the command, pray ye with these words.

Form, ceremony and rituals are much like most associated charities, a
sort of convention. Forms can not express the deep emotions, the
natural longings, or the human desires; they are echoes, hollow and
unsatisfying.

For those who do not feel, for those who do not act, for those who
belong to churches because of convention, or for social reasons, form
and frills fill the bill.

Form is an exterior religion, an outward show. Form doesn't touch the
heart or awaken the soul. Form in religion is like a formal dinner. It
is show rather than a plan to satisfy human heart hunger.

Opposite to formal religion is the frenzied "scare-you-to-death"
excitement method, which relies upon mental intoxication to stir the
people, and like other forms of intoxication, the effect soon wears off.

I have little patience or sympathy for the business men who hire
professional evangelists to come to town to start revivals. The
sensational revivalists have too acute appreciation of the dollar to
convince me of their sincerity in their work.

A laborer is worthy of his hire, and a preacher, teacher or benefactor
of any sort should be well paid. But when I see these big guns taking
away ten to twenty thousand dollars in cold cash for three weeks'
campaign converting the poor suffering people, the thought comes to me,
that if the evangelist is sincere he should buy a lot of bread, coal and
underwear and hire a lot of trained nurses with a big part of that
money.

Christ and his Apostles were of the people; they worked with, and among
the people; they had no committees, no guarantees and no business men's
subscription lists.

It's mighty hard to read about these sensational evangelists taking in
thousands of dollars for a couple of weeks' revival meetings, and
harmonize that religion with the religion of Christ, the carpenter, and
his Apostles, who were fishermen and workmen.

The excitement, intoxicating, frenzy revival method is pretty much
always the same in its working. The evangelist starts in with the song
"Where is My Wandering Boy Tonight," then follows the picture of mother,
which is painted with sobs of blood. Then follows mother's death-bed
scene until the audience is in tears. Gesticulation, mimicry, acting,
sensationalism, slang and weepy stories follow, until the ferment of
excitement is developed into a high state and droves flock to the altar
to be made over on the instant into s