“Mr. Brown, why is this congregation like a ten penny nail?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Bones, why this congregation is like a ten penny nail. Why is this congregation like a ten penny nail?”
“Because, Mr. Brown, it’s goin’ to be driven in,” sagely replied Mr. Bones, with a significant glance at the gathering rain clouds overhead.
“Gentlemen, please shed yer hats!” said Brother Hyatt, as he pounded for order on the box with a carrot that he had taken from a basket in the store. “Brother Butters will now lead in prayer.”
During the invocation, which was brief but heartfelt, Spot walked out and stretched himself on the ground in front of the box. Brother Butters and Brother Hyatt both ended the prayer with loud amens.
“Here are the lines o’ the first hymn,” announced Brother Hyatt.
“Blow ye the trumpet! blow
The gladly solemn sound—
Let all the nations know,
To earth’s remotest bound,