Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-02-08

and 1t is probably the best choir We have
ever had. But 1 see there are no singers
in the front. 1t may be that all the sing
ers in Washington. are in the choir. If that S
the case 1 guess We'll have to get some OF
the chorus down here in front. don't like
to hear all the music coming from the rear.
The audience ought to take part in our
proceedings. 1t ought to have a voice in
the service, and I'm going to have that
voice right now. I'll try ii with that good
old hymn that every one here knows by
heart, and can sing without any book,
Nearer, My God, to Thee Before we sing,
though, let me announce that tomorrow
afternoon there will be services in Congre-
gational Church, and tomorrow night here
in Convention Hall again. The same pro-
gram will be repeated on Friday. and on
Saturday there will be no meetings. That
is the day we rest. Now. everybody stand
up and sing"
One, two verses of the beautiful hymn
rolled forth from those many thousand
throats. Mr.. Moody held up his hands at
the end of the second verse.
Now, let's have one without the choir,"
and the leaders baton was turned north
ward. The volume was decreased. but the
song was sung very nearly as well as be-
fore
Just one more verse" called out Mr..
Moody. Il take back all 1 said There are
artists on both sides of me. But there is
one man down here who hasn't opened his
mouth, and / want to see if another verse
So another verse rolled forth, and the
silent man lifted his voice and sang with
the rest
Mr.. MOOdy's Address.
Then, without any preliminaries without
any introductions or other formalities the
nervous evangelist jumped again to the
! front of the pulpit and began his discourse.
He held a flexibly- bound copy of the Scrip
lures in his hand and used it as his text,
talking of the Bible and the way it is re-
ceived and accepted by the Christian world.
He talked quickly, without notes or men,
oranda of any kind. The words he uttered
seemed to bubble out from a spring that
found too small vent. He spoke from his
vast experience with the world of sinners,
Christians, converts, believers and unbe-
levers. His voice sounds like that of an
Englishman with a slight cold in his head.
There is no resonance, no special carrying
quality, but it fought it's way by sheer
force of lung power through the ai- over
the heads of the audience, to the folks In
the gallery.
The Evangelist's style.
There was no shouting, none of the rant
that sometimes accompanies the style of
exhorters There was little gesturing, only
an expressive waving of the book now and
then, 1t being shifted nervously from one
hand to the other. The speaker pressed up
closely to the rail and when not enforcing
his words with an emphatic movement of
his arm his hands were firmly laid on the
wooden beam, covered with black cloth, that
served as front wall.
Mr.. Moody was a bit husky at first His
voice showed a little of the wear of years
of service, but it reached the ears of every
body. Now and then those in the rear of
the hall lost a word two, that seemed
to get tangled up in the arches and to fut-
ter moment, but for the great majority of
those present every word was clear and
distinct as though the auditor were right
under the pulpit. There was perfect atten-
ton. When the evangelist gave funny
turn to his discourse to point moral there
would be slight ripple of laughter that
soon Gained away for there was no STOP