“So built we the walls ... for the people had a mind to work.”  For five months that blessed work went forward, and as a result a very great number were added to the church, of whom about one hundred were heads of families.  Our sacramental Sabbaths were holy, joyous feasts, and the sheaves were brought in with singing.  Some of the new converts banded themselves in a new organization, and to perpetuate the memory of that glorious spiritual outpouring, they called it the “Memorial Presbyterian Church.”  It now worships in the beautiful edifice on Seventh Avenue, and is one of the most flourishing churches in Brooklyn.  The effect of that work of grace reached on into eternity.  One of its first effects, on the writer of these lines, was to confirm him in the opinion that the living Gospel, sent by the Holy Spirit, is the one only way to save sinners; that a church must back up a minister by its personal efforts, and when preacher and people work together only for God’s glory, He is as sure to answer prayer as the morrow’s sun is to rise in the heavens.

It has not been my practice to invite the labors of an evangelist; but in January, 1872, Mr. Dwight L. Moody, with whom I had as yet but a slight acquaintance, but whom I since have honored and loved with my whole heart, said to the superintendent of our Mission Chapel:  “What a nice place this is to hold some meetings in.”  He was cordially invited; and at the end of a week about twenty persons had been mustered together on the sharp winter evenings.  “This seems slow work,” I said to him.  “Very true,” replied my sagacious brother.  “It is slow, but if you want to kindle a fire, you collect a handful of sticks, light them with a match, and keep on blowing till they blaze.  Then you may heap on the wood.  I am working here with a handful of Christians, endeavoring to warm them up with love for Christ; and, if they keep well kindled, a general revival will come, and outside sinners will be converted.”  He was right; the revival did come.  It spread into the parent church, and over one hundred converts made their public confession of Christ before our communion table.  It was in those little chapel meetings that my beloved brother, Moody, prepared his first “Bible Readings,” which afterward became so celebrated in this country and in Great Britain.  A few months afterward I met Mr. Moody in London.  Coming one day into my room, he said to me:  “They wish me to come over here and preach in England.”  I urged him at once to do so; “for,” I said, “these English people are the best people to preach to in the world.”  Moody then said, “I will go home,—­secure somebody to sing, and come over and make the experiment.”  He did come home,—­he secured my neighbor, Mr. Sankey,—­returned to England, and commenced the most extraordinary revival campaign that had been known in Great Britain since the days of Whitefield.  I cannot dismiss this heaven-honored name without a word of honest, loving tribute to the man and his