Thoughtful Moments

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 05, Issue 91, 14 August 1942, Page 2

Thoughtful Moments

(Supplied by the YVhakat-anu Ministers' Association)

A SUNDAY AWAY FROM HOMEWo loored c.ul o;i :i white world. The surrounding hills were c'cvi'i'L-d with snow. whijli was si ill falling. Soli flukes floated our window, settling on Hie 1:r 11" s and grass on the lawn. "Tii-re won't be many out tlus morning," was our comment as we prepared for Church. The bell tolled its call to worship. ".Blest day of' God, we hail the dawn. To gratitude and worship drawn." was the message that sounded over the little town that nestled at the foot of the hills. A surprising number of people had answered the call of the bell on that wintry morning—young people, middle-aged people, old people; with a good proportion of men. Just in front of mi: sat a man whose coat was rubbed .shiny where it rested on the back of the seat. Evidently that coat was often at church. The minister stepped into the pulpit, and for a minute bowed, his head in. prayer. Asking, receiving, giving—this is the soul of the life that ministers live. There was r.o choir, huh the congregational singing was good. The old hymns rang out. with melody sweet and true, bringing heaven near. Is it always an advantage to have the best singers up in the choir seals? The organ led in our servicc of praise, that seemed all that was required. A deacon, who had all the dignity that deacons have on su?h occasions, rose when the offering was intimated. IL' handed one plate to a lad who wore the High School uniform. With equal -dccorum I lie offering was received from both sections of th congregation. I learned that this was a recent innovation. Each Sun-' day one of the Bible Glass boys assists the managers in this way. thereby heartening and strengthening the managers, and training and encouraging the boys. The children, who had previously been in Sunday School an hour, troopsd out before the sermon. It was pleasing to note that the older girls and boys remained. The whole service, with its atmosphere of reverence and worship, was refreshing. The white-haired minister shook us by the hand, giving us a word of greeting as we passed out into the storm. After dinner the sun shone. The road that winds in and out amon;: the hills gave us a magnificent view of the little town nestling below — the beautiful homes dotted here and there on the landscape, and the

freean in tlio distance. On the brow of the hill Ave met two ministers. From the city "where traffic roars in crowded streets, and pavements ring witli countless ieet, they had come to seek refreshment in this quiet resting place among the hills. With hands clasped under clerical coat-tails, they climbed the upward road, evidently enjoying the intercourse of friendship. No doubt they were settling, as ministers do, the affairs of the church universal, and of the world in general. In the pretty Anglican Church near the sea, we attended evening

OUR SUNDAY MESSAGE

•crviee. The form of service was different, from the one we are accustomed to, but the same restful atmosphere of worship prevailed. Again we were impressed with the number of men in the service -New Zealand has not yet reached the place where Church-going is left to the women. Being uncertain when to rise, or kneel, or sit. we chose a back sctil':, and followed where others, led. The minister seemed never to be long in the one place. From oijb desk he led us with amazing skill through a Psalm, chanting the thirty five prose verses, long or short, to the one tune. From another desk he read the Scripture lesson. There was a third resting place for the Minister while he preached the sermon. This seemed to be a genuine pulpit. While we sang the hymns he went "four ben," standing with his back to the audience. We felt that it was just then we needed him, for his rich clear voice was of great assistance, since there was no choir. Throughout it was a missionary service, witli a call to action. Lisle •does not come to us in life times, it comes only a day at a time; therefore use each day according to God's plan. So spoke the -preacher in the church by the sea. Different forms of expressing our worship there may be, but the same old hymns unite us in unbreakable bo mis. "Redeeming love has been my theme. And shall be till I die." The Anglican congregation sang it as heartily as any other Christian bodj r , and to our non-conformist minds, the age-old service came with freshness, and with soothing power. After all, there is no rest to the .soul like the rest Iliat conies with Christian worship. * As we walked home in the moonright, we reviewed with the thankfulness the privileges of our Sabbath Day. A cheery fire burned in the w ? i.de fireplace at our boarding house. Two ladies sat before it with their knitting. A group of young people, students evidently, were playing cards at a table near by. Over supper we all gathered round the fire. "It has been a miserable day," one of the ladies remarked. "Rotten!" agreed the youthful members. A student girl leaned forward to poke the lire. "Its the rotten way we have spent the day," she. said, nuietly. "At the back of me, and <-T my family, there are generations of religion and prayer. The deep roots of the unconscious somewhere

in my being, cause me some discomfort over Sundays frittered away.' "Cheer up, sister," one of the lads said lightly, "the deep roots, of the unconscious will bring their own perfect llower. "They might," the girl replied, "if they were not starved and trampled" Someone laughed, and presently the little company dispersed. "What was that hymn we sang this morning?" my companion asked. "Blest day of God! We hail the dawn, To gratitude and -worship drawn." "We are an ungrateful people," she continued, "so wonderlully privileged Ave are, and most of us are too busy to say Thank You.;" 1