where I winced and shrunk when it was touched, or was even
approached, would be handled as the theme of the whole proceedings?

On this occasion it was assigned to Brother Hawkyard to pray, and
to Brother Gimblet to preach. The prayer was to open the
ceremonies; the discourse was to come next. Brothers Hawkyard and
Gimblet were both on the platform; Brother Hawkyard on his knees at
the table, unmusically ready to pray; Brother Gimblet sitting
against the wall, grinningly ready to preach.

'Let us offer up the sacrifice of prayer, my brothers and sisters
and fellow-sinners.' Yes; but it was I who was the sacrifice. It
was our poor, sinful, worldly-minded brother here present who was
wrestled for. The now-opening career of this our unawakened
brother might lead to his becoming a minister of what was called
'the church.' That was what HE looked to. The church. Not the
chapel, Lord. The church. No rectors, no vicars, no archdeacons,
no bishops, no archbishops, in the chapel, but, O Lord! many such
in the church. Protect our sinful brother from his love of lucre.
Cleanse from our unawakened brother's breast his sin of worldly-
mindedness. The prayer said infinitely more in words, but nothing
more to any intelligible effect.

Then Brother Gimblet came forward, and took (as I knew he would)
the text, 'My kingdom is not of this world.' Ah! but whose was, my
fellow-sinners? Whose? Why, our brother's here present was. The
only kingdom he had an idea of was of this world. ('That's it!'
from several of the congregation.) What did the woman do when she
lost the piece of money? Went and looked for it. What should our
brother do when he lost his way? ('Go and look for it,' from a