I am not going to discuss the question of Salvationist ritual. Brass
bands and concertinas give but a poor idea of “the beauty of holiness:”
a dissenting chapel does the same. Banners and handkerchiefs and so
on are apt to be tawdry: so are dressed statues, standards, incense,
and the rest. But who, considering the hideousness of Protestantism
and the tawdriness of Catholicism, would therefore call Protestantism
hideous and Catholicism tawdry? Certainly not I who am so sincere an
admirer of them both. Neither, then, considering what we hear called the
Christy-Minstrelism and Music-Hallism of the Salvation Army, must we
think that, when we have called their meetings Christy Minstrels or Music
Halls, we have quite disposed of them. Alas, my dear Middle-class, cannot
you see that the People is what you, who govern the People, have made
it? Might I, a humble unit of your millions, suggest to you that it is
just because, what you call, your Upper Ten Thousand is hideous that you
are more hideous? and that it is just because you, my dear Middle-class,
are more hideous that the People is most hideous? Will it be many ages,
I wonder, before you can be got to see this?—to see that you had better
take the mote out of your own eye before you are so enthusiastic about
taking the beams out of the eyes of your neighbours?
If, however, anyone wants to see what Mr. Booth himself has to say
in defence of his “Colours, Bands of Music, Processions, and other
sensational methods employed” (as he says), I would refer him to a
little penny pamphlet called “All about the Salvation Army,” which
can be got at the Salvation Army Head-quarters in Russell Street. For
myself, I have nothing to do with this side of the question: I profess
that I consider most church-bells are as bad as most brass-bands, and am
profoundly indifferent as to whether they are, as Mr. Booth would like
to know, “unscriptural” or not. I am of opinion that the admirers of
church-bells and brass-bands had better fight it out among themselves.
I have as good as said that what makes the outer strength of the
Salvationists is their realization of Jesus as liver and lover. Love,
yearning love, is undoubtedly the chief characteristic of Jesus. But,
just as the sun gives forth not only heat but light, so did he. His
life was love: his death was peace. “_My peace I leave with you._” And
it is just here, just in their realization of “the mildness and sweet
reasonableness” of Jesus that the Salvationists are apt to be lacking:
and it is just here that the Church of England more than any other
Christian sect is, as it seems to me, so strong. The _Hymns Ancient and
Modern_ are, on the whole, the best song-book extant of this “mildness
and sweet reasonableness.” We must not, however, think that this
demand for the peace as well as the love of Jesus is not recognised
by the Salvationists: it is, but I cannot think that it is recognised
adequately. As soon as a man is “saved” and has “professed,” there are
open to him, what they call, the Holiness Meetings. These are the answer
to the demand for peace. But they differ only particularly from the other
meetings. They are smaller, and hence quieter, than the others; but there
is, so to speak, too much heat and too little light in them. Here is the
weak point in the Salvationist movement, just as it is the strong point
in (I always take the best example our Christianity can give us) the
Church of England. Here it is the turn of the Salvationists to be not
masters, but pupils. Let us hope that they will see this, and not only
teach, but also (which is so much more difficult) be ready to learn from,
us.