As long as the God of that solitary, selfish tramp remains determined to redeem and save even the most depraved and abandoned of mankind, its Whitechapels and Spitalfields, and other moral jungles, can be turned into gardens, blooming with every flower of moral innocence and beauty—­if only gardeners, capable of enough trust in God and toil for man, can be found.

The Meetings held at noon daily in front of the new Headquarters set an example of patient, persevering combat which was followed in the Meetings, outdoors or in, held by what was then known as “The Christian Mission.”  The first name used by “The General Superintendent,” as our Founder was then called, was “The East London Christian Revival Society.”  This was changed to “The East London Christian Mission,” and the “East London” being dropped, when the work extended outside London, “The Christian Mission” remained, much as the name was always disliked, from its appearance of implying a slight on all other missions.

The steadily increasing success of the Whitechapel work was such that when I first saw it, after it had only had that centre for two years, the Hall, seating more than 1,200 persons, would be crowded on Sundays, and, although the people had been got together from streets full of drunkenness and hostility, the audiences would be kept under perfect control, once the outer gates were closed, and would listen with the intensest interest to all that was said and sung.

On Sunday nights I have known ten different bands of speakers take their stand at various points along the Whitechapel Road, and when they all marched to the Hall, they could usually make their songs heard above all the din of traffic, and in spite of any attempts at interruption made by the opposition.

The enemy constantly displayed his hostility at the Meetings held in the street, whether in Whitechapel or any of the other poor parishes to which the work had spread, and was not often content with mere cries of derision either.  Dirt and garbage would be thrown at us, blows and kicks would come, especially on dark evenings, and the sight of a policeman approaching, so far from being a comfort, was a still worse trial, as he would very rarely show any inclination to protect us, but more generally a wish to make us “move on” just when we had got a good crowd together, on the plea that we were either “obstructing the thoroughfare” or “creating a disturbance.”

But what a blessed training for War it all was!  The Converts learnt not merely to raise their voices for God, and to persist in their efforts, in spite of every possible discouragement, but to bridle their tongues when abused, to “endure hardness,” and manifest a prayerful, loving spirit towards those who despite fully used them.  The very fighting made bold and happy Soldiers out of many of the tenderest and most timid Converts.