“Devotion,” says Bishop Butler in one of his sermons,[8] “is retirement from the world He has made, to Him alone; it is to withdraw from the avocations of sense, _to yield ourselves up to the influences of the Divine presence_, and to give full scope to the affections of gratitude, love, reverence, trust, and dependence; of which infinite Power, Wisdom, and Goodness is the natural and only Object.” No words could more fully or worthily express the intention of a Friends’ meeting—of one of those “meetings for worship” which are, as is well known, “held on a basis of silence,” but in which free course is allowed to whatever Divine influence may prompt of vocal prayer, preaching, testimony, or prophecy; those meetings in which each one, it is felt, should in the first place enter into the inmost sanctuary of his own heart, and be alone with God; being still, that His voice may be clearly heard within, before the lips can be rightly opened to show forth His praise or His counsels to others. From the depths of that stillness words do from time to time arise—words uttered in simple obedience to the upspringing of the fountain from within. This is what we mean by being “moved by the Spirit,” and I do not see how a worthier or a truer expression could be found for the perfect ideal of spiritual worship. That mysterious diversity which is interwoven with all our likeness, and belongs to the very nature common to us all, makes it impossible for one to judge for another as to the manner of worship most likely to be vitally helpful to him. I cannot tell how far my own feeling about Friends’ meetings may arise from an idiosyncrasy. I do not pretend to feel, as did some of the early Friends, that all pre-arrangement is in itself unlawful or sinful. I can well understand the point of view of those who believe that the majestic and time-hallowed words of such a Liturgy as the Anglican afford the nearest possible approach to a worthy manner of public worship. I can even understand, though with less of sympathy, the feelings of those who dread lest the utterances of their untutored fellow-worshippers should disturb their own endeavours to attain to a devotional frame of mind. But though, for these and other reasons, I am prepared to admit that the extreme of simplicity and freedom maintained in our own meetings might not prove helpful to every one, and though I have no desire to conceal the too obvious fact that we continually fall very far short of our ideal, I yet must avow my own conviction that that ideal of public worship is the purest which has ever been recognized, and also that it is practically identical with that which seems to have been recognized in the days of the apostles. I further believe that there are many, in these days especially, to whom it is the one manner of worship which is still practically possible, as being absolutely free from anything entangling to the conscience, or open to controversy.