The papers at the Massachusetts historical society include the originals of this correspondence. Box 24, Folder 35.
Dear Sir: The sermon delivered by you at the beautiful and impressive service on Sunday, December 29th, to commemorate the restoration and reopening of Christ Church, gave expression to the thoughts and feelings of that great audience. We, therefore, the Wardens and Vestry, respectfully request a copy of the the manuscript for publication, believing that the sermon will serve to perpetuate a reverent pride in the Church and in its traditions of patriotism, and will again stir the hearts of those who were present as well as of others who were far from Boston on that day.
Charles K. Bolton William Sanby Samuel G. Babcock Hugh W. Ogden J. Fred Howarth
My Dear Sirs: I thank you for your kind latter asking for a copy of the sermon preached last Sunday.
The gratifying interest on the part of citizens and strangers in the restoration of old Christ Church prompts me to accede to your request. I therefore enclose the manuscript.
Yours faithfully, William Lawrence
On Sunday, December 29, 1723, Christ Church was first opened for worship. The sermon was preached by the Rector, the Rev. Timothy Cutler, on the text, “For mine house shall be called an house of prayer for all people.” On Sunday, December 29, 1912, Chirst Church, which had been closed for six months for a complete restoration, was opened for service; the sermon was preached by the Rector, the Rt. Rev. William Lawrence, who took the same text.
It was a brilliant, mild, winter’s day. There was the administration of the Lord’s Supper at ten o’clock, when a goodly number of the old member of Christ Church met. At eleven o’clock the church was packed with a great congregation of people from the neighborhood, from all parts of the city, and from distant states. Representatives of several historical societies at that time in convention in Boston were present, including the President of the American Historical Association (Colonel Roosevelt).
The following pages give the order of service and sermon. After the closing hymn, Bishop Lawrence returned to the Church and told the people how the purpose of the restoration had been so carried out as to bring Christ Church back to its original dignity and beauty, much credit being given by him to Mr. R. Clipston Sturgis, Mr. Henry C. Ross, and the two wardens, Messrs. Bolton and Sanby, who as a labor of love had given their best thought and time to the restoration.
At half past three in the afternoon the doors were thrown open, and the Church was filled with people of the neighborhood and the city to listen to an hour of sacred music.
Order of Service
Sunday, December 29, 1912
10 A.M. Administration of the Lord’s Supper.
Bishop Lawrence, assisted by the Rev. Robert Murray, officiating.
11 A.M.
Hymn 49. “Oh come, all ye faithful”
Collects.
…
“Almighty God, who in the former time didst lead our fathers forth into a wealthy place; give thy grace, we humbly beseech thee, to us their children, that we may always approve ourselves a people mindful of thy favour and glad to do thy will. Bless our land with honourable industry, sound learning, and pure manners. Defend our liberties, preserve our unity. Save us from violence, discord, and confusion, from pride and arrogancy, and from every evil way. Fashion into one happy people the multitudes brought hither out of many kindreds and tongues. Endue with the spirit of wisdom those whom we intrust in thy Name with the authority of governance, to the end that there may be peace at home, and that we keep a place among the nations of the earth. In the time of prosperity fill our hearts with thankfulness; an d in the day of trouble suffer not out trust in thee to fail; all of which we ask for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.”
“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all evermore. Amen.”
Hymn 491. “The Church’s one foundation.”
Morning Prayer.
Psalms LXXXIV and CXXII
First Lesson. I Kings 8: v. 22 to 63.
Second Lesson. Hebrews 10: v. 19 to 26.
Hymn 418. “O God, our help in ages past.”
Sermon.
Offering, for the work of the Catherine Hay House.
Hymnb 51. “Hark! the herald angels sing.”
Collect.
…
Hymn 196. “Our fathers’ God! to Thee.”
Sermon
Sunday, the twenty-ninth day of December, 1723, just one hundred and eighty-nine years ago, was a great day in the North End, for on that day of the nobles church that had ever been built in the town of Boston was opened for worship. It now stands the most ancient religious edifice in the city.
And the crowded condition of the former King’s Chapel, the increase in population at the North End, and the number of those coming over from England had let the people to plan for a second church. Subscriptions from the citizens and from England encouraged them in the construction of a building richer and more substantial than had ever been undertaken. The project caught the interest of the people at the north and of citizens is far away to the south as the Town House and beyond.
On the day of its first service, the church itself, brickwork and tower complete, but without spire, stood upon the eastern slope of Copp’s Hill, lifted well above the surrounding buildings; The wooden houses of the neighborhood were of one gable, simple, square, and unpainted; one substantial gambrel roof marked the home of some more prosperous citizen; The burial ground on the hill, where many worthies of the colony–the Mathers and others–lay, swept down towards Green Lane (now Salem Street) and the water; Hull Street, in quiet dignity, looked into the very door of the Church. To the north, the harbor was open to view, with the settlement of Charlestown, just across the ferry, behind whose modest buildings the broad fields of Breed’s and Bunker hills caught the morning sun.
The congregation began to appear up from Fish Street and Ship Street and the North Battery, passing across lots and through crooked lanes, came the more humble; others gathered from the south, passing the Green Dragon or through Black Horse Lane; a more prosperous company wended their way over the slopes of Copp’s Hill; while from across the Mill Creek and to the south and west, from near the Town House and King and Queen streets and beyond, a few chaises, and even a coach or two move slowly over the roads–For while the North End was perhaps “the most elegant and populous part of the town,” its inhabitants were not of the court circle; they were plainer people. It was proper, however, that at the first worship of this new Church of England, some of the representatives of the Governor and of King’s Chapel should attend.
As the people settled into their square pews, a look of curiosity and surprise must have passed across their faces, for familiar as was the form of the church without, being like a meeting house, it was of strange architecture within. The columns supporting the galleries, instead of stopping at the gallery floor, passed on and up; and the lines of the building adapted themselves to the construction. Thereby had been created nave and side aisles. Stranger yet, the East End was broken through with an addition, a half circle, lighted by a great window. To this the learned gave the name of “chancel.” And the Lords table was under the window instead of in front of the pulpit; papist features, some thought; other more lately from England felt a warmth and dignity which they had missed in the meeting houses. For here prayers were to be read from the Prayer Book and the canticles sung.
To those learned in theology, and especially to Harvard College across the water, there was an object of interest and curiosity greater than the new Church. It was the Rector, the Rev. Doctor Timothy Cutler; and he was to preach the sermon. The very mention of his name in many of the homes of Connecticut and Massachusetts casused a shudder. Graduating from Harvard College in 1701, he had been ordained a Congregational Minister in Connecticut. Recognized as one of the “best scholars ever educated in America,” especially in Arabic and other Oriental languages, he became rector of Yale college, the most conspicuous post of Congregationalism in Connecticut. What, therefore, was the consternation of the College authorities, of the churches, and indeed of all the people, when in 1722 Mr. Cutler and a tutor (these two at that time comprising the whole faculty of the College), with several other ministers, openly avowed their secession to Episcopacy. “The event,” says President Quincy in his History of Harvard College, “shook Congregationalism like an earthquake and filled its friends with tear and apprehension.” Mr. Cutler went to England to be ordained. He was received with much circumstance, and the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge conferred upon him–doubtless the first American to be thus honored–the degree of Doctor of Divinity. Now that he had returned and had been made Rector of the new Church, it was no wonder that the people flocked to hear him.
The service over he entered the tall pulpit with solemn dignity, a large man without outstanding wig, cassock, gown, and bands. His text was from the 56th chapter of Isaiah, the seventh verse, “For my house shall be called an house of prayer for all people.” thus began the ministry of Dr. Cutler and the services of this church. For over 40 years he made this a house of prayer, moved faithfully in and out of the homes of people, and his body found its final resting his place beneath this chancel.
I have dwelt long upon the scene, the people and the ancient customs, in order that I might remind you that the church is the conservator of fine traditions and of noble character. Men write history; institutions embody history. It has been said with some exaggeration that if all the Bibles were destroyed, the essential features of the Christian faith and of the life of Christ could be recreated from the rights and institutions of the Christian Church.
Why is it that we turn with satisfaction to the great cathedrals and the parish churches of Old England? Is it not that we find in them, their architecture, history, tablets, and banners, the expression of some of the noblest impulse within us and so gain confidence in the thought that in these impulses we have a background; they have been tested again and again in life, and have been found real and effective.
We may overdo the idealizing of the past and strike a wrong emphasis. Better that, however, than the neglect, which knows no past or knows it only to criticize. There is a great and beneficent power in the canonization of the saints by the consent of the people.
A friend of mine of whom I asked contribution towards this restoration, wrote me that he considered ancient churches like this luxury: he sent his contribution, nevertheless. I believe that the influence which this church has exerted and will even more effectively exert in the lives of thousands and thousands of people from all over this land and who come here to worship, to read these tablets, and to meditate for a few minutes within these walls, may be greater than that of some other institutions that my friend would call necessities. The cordial support of this restoration by citizens of Boston, both men and women, shows that they believe it. Who can stand in these aisles without being impressed with the simplicity, dignity, honesty, and purity of this structure? The prayers, canticles, and hymns, the lives of the saints, imperfect as those saints were, come down through the generations; the peel of bells rings over again in the memories of those now hundreds of miles away.
Only day before yesterday I received a letter from a man, a stranger to me, from a little town in Michigan, saying that it did his heart good to read in some newspaper of the restoration of the old church so dear to him.
The meretricious taste succeeding the Revolution destroyed much of this simplicity and dignity. Indeed, only one feature remained untouched. Fortunately, no stained glass has ever desecrated these windows. No painted glass can give greater beauty than the sky, and the swinging branches of trees seen through the transparent pares of a colonial Church; and even the week’s wash of an Italian family fluttering in the breeze betokens life; the Church, thank God, is right among the people.
More than half a century of faithful service to the community passed, and we come to another episode in its history. The story of the lanterns–the signal and the ride of Paul Revere–finds a response in every American’s heart. Indeed, it strikes deeper; It is the story of man’s enterprise, courage, and patriotism. The Italian children recite it here in the streets; it is their poem too. That was on the eve of the nineteenth of April.
Let me tell you of another incident, almost as moving, but no poet has said it to verse. Marching up to Lexington after Paul Revere, Major Pitcairn let the Royal Marines. Less than two months later on the seventeenth of June, at Bunker Hill, Major Pitcairn again led his men. American said that he fired the first shot of the battle. Later in the day, as he was scaling the redoubt, he fell, mortally wounded, into the arms of his son, who carried him on his back from the field to the boats, and there kissing his father farewell returned to his duty. Pitcairn bled to death and his body was laid in a tomb beneath this Church. Here it still is, unless the tradition–there is no record to support it–in his family be true, that it was taken a century afterword to Westminster Abbey.
The same Church that flashed the first signal of the Revolution in order to confound the enemy received with reference and Christian hospitality the body of a leader of the enemy.