During the sermon Mr. Osborn several times aroused laughter by little homely jokes coming unexpectedly in the midst of his serious discourse; but Dale no longer felt surprise.  He thought that he had caught their point of view, got the hang of the main scheme.  These people were genuine believers, and entirely free from any affectation or pretense.  They possessed no church-manner:  thus, when they spoke to one another here, they did so as naturally as when they were speaking in the fields or on the highroads.  Only when they spoke to God, could you hear the vibration and the thrill, the effort and the strain.

And all at once his own self-consciousness vanished.  He felt comfortable, quite at ease, and extraordinarily glad that he had dedicated an hour to the purpose of coming here.

The lamplight enormously improved the appearance of the chapel; the genial yellow glow was surrounded by fine dark shadows that draped the ugly walls as if with soft curtains; there were golden glittering bands on the roof beams, and above them all had become black, impenetrable, mysterious.  When one glanced up one might have had the night sky over one’s head, for all one could see of the roof.  The light shone bright on crooked backs, slightly distorted limbs, the pallor of sickness, the stains of rough weather; on girls meekly folding hands that daily scrub and scour; on laboring men stooping the shoulders that habitually carry weights; on spectacled old women with eyes worn out by incessantly peering at the tiny stitches of their untiring needles; but one would have looked in vain for any types even approximately similar to the stalwart well-balanced youths, the smooth-cheeked game-playing maidens, the prosperously healthful fathers and mothers of the established faith.  Dale did not look for them, did not miss them, would not have wished them here.

It might be said that there was not a single person of the whole gathering on whom there was not plainly printed, in one shape or another, the stamp of toil.  That fact perhaps formed the root of the difference between this and a Church of England congregation.  To Dale’s mind, however, there was something else of a saliently differentiating character.  Once again he was struck by the expression of all the faces.  He thought how calm, how trustful, how quietly joyous these people must be feeling, in order to shine back at the lamps as steadily and clearly as the lamps were shining on them.

“Friends, let us praise God by singing the hundred and tenth hymn before we separate.”

They all rose and began to sing their final song; and Dale observed that here and there, as the loud chorus swelled and flowed, singers would sink down upon their knees as though of a sudden impelled to silence and prayer.

      “There is a fountain filled with blood,
        Drawn from Emmanuel’s veins;
      And sinners plunged beneath that flood,
        Lose all their guilty stains.