first business, to love God and man with all our might.  This problem before us calls for all our Christian discipleship.  Every heart in this church should cry out this day, ’Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?’ And each soul must follow the commands that he honestly hears.  Out of the depths of the black abyss of human want and sin and despair and anguish and rebellion in this place and over the world rings in my ear a cry for help that by the grace of God I truly believe cannot be answered by the Church of Christ on earth until the members of that Church are willing in great numbers to give all their money and all their time and all their homes and all their luxuries and all their accomplishments and all their artistic tastes and all themselves to satisfy the needs of the generation as it looks for the heart of the bleeding Christ in the members of the Church of Christ.  Yea, truly, except a man is willing to renounce all that he hath, he cannot be His disciple.  Does Christ ask any member of Calvary Church to renounce all and go down into the tenement district to live Christ there?  Yes, all.

“My beloved, if Christ speaks so to you to-day, listen and obey.  Service!  Self!  That is what He wants.  And if He asks for all, when all is needed, what then?  Can we sing that hymn with any Christian honesty of heart unless we interpret it literally?—­

    “’Were the whole realm of nature mine,
        That were an offering far too small;
      Love so amazing, so divine,
        Demands my soul, my life, my all!’”

It would partly describe the effect of this sermon on Calvary Church to say what was a fact that when Philip ended and then kneeled down by the side of the desk to pray, the silence was painful and the intense feeling provoked by his remarkable statements was felt in the appearance of the audience as it remained seated after the benediction.  But the final result was yet to show itself; that result was not visible in the Sunday audience.

The next day Philip was unexpectedly summoned out of Milton to the parish of his old college chum.  His old friend was thought to be dying.  He had sent for Philip.  Philip, whose affection for him was second only to that which he gave his wife, went at once.  His friend was almost gone.  He rallied when Philip came, and then for two weeks his life swung back and forth between this world and the next.  Philip stayed on and so was gone one Sunday from his pulpit in Milton.  Then the week following, as Alfred gradually came back from the shore of that other world, Philip, assured that he would live, returned home.

During that ten days’ absence serious events had taken place in Calvary Church.  Philip reached home on Wednesday.  He at once went to the house and greeted his wife and the Brother Man, and William, who was now sitting up in the large room.