I In the evening, love returns, Like a wand’rer ’cross the sea; In the evening, love returns With a violet for me; In the evening, life’s a song, And the fields are full of green; All the stars are golden crowns, And the eye of God is keen. II In the evening, sorrow dies With the setting of the sun; In the evening, joy begins, When the course of mirth is done; In the evening, kisses sweet Droop upon the passion vine; In the evening comes your voice: “I am yours, and you are mine.”
I mastered pastoral theology, the Greek of the Apostles, and all the difficult subjects in a minister’s curriculum. I was as learned as any in this country when the Bishop ordained me. And I went to preside over Mount Moriah, largest flock in the Conference. I preached the Word as I felt it, I visited the sick and dying and comforted the afflicted in spirit. I loved my work because I loved my God. But I lost my charge to Sam Jenkins, who has not been to school four years in his life. I lost my charge because I could not make my congregation shout. And my dollar money was small, very small. Sam Jenkins can tear a Bible to tatters and his congregation destroys the pews with their shouting and stamping. Sam Jenkins leads in the gift of raising dollar money. Such is religion.