When tired and resting I study out the scripture of this new service. Would Jesus (if here) adapt a sermon to its beneficial principles, as He had done to baptism (bath) of the crowds drawn to the river side for that purpose, obligatory in their sweltering climate? Are not all church rites illustrative of adaptations of the one worship—Spirit and Truth?
These thoughts adding so much of scriptural interpretation of new modes, adding, therefore, new program to my former stereotyped observances, I become at first slightly confused, but reserve my settled decision, until I have farther and more deeply weighed the subject. Until then, I wonder.
“What is best for us to do in such a church as this?”
I turn as I speak aloud, to see Charley by my side, who has overheard all, and coaches me. “Do? Make the earth a church, as do these people.” The noon hour arrived. Refreshments of light and solid food are passed to all.
Not having got over the impression of its being a church, Mae, who has not heard the explanation, turns and says:
“Auntie, it is a sacrament! The little gum paste cups hold drink. I do not think it will harm me.”
A sacrament! Would that all the churches would give each Sunday as substantial a one to Jesus’ sheep and lambs, which are the poor, who go poorly fed all the week.
Seeing how strangely people sit down, by some contrivance or stiffness in their back drapery, I try my own, and being successful, am become quite at ease, as I eat, prayerfully, until satisfied. Then looking around at the beaming, social faces, I suddenly take a distrust and grasp Mae’s hand: “Child, this is a saloon!” in great trepidation.
“No, auntie,” she replies firmly. “No one is drunk or disorderly. It may be a hotel.”
Show Off pulls my sleeve. I turn to him in benignant, grave demeanor, causing him to step back in wonder and gracious deference.