SERMONS WITHOUT WORDS
A Marvellous Performance in Dumb Show.
NOT a quarter of a mile from the Marble Arch, on the left side of Oxford Street (No. 419, Oxford Street, as a matter of fact), looking towards the Park, there stands a dull, unpretentious, red brick edifice, so unpretentious indeed that in spite of its ecclesiastical appearance it is unnoticed by the majority of passers by.
The bulk of the teeming thousands who pride themselves that they know their London are ignorant of its whereabouts, nor are the countless legions who daily pass through the busy thoroughfare better informed.
Nor is it surprising; for there is little but a tiny cross on the coping stone, and a dingy notice board behind dingier railings, to mark one of the most interesting buildings in all London—St. Saviour's Church, the cathedral of London's 2,000 deaf and dumb.
Here Sunday by Sunday the silent poor and the silent rich worship together. Outside, the roll of traffic merges into one long dull roar that may distract the thoughts of worshippers in other churches, but to the congregation of St. Saviour's makes no difference. They cannot hear it.
JUSTICE (WEIGHING WITH SCALES).
I had heard much of the Rev. F. W. G. Gilby's wonderful method of preaching to his people, how he has become thoroughly conversant not only with the old-fashioned finger spelling familiar to those who have watched the conversation of the deaf and dumb, but can also by means of gesture and acting make use of a system of preaching richer in suggestion, wider in range, and infinitely more effective in its scope and power of riveting the interest of his flock.
Accordingly, one wet Thursday evening a short time ago, I made one of the congregation at evening service, curious to take part in such a service myself. I am never likely to forget the impression that quiet service made on me, nor to relieve my mind of the feeling of overwhelming depression at the realisation that this little crowd of afflicted people, miserably and unutterably poor in the majority of cases, was living, moving, and breathing in our very midst, helpless yet happy, willing and intelligent, yet almost entirely dependent on this one enthusiastic, unselfish man for their comfort—not only spiritual, but in many cases, as I discovered, material as well.