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?