of James is not often read; or, if read,
too literally dwelt upon. We have found a grateful oil to pour upon
any rising waters of ill conscience in reflecting upon the beneficent
adjustment of social relationships by a wise Providence and the divine
right of money-kings.
Mrs. Gray and her neighbor, Mrs. Butterworth, exchanged serene glances
of recognition across the shallow partition that separated them, but
the latter added a look of inquiry as it was observed that Winifred was
with her family. Mrs. Gray's heart sank at the thought of having to
explain the phenomenon when once the service should be over. Winifred
felt that many eyes must note her presence there instead of in the
choir, and the embarrassment of the thought almost dissipated the
spirit of true worship for which she had longed and prayed. But she
had soon forgotten to a considerable degree the people about her, and
gave herself diligently to the service. It was not altogether without
self-consciousness, however, that she joined in the hymns, fearing lest
her own voice should be heard above others. Mrs. Gray, too, wished
that she would not sing quite so loudly, lest it should destroy the
convenient fiction of the laryngitis.
Hubert realized that he took his place in the congregation on an
entirely new basis this day, and he endeavored earnestly to put away
all spirit of his former prejudice and to receive in meekness anything
which his Lord might say to him from His place in the midst. He tried
to forget how utterly hollow and meaningless the formalities of the
service had heretofore seemed to him, and to discern, if possible,
within the mold of man's fashioning the operation of the Spirit of God.
With his own heart at peace with God and charged with His joy, it was
easy to look upon all about him more kindly, with an eye as critical to
find good and honor it as to discover evil. Upon even his long-time
aversion, Doctor Schoolman, he looked with expectancy, for had he not,
after all, known for these many years Him whom he--Hubert--had but just
"begun to know," as Winifred would put it? With ears now open, should
he not hear much which would cause his heart to burn within him?
Hubert and Winifred shared the same hymn-book, and together sang with
deep gladness hymns which ascribe praises to Christ. But, intent upon
truthfulness, Winifred paused before sentiments not understood, or the
profession of experiences quite unfelt, and let the congregation sing
on without her. The privilege of doing so gave her keen satisfaction,
even though it was difficult to stop in the midst of a pleasant melody.
"Better a break in the melody than in sincerity," she said to herself,
"since the Lord is here and taking note of everything."
The thought of His presence was very sweet; not at all the vision of
terror which it had seemed to her a week ago. She found the fear of
Him not incompatible with the purest confidence and love.
The choir rendered their accustomed service, and a new soprano, on
trial, exploited her skill in solo parts. She sang without Winifred's
refinement of artistic sense, but sang fashionably. She sang
dramatically, and cast languishing glances at the unresponsive backs of
the congregation, blinking over her notes as though invisible
footlights dazzled her eyes. It was not easy to find the sentiment
sung in the midst of the quavering notes, so the poor worshipers below
could scarcely offer "amens" in their hearts; but they might perhaps
consider thankfully that some sort of noise, "joyful" or otherwise, had
been made unto the Lord by their paid proxy.
Doctor Schoolman's sermon was a typical one. Finished and elegant, his
polished sentences reached his congregation gently; not like swift
arrows from a tense bow, but rather like harmless darts taken from the
preacher's quiver and laid without violence against the hearts of his
listeners. Very good arrows they often were from the philosophic
standpoint, but seldom fashioned from the rugged essential truths of
the doctrine of Christ.
He had a text from Scripture certainly. But no slavish adherence to
its evident meaning, as seen by its setting, hampered the orator in his
thought. Indeed, was it not a kindness to the old Book that still
somewhat from its pages was thought worthy to act as a peg upon which
to hang the ripe and cultivated ideas of the twentieth century?
Hubert did not find his soul much fed by the discourse, but, keen and
discriminating as his mind might be, he was not yet a Bible student and
able to disentangle the original thoughts of the preacher from the
teachings of revelation. He found much to assent to ethically, but,
compared with the revelation in his laboratory when the pure light of
heaven shone upon the pages of John's Gospel, the rhetorical utterances
of Doctor Schoolman were as water unto wine. They were not so
commanding but that he at last found time to glance at his neighbors to
see how they were taking the sermon. Winifred was too near him to be
looked at, likewise his father; but he could see his mother. Very
elegant, very composed, very approving she looked. A calm contentment
beamed upon her mobile face, and Hubert could not help it that his
sharp eye, formed to detect minutiae, printed upon his mind even the
details of the picture she made, sitting so quietly there. Soft,
lustrous, black silk became well the figure which a life of gentle
inactivity caused to incline to corpulence, while a modest show of
exquisite lace relieved its somberness. There was just a tiny glitter
of costly gems, not too vulgarly showy for church, and the most
suitable of bonnets crowned the graceful head, whose waves of soft
brown hair still repudiated silver.
The minister's text led him to heaven at this point, and he drew it in
sentimental lines; a place whose essential light was not so much the
Lamb as other things; a place of reunited friends, of congenial
occupations, of tastes gratified, and of knowledge ever widening. He
offered no uncomfortable suggestion that any of his hearers might fail
of entering there.
Hubert saw among his hearers abstracted faces not a few; interested,
studious faces; and hungry faces which looked their longing for meat
not found as yet in the Lord's house. Among the last class he noticed
in one of the front pews a man, evidently an artisan, whose deep, large
eyes looked yearningly toward the pulpit with an appeal for bread,
while from it there came, through fine and learned discourse, to his
untutored mind a stone. His face smote Hubert with a sudden pity, and
a hunger crept into his own heart, not alone to know Christ, but to
make Him known. He wondered if this man had ever seen Him as he had.
Oh, if he could only tell him of Him, and turn the misery of those
longing eyes into joy!
The sermon ended. It was never very long; for Doctor Schoolman well
knew that patience, that sits good-naturedly for hours at games or
races, or in the seats of a packed theater, has very short limits at
church. He never taxed it, nor himself, too far. So the closing hymn
was punctually sung, and the benediction was pronounced in tender tones
upon the congregation.
Mrs. Butterworth's curiosity blossomed afresh when the meeting was over
and she had the opportunity of speaking with Winifred and her mother.
She addressed herself to the former, to Mrs. Gray's mingled relief and
terror; relief that she herself was not called upon to find excuses,
and terror lest Winifred should make herself ridiculous.
"You were not in the choir this morning?" she said with a "why" in her
voice.
"No," said Winifred, "I have left the choir."
"Really!" exclaimed Mrs. Butterworth in a shocked voice. "I hope not
for good?"
"Yes--I think it is for good," Winifred confessed.
"Oh, please do not say so!" cried Mrs. Butterworth, but in a suppressed
voice, for they had not yet left the church. "What shall we do? We
have enjoyed your singing so very much!"
"I am afraid I have been too conscious of that fact," said Winifred
frankly, while her mother looked alarmed. "I think I shall be able to
worship God more sincerely in the congregation."
Mrs. Gray felt that the worst had come, now that Winifred had declared
her position. She almost turned faint as she heard her speak to Mrs.
Butterworth so simply and directly of worshiping God. To be sure they
were still in the building supposably dedicated to that end, but to
speak aloud of it in so many words seemed very bad form. Her daughter
might sing protests of adoration in the ears of the whole congregation,
with the loudest of affected fervor, and she found no fault with it.
But the comfort of that was that nobody believed she meant it!
Mrs. Butterworth looked at Winifred keenly, and partially grasped her
meaning.
"Oh, I hope you'll not look at it that way," she said half soothingly.
"It might suit your own feelings better, but what about ours? I have
often said," and her eyebrows arched plaintively, "that your singing
did me more good than the sermon!"
Winifred looked at the worldly, fashionable woman and wondered, not at
all cynically, how much good her combined efforts with Doctor
Schoolman's had done toward a life-transformation.
"I am sorry not to sing," she said sympathetically, "since you enjoyed
it so much, I would gladly continue if I could. I cannot. But there
is already someone in my place--"
Mrs. Butterworth lifted her hand in silent protest. She looked at
Winifred reproachfully, and settled her lips as one who should say
nothing of the new singer in contrast with her favorite. She shook her
head resignedly, and at this moment they were joined by someone else
who proffered greetings. Winifred was glad to join Hubert and to slip
out as quickly as possible, they both as usual preferring the walk home
to the carriage. Frothingham saw them from afar, and inwardly
commented upon Hubert's unwonted appearance at church for two
consecutive Sundays, and his own consequent loss. He had no mind to
join Winifred with Hubert for a third.
The two exchanged views of the sermon on the way home. It seemed very
strange to hear Hubert speak of it sympathetically. He mentioned some
admirable points which he found in the minister's reasoning, and
refrained from saying that the change of heart he had himself
experienced had not made less hateful to him Doctor Schoolman's
affected style.
"How did you like the sermon?" he asked Winifred when he had expressed
his own opinion.
"Oh, I don't know," said Winifred hesitatingly. "He said some lovely
things. That illustration from Greek mythology was beautiful. I am
sure I shall remember that. But I wish," she added innocently, "that
he had said more about the Lord."
"So do I," said Hubert decidedly.
They walked on in silence for awhile and then Hubert spoke.
"I am not a qualified judge of sermons," he said, "but I would a
hundred times rather read the Gospel of John."
"Are you still reading it?" said Winifred,
"Yes."
"I wish we might read it together," she said wistfully.
"We might," he said. "Shall we begin to-day?"
"By all means. But I can't read Greek," she added doubtfully. She had
observed the Greek Testament with its fresh markings.
He laughed. "But fortunately I can read English," he said. And so it
was arranged.