Maxwell looked surprised and asked if the men would come for any such purpose.

“Yes, they’ll come.  After all, I know the men pretty well.  They are among the most intelligent working men in the country today.  But they are, as a whole, entirely removed from church influence.  I asked, ‘What would Jesus do?’ and among other things it seemed to me He would begin to act in some way to add to the lives of these men more physical and spiritual comfort.  It is a very little thing, this room and what it represents, but I acted on the first impulse, to do the first thing that appealed to my good sense, and I want to work out this idea.  I want you to speak to the men when they come up at noon.  I have asked them to come up and see the place and I’ll tell them something about it.”

Maxwell was ashamed to say how uneasy he felt at being asked to speak a few words to a company of working men.  How could he speak without notes, or to such a crowd?  He was honestly in a condition of genuine fright over the prospect.  He actually felt afraid of facing those men.  He shrank from the ordeal of confronting such a crowd, so different from the Sunday audiences he was familiar with.

There were a dozen rude benches and tables in the room, and when the noon whistle sounded the men poured upstairs from the machine shops below and, seating themselves at the tables, began to cat their lunch.  There were present about three hundred of them.  They had read the superintendent’s notice which he had posted up in various places, and came largely out of curiosity.

They were favorably impressed.  The room was large and airy, free from smoke and dust, and well warmed from the steam pipes.  At about twenty minutes to one Mr. Powers told the men what he had in mind.  He spoke very simply, like one who understands thoroughly the character of his audience, and then introduced the Rev. Henry Maxwell of the First Church, his pastor, who had consented to speak a few minutes.

Maxwell will never forget the feeling with which for the first time he stood before the grimy-faced audience of working men.  Like hundreds of other ministers, he had never spoken to any gatherings except those made up of people of his own class in the sense that they were familiar in their dress and education and habits.  This was a new world to him, and nothing but his new rule of conduct could have made possible his message and its effect.  He spoke on the subject of satisfaction with life; what caused it, what its real sources were.  He had the great good sense on this his first appearance not to recognize the men as a class distinct from himself.  He did not use the term working man, and did not say a word to suggest any difference between their lives and his own.

The men were pleased.  A good many of them shook hands with him before going down to their work, and the minister telling it all to his wife when he reached home, said that never in all his life had he known the delight he then felt in having the handshake from a man of physical labor.  The day marked an important one in his Christian experience, more important than he knew.  It was the beginning of a fellowship between him and the working world.  It was the first plank laid down to help bridge the chasm between the church and labor in Raymond.