CHAPTER VII. AMONG THE PRESBYTERIANS. _At Colebrook Row_. Innovations are the order of the day. New times and altered circumstances require them. In Christian work they are imperatively required. While the Church has folded its arms and slept, while people have been lulled to ease and carelessness by the respectability of Church life and the wealth of professors, while pastors and ecclesiastical authorities have found satisfaction in the observance of ancient order and in the routine of established work, all at once there comes to them a cry that the heathen are outside of them, blaspheming the name they love, ignorant of the Gospel tidings, perishing in their sin and crime and misery at their very doors. John Wesley wrote how, in the latter end of the year 1739, eight or ten persons came to him in London, who appeared to be deeply convinced of sin, and earnestly groaning for redemption. They desired that he would spend some time with them in prayer, and advise them how to flee from the wrath to come. In our time the curtain has been lifted up, and the devout and earnest Christianity of the day has stood face to face with the unbelief which, by ignoring the existence of a heavenly Father, and robbing humanity of its loftiest hopes and deepest consolations, left the masses in our crowded cities to live and die like brutes. The revelation has raised up in many quarters a feeling that something more has to be done than has yet been done, that the Church, to discharge its mission aright, needs a more earnest consecration of the heart, a less formal _modus operandi_, a freer utterance, a less stiff and starch and time-worn manifestation of Christian life. In accordance with this feeling, one Sunday evening there was a novel service in the Presbyterian church, Colebrook Row, of which the Rev. J. Thain Davidson is pastor. The night itself was one of the most unfortunate that could have been selected for that or for any other experiment. London people have a great, and, let me add, a natural objection to wet weather. If it rains hard it offers them a good excuse for stopping at home. They do not like to spoil their Sunday clothes, and they have a great aversion to bronchial affections. In this respect the Scotchman contrasts favourably with the Englishman. In such places as Edinburgh or Glasgow the churches are as well attended in bad weather as in fine. If it were so in London how many a pastor’s heart would rejoice! At Colebrook Row they are Presbyterians, and in England we naturally presume Presbyterians to be Scotchmen—at any rate, this must be the case as regards the attendance at Colebrook Row. On Sunday evening the place was crammed. I did not see a seat anywhere to spare, nor did I see a hearer who did not seem to take the deepest interest in what was going on.