Sunday in Manhattan

Jesus, put your arms around New York. Hug her to death, Lord. . . . Is New York going to Heaven? Is she going to pray? To be sober? True? Virtuous? YES!

That was in Manhattan. It was the spring the U. S. went to War. Night after night for ten weeks Rev. William Ashley ("Billy") Sunday, No. 1 evangelist of his day, packed the 20,000-seat tabernacle John D. Rockefeller Jr. and others had provided for him. His loud acrobatics moved 100,000 sinners to "hit the trail."

Last week Billy Sunday was back in Manhattan for a two-week battle for the Lord, his first extended visit since 1917.

At 70 he is old, grey, watery-eyed. Evangelism on what he calls "the kerosene circuit'' had left its stamp on him. So had heart disease. For his opener in Calvary Baptist Church he drew an oldish crowd of 2,175. His sermon was long, rambling. There were few antics on the platform, fewer "Amens" from the congregation. After wards only six people went forward to shake hands with him.

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