The Henson Journals

[340]

15th Sunday after Trinity, October 1st, 1916.

790th day

O Lord, give me the light of Thy Holy Spirit to guide me through this darkness along these tangled ways, for truly without Thy help I must needs go aside from the path, and be lost. Show Thou me the Way that I should walk in for I lift up my soul unto Thee.

Amen.

I celebrated at 8 a.m. Four wounded soldiers were among the commts, and three of them, who were quite able to walk, were too shy to come up to the rails, so I carried the sacrament to them. The other was too crippled to come up, & was entitled to receive in his seat. I spoke kindly to them afterwards, in the Cloisters. They bring a sacrifice to the Lord, which exceeds in spiritual worth anything that the rest of us can offer.

I went to S. Margaret's, and preached on behalf of the "Lord Kitchener Memorial Fund". The Church was fairly filled, but the congregation did not contain more than 20 grown men, even counting those in the choir. Four–fifths of the congregation were composed of school–girls, & young women. The remainder were mostly old women. Yet this is the parish church for a population of more than 6000 people. Making all allowance for the absence of men on account of the war, it yet remains painfully suggestive that such a handfull should attend Divine Service. There cannot be fewer than 1000 households in the parish. I doubt whether (on the most liberal estimate) 100 of them were represented in the Parish Church this morning. The occasion was special: there was a special preacher: there has been a vast amount of special religious activity connected with the "National Mission": there are three young (relatively) and active clergy: and this is the poor result. 'Parturiunt montes et nascitur ridiculus mus'.

[338] [symbol]

Russell Ellice, the new boy at the school whom Brand commended to me, came to lunch. He is neither an Adonis, nor a genius, but a prosaically normal lad of 14 with little to say. But he may have all the more in him for his economy of words.

I attended Evensong, and afterwards motored to Willington, where I preached to a crowded congregation. It was, of course, the Harvest Festival. I repeated for the fourth time in succession the sermon on Galatians VI.7.9. It gradually attains a more perfected form, and, as I get to know it more completely, my delivery certainly becomes easier, & I begin to understand how the legend of Whitfield working through his ministry on 7 sermons, which by constant iteration had attained homiletic perfection, may contain a measure of truth. George Nimmins went with me, and we had a good deal of talk. He is a good lad, & aspires to be a sailor. We got back to the Deanery about 8.30 p.m. Then after supper I read some poetry to Miss Mundella, & to Ella. Miss M. came to us yesterday from Scotland where she has been staying for some time with the Haldanes. She says that Lord H. was deeply moved by the death of Raymond Asquith, and that his prayer at the family devotions on Sunday night was most beautiful & moving. It would appear to be the practice of that eminent man to pray extemporaneously in his own household. This is a very interesting fact, hardly to be paralleled in England, though I should suppose that a generation or two ago it was not uncommon. Scotland is still at least so much behind its southern neighbour. The Tractarian movement did much to destroy extemporaneous prayer in homes, & to substitute some form of set words, or attendance at Mattins. These are now in turn disappearing.

---