Chapman had no illusions, however. "God alone knows the heart," he said. "What I count worth while is that a person shall definitely make his purpose clear by joining the church. You may cry your eyes out and you may sign a score of cards, but that amounts to nothing in itself. I want you to go to the church of your choice."

Whether they joined up or not-and the number that did join was a surprising proportion—those people made great days in the Temple. The "Flower Day" sent blooms to all the shut-ins of the city, and the "Day of Rejoicing" food and fuel to the poor and down-hearted. "Education Day" assembled two thousand teachers and "Mother's Day" brought great-grandmothers along with young matrons with babies in their arms.

Chapman went over to Harvard and received the "regular cheer" in Sanders Theatre from enthusiastic undergraduates. His rescue mission aides, Mr. and Mrs. William Asher, knelt in the snowy streets with outcasts who would not venture near churches. Among others, one known on police blotters as "Jerry the Crook" was converted. Lawrence Greenwood and the Ashers sang and preached while machinery was shut down for them in factories. Four hundred ministers reconsecrated themselves at the behest of Chapman and took the revival spirit to all parts of Northern New England.

Evangeline Booth took a hand, preaching in Tremont Temple. The music of the revival was her theme. She said she could convert folks if she could only get them to sing. That night Colonel Adam Gifford of the Salvation Army took her at her word and led his full strength with banners, cornets and drums down into Scollay Square.

There in the gaudy Theatre Comique, the first motion picture house in Boston, Colonel Gifford brought together

for Chapman the "sports" and the "bums," the "out-oflucks" and the "rough-necks" and the women of the streets. "And his father saw him afar off," Chapman repeated in the story of the Prodigal Son. Mrs. Asher sang the "Mother's Prayer." About fifty prodigals were brought "home." The Rev. Herbert S. Johnson, the "regular fellow" newspaper men liked, welcomed the returned sons and daughters.

On February 17, the group services ended and all converged on Mechanics Hall for the last four nights of the campaign. Ten thousand got in every night and ten thousand came too late to get in. Special trains steamed into both railroad terminals. All New England had caught the spirit. Alexander had a choir of one thousand five hundred and he had the whole crowded hall singing with them. They "gathered at the river" and they held the "ho-o-old" in "He will hold me fast." Bob Harkness got in his opening chords at the piano but after that he might have been playing upon a silent keyboard.

Chapman's closing sermon was on "Jesus of Nazareth passeth by." In his concluding prayer he said "We have all wrought the best we knew how." Boston agreed with him then and agrees with him to this day. All the mechanized framework, all the business calculation had been subordinated to the larger human purpose. The super-revival had had its finest exemplification. But in its own structure, already apparent, lay the flaws of its future. This, indeed, was the last genuine, thorough-going, durable Awakening.

I

CHAPTER XIX

THE COME-OUTERS

There's a new name written down in glory,
And it's mine, oh yes, it's mine!

And the white-robed angels sing the story-
"A sinner has come home,"

For there's a new name written down in glory,
And it's mine, oh yes, it's mine!

With my sins forgiven I am bound for heaven,
Never more to roam.

C. AUSTIN MILES.

NDIVIDUALIZED religious renewal-the personal sense of bridging the gulf between man and God, the personal feeling of tangency to the supernatural, the personal interpretation of the experience sublime—has always shaken through the rocking revival sieve originators of faith. Guided by chapters, verses-even single words -from the Holy Writ, which has shown itself capable of infinite connotation, these inspirationalists have wrought extensions, cleavages and departures from established doctrine and practise. Their aim was greater and surer spiritual satisfaction. It has led back to the primitive and it has undertaken further experimentation. In either direction the revival route usually has been taken.

New Lights and Separatists were winnowed from the Great Awakening of 1740, still other Lights from the frontier revival of 1800 and varied divisions were driven from the Methodist and Baptist communions. The Miller

ites, come-outers themselves, split up into diversified Adventists. The Mormons were essentially proselytes and so were the followers of Dowie and Pastor Russell. The unsuccessful have been forgotten; the others are now thriving churches.

Not all of the religious innovations have emanated from a revival nor have they been evangelistic. Sects philosophical or psycho-therapeutic in nature, like Theosophy or Christian Science, have stood aloof from the revivalist method in attracting believers. Then there are grotesque cults nurtured by brutish superstition, but they are another story. Their orgiastic rites and colonized subjection to arrant shamanism and necromancy belong to the colorful category of psychopathic phenomena. Only when one has recourse to the revival to gather adherents does it enter into the epic of evangelization. And it intrudes as bizarre byplay almost unbelievable.

The faith born of a revival, however, can be differentiated in this respect: it demands an even stronger revival for its own perpetuation. All it has of apocalyptic discovery, peculiar promise and special assurance is poured into the swift current flowing from the break in the dam. Holiness, and yet more holiness, in fact complete sanctification, drew away from the Methodists the Pentecostal Church of the Nazarene. No Wesleyan revival ever approached the Pentecostalite sound and sentiency, rapture and intensity. The irrepressible rejoicing of the redeemed has drowned out the traffic of cities and shattered rural quietude. A whole new hymnology was required to express it in song. But the preachers have been reminiscent of oldtime exhorters like Ezekiel Cooper and Lorenzo Dow.

Making a joyful noise unto the Lord has been blessed with success. Nationally united in 1907 and 1908 with

only one thousand two hundred members and two hundred and thirty churches but five hundred and seventyfive unconstrained preachers, the Pentecostalites in twenty years have accumulated about sixty thousand members, one thousand five hundred churches and three thousand expounders of entire sanctification as the consequences of regeneration from Adamitic depravity.

With the preachers double the number of the pulpits and every one a hair-trigger evangel, foe of rum and tobacco and the taint of carnality and herald of the Second Coming that would find men sunk in sin or ready for resplendent robes, there ought to be at least half a million singing that their names are written down in Pentecostal glory if this wicked world lasts twenty years more.

As it is, reconsecrated Methodists, stray Adventists and occasional Baptists, not to mention the hitherto churchless seekers of grace, are being constantly "saved, justified and sanctified" in churches a-tremble and tents straining on guy-ropes all over the country. The results may be generally salubrious, as might be expected of a religion affirmative of happiness. But what could happen may be judged from what did happen when the Pentecostal revival rolled through a village in New Hampshire.

Willing hands helped the evangelist stretch his canvas on the time-honored site across the tracks from the railroad station and bordering the highway that stretches westward toward the Ossipee Mountains. On this spot the soul of Little Eva had often taken its flight and once a hound paused in pursuit of Eliza to wag his tail in appreciation of some meat mischievously tossed to the rickety platform. Between banjo solos, slapstick sketches and ballads and ditties here also medicine had been sold for all the ailments of man and beast-rattlesnake oil for aches