Page 172 - pollyanna

unrest owing to open criticism of two of its officers. As to
the Sunday school—it had been the resignation of its su-
perintendent and two of its teachers that had been the last
straw, and that had sent the harassed minister to the quiet
woods for prayer and meditation.
Under the green arch of the trees the Rev. Paul Ford
faced the thing squarely. To his mind, the crisis had come.
Something must be done—and done at once. The entire
work of the church was at a standstill. The Sunday servic-
es, the week-day prayer meeting, the missionary teas, even
the suppers and socials were becoming less and less well
attended. True, a few conscientious workers were still left.
But they pulled at cross purposes, usually; and always they
showed themselves to be acutely aware of the critical eyes
all about them, and of the tongues that had nothing to do
but to talk about what the eyes saw.
And because of all this, the Rev. Paul Ford understood
very well that he (God’s minister), the church, the town, and
even Christianity itself was suffering; and must suffer still
more unless—
Clearly something must be done, and done at once. But
what?
Slowly the minister took from his pocket the notes he
had made for his next Sunday’s sermon. Frowningly he
looked at them. His mouth settled into stern lines, as aloud,
very impressively, he read the verses on which he had deter-
mined to speak:
‘ ‘But woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!
for ye shut up the kingdom of heaven against men: for ye

1 1