|When I invited Bishop Anderson of the Episcopal Church of this city to address you, it was from a sincere desire to give you an opportunity to hear in this house, and under the auspices of this movement, a strong and comprehensive statement from the other side, if I may use that expression. I invited the bishop because he is freer on Sundays than the average clergyman who has his own people to preach to, and in the second place, because he has the authority to send someone in his place if he could not come himself. In the third place, I addressed my letter to the Episcopalians because they were to have a convention in this same hall for the purpose of rousing interest in church work. The Right Reverend Bishop Anderson of Chicago should have accepted cordially our invitation, yet not even of the courtesy of a reply has he deemed either you or me worthy. I do not know how to explain the good bishop's indifference to our invitation, except by saying that, either the bishop considered us hopelessly beyond the saving power of his religion, or that in his own heart he considered his creed, while good enough for the unquestioning, a little antiquated for an inquiring American audience. But the fact is now on record that he was invited to deliver his message to us, and he has not even acknowledged the invitation. To reconcile such action with the spirit of "brotherly love," publicly professed by the bishop, or with the divine command to preach the gospel to every creature, will require considerable mental dexterity. We have heard the bishop and his people sing the hymn= ```Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war."= Where are the soldiers? Why do they avoid a conflict if they _are soldiers?_ We did not invite them to a fight: we did not ask them to a debate; we did not care to enter into a "duel of words," as some papers have put it. Far from it: we assured the bishop that there would be no questions asked by the audience, and no comments permitted. He would listen to our message and deliver his. But suppose we had invited him to a clash of ideas--to an argument--suppose we had asked him to give us "the reasons for the hope that is in him," as the Bible says--how could he decline such an invitation? The Apostle Paul reasoned before pagan rulers, and from Mars Hill, in Athens, he preached to pagan philosophers--to doubters. Why should Bishop Anderson have less courage, or be more cautious? When a great cause, or a cause that has been great once, declines a public opportunity to advance its interests, to justify its claims, to convince--to convert, it is a pretty sure sign that its fires are burning low, and that it has fallen into the "sere and yellow leaf."