The Religious Life of LondonRitchie, J. Ewing (James Ewing)
Religion
The Religious Life of London
Ritchie, J. Ewing (James Ewing)
London (England) -- Religion; Religious thought -- England -- London
The service commenced in the usual manner by the singing of a hymn. Mr.
Davidson, who was in his pulpit and wore his gown, then offered up
prayer, leading up to what was to be the peculiarity of that evening’s
service. He then delivered a short address explanatory of the
circumstances in which that meeting had been originated, and which had
led to the visit of the deputation who were to address them that night.
It had seemed to their evangelistic committee that an opportunity had
arisen in consequence of the services at the Agricultural Hall which
required the utmost efforts of Christian workers. The object of that
meeting was to excite to further effort. They were all too much inclined
to be supine, to be content with mere religious routine. There was a
need to break through spiritual monotony. They must endeavour to breathe
new life and energy and freshness. There was a fine field before them,
for London truly was, as it was often termed, the finest missionary field
in the world; even amidst the lowest of the low there was an encouraging
feeling existing. The masses felt that on the whole the Christians were
their best friends—those most ready to do them good temporally as well as
spiritually. Especially was it so in that particular district. The
Church was much to blame in that it had not been more ready to take
advantage of this feeling and to turn it to proper account. People had
often been driven away from places of worship. As an illustration, Mr.
Davidson said that in one of the churches in that locality a young man
entered and took his seat one Sunday evening. Presently the lady to whom
the pew belonged came in: she said to the young man, harshly, “This is my
pew, you have no business here.” The young man took up his hat and
walked out, resolving never to enter a place of worship again. In a week
after, he was dead.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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