The Henson Journals

[395]

Saturday, October 19th, 1929.

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A beautiful autumnal day, and distinctly colder. There was a white frost this morning. The leaves are coming down at a great pace. I spent the morning in completing the centenary sermon for St Thomas, Sunderland. In the afternoon I looked for awhile at the hockey and football matches.

Mr Arthur Hird sends me 'for my personal reading' another book of Dr Moffatt's "Love in the New Testament". He accompanies with a characteristically oleaginous letter. There is something about these sectaries which revolts me, though they probably mean well. But they live in a world of phrase–making, journalistic stunts, & world–wide movements: & they ever speak in superlatives. The voluntary system stimulates toadyism & exorbitant mutual compliment, which I loathe. This habit of extravagant eulogy has become a governing convention: it colours the prayers, invades the pulpit, and dominates the platform. I become actually brutal under its infliction, and, perhaps, show my dislike too pointedly for politeness.

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