How a Church Was Built by Prayer
In 1886 the small church at Mervine and Berks streets in the northern
section of Philadelphia was crowded at every service. Children were
turned away from every session of the Bible school, and tickets were
issued a week in advance for the preaching services. The idea of moving
to some larger place was discussed, as it was impossible to enlarge the
building where it stood, because of the streets on three sides. Under
those circumstances the people began to pray. A voluntary committee
canvassed the small band of church members, asking each to pray for an
opening to a larger work. It is often thought to be an easy thing to
promise to pray for a person or for a cause. The promise to pray is too
often made carelessly, and disinterested auditors often feel relieved of
all responsibility when, instead of a collection, they are let off with
a request to pray for the advocated cause. But a sincere promise to pray
for a cause carries with it the sincere purpose to work and to give
self-sacrificingly. To say, "We do not ask for your money, but only that
you pray for us," is a half-hypocritical request, because a real prayer
can ascend only from a soul intent on doing. To agree to pray is a
hearty promise also to do all in one's power to work with the Lord. Only
the hearty worker can really pray. "The people had a mind to work," said
Nehemiah, and God, seeing their zeal, responded to their appeal. The
Lord answered in a way absolutely unforeseen. The salvation of the world
cost a great sacrifice, and everywhere we see the results of a
mysterious law that some must die that others may live, and that real
happiness is ever gained at the cost of suffering.
A little child in Philadelphia opened the gates of the Temple by going
down through death. She had been unable to get into the overcrowded
Bible school one Sunday, and she began to save her pennies to help
secure some larger place. Little Hattie May Wyatt, living in a home near
the church, was chosen of God to convey his answer to the pleadings of
that church. How little could the afflicted parents realize what a great
work their sweet, prattling Hattie was to do in her short life. When the
sweet, pale face lay in the coffin amid the flowers and tears, her
pocketbook, containing fifty-seven cents which she had saved, was handed
to the minister. She was the messenger of Christ on earth before she
became one in heaven! That fifty-seven cents was a sacred treasure, and
at the next church meeting prayers went up to God, asking direction how
to invest the first gift toward the larger accommodations.
Providentially, the subject of the Scripture text was the narrative of
the little child with his five barley loaves and two little fishes (John
vi). What can Christ do with the gift of a little child? What can the
spirit of God do with the seed of an oak? One patriarch led in prayer
and earnestly asked the Lord to "take these few pennies and build for
us a temple." There were some in the assembly who, like the disciples at
Galilee, said, "What can this little supply do among so many?" But the
most part seemed inspired by the Holy Spirit with a faith that was
immovable. The Lord then put a thought into the mind of Mr. John Baer,
who owned a lot of land on the corner of Broad and Berks streets, to
suggest to a member of the church that, as the people needed larger
quarters, they ought to buy his lot and erect there a larger church. Mr.
Baer did not know then that the church had only fifty-seven cents and
that the church building they then occupied was still heavily mortgaged.
Another church member heard of Mr. Baer's remark and, with the assurance
of a faith unshakable, told Mr. Baer that if he would take fifty-seven
cents as the first payment he felt sure the church would purchase it.
Mr. Baer (a devout man) said that he would cheerfully accept the terms
and that he would also not only give back the fifty-seven cents, but
would contribute one thousand dollars toward the first payment on the
lot.
The church then purchased the lot and held another prayer meeting to
determine the second time what to do with the Wyatt fifty-seven cents.
It was unanimously decided to organize a "Wyatt Mite Society" to invest
the money. There were to be fifty-seven children in the society, and
each was to invest one of the pennies so as to secure the largest
possible amount for the new church. It seems almost miraculous that
wherever a child tried to sell the penny not one would buy it after
hearing the story, but nearly all did give a liberal donation. One lady
gave fifteen hundred dollars. Finally, the pennies all came back, were
put in a coin frame, and kept as a sacred souvenir. Then joyful
enthusiasm seized upon the people and hurried them along in many
different enterprises for raising money. One Sabbath the pastor was
overpersuaded to exchange with Doctor Pierce of Mount Holly, and the
joyful people presented the pastor, on his return, with a subscription
list of ten thousand dollars. But to that account the practical and
critical business man can answer that in any enterprise enthusiasm, hard
work, and economy secure success almost invariably. So that even the
matter of raising one hundred and nine thousand dollars by a people, all
poor, industrious persons, may not be absolutely convincing to the
skeptic who questions the personal interference of God in answer to the
call of his children. But there was another phase of the history of that
campaign which seems to be absolutely unaccountable on any other
hypothesis but the direct and special interference of superhuman
intelligence.
The number seven! It is called "a sacred number"; but why it has been
credited with its peculiar significance is, perhaps, the effect of its
mention so often in the Bible. The various theories, reasonable and
fanciful, for the sacredness of the number seven need not be rehearsed
in a record of simple facts like these which this account preserves. But
the daily appearance of the number seven in the evangelistic history of
the Grace Church through the five years and two months before the large
Temple was completed has never been explained by any solution other than
by accrediting it to some power or law above the normal. The "five
years' meetings" were only the usual meetings of the small church and no
evangelistic or unusual endeavors were used, nor were any special
methods tried. Evangelists of noted power sometimes addressed the church
or gave sermons at the church in connection with some convention or
association, but none of those instrumentalities seemed to affect the
answers to the prayers of the people. The church sessions were simple,
practical, social, and fully democratic. But the prayers were full of
faith and feeling and were brief and direct. One evening, in a meeting
held in a small basement room, there were seven young people, strangers
to one another, who stood up at the invitation to confess Christ. Each
one stated that he had come under a strange and irresistible impulse
unaccountable to him. Each asked the people to pray for his soul. That
was the opening of the continuous stream of seven new converts each week
for five years. That repetition of the number seven was not especially
noticed until it had been repeated through several weeks. Then the
people began to expect it, and during the active enterprises connected
with the building of the new Temple it had a powerful effect on the
courage and faith of that small company. As the years came and went with
no change in that weekly number of fresh seekers after God, a feeling of
awe held the worshipers to such an extent that when the seventh man or
woman arose to come forward a deep sigh passed through the congregation.
Sometimes the leader of the meeting paused or asked for "the hesitating
one" if the full number did not at first appear. But there was no
prearrangement and no attempt or purpose to cease giving the invitation
to confess Christ after the number seven had been reached. The church
was too deeply impressed with the seeming miracle to undertake any
experiments with it. Continual prayer was all that was attempted. People
ceased to ask their acquaintances to come to the meetings, and the usual
revival methods were omitted. Real prayer, sincere singing, and a short
comment on some verse of Scripture made up the usual order of services,
aside from the regular preaching on Sunday.
Various explanations of this mysterious and systematic manifestation of
some hidden spiritual force have been advanced by students of the
unusual occurrence. Some undevout friends have rested satisfied with the
belief that it was only a coincidence or an accidental repetition of a
natural phenomenon. The skeptic said that there was no mystery about it,
as it merely "happened so." Others, more devout, declared that the
people must have habitually "let go of their faith" when seven appeared,
and that according to their faith "was the limitation of the numbers."
Others believed that it must have been, consciously or unconsciously,
arranged by persons managing the meeting, and not a few outsiders
regarded the statement of the facts as a clear falsehood. They said it
could not have been possible, and that there was surely some deception
in the arrangements or reports. But the hundreds of intelligent and
conscientious people who were present week after week became fully
satisfied that it was the work of the Divine Spirit sent in answer to
their prayers. Some of the circumstances connected with that large
accession to the church will be of interest to the student.
During the years when the building was being constructed many simple
schemes were devised by the people to raise money for the work. But
prayer was a part of every endeavor. Fairs, suppers, and concerts were
often used to raise funds, and, although a worldly spirit often creeps
into church entertainments, there came there a devotional spirit which
seemed to transfigure every work. The devotional meetings held in a side
hall when the church fairs were going on at the Academy of Music in
Philadelphia ever had the same startling result--the unchangeable
number, seven, came out for Christ. One evening a specially large number
of citizens were at a dinner given to arrange plans for securing the
money for the first payment to the contractor who was laying the
foundation for the Temple. A visitor, in his speech, said that he had
been more interested in the "steady revival," of which he had heard,
than in the feast, and that he was quite disappointed to learn that for
the first time in three years the church had omitted its weekly prayer
meeting to give place to a dinner. Thereupon, Deacon Stoddard, a devout
man and full of the Holy Ghost, arose and suggested that before the
guests left the table the presiding officer should give the usual
invitation for anyone to arise and declare his decision to follow
Christ. After several eloquent and entertaining speeches on general
topics the invitation was given for the religious confession, and, to
the amazement of many, just seven young men arose. A deep, spiritual
emotion filled the hearts of all present. In two or three instances the
number was less than seven who responded before the benediction was
pronounced, and some said, "The spell is broken." But in all cases
another seeker after God appeared before the people left the room. Men,
in those cases, rushed to the platform and called for the attention of
the company to say that they dared not go home without openly confessing
before the people their need of the Saviour. In several instances
persons were too much overcome or too timid to stand out before a public
meeting, and they persuaded some one sitting near them to get up and ask
prayers for them. But there was no prolongation of any service and no
outlay of money for exhorters or singers. Naturally that remarkable
condition attracted a throng of people, and before the Temple was opened
the church and Sunday-school rooms at Mervine and Berks streets were
crowded beyond endurance.
At the first great prayer meeting held in the Temple when the call was
made for converts the number who came forward was seventy-seven. From
that time (1892) there has been no resumption of a regular number of
seekers. Often the number seven, seventy-seven, forty-nine, and seventy
appear in the number of those who arose for prayer or in the list of
those who were received at the same time into the church. At one Easter
service two hundred and seventy-seven were baptized. But those "five
years' revivals" stand out as five most beautiful years in the memory of
the thousands still living who recall them. All of that company of
believers prayed, and on those stormy days when the curious crowd were
kept away the people drew together in sincere devotion, and the most
dreary days without were the most happy within. God seemed more
reachable and the domestic sweetness of the church home was much more
fully appreciated when the snow shadowed the panes, when the wild storms
beat on the doors, and when only earnest worshipers ventured out to
church. For more than fifteen years three thousand tickets of admission
to the regular church services were taken up several days in advance,
and when a very stormy day kept many ticket holders away special and
repeated prayer was made especially for them. The effect of those stormy
days of special prayer was one of the most remarkable experiences of the
church life. Letters came in great numbers from different parts of the
world, saying that they missed the services, but felt decidedly
impressed to send for some needed information or for special religious
advice.
Many cathedrals, churches, homes, and charity halls have been built on
prayer and faith, so that the construction of the Baptist Temple, on a
prominent corner of Philadelphia's widest street, in the heart of the
city, by a few poor people, may not seem strange. Yet the fact that God
has prospered other enterprises is only a confirmation of the theory
that God answered the prayers of Grace Church in giving providential
assistance in the construction of the Temple. When the church voted to
go on and pay for the lot and build a church to seat over three thousand
in the upper auditorium and two thousand in the lower hall, there was no
money in hand or pledged. Yet there was no recklessness, no tempting God
in their faith. When the contracts were entered into with the builder,
or the furniture manufacturer, provision was made carefully for any
contingency. If for any unforeseen reason the great building had been
unfinished at any stage of construction all bills would have been paid.
But each advance in the work was made after special prayer over each
division of the building enterprise. The foundation was constructed
after special prayer, then came the walls, the roof, the carpenter's
inside work, the painting, the furniture, and the organ--each being the
object of prayerful consideration. There were a few instances, however,
which are worthy of special mention. There was a point when the contract
for the stone for the walls was held up by the quarry proprietors, as
they feared to venture on so large a job with no guaranty but a
mechanic's right of lien. At that time a new savings bank was opened at
Columbia Avenue, two squares from the Temple, and President Cummings,
head of the bank, offered to assist the church in any safe way. How he
came to know of the proposed work, or what special reason he had for
helping a people with whom he was not personally acquainted, was never
explained. But he was a noble citizen. His influence was itself a
powerful aid in all the business of the church. One day a stranger
(General Wagner, president of the Third National Bank) was driving by
the half-constructed church when an "impulse" seized him to go into the
building under construction. He was a Presbyterian elder and a stranger
to all the members of Grace Church. He was a great man of business, a
person of unflinching integrity whose coolness in emergencies and whose
conservative management of financial institutions made him a trusted
authority for private, for city, or for national finances. In a few
words of conversation with the contractor in the building General Wagner
was told that the church was being built "by faith in prayer." He told
General Wagner that thus far "every payment had been made promptly, with
nothing left over." From that hour the general was a strong, unmovable
friend and backer of the Temple enterprise. The Tenth National Bank and
its offspring, the Columbia Trust Company, and the Third National Bank,
of which General Wagner was president, were ever safely used as a
reference, and often tens of thousands of dollars were loaned by them
to the church for short periods. The trustees and the deacons of the
church were prayerful men of stable common sense and successful in their
own labor or business. There was no foolish overpiousness, no loud
professions of religious fervor, but a determined trust in God's promise
to heed the call of those who loved him.
Mr. John Little, a Quaker by inheritance and training, was a leading
mind in the affairs of the church and was for many years the treasurer
of the Temple University. He was a quiet, keenly modest man, but living
a transparent truthfulness and honesty which commanded the confidence of
all who knew him and secured for him a love that can never die. He said
that he had two special places for prayer, one being in the Temple and
the other on the street. Mr. Charles F. Stone (whose wife, Mrs. Maria L.
Stone, continued his work after he died) was the treasurer of the church
at the critical period and was a man endowed with excellent business
ability and a devout man full of good works. He, too, had a "good name"
which was rather to be chosen as a financial recommendation than great
riches. These men are not mentioned because of their special claim to
attention above the others associated with them, but simply as two
specimens of the prayer-making company who moved on unhesitatingly, yet
carefully, in doing the thing which many declared could not be done. The
weekly reports from the committees and individuals showing how God had
raised up, unexpectedly or strangely, friends of the undertaking, often
caused a deep feeling of awe and sent the people out with fresh
determination to work cheerfully on.
A single instance of the many hundreds reported will probably answer the
inquiries of others now engaged in some like work. Looking back upon the
incident after thirty years the plan or the purpose of the divine
leadership, so hidden then, becomes reasonable and clear. Why the Lord
wished to use only three hundred men out of Gideon's great army was not
understood at the time, but all can see now that the purpose was to
bring the Lord's hand into vision and win for him the recognition which
would have gone to the human army.
Only once did the people of the Temple falter and their prayers seem
ineffective. Only once did those Philadelphia worshipers limit their
faith. But that one period of doubt came when the question was suddenly
thrust before the church whether they would try to put in a suitable
church organ. Many claimed that they had reached the utmost limit of
sacrifice. Some said that the church ought to be fully satisfied if they
could buy seats for the first services. Others strongly declared that
after all the asking of God and man for aid to build the Temple they
could not expect either God or man to help them to buy an unnecessary
organ. Through thirty-eight years the church has never had any quarrel
to settle in all its history, and that division of opinion did not
assume an angry or excited phase. It was simply a feeling in some of the
people that the Lord had done wonders and that, now that the church was
out of the wilderness, it was full time to let the people and God's
providence rest. When the question arose whether the church should
venture to purchase a suitable church organ it was decided by a large
majority that it could not be undertaken. The small minority were
Gideon's three hundred. One member of that small body asked the church
for the privilege of putting in the organ, "if he could raise all of the
ten thousand dollars needed without asking a contribution from anyone
who had already given or subscribed toward the building." Even that
conservative offer was accepted by a reluctant and small majority.
Then that member began a downright, heart-stretching wrestle with the
Angel of God. He spent two successive nights in the Temple in hard and
tearful prayer. He had nothing to give. He must secure the whole from
others. He pleaded with God to let him work with Him in awakening the
hearts of possible givers. But the Lord was not willing to give to man
the major part of the glory of success. The murmuring people must be
made ashamed of their lack of faith in the Lord who had safely led them
thus far. The contract for the organ was made with a company whose agent
said they usually sold their organs on faith, but that churches always
paid the cost and often paid in advance of the date when the notes
matured. The purchaser of the Temple organ did not feel authorized to
put in the organ with no money in hand, at least for the first
installment on the price to be paid. But all the men he approached
refused to give because it was "overdoing it," and was "too improbable"
for credence or assistance. But the purchaser did not waver. The time
set for the payment of the first fifteen hundred dollars came. The note
the purchaser gave was due on Monday. The debtor had asked the
Sunday-morning prayer meeting to remember him especially "on the
morrow." He had until three o'clock Monday to raise the money to save
his note from protest. He had written to a relative to ask for a loan of
fifteen hundred dollars, but the letter had not been sent to the mail
box. When he entered his room just before church services a working girl
who was a member of the church came quietly to his door and handed him a
letter in which, when he opened it, he found a check for fifteen hundred
dollars. The letter and check were signed by a laboring man in Massilon,
Ohio, who wrote that he had not been asked to give anything, but he had
heard that the church "hoped soon to get an organ." He felt impressed to
send this check and to ask the church to accept it on the condition
that, should he ever be reduced to actual need, the church should
endeavor to aid him in some way. The second payment due came as an
unexpected draft from Boston for five hundred dollars, which must be
honored or refused within three days. But in the same mail with the
notice of the draft came two money orders from the executor of an estate
in California, saying that the deceased testator had left the
distribution of certain sums to the discretion of the executor and he
had decided to send five hundred dollars toward "the music in the new
Temple."
The third payment was met by funds raised by solicitation, about which
there seemed to be nothing remarkable. Other payments were made by gifts
clearly sent in connection with the appeal of the believer, but the last
payment was the most unaccountable of all. Three one-hundred-dollar
bills were pushed under the door of the church study by some one never
discovered, and a certificate of mining stock worth seven hundred
dollars was sent from Butte, Montana, without other signature except
that on the face of the certificate. The blank for the purchaser of the
stock was blank. Public efforts were made to find the givers, but
without success. Well might the people feel that the voice of the organ
was the voice of the Saviour.
When the organ was dedicated and Dr. D. D. Wood led the devotion with
inspired fingers and sightless eyes the church's congregation was a
beautiful sight--like a sea sparkling with tears. When the great chorus
was singing the hymn, "God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to
perform," a large number of the singers were so choked with emotion that
they ceased to sing and Doctor Wood said the event was one of the most
thrilling in all his experiences with choirs.
These are "the simple annals of the poor," but they illustrate and
inculcate great principles which are applicable to any work for the
Lord.