And here we cannot but remember what we have formerly said about religion, Miss Cobbe, and the British College of Health in the New Road.  In religion there are two parts, the part of thought and speculation, and the part of worship and devotion.  Christ certainly meant his religion, as a force of inward persuasion acting on the soul, to employ both parts as perfectly as possible.  Now thought and speculation is eminently an individual matter, and worship and devotion is eminently a collective matter.  It does not help me to think a thing more clearly that thousands of other people are thinking [207] the same; but it does help me to worship with more emotion that thousands of other people are worshipping with me.  The consecration of common consent, antiquity, public establishment, long-used rites, national edifices, is everything for religious worship.  “Just what makes worship impressive,” says Joubert, “is its publicity, its external manifestation, its sound, its splendour, its observance universally and visibly holding its way through all the details both of our outward and of our inward life.”  Worship, therefore, should have in it as little as possible of what divides us, and should be as much as possible a common and public act; as Joubert says again:  “The best prayers are those which have nothing distinct about them, and which are thus of the nature of simple adoration.”  For, “The same devotion,” as he says in another place, “unites men far more than the same thought and knowledge.”  Thought and knowledge, as we have said before, is eminently something individual, and of our own; the more we possess it as strictly of our own, the more power it has on us.  Man worships best, therefore, with the community; he philosophises best alone.  So it seems that whoever [208] would truly give effect to Christ’s declaration that his religion is a force of inward persuasion acting on the soul, would leave our thought on the intellectual aspects of Christianity as individual as possible, but would make Christian worship as collective as possible.  Worship, then, appears to be eminently a matter for public and national establishment; for even Mr. Bright, who, when he stands in Mr. Spurgeon’s great Tabernacle is so ravished with admiration, will hardly say that the great Tabernacle and its worship are in themselves, as a temple and service of religion, so impressive and affecting as the public and national Westminster Abbey, or Notre Dame, with their worship.  And when, very soon after the great Tabernacle, one comes plump down to the mass of private and individual establishments of religious worship, establishments falling, like the British College of Health in the New Road, conspicuously short of what a public and national establishment might be, then one cannot but feel that Christ’s command to make his religion a force of persuasion to the soul, is, so far as one main source of persuasion is concerned, altogether set at nought.