Of this feeling in connection with his preaching he himself says: “I had at that time almost a species of indifference as to means and measures. I cared little, and perhaps too little, whether I had or had not a church building. I thought of one thing—the love of Christ to men. This, to me, was a burning reality. Less clearly than now, perhaps, did I discern the whole circuit and orb of the nature of Christ; but with a burning intensity I realized the love of God in Jesus Christ. I believed it to be the one transcendent influence in this world by which men should be roused to a higher manhood and should be translated into another and better kingdom. My purpose was to preach Christ to men for the sake of bringing them to a higher life; and though I preferred the polity and economy of the Congregational churches, yet I also felt that God was in all the other churches, and that it was no part of my ministry to build up sectarian walls; that it was no part of my ministry to bombard and pull down sectarian structures; but that the work of my ministry was to find the way to the hearts of men, and to labor with them for their awakening and conversion and sanctification. “I have said that I had no theory; but I had a very strong impression on my mind that the first five years in the life of a church would determine the history of that church and give to it its position and genius; that if the earliest years of a church were controversial or barren it would take scores of years to right it; but that if a church were consecrated, active, and energetic during the first five years of its life, it would probably go on through generations developing the same features. My supreme anxiety, therefore, in gathering a church, was to have all of its members united in a fervent, loving disposition; to have them all in sympathy with men; and to have all of them desirous of bringing to bear the glorious truths of the Gospel upon the hearts and consciences of those about them. “Consequently I went into this work with all my soul, preaching night and day, visiting incessantly, and developing as fast and as far as might be that social, contagious spirit which we call a revival of religion.” The services in the church were then, as ever since, in harmony with the building—simple and without ostentation, differing from those of other Congregational churches only in the spirit of unusual heartiness and the impression of unusual power. When the bell ceased tolling the organ began its work of preparing the hearts of the great multitude for worship. Then followed the invocation by the pastor, always devout, always joyful and trustful, uniformly sincere, and always varied. No set phrase ever took possession and held in its formal grasp the expression of his praise and expectant prayer: