uld be electric, and after that the
church would fairly tremble with the volume of music the audience would
pour forth. The result has been that it has always been the fashion for
everybody in the congregation, strangers as well as members, to sing,
and this undoubtedly has had a share in doing away with coldness and
formality in the service.

All this, however, could not have been accomplished without the cordial
sympathy and positive help of many great organists and leading singers.
There have been more famous musicians engaged for Plymouth Church Choir
during the past fifty years than in any other church in this country, if
not in the world. Among the names I may mention are Zundel, Burnet,
Stebbins, Wheeler, Thursby, Toedt, Sterling, Lasar, Damrosch,
Warrenwrath, Camp, and many others. Of them all probably John Zundel
came the nearest to Mr. Beecher's ideal. He entered heartily into all
the preacher's ideas and feelings and seemed to understand just how to
interpret him in music; Mr. Beecher used to say that he inspired his
sermons. It has not been surprising that even with the inevitable
changes brought by time, there have been but few intervals, and those
very brief, from the organisation of the church up to the present time,
when the music has not been of the highest order, and the standard of
to-day is in no respect inferior to that of the past.

Among my earliest recollections of Mr. Beecher's preaching was the
profusion of his illustrations from nature. Every part and
manifestation of nature had its place, but so frequent were his
references to flowers that it became a common saying among members of
Plymouth Church that "Mr. Beecher must be very fond of flowers." He
seemed to know every flower in the garden or in the field, and was
constantly drawing lessons from them or using them in some way to
enforce a point.

One Sunday morning, I think it was in 1852, someone sent him a small
bouquet in a vase. He took it to church with him, placed it on the
little table at his side, and there it remained during the service. It
is difficult in these days to understand what a commotion it occasioned.
Such a thing as bringing flowers into a church on the Sabbath day had
never been heard of, and was not at all in accord with traditional New
England ideas. Everyone in the congregation of course noticed it, and
that bouquet of flowers became during the week the talk of all Brooklyn.

There were not a few who were alarmed