“I thought,” I says, “for the first fifteen minutes or so, we might sing together.”
“A short praise service,” says he, comprehending. “Well—that’s a little out of the order for the Sunday morning service, but it might be indulged.”
“Yes,” I says, dry. “Praise ought not to offend most people. And then I thought of it for what it does to people to sing together for a while. It makes real things seem sort of possible, I always think. After the Doxology, we might start in with ‘America,’ and——”
I waited. I thought the next observation belonged to him.
“We’ve sung ‘America’ at Sunday evening mass meetings,” he says, “but for the opening hymn of the regular morning worship—still, of course it’s in the hymnal. I suppose there is really no objection.”
“That,” says I, “was how I looked at it. There’s no objection. Then the Lord’s prayer—all of us together. And the reading—something read from one heart right to another, wouldn’t it be? And then we might sing again—‘Love For Every Unloved Creature,’ or something of that sort. I think,” I says, “we’d ought to be very careful what hymns we pick out, for these Sundays. Take just the religious ones, why don’t you?”
“I beg your pardon,” said our minister. “What did you say then?”
“Well, for instance,” I says....
“ ‘The Son of God goes forth to war
A kingly crown to gain.
His blood-red banner streams afar.
Who follows in his train?’