We have mentioned Philip’s custom of coming into his pulpit from the little room at the side door of the platform.  This morning he went in at the side door of the church after parting with Sarah and the others.  He let Brother Man and William go on ahead a little, and then drawing his wife to him he stooped and kissed her.  He turned at the top of the short flight of steps leading up to the side entrance and saw her still standing in the same place.  Then she went around from the little court to the front of the church, and went in with the great crowd already beginning to stream toward Calvary Church.

No one ever saw so many people in Calvary Church before.  Men sat on the platform and even in the deep window-seats.  The spaces under the large galleries by the walls were filled mostly with men standing there.  The house was crowded long before the hour of service.  There were many beating, excited hearts in that audience.  More than one member felt a shame at the action which had been taken, and might have wished it recalled.  With the great number of working-men and young people in the church there was only one feeling; it was a feeling of love for Philip and of sorrow for what had been done.  The fact that he had been away from the city, that he had not talked over the matter with any one, owing to his absence, the uncertainty as to how he would receive the whole thing, what he would say on this first Sunday after the letter had been written—­this attracted a certain number of persons who never go inside a church except for some extraordinary occasion or in hopes of a sensation.  So the audience that memorable day had some cruel people present—­people who narrowly watch the faces of mourners at funerals to see what ravages grief has made on the countenance.

The organist played his prelude through and was about to stop, when he saw from the glass that hung over the keys that Mr. Strong had not yet appeared.  He began again at a certain measure, repeating it, and played very slowly.  By this time the church was entirely filled.  There was an air of expectant waiting as the organ again ceased, and still Philip did not come out.  A great fear came over Mrs. Strong.  She had half risen from her seat near the platform to go up and open the study door, when it opened and Philip came out.

Whatever his struggle had been in that little room the closest observer could not detect any trace of tears or sorrow or shame or humiliation.  He was pale, but that was common; otherwise his face wore a firm, noble, peaceful look.  As he gazed over the congregation it fell under the fascination of his glances.  The first words that he spoke in the service were strong and clear.  Never had the people seen so much to admire in his appearance, and when, after the opening exercises and the regular order of service, he rose and came out at one side of the desk to speak, as his custom was, the people were for the time under the magic sway of his personality, that never stood out so commanding and loving and true-hearted as then.