I recollect preaching one weekday night (and people would crowd the churches on weekday evenings fifty years ago far more readily than they do now) at some wild place in Lancashire or Yorkshire, I think Lancashire.  I was taken to see and stand upon a stepping stone outside the church, and close against the south wall of the sacred edifice, upon which almost every Sunday the clerk, as the people were leaving church, ascended and in a loud voice announced any matters concerning the parish which it appeared desirable to proclaim.  In this way any intended sales were made known, the loss of sheep or cattle on the moors was announced, and almost anything appertaining to the secular welfare of the parishioners was made public.  I do not state this to criticise it.  It was in some degree a recognition of the charity which ought to realise the sympathy in each other’s welfare which we ought all to display.  It was in those primitive times and localities a specimen of the simplicity and well-meant interest in the welfare of the neighbour as well as of oneself, although perhaps the secular sometimes did much to extinguish the spiritual.

[Illustration:  SUNDAY MORNING]

Few people now realise what a business it was to light up a church, say, eighty years ago.  But the worthy old clerk, in a wig bestowed on him by the pious and aged patron, is hastening to illuminate his church with old-fashioned candles, in which he is aided not a little by his faithful wife, who, like Abraham’s wife, regarded her husband as her lord and responded to the name of Sarah.  The good old man—­and he was a good old man—­was perhaps a little bit “flustered and flurried,” for the folk were gathering within the sacred temple, and W.L. was anxious to complete his task of lighting the loft, or gallery.  “I say, Sally, hand us up a little taste of candle,” cried her lord, and Sarah obeyed, and the illumination was soon complete.

But, really, few men “gave out” or announced a hymn with truer and more touching and devout feeling than did that old clerk.  I am one of those who do not think that all the changes in the ministration of Church services are, after experience had, desirable.  I think that in many instances the lay clerk ought to have been instructed in the performance of his duties, to the profit of all concerned.  And I deem that this proceeding would have been a far wiser proceeding than any substitution of the man or his function.  There is ancient authority for a clerk or clerks.  It is wise to secure work to be attended to in the functions of divine service for as many laymen as possible, consistent with principle and propriety.  W.L. was an old man when I saw him, but I can hear him now as with a pathos quite touching and teaching, because done so simply and naturally, he announced, singing: 

     “Salvation, what a glorious theme,
       How suited to our need. 
     The grace that rescues fallen man
       Is wonderful indeed.”