Mr. Bentley shrugged his shoulders and said something about not trying to mix up business and religion.  Philip sat looking at the man, reading him through and through, his heart almost bursting in him at the thought of what a man would do for the sake of money.  At last he saw that he would gain nothing by prolonging the argument.  He rose, and with the same sweet frankness which characterized his opening of the subject, he said, “Brother, I wish to tell you that it is my intention to speak of this matter next Sunday, in the first of my talks on Christ and Modern Society.  I believe it is something he would talk about in public, and I will speak of it as I think he would.”

“You must do your duty, of course, Mr. Strong,” replied Mr. Bentley, somewhat coldly; and Philip went out, feeling as if he had grappled with his first dragon in Milton, and found him to be a very ugly one and hard to kill.  What hurt him as much as the lack of spiritual fineness of apprehension of evil in his church-member, was the knowledge that, as Mr. Bentley so coarsely put it, his salary was largely paid out of the rentals of those vile abodes.  He grew sick at heart as he dwelt upon the disagreeable fact; and as he came back to the parsonage and went up to his cosey study, he groaned to think that it was possible through the price that men paid for souls.

“And this, because society is as it is!” he exclaimed, as he buried his face in his hands and leaned his elbows on his desk, while his cheeks flushed and his heart quivered at the thought of the filth and vileness the money had seen and heard which paid for the very desk at which he wrote his sermons.

But Philip Strong was not one to give way at the first feeling of seeming defeat.  He did not too harshly condemn his members.  He wondered at their lack of spiritual life; but, to his credit be it said, he did not harshly condemn.  Only, as Sunday approached, he grew more clear in his own mind as to his duty in the matter.  Expediency whispered to him, “Better wait.  You have only just come here.  The people like you now.  It will only cause unpleasant feelings and do no good for you to launch out into a crusade against this thing right now.  There are so many of your members involved that it will certainly alienate their support, and possibly lead to your being compelled to lose your place as pastor, if it do not drive away the most influential members.”

To all this plea of expediency Philip replied, “Get thee behind me, Satan!” He said with himself, he might as well let the people know what he was at the very first.  It was not necessary that he should be their pastor, if they would none of him.  It was necessary that he preach the truth boldly.  The one question he asked himself was, “Would Jesus Christ, if he were pastor of Cavalry[sic] Church in Milton to-day, speak of the matter next Sunday, and speak regardless of all consequences?” Philip asked the question honestly; and, after long prayer and much communion with the Divine, he said, “Yes, I believe he would.”  It is possible that he might have gained by waiting or by working with his members in private.  Another man might have pursued that method, and still have been a courageous, true minister.  But this is the story of Philip Strong, not of another man, and this is what he did.