It was only a smile as the Hymn-book and Psalter were offered; it did not cost the young man anything, but it gave us, the recipients of his courtesy, pleasant satisfaction. We did not feel as if the books were grudgingly given, but rather that a sympathetic bond had united us, that we would like to know this cordial generous young fellow, and thought if this were a sample of the people in that church, we would like to make it our home. The entire service was so heightened by the incident that we scarcely missed our old familiar surroundings, and really had almost forgotten that we were strangers, so one with us the people appeared; and when the preacher later gave for his text the words, “The greatest of these is Love,” it seemed only natural that this should have been the thought selected.

By contrast, we felt severely the difference which the following Sabbath brought. It was again the early service, and we sat strangers in another city church. The opening hymn, which was not a familiar one, was announced, and an old man sitting in a pew behind gave us his book. Two young men occupying the seat with him each had a hymn-book with notes, but instead of looking on the same book, so having one to spare, they each selfishly kept their own, neither offering one to the old gentleman who, I later learned, had gone without for our sake, nor giving a book to two ladies who were in the pew with me, and were strangers like ourselves. As a result, we all felt uncomfortable; the clergyman’s sermon, excellent though it was, did not meet with proper response. Our thoughts were divided, the atmosphere was unpleasant, we claimed that the church seemed very cheerless, that even the lighting of it was not satisfactory, and, indeed, we were so unhappy by the ungracious action of the two young men back of us that we were glad when the benediction was pronounced, and we could, borrowing an illustration from the time of the Apostles, shake the dust off our feet, and turn toward home.

The question is sometimes asked, Why are there so many vacant pews in our churches? And the blame is laid on the hard-working minister. Well, his shoulders are broad and accustomed to carrying burdens. All the sorrows and annoyances of the people become a part of his daily load. But stop. Let us put the answer to this question where it belongs, not on the minister, but nine-tenths of the time on the congregation. “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers,” are the words of the Bible, and we cannot go to a better book for advice. “Be courteous,” are also two words found there.

A young man, not a church-goer, once said to me, “I wandered into Dr. L.’s church the other morning, and I was shown into one of the very best pews. Later the family came, and they gave me every attention. When the service was over, the gentleman who sat at the head of the pew allowed his family to pass out, and waited for me. Then offering his hand, said he was very glad I had been put in his pew, and he hoped I would come to church again very soon, every Sunday if I would, and then he added, ‘Young man, don’t ask an usher for a seat, come right in here with me any time.’

“Now,” continued this young gentleman, “that’s what I call business. I enjoyed the service that morning, was not made to feel as if I was an offscourer, but as if I was welcome. I’ll go again soon; that’s the right kind of a church. The singing was beautiful, and I’m fond of music; the sermon, too, touched the right place, but I think what had more to do with it than anything else, was that courteous family and the hearty hand-shake afterwards.”

We, neither of us, can weigh the influence we have on our neighbor. Perhaps it is better for our own peace we cannot. But we must remember a smile may save a soul. “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.”