An Interpretation of Friends Worship BY N. JEAN TOOMER [Device] Published by THE COMMITTEE ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF FRIENDS GENERAL CONFERENCE 1515 Cherry Street, Philadelphia 2, Pa. _Price twenty-five cents_ CONTENTS Introduction 3 Worship and Love 7 The Basis of Friends Worship and Other Inward Practices 11 What to Do in the Meeting for Worship 20 Questions and Answers 28 For Further Reading 35 Copyright 1947 Friends General Conference Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. INTRODUCTION I was not more than ten years old when I first heard mention of theQuakers. The grown-ups of my family were talking among themselves, speaking of an uncle of mine who lived in Philadelphia and operated apharmacy near the university. I had never seen this uncle and wascurious about him, so my ears were open. Presently a reference to theQuakers caught my attention. I wanted to know who the Quakers were. Whatwas told me then I have remembered ever since. The Quakers, I was told, are people who wait for the spirit to move them. A picture formed in my mind. Many a time I had seen my grandmothersitting quietly, an aura of peace around her as she sewed or crochetedor did her beautiful embroidery work. So I pictured older people, mostof them with white hair like my grandparents, all with kindly faces, gathered in silent assembly, heads bent slightly forward, waiting to bemoved. It never occurred to me that young people, boys and girls of myage and even younger, might be present and participating. As the word "spirit" meant nothing definite to me, I could have no ideaof just what would move the Quakers, but I had a sense that it would besomething within them, perhaps like the stirrings that sometimes movedme, and I may have had a vague notion that this something within themwas somehow related to what people called God. I never thought to askwhat the Quakers might do after they were moved. Had I been invited in those days to attend a Friends meeting for worshipI would have gladly gone. I would have gone because my picturings hadgiven me good feelings about the Quakers. I would have gone because, young though I was, I liked to be silent now and again. Sometimes mybest friend and I would sit quietly together, happy that we weretogether but not wanting to talk. Sometimes I would go off by myself onwalks to look at the wonders of nature, to think my own thoughts, todream, to feel something stirring in me for which I had no name. Or Imight withdraw for a time from the activities of the boys and girls andsit on the porch of our house, my outward eyes watching them at play, myinward eyes turned to an inner life that was as real to me, andsometimes more wonderful than my life with the group. Certain experiences I had when alone, certain experiences I had with myyoung friends, attitudes and feelings that would suddenly arise in me atany time or place--these made up the mainstream of my religious life. Such religion as I had was life-centered, not book-centered, notchurch-centered. It arose from the well of life within me, and within myfriends and parents. It arose from the well of life within nature andthe human world. It consisted in my response to flowers, trees, birds, snow, the smell of the earth after a spring rain, sunsets and the starrysky. It consisted in my devotion to pet rabbits and dogs, and to someinterest or project that caught my imagination. I had been taught several formal prayers. One of these I said everynight, regularly, before getting into bed. But I am thinking of theunformed prayers that welled up in me whenever I had need of them. I hadbeen read some stories from the Bible and some of the psalms, and fromthese I had doubtless gained attitudes of reverence. But I am thinkingof the worship that spontaneously arose as I beheld the wonders of theworld which God created. Young eyes are new eyes, and to new eyes allthings are fresh, vivid, original. It is sometimes asked if children and young people are capable of thereligious life. Certainly they are not capable of sustained efforttowards an unswerving aim. Certainly they cannot hold themselves to aconsistent discipline. They cannot engage in the religious life as aconscious way of living. These abilities come only as we grow up andsubject ourselves to training. But, just as certainly, young people dohave religious experiences, and these often are more vivid and glowingthan those of the elders. That is it--children can glow. They can lightup. This capacity to glow is at the very heart of what we are talkingabout. To be sure, people young and old need instruction. We need instructionin the Bible, in poetry, in all literature that contains truth andbeauty. We need to be helped to struggle against our faults, to overcomeour imperfections. And we need to be curbed on occasion, as the only wayin which we may eventually become able to curb ourselves. But it shouldnot be forgotten that all people, especially young people, have poetryin them. And, more than that, according to the faith of the Friends allpeople have within them something of the very spirit that created thescriptures. Religious education, it seems to me, is on the wrong track if it assumesthat religion is something that must be drilled into people. It is onthe right track if it recognizes that the source of religion is withinus as a native endowment, and that the function of education is to callthis endowment forth, supply it with the nourishment it needs in orderto grow, and guide it in ways that promote maturing. People should havereason to be assured that formal religion is not contrary to the springsof innate religious experience and longing, but is in accord with thelife and light within, and simply seeks to direct and develop thisspiritual life. Had a Friend approached me in those days with some such understandingand assurance, and had I been able to understand what he said, I wouldhave had still another reason, and this a compelling one, for attendinga meeting for worship. And so I would have gone. I'd have sat there withthe others, feeling much at home, perhaps feeling I was in a holy place. I'd have sat as quietly as any for the first ten or fifteen minutes. Iwould not have worshiped in any formal sense, for I had not been taughtany form. But I would have practiced my kind of inwardness, thinking myown thoughts as I did when alone, dreaming wonderful dreams, feeling alife stir within me. Had there been a spoken message or two, I wouldhave listened attentively, tried to understand, and honestly responded. Presently, however, I would have begun to fidget. Not knowing what Ishould try to do in a meeting for worship, I would have had nothing tofall back on when my thoughts ran out, no purpose for curbing myincreasing restlessness. Through the windows my eyes would have caughtsight of the world outdoors, and I'd have wished I were out there havingfun with the boys. Time would have dragged. I'd have asked myself, "Willthe meeting never end?" And when finally it did end, I'd have been asglad for the ending as I had been for the beginning. What should we try to do in a meeting for worship? What do we hope toattain through it? Why is silence desirable? What is the main ideabehind the Friends manner of worship? It is true that Quakers wait forthe spirit to move them. Why wait? Wouldn't it be better just to goahead? Besides waiting, what more is to be done? Can we not pray andworship when we are alone, or as we go about our daily affairs? Why isit necessary to meet together? What is worship? These are not questions that you answer once and for all. You continueto think about them and continue to increase your understanding. But ithelps us to think if we put our thoughts in order and study the thoughtsof others. So I am going to write down some of the thoughts that havecome to me. We shall think about worship and the central faith of theFriends, and let the answers come as they may. WORSHIP AND LOVE Worship is the action of the spirit. It springs up from our depths, aslove does. It is a form of love, and just as desirable, and just asnecessary to human life at its fullest and highest. To worship is aninnate need of man. It is not imposed upon us from the outside, thoughthe way we sometimes go about it may make it seem an imposition. Suppose you are hungry. No one has to tell you to eat. No one has toforce you to take food. Suppose you are in love. Must you be told tothink of the person you are in love with? Must you be forced to yearnfor the loved one? Worship is a hunger of the human soul for God. When it really occurs, itis as compelling as the hunger for food. It is as spontaneous as thelove of boy for girl. If we feel it, no one needs tell us we shouldworship. No one has to try to make us do it. If we do not feel it, orhave no desire to feel it, no amount of urging or forcing will do anygood. We simply cannot be forced, from the outside, to worship. Only thepower within us, the life within, can move us to it. But others can guide our preliminary efforts. They can help us toprepare to worship. Such preparation, as Rufus Jones has said, is themost important business in the world. Others can provide conditions, such as the Friends meeting for worship, thanks to which the desire toworship may spring up and grow. The meeting for worship came intoexistence because the early Friends were powerfully moved to worshiptogether and meet the spiritual needs of one another. I use the word_needs_. Their spiritual needs were more dynamic than ours--ortheirs--for food and shelter. Neither threats of violence nor activepersecution could keep them away from their meetings. Why is it that some of us would rather go to a movie, or listen to theradio, or see a ball game, or read an exciting book? One reason, it mustbe acknowledged, is because our meetings today are sometimes dull andunliving. We assemble in our meeting houses, but nothing happens. Arelated reason is that many of us have not yet awakened spiritually. Ourbodies are active. Our minds are alert. But not our spirits. Suchawakening, however, will come in due time, if we encourage it, if we doour part to prepare for it, if we live honestly and are true toourselves, face life with clear eyes, and continue growing. The main reason why we do not worship, or do not want to, is that God isnot yet sufficiently real to us. He is not as real to us as our humanfather. His power is not as real to us as the power of man's brain andmuscles, as steam power, as electricity. Worship expresses man'srelationship to God. How then can we worship if we are not aware of thisrelationship, if the main party to it is unreal to us? Some people speak of worshiping things that are not of God. God beingunreal to them, their relation to Him being unrecognized, they turn towhat is real to them, and engage in various so-called worships:money-worship, hero-worship, ancestor-worship, the worship of materialpower and machines, the worship of political States and their rulers. These are false worships. God is the sole object of genuine worship--Godand His power which He manifests to us as love, light, and wisdom. All forms of true worship arise from an experience of the _fact_ of God, from the realization that God _is_. Men such as George Fox and JohnWoolman had their first experiences of God early in life. Most of uscome to the experience gradually and later on, if at all. What are we todo meanwhile? Most religions offer formal official statements of whatthey believe God to be. They say what God's nature is, and set forth Hisattributes. Friends make no such pronouncement; and I, for one, am gladthere is none. Man's words about God cannot substitute for a first-handexperience of the living reality. Friends are directed to seek for thereality within themselves. Meanwhile, we are called upon to have faiththat God exists and that it is possible for us to meet with Him. We arecalled upon to prepare ourselves for this supreme experience. We areurged to try to sense God's presence, daily to practice His presence. Bysuch practice, if we persevere, we shall surely come to have aconvincing experience. Worship is our response to God's reality, a reality which is, to besure, within men, but which also is the radiant foundation of the entireuniverse. In trying to worship, we turn ourselves Godwards. We yearn forHim and endeavor to know His will. Our lives are pointed toward Him. If, and as we succeed, we make contact with God, and by this contact He ismade real to us. When He becomes real to us we spontaneously love Him. Can we see a sunset without responding to its beauty? Can we witnessthose we love, in their goodness to us, without being touched and moved?Can we hear the voice of our best friend on the phone without eagerlylistening and eagerly replying? Be sure, then, that when we come intoGod's presence we will be touched and moved beyond our greatestexpectation. Nothing so deters us from wanting to worship as the notion that worshipis unliving. If it is unliving it is not worship. If it seems dull, tedious or difficult, it is because we are not truly worshiping. We are, perhaps, preparing ourselves to worship. There are difficulties to beovercome in the preparatory stages. Or, we are but assuming theappearance of worship, there being no life, no yearning within, we beingmore dead than alive inside. Indeed it is dull and tedious to hold theposture, if it is not backed up by a quickening life of the spirit. True worship is a living experience. By and through it we enter into alife so vital, so vivid, so large and glorious that, by comparison, ourlife of ordinary activities seems narrow, dull, dead. By bodily actionthe body comes alive. By mental action the mind comes alive. So byspiritual action the spirit comes alive. Worship is spiritual action. Bymeans of it our spirits awake, mature, and grow up to God. All human beings, except those who have been badly damaged by man'sinhumanity to man, are moved to love. Some love animals, some flowers. Others love the sea or farm lands or mountains. Some love truth, somelove beauty. All of us want and need to love and to be loved by ourfamilies and friends, and we would be happy were we able to love allpeople everywhere. To love and be loved is a universal human urge. Is itany wonder, then, that we are moved to seek God's love? It is inevitablethat we should desire this supreme form of love. The First Commandmentexpresses our innermost desire as well as God's will. There is nothing incredible about our wanting to love and to be loved byGod. The incredible fact is that it can actually happen, does happen. Some day we will experience it. Then our doubts will end. Then we willworship God through love of Him. Here is what two religious men of advanced spiritual development had tosay of their experiences. George Fox wrote, "The word of the Lord cameto me, saying, 'My love was always to thee, and thou art in my love. 'And I was ravished with the sense of the love of God. " Brother Lawrencewrote, "You must know that the benevolent and caressing light of God'scountenance kindles insensibly within the soul, which ardently embracesit, a divine and consuming flame of love, so rapturous that one putscurbs upon the outward expression of it. " It is to this divine love that we are called. This is the high promiseof man's life. We are called away from indifference, from meanness, malice, prejudice and hate. We are called above the earthly loves thatcome and go, and are unsure. We are called into the deep enduring loveof God and man and all creation. Worship is a door into that love. Oncewe have entered it, our every act is a prayer, our whole life acontinuous worship. THE BASIS OF FRIENDS WORSHIP AND OTHER INWARD PRACTICES Some people believe that whereas God's nature is divine, man's nature isdepraved. God is good, but men are evil. God, according to this view, exists in heaven, remote from us. We exist in sin, remote from Him, inhell or next door to it. Human beings are completely separated from theDivine Being. The only possible connection between men and God is thatbrought about by the mediation of the church and its authorizedofficials. Friends have never held this view. Friends, beginning with George Fox, realized that something of Goddwells _within_ each and every human being, and that, therefore, He isreachable by us through direct contact, and we are within His reach, subject to His immediate influence. This is the well-known basis ofFriends worship. Since God is within us, Friends turn inward to find Him. This is not amatter of choice or inclination; it is a matter of necessity. Turninginward, we turn away from all externals. Friends practice inwardness. Rufus Jones writes, "The religion of the Quaker is primarily concernedwith the culture and development of the inward life and with directcorrespondence with God. " Some number of Friends in the early days of the movement not only soughtGod but found him, though it would perhaps be better to say were foundby him. It was because they found God that they had such living worship, such vital meetings. It was because they truly worshiped and had vitalmeetings that they progressively discovered God and came increasinglywithin his power. The one led to the other. Without the one we cannothave the other. That there is that of God in every man was, as already implied, morethan a belief or a concept with the early Friends. It was anexperience. It was a recovery of the living Deity. As he made andcontinued to make this recovery in himself, George Fox went about hisapostolic work and laid the foundation of what came to be the Society ofFriends. What did Fox aim for? How did he regard his ministry? Let himanswer in his own words. "I exhorted the people to come off from allthese things (from churches, temples, priests, tithes, argumentation, external ceremonies and dead traditions), and directed them to thespirit and grace of God in themselves, and to the light of Jesus intheir own hearts, that they might come to know Christ, their freeTeacher. " Pointing as they do to the basis of Friends worship, these severalconsiderations do not, of themselves, throw light on the reason forcertain other inward practices. The basis of these other practices is, unfortunately, less simple and less well-known. Why is there need ofparticular occasions for prayer and worship? Why need we gather togetherand sit quietly? Why practice waiting before God? If He is in us, whydoes He not manifest to us continually, why does His power not alwaysmotivate our actions? Why do we have to practice His presence, and whyis this practice so difficult? To answer these questions we are forcedto adopt a somewhat complex and non-habitual view of the situation. Suppose we are approached by a person of inquiring mind who says, "Yousay that there is that of God in every man. All right, I am prepared toaccept that as truth. But precisely where in us does the divine sparkexist? Is it in our bodies? Is it in our ordinary minds and everydaythoughts and emotions? Do you mean to say that God exists in ignorance, in man's prejudices and hatreds, in human evil?" How will we reply?Obviously God does not exist in our trivial actions, nor in our godlessthoughts and feelings. Certainly He does not exist in our ignorance andevil. But these things exist in us. They constitute a part of us. Thispart of us, then, is separated from God, while another part is relatedto Him. Insofar as we identify with the separated part and believe it tobe ourselves, we exist divorced from that of God in us. The attitude, in brief, is this. There is that of God in every man. Therefore man, in his entirety, is not separated from God. But man isdivided within, and against, himself, into two different and opposingaspects, and one of these aspects is separated from God. This is my viewof the situation. If I understand the writings of the early Friends, this was their view of the situation. The early Friends had names for the part of us that is separated fromGod. They called it the "natural man, " the "earthly man. " I shallsometimes refer to it as the "body-mind" or the "separated self. " Theearly Friends called the part of us that is related to God and in whichGod dwells the "spiritual man, " the "new birth, " the "new creation. " Ishall sometimes call it the "inner being, " the "spiritual self. " It is of course the separated self that presents the problem. Itobstructs our attempts to relate ourselves to God and to our fellow men. It interferes with worship as well as with love. It is because of thisself that we do not pray and love as naturally as we breathe. Theseparated self stands in the way. Therefore it must be overcome. Fordivine as well as genuinely human purposes it must be subdued andeventually left behind. Every real religious practice, whether ofFriends or of others, either directly or indirectly aims to enable humanbeings to transcend the separated self in order that we may be unitedwith the spiritual self or being which is near God because He dwellstherein. In the light of these facts we can understand the need and the purposeof certain specific inward practices, such as the practice of contendingwith oneself (Isaac Penington called it "lawful warring") and thepractice of gathering silently and waiting upon God. Since the separatedself exists, and is an obstruction, we must contend with it. We contendwith it so as to remove it and, at the same time, activate the spiritualnature. Gathering in silence and waiting upon God is necessary for thesame reason, and is another means to the same end. More will be said ofthis presently. The early Friends, while proclaiming the good news that there is aspiritual man in each and all of us, that God dwells in this part ofhuman beings and is, for this very reason, close even to the earthlyman, regarded the earthly man as unregenerate, sinful, blind and dead tothe things of the spirit. Only by rising above the earthly aspect ofourselves can we pass from sin into righteousness, from death to life, from that which exists apart from God into that which exists as part ofGod. Only by yielding to God's power can the earthly man be regenerated. To the degree that this happens, we are unified with our spiritualnatures. Thus we are mended and made whole. What formerly was aseparated and contrary part, becomes the instrument of expression of theresurrected spiritual being. If the earthly man is dead to the things of the spirit, then, as long ashe remains so, he obviously can neither truly pray nor truly worship. Nor can we, as long as we remain identified with him. Should he try topray, he but prays according to his own ignorant and faulty notions. Should he try to worship, he but worships in his own will, not accordingto the will of God. Robert Barclay called this kind of worship"will-worship. " Will-worship was what the Friends condemned and tried to avoid. Theyaimed for true spiritual worship. They wanted to worship God by andthrough the workings of His spirit and power in their spiritual beings. How were they to fulfill this aim? What, specifically, were they to do?Try, by all available means, to quiet and subdue the earthly man, to laydown his will, to turn the mind to God. But, having done this, theyfound that something more was wanted. They discovered, as you and I haveor will, that it is one thing to still our habitual thoughts andmotions, but quite another to cause the spiritual self to arise. By ourown efforts we can subdue the body-mind to some extent. Few of us, byour efforts alone, can activate our spiritual natures in a vital andcreative way. We need God's help. We need the help of one another. ButGod's help may not come at once. Our help to each other, even though weare gathered in a meeting for worship or actively serving our fellowmen outside of the meeting, may be and often is delayed as regards ourkindling one another spiritually. What are we to do in this case? Thereis only one thing we can do--wait. Having done our part to overcome theseparated self, we can but wait for the spiritual self to arise and takecommand of our lives. Having brought ourselves as close as we can toGod, we can but hold ourselves in an attitude of waiting for Him to workHis will in us, to draw us fully into His presence. So the early Friends engaged in silent waiting, humble yet expectantwaiting, reverent waiting upon the Lord, that they might be empowered byHim to help one another and to render to Him the honor and the adorationwhich, as Robert Barclay said, characterizes true worship; that Hispower might come over them and cover the meeting; that He might bringabout the death of the old, the birth of the new man. Friends waited, both in and out of meeting. They waited for God to movethem, quicken them to life, make them His instruments. They waited forthe power of God to do its wonder-work, lifting up the part of them thatwas akin to Him, gracing them with the miracle of resurrection. Waitingpreceded worship. Waiting prepared for worship, and the springing up ofnew life. By waiting they began worshiping. The stillness of the meetinghouse, the silence of the lips, the closed eyes and composed faces werethe tangible signs of the preliminary period of waiting. It is instructive and reassuring to note how frequently, among the earlyFriends, the practice of waiting did have the desired sequel. Thisseeming inactivity led to spiritual action. Out of this chrysalis what alife was born! God found them in the silence. Blessed and renewingexperiences came to Friends, experiences which enabled them to be agentsof the divine spirit in every situation of human life. It is instructivebecause it points us, of this day, to a religious practice that iseffective. It is reassuring because from it we may have sound hope that, if we rightly and faithfully engage in this and other inward practices, we may reach and even surpass the high level of religious experienceand service attained by Friends in the days when the Quaker movementreally moved. In our present-day lives and meetings there can besoul-shaking events. The Light can invade us. Truth can take hold of us. Love may gather us. Above all, God himself may become real to us as thesupreme Fact of the entire universe. We of this modern age are inclined to be more lenient in our views ofthe earthly man. We are disposed to consider him a moderately decentfellow except when under the active power of evil. This makes us moretolerant, less intense. It makes us more likely to indulge our fondnessfor the earthly world and its things and pleasures, less moved to seekGod and His Kingdom. Nevertheless if we examine our experience we shallrecognize characteristics of the earthly man that are similar to thoseseen by the early Friends. The outside world has changed considerably inthree hundred years, but man's constitution is much the same now as thenin all essential respects. The earthly man, whether we regard him as good, bad, or indifferent, isevidently an exile from God's kingdom. Our body-minds, namely oureveryday persons, are out of touch with our spiritual natures most ofthe time, hence out of touch with God. We, as ordinary people, are notby inclination turned towards God, but, on the contrary, are turned awayfrom Him. Day in and day out we do not even think of the possibility ofloving God and doing His will, but think of ourselves, and are bent toenact our own wills, have our own way. Whether we, as earthly men, cantruly pray and worship is a question about which there is likely to bedisagreement. But who will deny that when we are absorbed in ouraffairs, as we are most of the time, we do not pray or worship?Recognition of these several facts will lead us to a position similar tothat of the early Friends, and point us to the same needs as regardswhat we must do if we would truly pray and worship, and, indeed, trulylive. We too must endeavor to subdue the body-mind and turn the mindGodwards. We too must try to overcome the separated self and re-connectwith our spiritual natures. We too must practice waiting. We too muststrive to attain the Quaker ideal so well expressed by Douglas Steere, "to live from the inside outwards, as _whole_ men. " When compared with bodily action, what could seem more inactive thanwaiting upon God? The modern world asks, "Where will that get you?"Young people say, "We want action. " Yet, as we have seen, it wasprecisely through this and other apparently inactive means that theearly Friends came into a power of whole action that surpasses anythingthat we experience today. We say we are activists, but often lack thespiritual force to act effectively. They said they were waiters, andfrequently acted as moved by God's light and love. I think that we inthis age of decreasing inner-action, of ever increasing outer activity, have a profound lesson to learn from the early Friends. We had bestlearn it now, and quickly, lest the faith and practices of the Friendsbecome so watered that they lose their character and flow into theactivities of which the world is full, and are absorbed by them, andFriends cease to be Friends. I do not say we should go back to the olddays. That is impossible. Let us move forward, as we must if we are tomove at all. But let us build upon those foundations, not scrap them. Let those past summits show us how high men can go, with God's help. Friends are by no means the only ones who realize that the body-mindpresents a problem; that, in its usual state, it is an obstacle toworship and to all forms of the religious life. Friends are not alone inrecognizing that when the separated self is uppermost and active, thespiritual self is submerged and passive, and that we are called upon toreverse this. All genuine religious people, whatever the religion, haverecognized the problem and have endeavored to solve it in one way oranother. Generally speaking, there are two ways of dealing with thesituation. One way consists of the attempt to lift the body-mind aboveits usual condition, so that it may be included in the act of worship. The body-mind is presented with sight of religious symbols. It is givensound of religious music and of specially trained speakers calledpriests or ministers. It participates in rituals, ceremonies, sacraments. This way may be effective. When it is, the body-mindactually is lifted above its usual state, the spiritual nature isevoked. But when this way is not effective it merely results in excitingthe body-mind and gives people the illusion that this excitation is trueworship. Or it may result in a sterile enactment of outward forms. The other way is just the opposite. It consists of the effort to reducethe body-mind below its usual state, so that it will not interfere withworship. All externals are dispensed with. No religious symbols are inview. No music is provided, no rituals, no appointed speakers. Theexternal setting is as plain as possible, so that the body-mind may bemore readily quieted. Internally, too, the attempt is to remove allcauses of excitement, all of the ordinarily stimulating thoughts, images, desires. The one thought that should be present is the thoughtof turning Godward, seeking Him, waiting before Him. This way may beeffective. When it is, the body-mind is subordinated and ceases to existas the principal part of man. The spiritual nature is activated andlifted up. When, however, this way is not effective, it merely producesdeadness. In both cases the test is this: Does the spiritual nature arise? Friendshave chosen the way of subduing the body-mind, of excluding it fromworship except insofar as it may act as an organ of expression of therisen spirit. Having chosen this way, we are called upon to do iteffectively, creatively. If we succeed--and we sometimes do--our innerlife is resurrected, the whole man is regenerated, and a living worshipconnects man with God. But if we fail--and we often do--the spiritualnature remains as if dead, and, on top of this, we pile a deadenedbody-mind. What should be a meeting for worship, a place where man andGod come together, becomes a void. There is no life, only a sterilequietism. Sterile quietism is as bad as sterile ritualism. Sterility, in whatever form, is what we want to avoid. Creativity iswhat we must recover--aliveness, growth, moving, wonder, reverence, asense of being related to the vast motions of that ocean of light andlove. WHAT TO DO IN THE MEETING FOR WORSHIP Definite periods for worship should be established because, constitutedas we are, worship does not occur as naturally as it might, and at alltimes. Unless we set aside regularly recurring times, many of us are notlikely to worship at any time. We appoint times and places so that wemay do what something deep in us yearns to do, yet which we all toorarely engage in because most often we are caught up in the current ofcontrary or irrelevant events. Set times of worship not only aid us toworship at those times but at others too; and, of course, the more oftenwe try to worship at other times, the more able we become to make gooduse of the established occasions. Among the people of our day, Mahatma Gandhi is an outstanding example ofapplied religion. It might seem that he, of all people, would feel noneed of special times of prayer; yet this is not the case. There areappointed times each day when he and those around him engage in prayer. Whenever possible he attends a Friends meeting for worship. Thefollowing quotation from the _Friends Intelligencer_ gives his view ofthis matter. "Discussing the question whether one's whole life could notbe a hymn of praise and prayer to one's Maker, so that no separate timeof prayer is needed, Gandhi observed, 'I agree that if a man couldpractice the presence of God all the twenty-four hours, there would beno need for a separate time of prayer. ' But most people, he pointed out, find that impossible. For them silent communion, for even a few minutesa day, would be of infinite use. " Each of us individually should daily prepare for worship and, now andagain, go off by himself in solitude. Fresh stimulus and challenge areexperienced when a man puts himself utterly on his own and seeks to comeface to face with his God. Aloneness may release the spirit. So maygenuine togetherness. Group or corporate worship is also necessarybecause, as already mentioned, we need each other's help to quiet thebody-mind, to lay down the ordinary self, to lift up the spiritualnature. Many a person finds it possible to become still in a meeting forworship as nowhere else. Peace settles over us. Many a person isinwardly kindled in a meeting for worship as nowhere else. The creativeforces begin to stir. When a number of people assemble reverently, andall engage in similar inward practices with the same aim and expectancy, life-currents pass between them; a spiritual atmosphere is formed; andin this atmosphere things are possible that are impossible without it. More particularly, we may have opportunity in a meeting for coming closeto a person more quickened than we are. By proximity with him or her weare quickened. It is true that in a Friends meeting the responsibilityfor worship and ministry rests upon each and every member; but it isalso true that Friends, like others, must somewhat rely for theirawakening upon those who are more in God's spirit and power than theaverage. We minimize an essential feature of our meetings if we fail torecognize the role of the sheer presence of men and women who arespiritually more advanced than most and are able to act as leaven. The meeting for worship should begin outside of the meeting house, onour way to it. As we enter the house, we would do well to remindourselves of the meaning of worship, the significance of corporateworship, the possibility of meeting with God. Be expectant that this mayhappen in this very gathering. Lift up the mind and heart to the EternalBeing in whom we have brotherhood. The hope is that by these initialacts we will put ourselves in the mood of worship and kindle a warmth ofinner life that will continue throughout the meeting and give spiritualmeaning to all subsequent efforts. Settle into your place as an anonymous member of an anonymous group. Ifyou have come to have a reputation among people, forget this and becomeanonymous. If you have not made a name for yourself, forget this. Theopportunity to practice anonymity is a precious one. The meeting forworship would be of great value if it did no more than make thispractice possible. If you are accustomed to feel yourself important inthe eyes of men, lay it down and feel only that you and others may havesome importance in the eyes of God. If you feel unimportant, lay thisdown. If articulate or inarticulate, forget this. Lay aside all yourworldly relationships and your everyday interior states. In fine, forgetyourself. Surrender yourself. Immerse yourself in the life of the group. This is our chance to lose ourselves in a unified and greater life. Itis our opportunity to die as separated individuals and be born anew inthe life and power of the spirit. Seek, in the words of Thomas Kelly, towill your will into the will of God. Quiet and relax the body. We should try to quiet its habitual activity, to relax it from strain, yet not over-relax it. Though relaxed it shouldnot become limp or drowsy. It must be kept upright, alert, wakeful. Whatwe desire is a body so poised and at rest that it is content to sitthere, taking care of itself, and we can forget it. Still the mind, gather it, turn it steadfastly towards God. This is moredifficult. It is contrary to the mind's nature to be still. It isagainst its grain to turn Godwards. Left to itself it goes on and onunder its own momentum, roaming, wandering. It thinks and pictures anddreams of everything on earth except God and the practice of Hispresence. Even those who developed great aptitude for taking hold of themind and turning it to God found it difficult and even painful in thebeginning. If we expect it to be easy and pleasant we shall be easilydiscouraged after a few trials. Brother Lawrence warns us that thispractice may even seem repugnant to us at first. The mind of an adult is more restive and all over the place than thebody of a child. How are we to curb its incessant restlessness and stayit upon prayer and worship? How restrain its wanderings and point it tothe mark? How take it away from its automatic stream of thoughts andfocus it on God? Only by effort, practice, repeated effort, regularpractice. It requires life-long preparation and training. We cannot hopeto make much progress if we attempt to stay the mind only on First-daysduring meeting. We must make effort throughout the week, daily, hourly. It is by stilling the body-mind that we center down. Put the other way, it is by centering down that we still the body-mind. I would judge thatall Friends have in common the practice of centering down. This is ourcommon preparation for worship. From here on, however, each of us islikely to go his individual way, no two ways being alike. This is thefreedom of worship which has ever been an integral part of the Friendsreligion. We are not called upon to follow any fixed procedure. This iscreative. The individual spirit is set free to find its way, in its ownmanner, to God. Yet it leaves some of us at a loss to know what to donext. Some of us are not yet able to press on. We are unsure of theinward way, and our available resources are not yet adequate to thistype of exploration. We need hints from others, suggestions, guides. Tomeet this need, a number of Friends have written of what they do afterthey center down. Among these writings may be mentioned Douglas V. Steere's _A Quaker Meeting for Worship_, and Howard E. Collier's _TheQuaker Meeting_. In the same spirit I would like to indicate what I do. Once I have centered down I try to open myself, to let the light in. Itry to open myself to God's power. I try to open myself to the othermembers of the meeting, to gain a vital awareness of them, to sense thespiritual state of the gathering. I try so to reform myself inwardlythat, as a result of this meeting, I will thereafter be just a littleless conformed to the unregenerate ways of the world, just a little moreconformed to the dedicated way of love. I encourage a feeling of expectancy. I invite the expectation that here, in this very meeting, before it is over, the Lord's power will spring upin us, cover the meeting, gather us to Him and to one another. Thoughmeetings come and go, and weeks and even years pass, and it does nothappen, nevertheless I renew this expectation at every meeting. I havefaith that some day it will be fulfilled. We should be bold in ourexpectations, look forward to momentous events. We should not be timidor small but large with expectancy, and, at the same time humble, sothat there is no egotism in it. I kindle the hope that, should the large events not be for me and for usthis day, some true prayer will arise from our depths, some act ofgenuine worship. I hope that at the least I will start some explorationor continue one already begun, make some small discovery, feel my inwardlife stir creatively and expand to those around me. Having aroused my expectancy, I wait. I wait before the Lord, forgettingthe words in which I clothed my expectations, if possible forgettingmyself and my desires, laying down my will, asking only that His will bedone. In attitude or silent words I may say, "I am before thee, Lord. Ifit be thy will, work thy love in me, work thy love in us. " "O wait, " wrote Isaac Penington, "wait upon God. Be still a while. Waitin true humility, and pure subjection of soul and spirit, upon Him. Waitfor the shutting of thy own eye, and for the opening of the eye of Godin thee, and for the sight of things therewith, as they are from Him. " Sometimes, while waiting, a glow steals over me, a warmth spreads frommy heart. I have a chance to welcome the welling up of reverence, thesense that I am in the presence of the sacred. Sometimes, though rarely, the practice of waiting is invaded by an unexpected series of innerevents which carry me by their action through the meeting to the end. Ifeel God's spirit moving in me, my spirit awakening to Him. More often I come to have the sense that I have waited long enough forthis time. To forestall the possibility of falling into dead passivity, I voluntarily discontinue the practice of waiting and turn my attentionto other concerns. I may summon to mind a vital problem that confrontsme or one of my friends, trying to see the problem by the inward light, seeking the decision that would be best. I may bring into consciousnesssomeone I know to be suffering. This may be a personal acquaintance orsomeone whose plight I have learned of through others, or people indistress brought to my attention by an article in a newspaper or amagazine. I call to him or them in my spirit, and suffer with them, andpray God that through their suffering they will be turned to Him, thatby their very pain they may grow up to Him. Hardly a meeting passes but what I pray that I and the members of themeeting and people everywhere may have this experience: that our willsbe overcome by God's will, that our powers be overpowered by His lightand love and wisdom. And sometimes, though again rarely, I find itpossible to hold my attention, or, rather, to have my heart held, without wavering, upon the one supreme reality, the sheer fact of God. These are the moments that I feel to be true worship. These are thetimes when the effort to have faith is superseded by an effortlessassurance born of actual experience. God's reality is felt in everyfibre of the soul and brings convincement even to the body-mind. I would not give the impression that what I have described takes placein just this way every time, or that it happens without disruptions, lapses, roamings of the mind, day-dreams. Frequently I must recallmyself, again still the mind and turn it Godwards, again practicewaiting. All too often I awake to find, no, not that I have beenactually sleeping, but that I might as well have been, so far have Istrayed from the path that leads to God and brotherhood. And I mustconfess, too, that during some meetings I have been buried under inertiaand deadness and unable to overcome them. Having meant nothing tomyself, it is not likely that my presence meant anything to the others. My body was but an object, unliving, filling space on a bench. It wouldhave been better for others had I stayed away. A dead body gives off nolife; it but absorbs life from others, reducing the life-level of themeeting. As I am one of those who are sometimes moved to speak in meetings, I mayindicate how this happens in my case. First let me say what I do not do. I never try to think up something to say. I am quite content to besilent, unless something comes into my mind and I am moved to say it, orunless I sense that the meeting would like to hear a few living words. In this latter case, I may search myself to see what may be found; andby this searching I may set in motion the processes which discoverhidden messages. I never go to the meeting with an "itch" to speak, though it sometimeshappens to me, as to others, that I am moved to speak before arriving atthe meeting house. Even so, I usually restrain the urge until we havehad at least a short period of silent waiting before God. One is vainindeed if he thinks that his words are more important than this waiting. If I have not been moved to speak before arriving, such an impulse, ifit comes at all, is likely to arise after I have been waiting a while. It arises within my silence. An insight or understanding flashes into mymind. A prayer or a pleading or a brief exhortation comes upon me. Ihold it in mind and look at it, and at myself. I examine it. Is this a genuine moving that deserves expression in a meeting forworship, or had I best curb and forget it? May it have some real meaningfor others, and is it suited to the condition of this meeting? Can Iphrase it clearly and simply? If it passes these tests, I regard it assomething to be said but I am not yet sure it should be said here andnow. To find out how urgent it is, I press it down and try to forget it. If time passes and it does not take hold of me with increased strength, I conclude that it is not to be spoken of at this time. If, on the otherhand, it will not be downed, if it rebounds and insists and will notleave me alone, I give it expression. If it turns out that the words were spoken more in my own will than inthe power, I feel that egotistical-I has done it, and that thisself-doing has set me apart from the other members of the meeting. I amdissatisfied until again immersed in the life of the group. But if itseems that I have been an instrument of the power, I have the feelingthat the power has done it and has, by this very act, joined thoseassembled even closer. Having spoken, I feel at peace once again, warmedand made glowing by the passage of a living current through me to myfellows. With a heightened sense of fellowship with man and God, Iresume my silent practices. I never speak if, in my sense of it, spoken words would break a livingsilence and disrupt the life that is gathering underneath. But I have onoccasion spoken in the hope of breaking a dead silence. Spoken wordsshould arise by common consent. The silence should accept them. Theinvisible life should sanction them. The members of the meeting shouldwelcome them and be unable to mark exactly when the message began andwhen it ends. The message should form with the silence a seamless whole. If the message be a genuine one, the longer I restrain it the bettershaped it becomes in my mind and the stronger the impulse to express it. A force gathers behind it. Presently, however, I must either voice it orput it from my mind completely, lest it dominate my consciousnessoverlong and rule out the other concerns which should engage us in ameeting for worship. It is good when a message possesses us. Ourmeetings need compelling utterances. But it is not good when a messageobsesses us to the exclusion of all else. This is a danger whicharticulate people, particularly those like myself who have much dealingwith words, must avoid. We miss our chance if we do not use the meetingfor worship as an opportunity to dwell in the depths of life far belowthe level of words, rising to the surface only when we are forced to byan upthrust of the spirit which seeks to unite the surface with thedepths and gather those assembled into a quickened sense of creativewholeness--each in all and all in God. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS WHAT MOVES US TO PRAY AND WORSHIP? Sometimes we are moved by a quickenedsense of a sacred Presence. Prayer and worship are our spontaneousresponses as we awaken to God's unutterable radiance and wonder. Sometimes we are moved by a realization that, left to ourselves, we areinadequate, that apart from God we are insufficient. Realizing that ourknowledge is insufficient, we turn to God's light and wisdom. And thereare those who pray and worship as a conscious means of growing up to Godand becoming firmly established in His kingdom. WHY DO NOT MORE PEOPLE PRAY? Why do not all of us worship more often?Many lack a quickened sense of a sacred Presence. Though aware ofmaterial things, they are inert to the things of the spirit. They waitto be spiritually awakened. Most of us persist in feeling that we areself-sufficient. We feel we are adequate for all ordinary affairs, andit is only when we find ourselves in overpowering situations that werecognize we are not self-sufficient, and may then turn to God. But whenthe crisis passes we are likely to lapse into an assumption ofself-sufficiency. WHY DO NOT THE LEADERS OF NATIONS TURN TO GOD? Did not the recent war, does not the present chaos of the world show them that their powers andknowledge are inadequate? It would seem that the leaders, despite allevidence to the contrary, still believe that their own powers andpolitics are enough to prevent war and to secure an ordered and peacefulworld. WHEN WILL THE PEOPLE LEARN? WHEN WILL THE LEADERS LEARN? I do not know, but for the sake of mankind I hope we learn soon. The people of allnations would do well to suspend their ordinary affairs for an hour eachday, and, in concert, turn their minds and hearts steadfastly towardsGod. The purpose of regeneration would be better served in this onehour than in all the other hours of the day. IS THE MEETING FOR WORSHIP BASED ON SILENCE? No. Friends know that it isnot, yet some Friends have fallen into the habit of saying that it is. Jane Rushmore brought out this point in one of our meetings of Ministryand Counsel. She reminded us that the meeting for worship is based onthe conviction that we can directly communicate with God, and He withus. Silence, we believe, is a necessary means to such communion. For ifwe are busy with our own talk, God will not speak to us. Stillness is anecessary condition for practicing the presence of God. For if we stirabout in our own wills, God will not move us. In the meeting for worshipwe try to obey the command, "Be still, and know that I am God. " God isthe goal. A living silence is a means thereto. Recently I was visited by three young Friends, thirteen years of age. They had some problems to talk over. I asked if they felt they knew whatto do in the meeting for worship. Their happy confidence that they didknow was a pleasant surprise, as I have found many Friends, young andold, who are in need of suggestions and guides. I asked these three whatthey did in the silence. After some hesitancy, one brightened andreplied, "I talk over my problems with God. " I told her that was asplendid thing to do. For young people of thirteen or thereabouts, it isenough that they talk over their problems with God, or engage in someother simple and sincere exercise. For some older people one or twosimple practices are enough. I am in sympathy with those who wouldworship in simplicity of mind and heart. But others are in need of more, and the preceding chapter tries to speak to this need. Whatever themeans used, the important thing is that we spiritually awake and comealive during the meeting for worship even more than at other times. WHO SHOULD SPEAK IN THE MEETING FOR WORSHIP? Anyone who is genuinelymoved to. Age has nothing to do with it, though older people may be moreable because of longer practice. Education has nothing to do with it, though education may facilitate verbal expression. The essential matteris the inward prompting, under God's guidance. The Book of Disciplinesays, "Our conviction is that the Spirit of God is in all, and thatvocal utterance comes when this Spirit works within us. The varyingneeds of a meeting can be best supplied by different personalities, anda meeting is enriched by the sharing of any living experience of God. " WHAT ARE WE TO DO IF WE FEEL GENUINELY MOVED TO SPEAK BUT ARE INHIBITEDBY THE FEAR OF NOT EXPRESSING OURSELVES WELL? Attend to what you have tosay. Put your mind on that, and take it off yourself. Do not beconcerned that your speech may be halting and imperfect. Do not compareyourself with others, thinking that they speak fluently, you poorly. Beconcerned to communicate. Summon up your courage and break the ice. Try. If you can once overcome an inhibition, you have broken its hold. Itwill still be there, but you can overcome it more readily the next time. Keep trying. It is true that some people seem born with the facility to speak, but itis also true that the ability, like other abilities, is developed bypractice. Most of those who speak well now, began with embarrassment, self-consciousness, and an imperfect command of words. Friends can becounted on to understand if at first your thoughts and feelings are notexpressed as well as they might be. They will attend more to what youare trying to say than to how you say it. Here again the Book ofDiscipline gives wise counsel. "One who is timid or unaccustomed tospeak should have faith that God will strengthen him to give hismessage. " WHEN SHOULD WE SPEAK IN THE MEETING FOR WORSHIP? Whenever we are movedto. We may be moved to speak near the beginning, midway, or towards theend. The important thing is not the time but the moving. However, asRufus Jones once pointed out, it sometimes helps if, once we are reallysettled, something is said that lifts the spirit, that raises us aboveour worldly problems and gives impetus to our search for the indwellingdivinity. WHAT SHOULD BE SPOKEN OF IN THE MEETING FOR WORSHIP? This question willbe answered for us, inwardly, if we are in the spirit of the meeting, ifthe meeting is in God's spirit. We may speak of spiritual things. We mayspeak of daily affairs and events, if these are given a spiritualinterpretation. We may speak of world problems, if these are seen in thelight of religion. Anything that comes from the heart is proper andacceptable. We will not go wrong if we keep in mind the central purposeof the meeting for worship, and are striving to fulfill this purpose. Let your heart respond to the need of our meetings for a vital ministry. Open yourself and accept, should it come to you, the call to an inspiredministry. SHOULD MESSAGES COME ONE AFTER THE OTHER IN RAPID SUCCESSION? No. Thereshould be a due interval between them, a living silence in which thespirit works deep below the level of words. Messages should arise fromthe silence and return to it. Of course there are times when one messagearises from another. Even so, there should be pauses between them duringwhich the creative forces may operate in unexpected ways. Restraint ofspeech improves both the speech and the silence. Read what Thomas Kellyhas to say of spoken words in his pamphlet, _The Gathered Meeting_. But more frequently some words are spoken. I have in mind those meeting hours which are not dominated by a single sermon, a single twenty-minute address, well-rounded out, with all the edges tucked in so there is nothing more to say. In some of our meetings we may have too many polished examples of homiletic perfection which lead the rest to sit back and admire but which close the question considered, rather than open it. Participants are converted into spectators; active worship on the part of all drifts into passive reception of external instruction. To be sure, there are gathered meetings, which arise about a single towering mountain peak of a sermon. One kindled soul may be the agent whereby the slumbering embers within are quickened into a living flame. But I have more particularly in mind those hours of worship in which no one person, no one speech stands out as the one that "made" the meeting, those hours wherein the personalities that take part verbally are not enhanced as individuals in the eyes of others, but are subdued and softened and lost sight of because in the language of Fox, "The Lord's power was over all. " Brevity, earnestness, sincerity--and frequently a lack of polish--characterizes the best Quaker speaking. The words should rise like a shaggy crag upthrust from the surface of silence, under the pressure of river power and yearning, contrition and wonder. But on the other hand the words should not rise up like a shaggy crag. They should not break the silence, but continue it. For the Divine Life who was ministering through the medium of silence is the same Life as is now ministering through words. And when such words are truly spoken "in the Life, " then when such words cease the _uninterrupted_ silence and worship continue, for silence and words have been of one texture, one piece. Second and third speakers only continue the enhancement of the moving Presence, until a climax is reached, and the discerning head of the meeting knows when to break it. WHAT ARE WE TO DO IF SOME FRIENDS ARE SOMETIMES OVER-VOCAL ABOUT MATTERSTHAT ARE HARDLY THE PROPER CONCERN FOR A MEETING FOR WORSHIP? How are weto regard those who do not always speak acceptably to us, or areoverlong in their words, or who get up and repeat what we have heardthem say again and again? Instead of viewing them as objects ofcriticism, separated from you, try to feel them as being together withyou in a common life, and pray that the Creator of this life may makeall expressions living expressions. Do not let your resentment build up, but increase your humility by recognizing that the faults that othersdisplay may well be your own. HOW ARE WE TO MANAGE THE OCCASIONAL RUSTLINGS AND NOISES, WITHIN ANDWITHOUT THE MEETING, THAT THREATENS TO DISTRACT US AND DRAW US AWAY FROMWORSHIP? Here Douglas Steere has a helpful practice. Try to includethese distractions in one's worship. Instead of attempting to excludethem, weave them into your efforts to practice the presence of God. Readwhat Douglas Steere has to say of this in _A Quaker Meeting forWorship_. But again and again before I get through this far in prayer my mind has been drawn away by some distraction. Someone has come in late. Two adorable little girls who are sitting on opposite sides of their mother are almost overcome by delight in something which is much too subtle to be comprehended by the adult mind, the drafts in the coal stove need readjusting, how noisy the cars are out on the highway today, the wind howls around the corner and rattles the old pre-revolutionary glass in the window sashes. Do these rude interruptions destroy the silent prayer? Well, there was a time when they did, and there are times still when they interfere somewhat, but for the most part, I think they help. The late-comers stir me to a resolve to be more punctual myself--a fault I am all too well aware of--and I pass directly on to prayer, glad that they have come today. The little girls remind me of the undiscovered gaiety in every cell of life that these little "bon-vivants" know ever so well, and they remind me too that a meeting for worship must be made to reach these fierce-eyed nine- and ten-year-olds, and I pass on. I get up and open the draft in the coal stove. Sometimes I pray the distractions directly into the prayer--"swift, hurrying life of which these humming motors are the symbol--pass by at your will--I seek the still water that lies beneath these surface waves, " or "the wind of God is always blowing but I must hoist my sail, " and proceed with my prayer. WHAT ARE WE TO DO WHEN A MEETING IS UNLIVING? Suffer it. Continue to doyour part to contribute to the life. Continue to pray that God willquicken the meeting, shake it awake. Suppose you yourself are heavy withinertia and feel more dead than alive. The only way to overcome inertiais to become active. Since, in a meeting for worship, our bodies arestill, the only positive action is inner-action. We have alreadyconsidered several inward practices that facilitate inner-action. Engagein one or more of these with renewed determination. See your deadness asa challenge and resolve not to be overcome by it but to overcome it. Struggle against it. Persist in the act of turning your mind and heartGodwards. Kindle your expectancy. Wait before the Lord. Think of Him. Pray Him to send His life into you, and into the meeting, and into thepeople of the world. Should these inward practices prove of no avail, Isometimes fall back on this device. There is always in us some themethat the mind wants to think of, some fear, some desire, some problems, some situation, some prospect. Though the theme is not a fit one for ameeting for worship, I let my mind run on about it. Once the mind iswell started on this topic, I switch it and transfer its momentum to oneof the practices that prepare for worship. HOW SHOULD WE COME TO MEETING? Reluctantly? No. Burdened by a feeling ofobligation to attend? No. Expecting something dull and tedious? No! If ameeting evokes only dullness in its members it is a dead meeting andought to be laid down. A live meeting evokes life. Just the prospect ofattending such a meeting should quicken us. It were better to come alivedoing housework than to become deadened in a meeting house. Come with the expectancy that, as you make effort to turn yourselfGodwards, the life deep within you will arise, and meet you half-way, and call you, and draw you, gather you into God's presence. Come withthe hope that the Teacher within will teach you of spiritual things. Come with the expectancy that as you meet with other Friends, in thisvery gathering you and they will be shaken awake by the impact of God'spower, and made to tremble, and become actual Quakers. Come with theprayer that one and all may be "brought through the very ocean ofdarkness and death, by the eternal, glorious power of Christ, into theocean of light and love. " WHAT SHOULD WE DO, IN AND OUT OF MEETING, IN OUR PERIODS OF WORSHIP ANDIN OUR DAILY LIVES? Practice the presence of God. Practice, as far as weare able, the love of God and the love of man and all creation. But letGeorge Fox declare it to us, as he declared it to the early Friends andto people of all ranks and conditions in two continents. "All peoplemust first come to the Spirit of God in themselves, by which they mightknow God and Christ, of whom the prophets and apostles learnt; by whichSpirit they might have fellowship with the Son, and with the Father, andwith the Scriptures, and with one another; and without this Spirit theycan know neither God nor Christ, nor the Scriptures, nor have rightfellowship one with another. " FOR FURTHER READING Books AN APOLOGY FOR THE TRUE CHRISTIAN DIVINITY by Robert Barclay THE BOOK OF DISCIPLINE OF THE RELIGIOUS SOCIETY OF FRIENDS CREATIVE WORSHIP by Howard H. Brinton THE FAITH AND PRACTICE OF THE QUAKERS by Rufus M. Jones THE JOURNAL OF GEORGE FOX THE LETTERS OF ISAAC PENINGTON PRAYER AND WORSHIP by Douglas V. Steere THE QUAKER MINISTRY by John William Graham THE QUAKER WAY OF LIFE by William Wistar Comfort THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE PEOPLE CALLED QUAKERS by William Penn SILENT WORSHIP, THE WAY OF WONDER by L. Violet Hodgkin A TESTAMENT OF DEVOTION by Thomas R. Kelly TESTIMONIES AND PRACTICE OF THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS by Jane P. Rushmore WORSHIP AND THE COMMON LIFE by Eric Hayman Pamphlets PENN'S ADVICE TO HIS CHILDREN THE PRACTICE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD by Brother Lawrence THE QUAKER MEETING by Howard E. Collier Leaflets THE GATHERED MEETING by Thomas R. Kelly GOING TO MEETING by Leonard S. Kenworthy A QUAKER MEETING FOR WORSHIP by Douglas V. Steere