"Dusty, musty, wrapped in the mummy-like grave clothes of formalism and modern theology, without an 'amen' in the soul or a 'hallelujah' upon the lips, without the soft flowing pearls of erstwhile tender tears of conviction upon her cheeks, sits the professing church of Jesus Christ today, like a garden drooping; like a fountain that has ceased its flow; and offers but the poor apology of a bucket of muddy water from a hardly reached well."
-- Aimee Semple McPherson
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