When Henry Maxwell finished his sermon, he paused and looked at the people with a look they never forgot and, at the moment, did not understand.  Crowded into that fashionable church that day were hundreds of men and women who had for years lived the easy, satisfied life of a nominal Christianity.  A great silence fell over the congregation.  Through the silence there came to the consciousness of all the souls there present a knowledge, stranger to them now for years, of a Divine Power.  Every one expected the preacher to call for volunteers who would do as Jesus would do.  But Maxwell had been led by the Spirit to deliver his message this time and wait for results to come.

He closed the service with a tender prayer that kept the Divine Presence lingering very near every hearer, and the people slowly rose to go out.  Then followed a scene that would have been impossible if any mere man had been alone in his striving for results.

Men and women in great numbers crowded around the platform to see Mr. Maxwell and to bring him the promise of their consecration to the pledge to do as Jesus would do.  It was a voluntary, spontaneous movement that broke upon his soul with a result he could not measure.  But had he not been praying for is very thing?  It was an answer that more than met his desires.

There followed this movement a prayer service that in its impressions repeated the Raymond experience.  In the evening, to Mr. Maxwell’s joy, the Endeavor Society almost to a member came forward, as so many of the church members had done in the morning, and seriously, solemnly, tenderly, took the pledge to do as Jesus would do.  A deep wave of spiritual baptism broke over the meeting near its close that was indescribable in its tender, joyful, sympathetic results.

That was a remarkable day in the history of that church, but even more so in the history of Henry Maxwell.  He left the meeting very late.  He went to his room at the Settlement where he was still stopping, and after an hour with the Bishop and Dr. Bruce, spent in a joyful rehearsal of the wonderful events of the day, he sat down to think over again by himself all the experience he was having as a Christian disciple.

He had kneeled to pray, as he always did before going to sleep, and it was while he was on his knees that he had a waking vision of what might be in the world when once the new discipleship had made its way into the conscience and conscientiousness of Christendom.  He was fully conscious of being awake, but no less certainly did it seem to him that he saw certain results with great distinctiveness, partly as realities of the future, partly great longings that they might be realities.  And this is what Henry Maxwell saw in this waking vision: 

He saw himself, first, going back to the First Church in Raymond, living there in a simpler, more self-denying fashion than he had yet been willing to live, because he saw ways in which he could help others who were really dependent on him for help.  He also saw, more dimly, that the time would come when his position as pastor of the church would cause him to suffer more on account of growing opposition to his interpretation of Jesus and His conduct.  But this was vaguely outlined.  Through it all he heard the words “My grace is sufficient for thee.”