CHAPTER XXVII. THE MEMORIAL SERVICES IN CHICAGO-ADDRESSES BY MR. MOODY, DR. GOODWIN, AND OTHERS-THE SONG SERVICE AT THE TABERNACLE. OR the account of the memorial services held in Chicago, we are much indebted to the daily newspapers, and have in part adopted their language as our own, as it eloquently portrays the character of the services and the deep feeling betrayed by the people. A large congregation assembled at the Tabernacle on Sunday morning, December 31, 1876. Mr. Moody had announced a sermon on "The Return of Our Lord," but from the drapery of mourning around the platform and the galleries, with its heavy lines and festoons of black and white, and the pure beautiful white crowns which stood upon the speaker's stand, it was evident that, instead of the coming of the Lord to us, the topic of the morning was to be the departure of loved ones to Him. The announcement in the papers that Mr. Bliss, with his entire family, had perished in the fearful wreck of the railway train at Ashtabula, Ohio, fell with such weight upon the ears and hearts of his thousands of friends in Chicago, that for hours it was impossible for them to realize it, or even to believe it to be true. But, if any of them went with lingering hopes to the meeting, one look at the great Tabernacle with its emblems of death overhanging the promises of eternal life which are inscribed on its walls, was sufficient to show that the only hope of ever seeing or hearing this sweet singer of our Israel again was in joining him on the other shore. Four crowns all together, and all for one family! Not often does heaven bestow so lavishly. One for Paul, one for "Paulina," one for the son who bore his father's name, and one for little George Goodwin; these crowns are woven of pure white camellias and lilies, but those crowns are made of "glory." While the congregation was assembling the choir sang softly and lovingly several of the favorite hymns written by the man whose name Death had written on the tablets of history, and whose record God had written in the Book of Life. Presently Mr. Moody entered, and, as all eyes were turned to see how this man, twice broken under the weight of affliction since these meetings began, would bear himself, and as all ears were listening for his first word in his great sorrow, he stood up in his place and, with manifest trouble to keep back the sobs and tears, he repeated those words of David, "Know ye not that there is a Prince and a great man fallen in Israel!" Then, almost unable to speak for weeping, he said, "Let us lift up our hearts to God in silent prayer." A long period of silence followed, broken at length by signs of overpowering emotion, in the midst of which the voice of Dr. Chamberlain was heard giving thanks to God for the hope of eternal life, on behalf of this entire household who had been borne on angels' wings from the place of terror and death up to the bosom of God. The congregation then joined in singing: "In the Christian's Home in Glory there Remains a Land of Rest;" after which Mr. Moody arose and said: I was to take up the subject of our Lord's return, but I cannot control my feelings so as to speak as I intended. I will take up that subject at another time. When I heard last night that Mr. Bliss and his whole family had perished, at first I could not believe it, but a despatch from a friend who was on the train took away all hope, and left me face to face with death. For the past three months I have seemed to stand between the living and the dead, and now I am to stand in the place of the dead. Mr. Whittle and Mr. Bliss were announced to hold the 4 o'clock meeting in the Tabernacle to-day, and now Mr. Farwell, and Mr. Jacobs, and Mr. Whittle, with other friends, have gone to see if they can find his remains to take them away for burial. I have been looking over his hymns to see if I could find one appropriate to the occasion, but I find they are all like himself, full of hope and cheer. In all the years I have known and worked with him I have never once seen him cast down. But here is a hymn of his that I thought we might sing. Once after the wreck of that steamer at Cleveland, I was speaking of the circumstance that the lower lights were out, and the next time we met he sang this hymn for me; it is the sixty-fifth in our collection; let us sing it now. It begins," Brightly beams our Father's mercy," but still more brightly beams the light along the shore to which he has passed. It was in the midst of a terrible storm he passed away, but the lights which he kindled are burning all along the shore. He has died young,-only about 38 years old,-but his hymns are sung round the world. Only a little while ago we received a copy of these hymns translated into the Chinese language. In spite of the mourning it is sweet to think that this whole family passed away together, father and mother, Paul, only 4 years old, and little George, only MEMORIAL SERVICES IN CHICAGO. 343 2 years old, all gone home safe together. There comes a voice to us saying, "Be still and know that I am God," but we know that "our Father doeth all things well." The sixty-fifth hymn was then sung. Mr. Sankey read from a letter he had received from Mr. Bliss near his old home in Towanda, Pa., in which his happy faith in God and his love for his dear old mother were sweetly expressed. Rev. Dr. Goodwin, of whose church Mr. Bliss had for many years been a loved and honored member, then came forward and said: Ever since these sad tidings came I have been trying to say, "Not my will, but Thine be done." I don't know of any death that has come so near to me. For years I have been almost as a part of that household; one of the little ones bore my name; we have worked and prayed together, and I have known very much of his heart in connection with the great mission of his life, and shared in his ever-increasing delight that God was using him and his music so wonderfully. It was hours after the awful news came before I could see any light, but at last I seemed to see a vision of a great praise service in heaven with Brother Bliss leading it--he was to have led a praise meeting at our Sundayschool this afternoon-and then I found light in this darkness. Out of the fifty Sunday-school scholars who are now waiting to be received into the fellowship of our church, there is hardly one but can bear witness to his helpfulness in leading them to Christ. This morning it seems wonderful to me that this whole family should be taken up together, all at once, to enter the world of praise and take up the new song; a full household now, for one had gone before. Out of this affliction has come to them an exceeding and eternal weight of glory, and so I begin to feel it, as well as say it, all is well, all is well. It is not that the Lord does not care for us; but "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints," and "The day of his death is better than the day of his birth." Thirty-five times have I been called this year to comfort the mourning ones in my congregation, and the thought has come to me of a little praise meeting in Heaven to-day of those who have come up from that First Congregational Church. This is not the time to speak as I would like to speak, but this I can say, that no man is so identified with the work of the Lord but that God can glorify him, and still carry on the work. Here is that thirteenth hymn whieh Mr. Bliss sung for us the other night. He began by saying, "Brethren, I don't know as I shall ever sing here again (and he never did), but I want to sing this as the language of my heart." "Let us sing that hymn," said Mr. Moody, which was done. The next speaker was Rev. Dr. Thompson, who had only the previous evening returned from a double funeral service among his relatives in another State, to which he had been summoned by telegraph, and where he had been singing the hymns of Brother Bliss at the bedside of the sick at the very hour of the awful calamity. He has learned, said the Doctor, the form of his mansion fair, and the song that the angels sing. "A few days ago I received a letter from a friend who had been annoyed at the charge that Brother Bliss sang for gain, and desiring me to disprove it if I could; and when I spoke to him about it, he said, with a smile: I sing for Christ; I have not even a home to my name.' His songs are sung round the world, and it seems to me they are sung in glory, too. By and by the work of the preacher will be done, but the singing will go on forever; singing the name of Jesus and the triumph of the redeemed." After further remarks by Mr. Moody, prayer was offered by Rev. Dr. Williamson, especially in behalf of the mother of the deceased. The twenty-second hymn was then sung-"We're Going Home." Mr. Moody then appointed two committees; the first to raise money and erect a monument to the memory of the dead, consisting of Messrs. T. W. Harvey, J. V. Farwell, Henry Field, and J. D. Sankey. Mr. Henry Field, of Field, Leiter & Co., was appointed treasurer of this fund, to whom all contributions may be addressed. Mr. Moody requested that as there were so many who would want a share in this work of love, that none should give more than a dollar. A collection was then taken for that purpose, the only one ever taken in the Tabernacle. The other committee was to draft resolutions and communicate them to the friends of the deceased. It consists of the Rev. Messrs. Goodwin, Bishop Cheney, Dr. Parkhurst, Dr. Everts and Dr. Petrie. The benediction was pronounced by the Rev. Mr. Walker. At the afternoon services, the Tabernacle was more than comfortably filled. Those who were there wore on their countenances a funeral aspect. Around the pulpit and along the gallery were long stretches of white and black muslin, festooned in grieving recollections of Mr. Bliss' untimely end. A spirit of sadness prevailed, and the religion that teaches that the death of good men should bring no mourning in its train seemed to bring very little consolation to the vast number of sorrowing friends, so sudden had been their bereavement. The usual exercises opened with music. MEMORIAL SERVICES IN CHICAGO. I gave my life for thee, 345 Mr. Moody had hoped for some better news, he said; hoped that it might turn out to be a mistake, but a late despatch from Maj. Whittle dispelled all this, and confirmed the first horrible report of the death of Mr. Bliss and his family, whose remains had been recovered though not recognizable. Mr. Sankey sang "Watching and Waiting for Me," and the audience were still as death as the beautiful words rang out. Mr. Moody said that he had looked forward to this Sabbath to hear Maj. Whittle preach and Mr. Bliss sing. Only Friday night he had told his wife that he was weary, and he anxiously awaited the rest this Sunday promised. But now he found he must take Maj. Whittle's place. Only one text suggested itself to him, and had been ringing in his head all day: "Therefore be ye also ready." He called on those who had heard him preach for three months to bear him witness that he had said nothing about death, confining himself to life. But it might be that before long God might lay him away, and send some one to take his place, and he could not forbear saying a word urging upon all the necessity of regeneration and preparation. His voice was more subdued than usual, and in all he said and in all his readings from the Scriptures, it came tremulously and mingled with tears. He spoke painfully and with difficulty, the words some. times utterly unintelligible. "Be ye therefore ready. Don't put it off. There are some who may say I am preaching for effect and making use of this good man's death to frighten you." Satan might even say that of him and say it truly. He was preaching for effect, and he hoped the effect would be to save the soul of every human being before him. He felt that he must warn them-must warn them of the wrath to come and the death pursuing. That death hath sent many a warning during the year, and now an awful one had come. Many of them had looked down upon the dead faces and opened graves of departed friends. Would they not heed those warnings? Would they not heed this last one, that might be even nearer to themselves than any before? Death had taken them by surprise, and |