city. I had been absent for three weeks, and, as I saw that smoke, I
said to my wife: "I should not wonder if that is the Tabernacle"; at the
same time, this was said in pleasantry and not in earnest. As we came on
nearer where the church stood, I said quite seriously: "I shouldn't
wonder if it is the Tabernacle."

When I came within a few blocks, and I saw a good many people in
distress running across the street, I said: "It is the Tabernacle"; and
when we stood together in front of the burning house of God, it was an
awfully sad time. We had stood together through all the crises of
suffering, and we must needs build a church in the very hardest of
times.

To put up a structure in those days, and so large a structure and so
firm a structure as we needed, was a very great demand upon our
energies. The fact that we had to make that struggle in the worst
financial period was doubly hard.

It was a merciful providence that none of the congregation was in the
church at the time. It was an appalling situation. In spite of the best
efforts of the fire department, the building was in ruins in a few
hours. My congregation was in despair, but, in the face of trial, God
has always given me all but superhuman strength. In a thousand ways I
had been blessed; the Gospel I had preached could not stop then, I
knew, and while my people were completely discouraged I immediately
planned for a newer, larger, more complete Tabernacle. We needed more
room for the increasing attendance, and I realised that opportunity
again was mine.

We continued our services in the Academy of Music, in Brooklyn, while