: there had been a
vigorous growling note in some of the bass pipes of the organ as she
played the opening hymn. He had not seen a tall white-haired figure who
came into the chapel rather late, after the service had begun, and took
a seat at the back. Bishop Borzoi had seized the opportunity to drive
out to Dalmatian Heights this morning to see how his protege was getting
on. When the Bishop saw his lay reader appear in surplice and scarlet
hood, he was startled. But when the amateur parson actually ascended the
pulpit, the Bishop's face was a study. The hair on the back of his neck
bristled slightly.

"It is so easy," Gissing continued, "to let life go by us in its swift
amusing course, that sometimes it hardly seems worth while to attempt
any bold strokes for truth. Truth, of course, does not need our
assistance; it can afford to ignore our errors. But in this quiet place,
among the whisper of the trees, I seem to have heard a disconcerting
sound. I have heard laughter, and I think it is the laughter of God."

The congregation stirred a little, with polite uneasiness. This was not
quite the sort of thing to which they were accustomed.

"Why should God laugh? I think it is because He sees that very often,
when we pretend to be worshipping Him, we are really worshipping and
gratifying ourselves. I used the phrase 'Great Affairs.' The point I
want to make is that God deals with far greater affairs than we have
realized. We have imagined Him on too petty a scale. If God is so great,
we must approach Him in a spirit of greatness. He is not interested in
trivialities--trivialities of ritual, of creed, of ceremony. We have
imagined a vain thing--a God of our own species; merely adding to the
conception, to gild and consecrate, a futile fuzbuz of supernaturalism.
My friends, the God I imagine is something more than a formula on
Sundays and an oath during the week."

Those sitting in the rear of the Chapel were startled to hear a low
rumbling sound proceeding from the diaphragm of the Bishop, who half
rose from his seat and then, by a great effort of will, contained
himself. But Gissing, rapt in his honourable speculations, continued
with growing happiness.

"I ask you, though probably in vain, to lay aside for the moment your
inherited timidities and conventions. I ask you to lay aside pride,
which is the devil itself and the cause of most unhappiness. I ask
you to rise to the height of a great conception. To 'magnify' G