After addresses had been made by Drs. Malcolm, Peddie, Rowland and Wayland, an effort was made to raise the twelve hundred dollars due on the tent. A wealthy layman, Mr. William Bucknell, offered to pay the twelve hundred dollars provided the members of Grace Baptist Church should henceforth abstain from the use of tobacco. The alert chairman said, "All who are in sympathy with Brother Bucknell's proposition, please rise." The entire audience arose. Mr. Bucknell made out his check next morning for twelve hundred dollars. In 1874, the tent was moved to a neighboring lot, where it was used as a mission. Homeless wanderers were taken in, fed and pointed the way to a different and better life. From this work grew the Sunday Breakfast Association of Philadelphia. A contract was made for a new church building, and in 1875 Grace Church moved into the basement of the new building at Berks and Mervine Streets. But dark days came. The financial burden became excessive. Judgment bonds were entered against the building, the sheriff was compelled to perform his unpleasant duty, and the property was advertised for sale. A council of Baptist churches was called to determine what should be done. The sheriff was persuaded to wait. The members renewed their exertions and once more the church got on its financial feet sufficiently to meet current financial expenses. The plucky fight knit them together in strong bonds of good fellowship. It strengthened their faith, gave them courage to go forward, and taught them the joy of working in such a cause. And while they were struggling with poverty and looking disaster often in the face, up in Massachusetts, the man who was to lead this chosen people into a new land of usefulness, was himself fighting that battle as to whether he should hearken to the voice of the Spirit that was calling him to a new work. But finally he left all to follow Him, and when this church, going down under its flood of debt, sent out a cry for help, he heard it and came. To his friends in Massachusetts it seemed as if he were again throwing himself away. To leave his church in Lexington on the threshold of prosperity, for a charge little more than a mission, with only twenty-seven present to vote on calling him, seemed the height of folly. But he considered none of these things. He thought only of their need. On Thanksgiving Day, 1882, he came. The outer walls of the small church were up, the roof on, but the upper part was unfinished, the worshippers meeting in the basement And over it hung a debt of $15,000. But the plucky band of workers, full of the spirit that makes all things possible, had found a leader. Both had fought bitter fights, had endured hardships and privations, had often nothing but faith to lean on, and pastor and people went forward to the great work awaiting them.