Think for a moment what this move which I propose would mean to the life of this town, and to our Christian growth.

At present we go to church.

We listen to a good choir, we go home again, we have a pleasant Sunday-school, we are all comfortable and well clothed here; we enjoy our services, we are not disturbed by the sight of disagreeable or uncongenial people.

But is that Christianity?
Where do the service and the self-denial and the working for men's souls come in?
Ah, my dear brothers and sisters, what is this church really doing for the salvation of men in this place?
Is it Christianity to have a comfortable church and go to it once or twice a week to enjoy nice music and listen to preaching, and then go home to a good dinner, and that is about all?
What have we sacrificed?
What have we denied ourselves?
What have we done to show the poor or the sinful that we care anything for their souls, or that Christianity is anything but a comfortable, select religion for those who can afford the good things of the world?
What has the church in Milton done to make the working-man here feel that it is an institution that throbs with the brotherhood of man?
But suppose we actually move our church down there and then go there ourselves weekdays and Sundays to work for the uplift of immortal beings.

Shall we not then have the satisfaction of knowing that we are at least trying to do something more than enjoy our church all by ourselves?
Shall we not be able to hope that we have at least attempted to obey the spirit of our sacrificing Lord, who commanded His disciples to go and disciple the nations?
It seems to me that the plan is a Christian plan.