ART, after being born and nurtured in the Church, seems to have made a wide detour around it in modern times. The ultimate form of many churches is shaped far more by the dogmatic decrees of the deacons and elders than by the spontaneous inspiration of the artist and architect, the flower of whose genius was formerly lavished upon it.

There is little excuse for the church being artistically inferior to the dwelling house or public building, no matter how small the amount which may be expended upon it, and yet this is the case in a great many instances. People are called to worship in great barn-like structures amid hideously iron-capped columns, walls decorated in muddy colorings and violent patterns, windows which set one's teeth on edge, garishly frescoed ceilings, imitation marble and woodwork, and altars desecrated with artificial flowers whose frantic elaboration makes them appear like "glorified soda fountains," according to one astute critic.

The various religious sects have given rise to various new styles of church architecture, some of them individual and interesting, but many of them buffeted between old forms and new obligations and duties, Whether it be the great cathedral or little chapel or meeting-house, the church has certain fundamental requirements to fulfil. In the first place, it must frankly profess to be what it is; it must be honest and dignified in conception; and it must aim to preserve an atmosphere apart from the pettiness and strife of the work-a-day world. If, in addition, the outer structure can rise in imagination above the mere stone and mortar of which it is composed, and the interior can be tinged with something of the eternal mystery and beauty of life, it then becomes a true and worthy place of worship.

Recently a few sincere American architects and religious men have been laboring to restore the old monumental and inspirational qualities to church building and within the last few years the foundations of several noteworthy attempts have been laid in this country. Among them that of the Swedenborgian Church at Bryn Athyn, Pennsylvania, is by far the most significant.

On a hill overlooking deeply undulating country with fertile patches of dark and light and threaded with silvery streams of water, are arising the walls of a church that all its builders and makers, from the highest to the humblest, design to stand for ages as a worldwide symbol of the faith which the followers of Swedenborg profess. Not only will it stand when completed, however, as a monument to Swedenborgianbut as the greatest achievement in church-building to which this country has yet arisen. And it will be thoroughly American, too, in every inch of its material, from the granite blocks taken from their own quarry to the Western timbers in the roof; and American in all the workmanship, from the stone-cutters to the makers of its stained glass windows. This is in accordance with the firm belief of Mr. John Pitcairn, the broad-spirited donor, that there are as good men in America, to-day, as anywhere in the world at any time, if one takes the trouble to seek them out and give them the right environment in which to produce the best which is in them.

The church has already been several years in the building and has scarcely arisen above its first story, but whether it takes twenty or a hundred years, it will have but one aim and one goal - that of the nearest possible approach to perfection, based on the best the world has thus far produced.

Modern building has degenerated, more or less, into the assembling of component parts ordered from various sections of the country and put in place by the builders according to the architect's plans. Cut stone and timbers are shipped in carloads and the men who cut or hew them have seldom any idea of their destination. When their particular job is finished, well and good, their responsibility ends, the further use or misuse of their work being no concern of theirs.

The building of Bryn Athyn Church is founded on a different idea. Its structure has been evolved step by step as a living organism, every part designed especially to fulfil its individual function by men who live and breathe its atmosphere and are infused with the enthusiasm and responsibility of the whole. There are no two parts exactly alike, either, from the pillars of the aisle which curve as they did in old Greek temples and have different bases, to the tracery of the windows which preserve a subtle balance but are not of identical design.

At present the church presents the aspect of a big workshop where a community of workers composed of a corps of efficient architects engaged by the year, groups of skilful and intelligent stonecutters, carvers, and woodworkers, and stained-glass and wrought-iron artists and artisans work together, each busily employed in the individual workshops, but coming together to pass judgment on each new step, which is carefully tried out before it takes its place as a permanent part of the whole. Every arch, molding, and column is first conceived in a small model of plaster-of-paris and clay; then, if approved, it is modeled full size and set up temporarily in the place for which it is designed. The chancel column was modeled six times; four times in full size and twice in miniature.

All cutting and carving is done by hand; machinery is employed only to rough out stones. The entire surface of the interior stones of the church are being hand-tooled in thin lines, each succeeding block being different. It gives a remarkable uneven texture bringing out glints of different colors in the stone. The great beams of the roof are all hand-hewn in sections in the workshop and put together by wooden pegs. Every stone and beam has its own important part to play in the structure. The stones in the wonderful winding stairways are not jointed to bring about an effect, but turn corners and ascend, being hewn out and many sides cut. The ceiling beams are true beams and not sham woodwork to cover iron supports.

The three artists who were chosen to undertake the designing and execution of the stained glass windows were first sent abroad to study the greatest examples of glass in European cathedrals and did considerable work of a preparatory nature. A studio was then established on the grounds of the church and the three men employed all their time in designing and carrying out the windows. The time when this work must be finished is not fixed. No attempt will be made to hurry it in any way, and, therefore, there will be freedom from the constraint of having to finish at a given time, which is so damaging to creative work.

The sources for glass with quality of color and surface being limited, a glass blower is employed in an attempt to redevelop the art of making ancient glass according to original processes in something more than a commercial manner. Especially an effort is being directed to arrive at the old striated ruby, and the deep but clear and melting blue of the Twelfth Century.

Some interesting results have been obtained, but it is an experiment that is really only in its first stages as yet.

It is probably unnecessary to state that none of the windows will be memorial windows, and that there will be no interference from sentiment and personality ; even symbolism, universal as it is in the expression of the church, must only be regarded as contributing to and not as controlling the windows, which are always in the first place design, color, and craftsmanship.

The aim is not toward an elaboration of either size or detail, but toward an exquisite beauty of proportion, toward a masterly handling of light and shade and plain and accented surfaces, and towards a rich, mellow atmosphere diffused by the deep-hued glass of the windows and the amber sandstone walls.

From the main entrance of the church one looks down a long aisle of pillars, shading from old ivory to deep bronze, to the altar directly ahead. The pillars and the nave arcade with its clerestory will arise fifty feet to the vaulted roof. The tower will be ninety feet higher. On the left lies a vista of stone arches like a glimpse into a vast cloister. The chancel of the little chapel in the southeast wing is arched in solid stone without support giving the further impression of a dim and vast expanse. Great windows with marvelous stone tracery and wrought iron grill-work lend to the awe inspiring effect.

The main entrance will be on the brow of the hill, and below it will extend a park to the little stream at the base. The bishop's garden will be entered from the bishop's study on the south side and reached from the outside by a broad circular flight of steps. On the north side there will be cloisters surrounded by marble arched galleries leading to the park entrances and cultivated woodland retreats. The labor will not be finished with the building - it will be continued until a worthy setting is achieved.

Such a work should, indeed, furnish a fresh impetus to church building in this country. Of course, all churches cannot expect to enjoy the munificence and magnanimity of such donors as Mr. Pitcairn, but each, in a greater or lesser degree, can keep abreast of the best art thought of the times and be unsatisfied with any tribute beneath the best in its power. The architect should not be bound hand and foot by hampering conventions. The goal should be quality and not ostentation. Gilding and ornate decorations belong to a passing order. To-day one seeks harmony and repose.

One interesting type of church; adapted from some old models, has a stone exterior and a rough plaster interior. The plaster is left tinted a natural oyster white and the woodwork is left unvarnished and touched with pure color. A few beautiful modern windows and a richly colored tile floor complete the foundations of a charming decoration for either the medium sized church or small chapel.

For another type of church smooth painted walls of a neutral or pleasant positive tone, woodwork stained to blend, and upholstery and floor covering of rich contrasting shade, form an interesting nucleus for an unpretentious decoration. Clear and beautiful colorings seem to have been discarded in church decoration in favor of conventional olive drabs and reddish magentas or weak compromises of blues and purples. There are few places where color exerts so strong an emotional appeal as amid the shadowy recesses or the broad open spaces of the church. The old Gothic churches were filled with it, and many of the modern church interiors which have given the greatest ultimate satisfaction have had it used with a free hand.

There is no lack of proficient artists and craftsmen in this country whose work could be well employed to glorify great edifices to go down the ages as monuments to our culture and our sincerity and faith. We have superb woodcarvers, unparalleled tile makers, excellent gold and silversmiths, and a rising order of sculptors and stained glass makers who need only opportunity to develop their powers. There are efficient and able architects, too, and broad-minded clergymen like the Rev. Burke of the Valley Forge Memorial Chapel who is aiming, through years of patient labor, to build up a lasting tribute to American nationalism and religious life.