He did not pretend to go beyond that, but as the weeks went by and fall came on and another winter stared the people coldly in the face, he knew that he must speak out what burned in him.
He had been a year in Milton now.

Every month of that year had impressed him with the deep and apparently hopeless chasm that yawned between the working world and the church.

There was no point of contact.

One was suspicious, the other was indifferent.

Something was radically wrong, and something radically positive and Christian must be done to right the condition that faced the churches of Milton.