Tuesday of the past week he had stood by the grave of the dead stranger and said the words, "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," and still he was moved by the spirit of a deeper impulse than he could measure as he thought of his people and yearned for the Christ message when he should be in his pulpit again.
Now that Sunday had come and the people were there to hear, what would the Master tell them?
He agonized over his preparation for them, and yet he knew he had not been able to fit his message into his ideal of the Christ.

Nevertheless no one in the First Church could remember ever hearing such a sermon before.

There was in it rebuke for sin, especially hypocrisy, there was definite rebuke of the greed of wealth and the selfishness of fashion, two things that First Church never heard rebuked this way before, and there was a love of his people that gathered new force as the sermon went on.
When it was finished there were those who were saying in their hearts, "The Spirit moved that sermon." And they were right.
Then Rachel Winslow rose to sing, this time after the sermon, by Mr.
Maxwell's request.

Rachel's singing did not provoke applause this time.

What deeper feeling carried the people's hearts into a reverent silence and tenderness of thought?
Rachel was beautiful.
But her consciousness of her remarkable loveliness had always marred her singing with those who had the deepest spiritual feeling.