mall one, composed of well-bred, worldly-minded
folk. They all danced a little, went to the theater often, wore golden
ornaments and otherwise perjured themselves in the light of the
membership vows in our Church Discipline. What I wonder is, will the
good, patient God--who knows that since the days of David we have had
dancing dust in us, who has Himself endowed us so abundantly with the
dramatic instinct, who even hid His gold about with which we bedeck and
enrich ourselves--will He, I say, damn those honest, world-loving,
church-giving people most, or will He take it out of the religious
topknots of the church who tempted them with these "Rules" in the
Discipline?

Poor William had a scandalous time at that place readjusting his moral
focus so that it would rest upon his people. Sister C and Sister Z
were admirable wives and mothers. He had never had more intelligently
helpful women in his congregation. That is to say, they were patiently
faithful in their attendance upon its services, they professed often to
be "benefited" by his sermons, they brought up their children in a new
kind of nurture and admonition of the Lord; but if he went to pay them
a pastoral call and have prayers with them, apt as not he would find
that they had gone to take the children to the matinee. And Brother A
and Brother I were the best stewards he ever had, but they would do
anything from wearing a tuxedo to going to a circus. I can never
forget Brother I's prayers. Although he was modest and retiring to the
point of shyness he was one of the few members in the church at
Celestial Bells who could be depended upon to lead in prayer. This was
frequently William's experience. Oftener than not the brother who
could slap him on the back or sing a bass in the choir that made the
chandeliers rattle would turn pale and fall into a panic if he was
called on to pray. Somehow one got the notion that he felt his voice
would not carry in that direction. But Brother I could open his heart
at once in prayer, and do it so naturally every one of us felt that we
were ourselves uttering the same prayer. He never ornamented his
petitions with any high sounding phrases. He was not so much a man
carrying on in a loud voice before his Maker as he was a little boy
with a sore toe and troubles appertaining to his littleness and
inexperience, and faults and forgetfulness, all of which he let out
with the emotion of a child to his father, and with such