The churches have to struggle with a narrow and small social horizon. Few people are so conscious of their kinship with all others in their community that they desire those others to worship with them. The sense of unlikeness to others is, unfortunately, as strong in their feelings as the sense of likeness unto their own. In the American community with many newcomers, and some foreigners, this sense of unlikeness is natural. It is not to be wondered that men should think themselves more like unto their old neighbors than unto the new. It is not surprising that with new economic processes men should ignore their unity with those who co-operate with them in getting a living, and should be conscious of their unity with those whose living comes in the same form. As a result, we have working men's churches and "rich men's clubs," "college churches," "student pastors," churches which minister to old families, and new chapels built by tenant farmers. But these phases of worship are peculiar to the times of transition in which we live. The immaturity of our [economic] processes, and the greater immaturity of our economic knowledge, explain the failure of worshiping people to assemble by communities; but the process which assembles men of kindred mind to worship together now is capable of bringing men together in larger wholes.
The spirit of federation is in the air. The longing for religious unity is a response to the stimuli of common experience in the same locality. Men who meet throughout the week, if they worship at all, discover a desire to worship together. The coming of great occasions and the celebrations of anniversaries, train them in some common assemblies. I remember how the tidings of the death of President McKinley brought together all the people of the community in an act of worship. Their response to a profound sense of danger was a community response, and the church which was prompt to open its doors, found men of all faiths within.
At a recent meeting of the National Body of one of the greatest Protestant churches, proceedings were halted by the moderator, who read a telegram announcing the friendly action of another religious body. This action looked toward union of the two denominations. It was a response to overtures from the body there in session. Instantly the whole assembly sprang up, applauding and cheering, and led by a clear, musical voice, broke out in a hymn. That hymn is profoundly sociological in its language, and its use is increasing among Christian people. It expresses that worship which is a consciousness of kind. Its words are
Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love:
The fellowship of kindred minds
Is like to that above.
Before our Father's throne
We pour our ardent prayers;
Our fears, our hopes, our aims, are one,
Our comforts and our cares.
We share our mutual woes,
Our mutual burdens bear,
And often for each other flows
The sympathizing tear.
When we asunder part,
It gives us inward pain;
But we shall still be joined in heart,
And hope to meet again.
It would be hard to find a member of a Protestant church in America, among the older denominations, who does not know these words, and is not accustomed to use them in response to the stimuli of kinship with other Protestant Christians.
The consciousness of kind is an awareness of differences and resemblances. It is a finding of one's self among those to whom one is like, and an aversion to those unto whom one is not like. Worship is an expression of this common likeness. It is an enjoyment of fellowship.
The experience of worship is impossible in an atmosphere of difference. This is a reason for the cleavage of denominations, and the splitting of congregations. Without this separating, men could not enjoy the uniting, and without the aversion, men could not taste the sweets of fellowship.