“I arrived at the church a full hour before the evening service.  There was a big crowd at the front door.  There was another crowd at the side entrance.  I did not know how to get a ticket, for I did not know, till I heard it in the jam, that I must have one.  Two young people, who like many got tired of waiting, gave me their tickets, and I pushed ahead.  I was determined to see how the thing was done.  I was dreadfully squeezed, but I got in at the back entrance and stood in the rear of the pretty church.  All the camp chairs were already taken.  Also all extra seats.  The church was rather fancifully frescoed.  But it is an architectural gem.  It is half amphitheatrical in style.  It is longer than it is wide, and the choir gallery and organ are over the preacher’s head.  It looks underneath like an old-fashioned sounding board.  But it is neat and pretty.  The carpet and cushions are bright red.  The windows are full of mottoes and designs.  But in the evening under the brilliant lights the figures could not be made out.

“There was an unusual spirit of homeness about the place, such as I never felt in a church before.  I was not alone in feeling it.  The moment I stood in the audience room, an agreeable sense of rest and pleasure came over me.  Everyone else appeared to feel the same.  There was none of the stiff restraint most churches have.  All moved about and greeted each other with an ease that was pleasant indeed.  I saw some people abusing the liberty of the place by whispering, even during the sermon.  They may have been strangers.  They evidently belonged to the lower classes.  But it was a curiosity to notice the liberty every one took at pauses in the service, and the close attention there was when the reading or speaking began.

“All the people sang.  I think the great preacher has a strong liking for the old hymns.  Of course I noticed his selection of Wesley’s favorite.  A little boy in front of me stood upon the pew when the congregation rose.  He piped out in song with all his power.  It was like a spring canary.  It was difficult to tell whether the strong voice of the preacher, or the chorus choir, led most in the singing.  A well-dressed lady near me said ‘Good evening,’ most cheerfully, as a polite usher showed me into the pew.  They say that all the members do that.  It made me feel welcome.  She also gave me a hymn-book.  I saw others being greeted the same.  How it did help me praise the Lord!  At home with the people of God!  That is just how I felt.  I was greatly disappointed in the preacher.  Agreeably so, after all.  I expected to see an old man.  He did not look over thirty-five.  He was awkwardly tall.  I had expected some eccentric and sensational affair.  I do not know just what, but I had been told of many strange things.  I think now it was envious misrepresentation.  The whole service was as simple as simple can be.  And it was surely as sincere as it was simple.  The reading of the hymns was so natural and distinct