To many, Sunday is a day of labor. To many others, it is a day of
roistering and debauch. To some, it is a day of idleness and
thoughtless pleasure. To some, it is a day of devotion and worship.
But still, I say, that, whatever men, as individuals, may do with the
day, the deserted streets, the silent stores, the closed banks, the
empty offices, evidence that, to the world, this day is not as other
days and give recognition--not to creeds and doctrines of warring
sects indeed--but, to Religion.

Again the man awoke. Coming slowly out of his sleep and turning
leisurely in his bed he looked through the open window at the day. And
still he did not think of Religion.

Leisurely he arose and, after his bath, shaved himself with particular
care. With particular care he dressed, not in the garb of every day,
but in fresher, newer, raiment. Thus did he, even as the world, give
unthinking testimony to the power and place of Religion.

Later, when the church bells sent their sweet voiced invitations
ringing over the city, the man went to church. He did not go to church
because he was a religious man nor because he was in a religious mood;
he went because it was his habit to go occasionally. Even as most men
sometimes go to church, so this man went. Nor did he, as a member of
any religious organization, feel it his duty to go. He went as he had
always gone--as thousands of others who, like himself, in habit of
dress and manner were giving unconscious testimony to the power of
Religion in the world, went, that day, to some place of public
worship.