“The strength of the hills is His also.�
It was with these words of the Psalmist that Reverend Ralph Cutter began his review of the town’s history. No one seemed to realize that he spoke an hour. A library has been written about the best way to hold the attention of an audience. It might all be boiled down to this:—“Have something to say worth saying, and then say it in a way worth hearing.� Ralph Cutter knew his subject thoroughly. He could only give an outline of it in the time allotted to him; but, as little ten-year-old Jimmy Stetson said, “When Mr. Cutter tells an Indian story you feel as though the Red Skins were skulking around the church, and when he talks about bears you almost expect to hear ’em growl.�
“Aunt Lyddy� Buxton, who came early and had a seat near the pulpit, said:—“That’s the first time I have heard a minister in a year, although I go to church every Sunday. Thank God there’s now and then a minister who thinks it a part of his duty to make people hear.�
“That’s the minister I always like to hear,� said Farmer Gray. “I don’t have to go to a dictionary to find out what he means, and it’s all good, sober, solid sense, every word he has to say.�
The speaker did not occupy a minute more than the time allotted to him. For a minister, or any other speaker, to take time which belonged to others, Ralph Cutter considered no better than any other kind of stealing, and he never practiced it. He always kept within his allotted time. He had saved a few minutes in which to consider the future of the town.
“Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and every hill shall be made low.�
“I understand these words of Isaiah,� he said, “to be prophecy full of blessing to us all. These hills shall be brought low—that is to say, they shall be more easily reached. Not only this, but the working people in the cities shall be able to reach them. The time is coming, when the poorest one of our millions of laborers shall be able to enjoy a summer vacation, with his family, on these hills, or at the sea-shore, or wherever else on God’s beautiful earth he chooses to spend it. The multitudes, now scarcely earning their daily bread, shall not always toil to maintain the few in idleness and luxury. The good things, the best things of God’s bountiful earth shall be within reach of the toiling masses, not occasionally and sparingly, but at all times and in generous measure. The workman shall enjoy the full fruit of his labors. There shall be no idlers, as now, to fatten upon the laborers’ toil. God has provided an abundance for all His children, and the avarice of the few shall not always keep his gifts away from the many.
“Perhaps you will call this socialism, but it is Christianity also. I believe, in practice, we have scarcely learned the a b c of Christianity. I am not attacking the rights of property. I have no pet theories to advance. The present system, which allows one man to pile up hundreds of millions by getting control of steel or oil, while the working multitude are little better than slaves—this system, I say, cannot endure. It must fall. When we have learned, by experience, what true Christianity means, it may be that we shall get back very near to the starting-point of Christianity, when the disciples had all things common.
“Every mountain and hill shall be brought low—brought within reach of the toiling hosts of the valley. All these abandoned acres shall be tilled again. This temple shall again be filled with glad worshippers, as of old. The electric railway, which is leveling the hills everywhere, shall bring to these beautiful heights the tired and dusty dwellers in the city, for summer rest. This leveling process shall benefit the dwellers and toilers in the vales. Already the farm-house feels the throbbing life of the city, through the telephone and the daily mail. This is only the beginning. No one knows what the end may be.�
It was an eloquent address; eloquent in its pictures of history; eloquent in its present comfort; eloquent in its promise for the future, and it had a fitting and appreciative word for those outside the town who had kept the fires of religion burning on this ancient altar. It had none of the marks of much of our present oratory—no foreign phrases; no words difficult to understand; no carefully poised periods; no words dropped nearly to a whisper. The prize pupil in elocution sometimes cannot be heard in the rear of the hall, while the speaker who makes himself clearly heard in all parts of the house goes home without even honorable mention. While mere noise is not oratory, yet Daniel Webster, Charles Sumner and George William Curtis always made themselves heard. The speaker’s concluding words were:—