“The Reformed Episcopalian and His Prayer Book” is the seventh sermon
in Bishop Charles Edward Cheynes’ sermon series, What Do Reformed Episcopalians Believe? Bishop Cheyene’s observations are as relevant today as they were when they were first
made over a hundred years ago. His sermon is a ringing condemnation of the
direction of recent liturgical revision in the Episcopal Church and the
Reformed Episcopal Church and of the present liturgical revision in the
Anglican Church in North America. It takes issue with the erroneous belief that
Evangelicals and other Protestant-minded Anglicans can maintain their
theological identity and pass it on to posterity in a purportedly Anglican
Church with an unreformed Catholic catechism and liturgy.
“And it came to pass,
as He was praying in a certain place, when He ceased, one of His disciples said
unto Him, Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples,” St.
Luke xi: 1.
Among the external peculiarities of our Church, none
attracts more attention than the fact that we worship with a liturgy, or
precomposed form of devotion. Precisely as some singularity of feature or
expression of the face, is more quickly noticed than a more important and vital
singularity of inward character, so does our Prayer Book worship more readily
arrest attention than our doctrinal principles.
For three hundred years a controversy has agitated the
Protestant Churches, regarding set forms of prayer. But ancient as the
discussion is, it has not died of old age. It is a living question to-day. Like
many other debated points, it has not always been discussed with a large-minded
fairness or Christian temper. I earnestly trust that moderation and sincerity
may be the features of our consideration of it.
I. Why Does the
Reformed Episcopalian Employ a Prayer Book in Public Worship?
In my boyhood, when commerce was conducted by the aid of a
currency more varied than the leaves upon the trees, every counting-house was provided with a “counterfeit detector.” It settled every
question. To its standard every suspected bank note was referred. We have a far
more infallible “detector” of what is false in religion. The rock on which the
Protestant builds, is the Word of God alone. To that supreme test we must
submit. Hence if a liturgy employed in public worship, is clearly inconsistent
with the Bible, the sooner we reject precomposed prayer, the better.
It must be a hasty glance which we give at the past history
of God's people, but it certainly will shed some light upon the vexed question
of liturgical worship. When God had delivered Israel at the Red Sea, the
rescued people engaged in a solemn act of worship, Exodus xv. Moses and the men
of Israel sang a chant of thanksgiving. But Miriam and the women take up the
burden of the same words, and sing them responsively. It is difficult to see
how such worship could have been conducted without some prearranged form.
Again, in the 6th chapter of the book of Numbers, God speaks
to Moses and gives him this direction: “Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying, On
this wise shall ye bless the children of Israel, saying unto them,” and then
follows a long and elaborate benediction, of which every word is precomposed
and prescribed.
In the 10th chapter of the same book, Moses is described as
using a set form of words whenever the Ark of God led forth the people, and
whenever it rested on their march.
Five hundred years later, we find David using a form of
worship when the Ark, after long captivity is brought to Jerusalem, Ps. Ixviii:
cxxxii.
When Solomon offered his solemn prayer at the dedication of
the Temple, he uses the very language prepared and written by his father David
in the preceding generation. (Comp. 2 Chron vi: 41 with Ps. cxxxiii.)
But why go back to a period so remote? Let our text bear its
witness. Twice over did Jesus give to his disciples what we call the "
Lord's Prayer," It was in response to their appeal, “Teach us to pray, as
John also taught his disciples.”
No one believes that the Jews who composed the following of
Christ, were strangers to the act of prayer. They clearly meant to say that
John the Baptist had taught his
disciples some form of supplication adapted to their needs under his
preparatory stage of the Kingdom of God, And now Christ's followers ask for a
form of prayer that shall be an advance upon John's — a distinctively Christian
prayer. And with that request the Saviour complied. He not only said, “After this
manner therefore pray ye,” Matt, vi: 9, but also as St, Luke records, “When ye
pray, say” — thus distinctly giving them
a liturgical form, Luke xi: 2. Surely we need no stronger evidence that a form
is not necessarily out of harmony with either the Old or the New Testament.
But another reason impels the Reformed Episcopalian. A
responsive form of worship is a continual protest
against a ministerial and priestly monopolizing of the public service of God.
It is an easy way to rid one's self of all business cares, to “sign a power of
attorney,” by which a man divests himself of his own personal rights, and
transfers his individuality to another.
That act, in the sphere of religion, constitutes the Roman Catholic
idea. The rights, responsibilities and duties of the laymen are transferred to
the priest. All religious worship centres in the celebration of the mass. It is
not needful that any beside the priest should be present. The people have in it
no necessary share.
When the Reformation came, its leaders were quick to see
that one of the most effective means to secure to the laity a recognized place
in the Church, was a responsive liturgy. Luther prepared forms of worship for
Germany. The Swedish Reformers followed his example. The Moravians possess and
use to-day a service book, dating back to 1632 Calvin was among the earliest to
perceive the importance of a book of common prayer, and himself gave a liturgy
to the churches of Switzerland. Even the Presbyterians of Scotland, in
Reformation days, did not wholly depart from the principle of a pre-arranged
mode of public worship. (McClintock & Strong's Cyclop., Art. “Liturgy.”)
In England a Scriptural Prayer Book was felt to be the first
essential step toward giving the layman his Christian rights. Cranmer and his
fellow-workers called to their aid the great lights of the Reformation in other
lands, and with their help laid in the English Church the deep foundations of
liturgical worship. But in every case the underlying principle, and the
impelling motive were the same. It was the conviction that nothing can guard
the rights of the Christian layman against priestly encroachment, like a form
of worship in which the people have their necessary share.
Moreover, a liturgy possesses a singular teaching power. One
can always discover a man's doctrinal views from his prayers. Precomposed or extemporaneous,
a prayer is like the coin bearing the image and superscription of the mint in
which it was stamped. Consequently prayer must be a powerful doctrinal
preacher. The public worship in a congregation is continually teaching either
falsehood or truth. But extempore prayers, of necessity change with every
alteration in the belief of him who leads the worship.
The manifest advantage of a precomposed form is that it
steadily and persistently teaches the same truth. Out of an old-fashioned iron
studded door, it is possible to draw the nails. But only by reducing the door
itself to a heap of chips. So with a liturgy. Only by its destruction can you
separate from it the truth it contains. Were I to become a Unitarian, and deny
from this pulpit the essential Divinity of Christ, the liturgy with its supreme
exaltation of the Saviour, with its threefold ascriptions to the persons of the
Trinity, would steadily give the lie to every sermon I could preach.
There can be no more striking witness to this principle,
than is furnished by the present condition of the Protestant Episcopal Church.
Forty years ago the vast majority of the laity, a goodly proportion of the
clergy, and nearly one half of the House of Bishops, were avowedly evangelical
low churchmen. Today the old evangelical party is like the race of mound-builders
of our Western plains. It is hopelessly extinct. Why? Because the Prayer Book
was a more powerful teacher than the evangelical pulpit. Baptismal
regeneration, priestly absolution, a sacrifice in the Lord's supper, and an
exclusive church system, were interwoven with the fibre of the services. They
persistently contradicted the low churchman in his pulpit. I bless God that the
Reformed Episcopalian has a Prayer Book which is a consistent teacher of
evangelical truth. I may be false to the Gospel. So may every other minister of
this Church. But so long as this Prayer Book is used for our worship — so long
will the desk overcome the pulpit in its teaching power.
Such are some of the reasons why the Reformed Episcopal
Church is a liturgical Church. They are reasons which are not only satisfactory
to us, but are profoundly influencing other Christian Churches. Within the past
three years the thinking Christians of our own country have been stirred by an
able discussion on this subject in one of the great literary magazines. (Vide The Century Magazine, 1885, ‘86, ‘87.)
That debate, participated in by the leading minds of all the churches, was
initiated by a distinguished Presbyterian clergyman, who advocated liturgical
worship as the best method of uniting the scattered forces of Protestant
Christianity. Right or wrong in his conclusions, he certainly has brought the
fact to light, that in the minds of evangelical believers there is a growing
conviction in the direction of a precomposed form of public worship. The
Reformed Episcopalian can desire for his own Church and liturgy nothing better
than such an agitation of Christian thought.
II. What is the
Prayer Book of the Reformed Episcopal Church?
The impression has been created that ours is a new liturgy,
sprung upon the world like a fresh invention in mechanics. If such were the
case, it would justly prejudice the Christian mind against it. For a prayer
book is not like the tree which Japanese jugglers make to spring up and grow to
full stature in an hour. It must be the product of the ages. There is a reverence
in the prayerful disciple of Christ, which leads him to feel that if he is to
worship in the use of forms of prayer, they must be those in which the
penitence and praise, the hope and faith of ages past have found expression.
Precisely such is the Prayer Book of the Reformed Episcopalian.
It may surprise some who hear me today, to be told that in
almost every instance in which we have departed from the liturgy of the
Protestant Episcopal Church, we have gone back to the second Prayer Book of
Edward the Sixth, the work of the martyrs of the English Reformation. Ours is
therefore a more ancient form of prayer than that with which we formerly
worshipped. Moreover, those parts of our service in which our liturgy agrees
with that of our mother Church, have been handed down from the earliest ages of
Christianity.
There is nothing in uninspired language that stirs my soul
like the old hymn called the “Te Deum,” “We praise Thee, O God, we acknowledge
Thee to be the Lord!” It bears me back upon its sublime praise to the days when
Christians, driven from the surface of the earth, met for worship in rock-hewn
catacombs. Nor can I forget, as an American, that this was the first Christian
song heard on the soil of this Continent, when Columbus fell upon his knees,
and the Te Deum praised God for a new Western world.
But at the very latest, the Te Deum was used as early as the
sixth century. (Wheatley, p. 150. Procter's Hist, of P. B., p. 223.) The Gloria
in Excelsis, the opening words of which were sung by the angelic choirs when
Christ was born, has voiced the praise of believers for at least twelve hundred
years. (Palmer, Origines Liturg. II, 158 ; Procter, p. 361 ; Wheatley, p. 335.)
The Apostles’ Creed has been the outline of Christian doctrine accepted and repeated
in worship, from the fourth century. (Procter, p. 229 ; Wheatley, p. 155.) Nor
is what we call the Nicene Creed of much later date. Originating in the year
325, and put in its present form half a century later, since the year 381, its
clear and trumpet-like tones have proclaimed the Divinity of the Saviour.
(Procter, p. 229.)
Still more ancient are the Versicles, “The Lord be with you;”
“And with thy spirit.” (Wheatley, p. 160 ; Procter, p. 240.) The great majority
of all the brief prayers which we call “collects,” have breathed the pleadings
of believers into the ear of God for more than twelve centuries. (Wheatley, p.
212 ; Procter, p. 271.) Surely, such a heritage, consecrated and hallowed by
the devotion of Christian ages, and fragrant with the memories of saints in
glory, is a possession which no true believer will despise.
But it will be said that the Protestant Episcopal Church
claims all this sanction of the centuries for its liturgy, and that we changed what was handed down to us by the
Reformers of the English Church. Is it true?
Through three hundred years of growth in art, no painter has
been vain enough to try his pencil in attempting to improve Raphael's matchless
picture of the Transfiguration. If like that masterpiece, the liturgy of the
old Church came down to us precisely as the Reformers bequeathed it, then his
would indeed be a bold hand which should venture on its revision. But exactly
the opposite is the truth. The Prayer Book of the Protestant Episcopal Church
has known no less than seven revisions. Five of these were made in England, and
two in the United States of America. Some of these revisions were in the
interest of Protestant and Scriptural truth, some sought to assimilate its
worship to that of the Church of Rome. But the fact stands attested by the
unerring witness of history, that our fathers both in England and America, have
no less than seven times deliberately revised the Book of Common Prayer. Like
some old cathedral, it has seen in each period of the past, some dilapidated
portion taken down, and new additions made.
It is ignorance of this indubitable fact of history, which
has made many Episcopalians feel that to revise the Prayer Book were a
sacrilege like revising the Word of God. They have been led to imagine that as
the old Ephesians supposed that their silver statue of Diana dropped down from
Jupiter out of the skies, so this silvery liturgy had dropped down from the
sacred hands of the Reformers.
When Henry VIII for wholly worldly reasons broke away from
the Papal power, no attempt had been made to have throughout the English Church
a uniform public service. There were different forms or “uses,” as they were
called, indifferent dioceses of England. But with Henry's death, his son,
Edward VI, mounted the throne. It was like the young Josiah succeeding to the crown
of his idolatrous father. Then came what may be called the first revision of
the Prayer Book. It was the work of men educated in the Roman Church, and just
opening their blind eyes for the first time to the light. They saw “men as
trees walking.”' No wonder that the liturgy they produced was full of the false
teachings in which its compilers had been trained. No wonder that this first Prayer Book of Edward VI taught
that the Lord's supper was a sacrifice, the holy table an altar. No wonder that
it permitted auricular confession and prayers for the dead.
Cranmer and his associates were all this time studying the
Bible. Slowly but surely they came into the full light of the Gospel. Three
years after the first Prayer Book of Edward VI, was published, they could not
conscientiously use it, and in 1552 the second
Prayer Book of Edward VI, appeared. Strange as it may seem— that liturgy, given
to the Church of England, three hundred and thirty-six years ago, when the
Christian world was just emerging from its long night of Papal darkness, was
the most truly Protestant service book that the English Church has ever
possessed. Its baptismal service, it is true, taught a grievous error. But
aside from that, it was almost wholly Scriptural and evangelical. It rejected superstitious
ceremonies. It cast out the doctrine of “the real presence” in the bread and
wine. It expunged the word “altar” as applied to the Lord's table. It did away
with auricular confession. And to the communion service it added the very
rubric which you will find substantially in your Reformed Episcopal Prayer Book
(but not in that of the Protestant
Episcopal Church) explaining that when we kneel
at the communion, we mean no act of adoration of the elements of bread and
wine. (Blakeney, p. 34. Procter, pp. 37-39)
Time forbids that I should more than mention tlie later
alterations of the Prayer Book in the English Church. In 1559, Queen Elizabeth
sought to reconcile her Popish subjects by a new revision. It was then that the
rubric to which I have just referred was stricken out. (Blakeney, p. 51 ;
Procter, pp. 59 and 60.) The sun of reform moved backward in the ecclesiastical
sky. Every change made was in the direction of conformity to the Church of
Rome.
Twice was the English Prayer Book revised under the monarchs
of the House of Stuart. But in each case, the changes made it less and less the
Protestant liturgy which Edward VI had bequeathed. Under Charles II, the most
godless and morally corrupt king that ever disgraced the English crown, no less
than six hundred changes were made in the services. (Procter, p. 137.)
But Archbishop Laud was the Primate of the Church of England. A Romanist in
everything except the name, he gave a Romeward impulse to the work of revision,
and the Prayer Book of 1662 became thenceforward the liturgy of the English
Church, (Procter, Chap. V.) (Fisher on the Prayer Book, Chap. lV.)
Now observe what this hurried historic glance reveals. It
demolishes the absurd notion that there is no precedent for revising the Book
of Common Prayer. What our English forefathers did not hesitate repeatedly to
do, we have a right to undertake. But it also shows the reason why the Church
of England was always “a house divided against itself.” The ancient creeds and
prayers, the Scriptural anthems and versicles, and indeed the whole framework
of the liturgy, were teaching evangelical truth and making low churchmen of
multitudes who faithfully used it in worship. On the other hand, the Church
catechism, the baptismal, the communion and the ordination services were mixing
subtle poison in the children's bread, and steadily creating a drift toward the
Church of Rome.
A century passed away, and the American colonies became a
free nation. Episcopalians were scattered throughout the land, without bishops
and without a Prayer Book adapted to the altered circumstances in which they
were placed. In the year 1785, a convention of clergy and laity met in the City
of Philadelphia, to take measures for the organization of the Protestant
Episcopal Church in tlie United States. Its president was the venerable William
White, afterwards bishop of that Church in Pennsylvania. Among its lay delegates
were such men as John Jay, James Duane, Francis Hopkinson, and Charles Pinckney
— men whose genius and patriotism made the Revolutionary period of our national
history an era of surpassing splendor. That convention appointed a committee to
revise the English Prayer Book. The result of their work was “the Prayer Book
of 1785.”
In all its distinguishing features it went back to the old
Reformation work of 1552 — the second and Protestant Prayer Book of King Edward
VI. It left out all assertion of necessary regeneration in baptism, all
suggestion of “real presence” in the bread and wine of the Lord's supper; it
expunged the word “priest,” and substituted “minister.” In one word, it was a Protestant
and evangelical liturgy from cover to coyer.
Adopted by the convention, the new Prayer Book was read in
worship at the closing session by Dr. White. Let us see what followed.
Dr. William White, of Pennsylvania, and Dr. Samuel Provoost,
of New York, were subsequently chosen bishops, and on the 7th of February,
1787, were consecrated to their office by the Archbishop of Canterbury at
Lambeth in England. That consecration was
on the basis of the Prayer Book as revised by the convention of 1785. (See
Appendix)* That Prayer Book of Bishop White, is in all essential features the
one adopted by our Reformed Episcopal Church, and with which we worship to-day.
But before 1785, Dr. Samuel Seabury, of Connecticut — an
extreme ritualist and high churchman, had failed of securing for himself
Episcopal consecration from the English Church. Its bishops had grave doubts
whether he had ever been duly chosen to the office. (Internat. Review, July,
1881, pp. 319-322.) Then Dr. Seabury appealed to the Scottish Episcopal Church
to aid him. By that extreme semi-Romish communion, his secret election, in
which no layman had any part, was accepted, and he was consecrated at Aberdeen
nearly three years before the consecration of Bishops White and Provoost.
But Dr. Seabury's consecration was given by the Scottish
Episcopal Church with a purpose in view. It was followed by his solemn pledge that
he would introduce into the American liturgy, the idea of a priestly sacrifice
in the Lord's supper. (See Bp. Seabury's “Concordat,” in Blakeney's Hist, of
the Prayer Book, pp. 159-161.) That pledge he fulfilled to the letter. He
persuaded Bishop White to give a reluctant assent to uniting the Church in
Connecticut with the newly formed Protestant Episcopal Church.
Bishop Provoost to the last was opposed to Bishop Seabury's
admission. But in 1789, when the Prayer Book of 1785 had hardly come into general
use, the influence of Bishop Seabury succeeded in overthrowing the work of the
first Convention of the American Episcopal Church. The Prayer Book on the basis
of which the English bishops had consecrated Bishops White and Provoost, was
rejected. A new liturgy, permeated by the sacramental and ritualistic teachings
of Bishop Seabury and his Scottish consecrators, was adopted. This last is the
Prayer Book of the Protestant Episcopal Church to-day.
The Prayer Book of the Reformed Episcopalian is the old and
original liturgy, adopted by the first Convention of the American Episcopal
Church, and on the ground of which its first bishops were consecrated.
III. How Should the
Reformed Episcopalian Use His Prayer Book?
It is needless to say that he ought to use it intelligently. The best of tools may be
worthless, and even dangerous, in the hands of the ignorant. The Prayer Book
needs to be understood in order to be a genuine help to devotion. To such an
understanding, its history which we have studied in this sermon, is essential.
But the Reformed Episcopalian needs to be an intelligent
student of his liturgy because sincere Christians are sometimes intensely prejudiced against it. The believer who worships with a
liturgy should be able in all Christian charity to defend it. He will find that
many earnest but ignorant Christians believe a Prayer Book to be Popish. He
will be told, “You worship with a book; so does the Romanist.”
The answer is, that it is no argument against what is good
in religion, that a corrupt church employs it. On the same ground we might
reject the Atonement and the Trinity. Does any man refuse quinine when malaria
has laid hold upon his physical strength, because the tree which furnishes the
drug, grows in the most malarious land on earth?
Nor is it true that the Roman Church has anything
corresponding to our “common prayer.” Her priests and her people have different
service books. But any one book which requires concurrent worship on the part
of the clergy and the laity, is something unknown to the Papal Church. -(Mc-Clintock
& Strong's Cyclop., Art. “Liturgy.”)
We shall also find that the prejudice exists, that a liturgy
inevitably produces formalism. We are
told that a Prayer Book makes the worshipper a mere parrot-like employer of
phrases to which he attaches no meaning. But the argument is childish. You may
pour melted lead into a mould, or let it flow freely out upon the ground. But
it will grow hard in the one case as in the other If a man loses his hold on
Christ, and ceases to seek sincerely for the influences of the Holy Spirit,
there will be coldness and spiritual hardening, deadness and formality, whether
he pray extemporaneously or with a liturgy. For many years, though myself an
Episcopalian, I listened every Sunday to the preaching, and joined in the
public prayers of a distinguished Congregational pastor. Yet with each sentence
of “the long prayer,” I knew what the next was to be, precisely as I do in the
petitions of the litany. It was a form of prayer after all. Yet I am very sure
that sainted man was not “a formalist.”
Can any good reason be given against precomposed prayers,
which does not equally apply to precomposed hymns of praise ? Well did old
JohnNewton write,
“Crito freely will rehearse
Forms of prayer and praise in verse ;
Why should Crito then suppose
Forms are sinful when in prose?
Must my form be deemed a crime,
Merely from the want of rhyme?”
Still again, prejudice charges that in the litany
especially, we indulge in what Christ forbade as “vain repetitions.”
But the intelligent worshipper with a Prayer Book cannot
forget that the Psalms of David, composed and used for public worship, are
marked by precisely such repetitions. Nor did our Lord rebuke repetition in
prayer, but “vain” or empty repetition. On that awful night of His agony
in the garden, three times did He pray that the cup might pass from Him, “saying,”
St. Matthew expressly records, “the same
words.” We need not fear formalism when following in his blessed steps. An
intelligent use of his Prayer Book will prevent formalism in public worship,
because no Reformed Episcopalian can study his liturgy, without perceiving that
it is not a tyrant to hold him in bondage, but a teacher to instruct him. He cannot open his Prayer Book without
confronting the “Declaration of Principles,” announcing that this Church
retains a liturgy, “which shall not be
imperative, or repressive of freedom in prayer.” He turns a few pages, and
finds an extract from the Canons, ordered by the General Council to be printed
in every edition of the Prayer Book, which provides “that nothing in this Canon
is to be understood as precluding extempore
prayer before or after sermons, or on emergent occasions.”
After the General Thanksgiving in the morning prayer, the
Reformed Episcopalian reads a rubric distinctly allowing extemporaneous
supplication to be substituted for what are called “the occasional prayers,” i. e., those for the sick, the
afflicted, or those in peril by sea or land. And if this shall lead him to a
broader investigation ot the spirit and practice of his Church, he will find
that its General Council has directed the encouragement of laymen to engage in
meetings for social prayer, and that such meetings are universal in the
parishes which compose our entire communion.
But the Reformed Episcopalian should use his prayer book not
only intelligently, but spiritually.
Who is the man that is stirred in soul, uplifted into a new world, quickened in
every faculty, as he gazes on a masterpiece of art, or listens to burning eloquence,
or is swept along the tide of delicious song? Only the man who deliberately
yields himself up to it, and loses himself and all around him, in it.
So it is in worship, whether extemporaneous or precomposed.
We must give ourselves sincerely to it. We bow our heads in silent prayer when
we enter the sanctuary. Doubtless we ask that such absorption in worship shall
be our experience. But how do we carry it out? I fear that too often we grieve
the Spirit by making no honest effort to lose ourselves in the service. Some
are in the habit of leaving the worship to their neighbors. Others respond
indeed to the psalter, but take no part in the litany, nor have a hearty voice
for the “Amen” at the close of every prayer.
From the beginning to the end of the service, the Prayer
Book should never leave your hands, except in the Scripture reading. When you
close it in anthem or in prayer, you lead yourself into temptation to wandering
thoughts, and set an evil example to those around you.
Nor only so; but our very postures have their relation to
our spiritual enjoyment and blessing in the worship. The reason why people do
not kneel in prayer is because they are not praying. If they realized that they
were actually pouring their Hearts’ needs into the ear of God, they could not
help assuming the natural attitude of prayer. And the posture would in its turn
react in helping to make their devotion a living reality. To lounge indolently
while God’s praise is sung, has but one meaning, when age or infirmity do not
excuse it. It means that there is no praise in your heart. Even though you have
no musical power, with your open Prayer Book in your hand, you can follow the
glowing anthem or the sublime Te Deum.
Remember also that your children can be trained to public worship
in a liturgical service, as they cannot be where all except the singing of
hymns is extemporaneous. They have a right to the teaching power of the
service. Its “line upon line, and precept upon precept,” can be inwoven with
the earliest dawnings of childish intelligence. But only as parents lead their
children to the house of worship, and guide them in the use of the liturgy by
their aid and their example.
Dr. Albert Barnes, an earnest opponent of liturgical
worship, once wrote that when Episcopalians took part in prayer meetings, “their
prayers are models of simple, pure and holy worship.” (Barnes’ Position of tlie
Evangl. Party in the Episcopal Church, p. 31.)
No wonder. From childhood they had been imbued with the
spirit of a worship which filled the souls, and lingered on the lips of martyrs
for Jesus. They had caught the refrain of the anthem which echoed in
dimly-lighted catacombs, “in dens and caves of the earth.”
“Thou art the King of Glory, O Christ!
“Thou art the everlasting Son of the Father!”
*Appendix, D. Due to the length of this appendix and the limitation of space I have not reproduced here. Those who wish to read this appendix will find it on pages 184-193 at the very back of What Do Reformed Episcopalians Believe? online at the Internet Archive website.Photo credit: Covenant Reformed Episcopal Church, Roanoke VA
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