most people, is a service of silence. The name is to be taken literally and absolute silence is maintained, unless the intention is to model the service after the meetings of the Society of Friends, and speak and pray as the Spirit gives utterance.

Perhaps the best way to explain what is meant is to quote a description of just such a service-that gathering in far-away New Zealand which was the germ of the modern movement known as "The Fellowship of Silence." "The September afternoon was drawing to evening, and the dusk was settling over the land, as we passed into the silent church, a little group. It was divine service without its common human aids. No choir sang to us, no preacher ascended the pulpit, no stoled and vested priest directed our approach to the Great Presence. We entered, we knelt, we were still, and our souls began to be united with a new and strange sense of fellowship in that silence; and as the silence deepened, there grew a deeper sense, the sense of the Presence, and the work of prayer, ever hard, became easy. Human aid we had, though not of the common sort. Seeking God side by side, every man helped his fellow. The half-hour sped away before any sound broke in upon our stillness, but when at length we rose, and passed out into the world again, we carried with us the knowledge that we had been near God."3

"Fellowship of Silence," pp. 236, 7.

The whole philosophy of this type of service can be given by two other quotations. First, the work of prayer is made markedly easier in fellowship than in isolation. "The blending of silence with fellowship seems to create an atmosphere in which the sense of the spiritual in man is set free."4 Second, the silence is not passivity. "The will is at its highest activity. As an insect poised in the air, seemingly motionless, with wings in such rapid motion that they are invisible, is all the while sustained by its resistance to the air, so the will in this listening is not passive. It holds fast to its rest in God by sustained resistance to all that would drag it down, or invade its silence. This is very far from making the mind a blank. It is the filling of the mind with God to the exclusion of all else."5 Herein lies the difference between the services of meditation and silence. In the former we strive to think new thoughts, in the latter to hear them.

Some procedure, naturally the simplest, is necessary. If the silence is to unite everyone in one common line of thought, the subject is announced. If not, each worshiper proceeds as he sees fit. The Lord's Prayer repeated with great deliberation begins the silence. The period may be divided into four divisions: (1) the preparation, when as rapidly as possible the body is forgotten and the cares of 4 "Fellowship of Silence," p. 19.

5 Ibid., p. 130.

the past moments are put aside; (2) the stilling of the mind and soul, which can be accomplished by consideration of some attribute of God; (3) the listening, when we receive His messages; and (4) the outpouring of love and adoration and resolution. At the appointed time the leader begins the Nunc Dimittis, in which all join as the conclusion of the service.

Several different uses of silence can be listed to show the variety which can be introduced into this type of service.

1. The true “Quaker meeting": silence preceding vocal prayer or speaking.

2. Free Silence: silence maintained, but without any subject of thought or prayer.

3. Directed Silence: silence maintained, but with a subject announced for contemplation and intercession.

4. Silent Intercession: similar to the service of intercession already outlined, with longer silences. 5. Half-silent meetings: in which the time is divided between vocal prayer and silence.

There is perhaps more warrant in Scripture for the observance of silence than we are accustomed to suppose. Often are we told that the Word of the Lord came to the prophet in silence. The psalmist frequently refers to silence. Most wonderful of all is the scene in the Book of Revelation (8:1). After the mighty host of the redeemed had shouted "Salva

tion to our God," the Angel opened the seventh seal, and "there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour."

Song Service

It was suggested above that a service consisting of the singing of hymns called for one after the other "from the floor" was hardly satisfactory. This does not mean that a service composed almost wholly of song is not helpful; far from it. But it does mean that such services should be carefully planned, and the hymns chosen should bear some relation to each other. Or if a preference is revealed for a particular hymn, reason should be given for the request. The value of this lies in the human touch thus afforded. Thus the calling for preferences can be done in ways which result not in a hodge-podge of unrelated hymns, but in an intimate Christian fellowship; e. g., "What hymn do you hum to yourself when alone, and why do you prefer it?" or "What hymn is connected with the deepest spiritual experience in your life?"

The best song services are those in which the attention of the worshipers is called to the meaning of the hymns they are to sing, so that they sing them more understandingly, and not as mere vehicles of a favorite tune. This can be done in two ways: (1) relating the circumstances under which the hymns were written and telling something of the authors' lives and characters, and (2) expounding

their teaching and showing the development from verse to verse. Oftentimes a very effective talk can be made by developing the thought of a single hymn between verses, having each verse sung after its special teaching has been pointed out. The special value of this lies in the fact that many hymns are in themselves complete doctrinal units or describe some great spiritual experience.

Dr. T. R. Glover has recently pointed out why hymns are so valuable; in fact, he makes a good hymnal an argument for the truth of Christianity, for it is a record of spiritual experiences which must be accounted for. "The great hymns of the Church -such as the Dies Irae of Thomas of Celano, or Bernard's Jesus dulcis memoria, or Toplady's Rock of Ages are transcripts from life, made by deepgoing and serious minds. The writers are recording, with deep conviction of its worth, what they have discovered in experience. A man who takes Christ seriously and will 'examine life,' will often find in those great hymns, it may be with some surprise, an anticipation of his own experience—as Bunyan did in Luther's Commentary on Galatians. Livingstone had Jesu dulcis memoria-the Latin of it-ringing in his head as he traveled in unexplored Africa. Men who did such work-work that lasts and is recognized again and again to be genuine by others busy in the same field—cannot have been random, light-hearted creatures. They were, in