The Henson Journals

[30]

4th Sunday in Lent, March 27th, 1927.

A most beautiful morning. I dressed to the accompaniment of thrushes, singing on every hand against a background of Sabbath stillness. Who would exchange England for any other land? or the spring for any other time? I celebrated the Holy Communion at 8 0'clock in the Chapel which, illumined by the morning sun, looked radiantly beautiful.

I revised and adapted the sermon on "Spiritual Healing" which I originally preached in Manchester. The fact that the charlatan, who has been carrying on a Faith–healing Mission in the Town Hall, is about to repeat the performance in Sunderland, seemed to call for some pronouncement from me, & as I happened to have preach tonight at S. Andrew's, Roker, I seized the occasion. There was a large congregation, and, in spite of the bad acoustics of the Church, I made myself heard. At least both Brittain and Shore assured me that I did. A reporter from the Sunderland Echo carried off my sermon, so there may be enough of a report to reach the Charlatan's ears! Before the service I had tea with the clergy, and talked away my voice for an hour. It is rarely wise to accept clerical hospitality in front of preaching, for one must do the lion's share of the talking, & that involves the wasting of one's vocal resources in advance of the effort, which may (as was the case tonight) require all one possesses.

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