When I attended his church in Regent Square they were singing, when I came in, a Psalm from the old Scotch Version.
The choristers sat in a desk below the pulpit.

The singing was general through the church, and excellent in style.

Dr.Hamilton preached in a gown, and, as the heat grew oppressive in the middle of his sermon, threw it off.

The discourse was delivered with extremely awkward gestures, but in a voice of great sweetness.

The text was: "My soul thirsteth for the Living God." He described an arid wilderness, hot and parched, and down beneath it a mighty vein of water into which an artesian well was bored, and forthwith the waters gushed up through it and swept over all the dry desert, making it one emerald meadow.