But when he went on to show the necessity of renunciation as the first step towards the perfecting of character, even the hard, keen faces of the men before him began to relax and change expression. He dwelt, in turn, upon the startling novelty of Christ’s teaching and its singular success. He spoke of the shortness of human life, the vanity of human effort, and the ultimate reward of those who sacrifice themselves for others, as Jesus did, and out of the same divine spirit of love. He thus came to the peroration. He began it in the manner of serious conversation.
All over the United States the besetting sin of the people was the desire of wealth. He traced the effects of the ignoble struggle for gain in the degradation of character, in the debased tone of public and private life. The main current of existence being defiled, his duty was clear. Even more than other men he was pledged to resist the evil tendency of the time. In some ways, no doubt, he was as frail and faulty as the weakest of his hearers, but to fail in this respect would be, he thought, to prove himself unworthy of his position. That a servant of Christ in the nineteenth century should seek wealth, or allow it in any way to influence his conduct, appeared to him to be much the same unpardonable sin as cowardice in a soldier or dishonesty in a man of business. He could do but little to show what the words of his text meant to him, but one thing he could do and would do joyously. He would write to the good Deacons in Chicago to tell them that he intended to stay in Kansas City, and to labour on among the people whom he knew and loved, and some of whom, he believed, knew and loved him. He would not be tempted by the greater position offered to him or by the larger salary. “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; and whosoever will lose his life for My sake, shall find it.”
As his voice broke over the last words, there was scarcely a dry eye in the church. Many of the women were sobbing audibly, and Mrs. Hooper had long ago given up the attempt “to pull her tears down the back way.” She expressed the general sentiment of her sex when she said afterwards, “It was just too lovely for anythin’.” And the men were scarcely less affected, though they were better able to control their emotion. The joyous renunciation of five thousand dollars a year struck these hard men of business as something almost uncanny. They would have considered it the acme of folly in an ordinary man, but in a preacher they felt vaguely that it was admirable.
When Deacon Hooper met his brother Deacons before the platform where the collection-plates were kept, he whispered, “The meetin’ is at my house at three o’clock. Be on time.” His tone was decided, as were also the nods which accepted the invitation.
After the service Mr. Letgood withdrew quietly without going, as usual, amongst his congregation. This pleased even Mrs. Farton, whose husband was a judge of the Supreme Court. She said: “It was elegant of him.”
Mr. Hooper received the twelve Deacons in his drawing-room, and when the latest comer was seated, began:
“There ain’t no need for me to tell you, brethren, why I asked you all to come round here this afternoon. After that sermon this mornin’ I guess we’re all sot upon showin’ our minister that we appreciate him. There are mighty few men with five thousand dollars a year who’d give up ten thousand. It seems to me a pretty good proof that a man’s a Christian ef he’ll do that. Tain’t being merely a Christian: it’s Christ-like. We must keep Mr. Letgood right here: he’s the sort o’ man we want. If they come from Chicago after him now, they’ll be comin’ from New York next, an’ he oughtn’t to be exposed to sich great temptation.
“I allow that we’ll be able to raise the pew-rents from the first of January next, to bring in another two thousand five hundred dollars a year, and I propose that we Deacons should jest put our hands deep down in our pockets and give Mr. Let-good that much anyway for this year, and promise the same for the future. I’m willin’, as senior Deacon, though not the richest, to start the list with three hundred dollars.”
In five minutes the money was subscribed, and it was agreed that each man should pay in his contribution to the name of Mr. Hooper at the First National Bank next day; Mr. Hooper could then draw his cheque for the sum.
“Wall,” said the Deacon, again getting up, “that’s settled, but I’ve drawn that cheque already. Mrs. Hooper and me talked the thing over,” he added half apologetically, and as if to explain his unbusinesslike rashness; “an’ she thinks we oughter go right now to Mr. Letgood as a sort of surprise party an’ tell him what we hev decided—that is, ef you’re all agreed.”