Class Mi!! Book_„ Ali COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT MOODY'S —CHILD STORIES—- AS RELATED BY / DWlGHT LYMAN MOODY . IN HIS REVIVAL WORK IN EUROPE AND AMERICA. COP 10 USL Y ILL US TRA TFD FR OM GUSTAVE DORE AND- BY. J. Stuart Littlejohn. IT ALSO CONTAINS STORY OF MOODY,S LIFE. -COO- CHICAGO: Rhodes & McClure Publishing Company. 1900. M 888:18 lOtarwy o* Congreae Two Copies Received DEC 15 1900 ~ Copynght entry SECOND COPY Oetfwred to ORDER OWISION IftN 10 1901 No Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1900 by the Rhodes & McClure Publishing Company, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. All Rights Reserved. In his impressive services, Mr. Moody abounds in illustrations drawn from home life. With him, as with the Master, the little child is the type of the kingdoms Hence, his numerous touching stories about children. In this volume the aim of the compiler has been to pre- sent these remarkable incidents connected with child life. In every instance the child is in the foreground of the picture, and the great evangelist in his own language, tells the story. Carefully selected fron Mr. Moody's work at home and abroad, and handsomely embellished, it is hoped that these true and wonderful stories, while uttered first in the presence of the great congregations, and therefore adapted to all, may prove of special and personal interest to the child reader. It contains also an interesting Story of Moody's Life. In this form, and in the interest of the Savior's cause, the volume is dedi- cated to the children of America. J. B. McClure. Caicago, III. PAGE. A Bad Boy - 157 A Boy's Story - - 174 A Boy's Victory - ~ • 73 A Child Legend - - 124 A Child's Request for Prayer - 219 A Good Mother 53 A Little Boy Converts his Mother - - - 168 A Little Child shall lead them 93 A Mother Dies that her Boy may Live - - 94 A Sad Story - - 104 A Singular Story - - 128 A Voice from the Tomb - 22 Believe - - - 41 Blind Bartimeus - 31 Breaking the Tumblers - - 190 Cherries - 236 Child Friendship, how Durable 164 Dinna ye Hear Them Comin'? - 224 Dr. Booth's Story - - 102 Dr. Chalmers' Story - - 195 Emma's Kiss - - 233 Emma's New Muff - - 220 Faith - - - - 67 Finding Your Picture - 155 For Charley's Sake - - 150 Found in the Sand - - 28 Higher and Higher - "35 "Hold the Fort for I am Coming" 86 Hold Up Your Light - -36 How Little Moody took the Whippings - 192 Humility - 132 In Jail - - - 54 Johnny, Cling Close to the Rock 138 Jumping into Father's Arms - 122 "Let the Lower Lights be Burning" - 228 PAGE. Little Great Men - - 48 Little Jimmy - 186 Looking down from Heaven - 80 Lost in the Deep - 79 Love - - 84 Love in the Sunday-School - 143 Moody and the Children - - 204 Moody Chasing his Shadow - 103 Moody in the Far West - - 117 Moody's Mother and her Prod- igal Son - 120 Mrs. Moody Teaching her Child - - - 100 Obedience Explained - - 212 Off for America - - 200 Open the Door - - - 211 Over the Mountains - 196 Over the River - - - 215 Parting Words - - - 202 Peace - - 95 Picking up the Bible - - 136 Prayer Answered - - 181 "Pull for the Shore, Sailor," 221 Reaping the Whirlwind - 70 Rover - - - - 64 Sammy and his Mother - 125 Saved in Weakness - - 159 Son, Remember 69 Sympathy - 171 The Bible - - -42 The Blind Child - - 167 The Boy that Went West - 23 The Child and President Lin- coln - - - - 115 The Child and the Book - 189 The Child and the Infidel - 134 The Child Angel - - 62 The Collier and his Children 88 The Cross - •- - 149 The Demoniac - - 51 PAGE. The Dog Fighter 107 The Drunken Boy Reclaimed 206 The Dying Sunday-School Teacher - 179 The Fatal Slumber - 207 The Hand on Moody's Head - 38 The Happy H^me 19 The Horse that was "Estab- lished" 37 The Idiot Boy 40 The Imp isoned Children 27 The Little Bell Boy 231 The Little Bird's Freedom - 213 The Little Greyhound in the Lions' Cage 20 The Little Norwegian 85 The Little Orphan 119 The Little Orphan's Prayer 61 The Little Winner 234 The Lost Kiss 17 The Loved One and the Lover 148 The Mistake that was Cor- rected - 227 The Orange Boy - 152 PAGE. The Praying Little Cripple - 72 The Prisoner Weeping for his Children - - 109 The Prodigal's Return - 57 The Recitation - - 191 The Repentant Son - 55 The Saloon-keeper and his Children - 139 The Smiling Child - - 183 The S ruling Mother's Sad Farewell - 198 The Speaking Card - 26 The Stolen Boy - - 184 The Young Converts - 76 Two Boys and Two Fathers - 46 Very Sad News - - - 59 Waiting Lr Jesus - 217 Willie . - - - 187 Willie and the Bears - 44 Willie Asks Pardon and Prays 216 Work Among Street Arabs - 99 Young Moody in Boston - 223 Young Moody's Conversion - 90 Young Moody at School - 160 Story of Moody's Life pages 238 to 293. PAGE. D. L. Moody From Gustave Dore. Daniel in the Lions' Den - 145 Hagar in the Wilderness - - 209 Jesus Ble sing Children - 129 Jesus Questioning the Doctors 113 Joseph Interpreting Pharaoh's Dream - - "33 Joseph Making Himself Known to His Brethren - 49 Joseph Sold Into Egypt - 16 Lazarus ?nd the Rich Man - 225 Moses in the Bulrushes - 193 The Flight Into Egypt - 97 The Judgment of Solomon - 177 The Nativity - - -65 The Prodigal Son - - 161 The Star in the East - - 81 By J. Stuart Littlejohn. A Mother Dies That Her Boy May Live 94 And the Child Just Picked It Up - - - - 137 "And Will I Be With Jesus To-night, Faiher?" - 203 "Are Any of Saul's House Alive?" - 164 At Last I Got a Letter - 223 A Voice from the Tomb - 22 But the Dog Ran Right Up to the Lion - - 21 "But You Are Not Afraid to Die." - - - 180 " 'Cause That's Me." - 119 "Didn't I Tell You Never to Pray Again?" - 74 PAGE. Dinna Ye Hear Them Comin'? 224 "Don't Cry, Mother, I'll Soon Be in America, and I'll Save Money and Send for You.'' - 201 "Don't Tell Mother Where I Am." - - - 55 Don't You Hear the Angels? 197 Drowned in Lake Michigan - 30 Emma's New Muff - - 220 For Hcurs They Tried to Reach That Vessel - 221 "Go, Kill the Fatted Calf." - 57 He Advised Her to Write the Names Down, and Then Pray Earnestly - "73 He Asked His Mother to For- give Him - - 216 He Put His Hand on My Shoulder - - 91 He Saw the Mangled Form of His Loved Child - 208 He Sprang Into His Father's Arms - 123 He Stood There Covered with Rags and Soot - - 185 He Talked to Her Alone - 196 He Threw the Dog in the River 108 He Told Me a Story That Thrilled My Heart - 188 He Took Up Two Little Lambs 102 He Wouldn't Touch the Roast Beef - - - 67 " Higher, Father. Higher" 35 His Father Let the Light Go Out 80 His Father Remembered Him 56 Hold the Fort, for I am Com- mg 86 PAGE. How Much She Loved Jesus 93 " I Am That Brother" - - 182 "I Am Waiting for Jesus" - 218 "If I Tell the World of Jesus" 85 I Found That I Had Something to Do - 205 "If You Go Out You Must Go Over This Body" - 158 I Have Stopped Swearing, and Want You to Be a Chris- tian Mother - - 169 "I May Never See Him Again" - 199 In Jail - - - 54 I Promised That I Would - 231 " I Said My Prayers" - 96 I Took Her Up and Kissed Her - - - 18 It Was the Bagpipes of Scot- land She Heard - 224 * ' I Used to Stand off from the Rod" - 192 I've Been the Means of Lead- ing You Astray, and I Want Your Friendship 206 "I've Said It, I've Said It" - 126 I Was Born Blind - 32 I Would Have Given the World - - - 176 Let Me Have the Boy - - 144 Love Better than the Rattan 163 Love for Her Child - - 148 Looking Over the River - 215 Moody Chasing His Shadow 103 "Mother, I Have Been Con- verted" - - "53 "Mother, Mother, don't You Know Me?" - 71 "Mr. Moody, My Wife Has Got Converted." - - 227 "Mr. Moody, You Can Have My Children - - 140 Mrs. Moody Teaching 101 No Blood on the Door-post 124 Now, My Son, Just Speak 105 "Of Course He Will" - - 61 Willie and the Bears - 44 "Woe Is Me, - 133 Won by a Smile - - 184 "Won't the Grapes Be Accept- able, Papa?" - - 212 PAGE. O, How Sad; How Bitter Sin Is no " O, It Is My Lost Son" - 121 ' ' Papa, You Have Been Drink- ing Again" - - - 19 "Please, Sir, Tell Me Why 135 Pray That My Mother May Be Converted - - 219 ' ' Seek First the Kingdom of God" - - - 128 She Broke All the Tumblers 190 She Had Reached Out for It 172 " She's In Heaven" - - 63 She Knocked and Knocked 211 Speaking About Heaven - 83 Suffer Little Children - - 191 "Surely That Man Is Blind" 36 The Blind Child - 167 The Book Was too Big - i8g The Boy That Went West 23 The Cross - -r^g The Demoniac - - 51 The Dog Fighter - - 107 The Father Saw It Was His Own Son's Writing - 150 The Flames Had Now Reached Him - - 27 The Highland Sheep - 159 The Horse That Was Estab- lished 37 The Idiot Boy - 40 The Last Was Thrown At Him 153 The Only Boy in the Class - 48 The Poor Little Bird Was Trembling in His Hand 214 The President's Heart Was Touched - - 116 The Whole Train Passed Over Him - - - 186 They Went Crash Against the Rocks - - - 229 "Thy Sins Are Forgiven Thee" 77 "Well, Our Son Has Been Seen" - - 60 "What Makes You Cry, 68 "Why, I's Clean, Papa" - 45 Won't You Please Pray That 234 Work Among the Street Arabs 99 "Ye Are My Witnesses" - 26 "You Have A Father in Heaven" - - ,\g Joseph Sold Into Egypt. Genesis, xxxvii. I remember, a few years ago, that my little girl used to be in the habit of getting up cross some mornings. You know how it is; when any member of the family does not get S^> up in a sweet temper, it disturbs all the rest of the family. Well, one morning she got up cross, and spoke in a cross way, and finally I said to her, "Emma, if you speak in that way again, I shall have to punish you." Now, it was not because I didn't love her; it was because I did love her, and if I had to correct her it was for the good of the little child. Well, that went off all right. One morning she got up cross again. I said nothing, but when she was getting ready to go to school, she came up to me and said, " Papa, kiss me." I said, " Emma, I cannot kiss you this morn- ing." She said, "Why, father?" "Because you have been cross again this morning. I cannot kiss you." She said, "Why, papa, you never refused to kiss me be- fore." "Well, you have been naughty this morning." 17 1 8 Moody's child stories. " Why don't you kiss me?" she said again. " Because you have been naughty. You will have to go to school without your kiss." She went into the other room where her mother was and said, " Mamma, papa don't love me. He won't kiss me. I wish you would go and get him to kiss me." But her mother said, "You know, Emma, that your father loves you, but you have been naughty." So she couldn't be kissed, and she went down stairs crying as if her heart would break, and I loved her so well that the tears came into my eyes. I could not help crying, and when I heard her going down stairs I could not keep down my tears. I think I loved her then better than I ever did, and when 1 heard the door i took her up and kissed her. close I went to the window and saw her going down the street weeping. I didn't feel good all that day. I believe I felt a good deal worse than the child did, and I was anxious for her to come home. How long that day seemed to me! And when she came home at night and came to me and asked me to forgive her, and told me how sorry she felt, how gladly I took her up and kissed her, and how happy she went upstairs to her bed! It is just so with MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 19 (rod. He loves you, and when He chastises you, it is for your own good. If you will only come to Him and tell Him how sorry you are, how gladly He will receive you and how happy you will make Him, and, Oh, how happy you will be yourself. -o- A little girl who had attended one of our meetings went home and climbed upon her father's knees and said, " Papa, you have been drinking again." It troubled him. If his wife had spoken to him, he might have got mad and gone out into some shop or saloon and got more liquor, but that little child acted like an angel. He came down here with her and he found out how he might be saved, and now that home is a little heaven. There is many a home that can be made happy. "papa, you have been drinking AGAIN." THE LIONS CAGE. A man over in Man- chester had a little grey- hound that he was training for a race, and he had a great bet on him for a poor man, and he was anxious his dog should succeed. The day came, and the dog didn't run at all. He was so mad that he took and beat the little greyhound, and then he pushed it through a cage in which there was a lion, and expected to see it eaten, but the little dog ran right up to the lion as though it wanted mercy, and instead of the lion eating it, began to lap it, and by-and-bv the man called to the dog to come out, but he would not come. Then he put his hand in, and the lion began to growl, and he took it out again. And some people went and told the keeper what the man had done and how he had ill-used the little grey- hound. When the keeper came around, the man wanted him to get his dog out for him; and the keeper asked him how he got in there, and the man was ashamed to tell. At last the keeper said, " You put him in; youd' 20 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 21 better go and get him out; I won't get him out for you." And so the dog has remained there ever since. Now, that may be a homely illustration, but I hope it will fasten on our minds the idea that we are no match for Satan. He has had six thousand years' experience. I BUT THE DOG RAN RIGHT UP TO THE LION. always tremble when I hear a man talk about defying Satan, and I want to add "by the grace of God," for that is the only way. The lion of the tribe of Judah will take care of us if we will come to Him. o The other day I read of a mother who died, leaving her child alone and very poor. She used to pray earnestly for her boy, and left an impression upon his mind that she cared more for his soul than she cared for any- thing else in the world. He grew up to be a suc- cessful man in business, and became very well off. One day, not long ago, after his mother had been dead for twenty years, he thought he would remove her remains, and put her into his own lot in the cemetery, and put up a little monument to her memory. As he came to re- move them and to lay them away the thought came to 22 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 23 him, that while his mother was alive she had prayed for him, and he wondered why her prayers were not an- swered. That very night that man was saved. After his mother had been buried so long a time, the act of re- moving her body to another resting-place brought up all recollections of his childhood, and he became a Chris- tian. O you mothers! -0- A number of years ago, before any railway came into Chicago, they used to bring in the grain from the west- ern prairies in wagons for hundreds of miles, so as to have it shipped off by the lakes. There was a father who had a large farm out there, and who used to preach the gospel as well as to attend to his farm. One day, when church business engaged him, he sent his son to Chicago with grain. He waited and waited for his boy to return, but he did not come home. At last he could wait no longer, so he saddled his horse and rode to the place where his 24 Moody's child stories. son had sold the grain. He found that he had been there and got the money for his grain; then he began to fear that his boy had been murdered and robbed. At last, with the aid of a detective, they tracked him to a gambling den, where they found that he had gambled away the whole of his money. In hopes of winning it back again, he then sold his team, and lost that money too. He had fallen among thieves, and, like the man who was going to Jericho, they stripped him, and then they cared no more about him. What could he do? He was ashamed to go home to meet his father, and he fled. The father knew what it all meant. He knew the boy thought he would be very angry with him. He was grieved to think that his boy should have such feelings toward him. That is just exactly like the sinner. He thinks because he has sinned, God will have nothing to do with him. But what did that father do? Did he say, " Let the boy go?" No; he went after him. He arranged his business, and started after the boy. That man went from town to town, city to city. He would get the min- isters to let him preach, and at the close he would tell his story. " I have got a boy who is a wanderer on the face of the earth somewhere. " He would describe his boy, and say, " If you ever hear of him or see him, will you not write to me?" At last he found that he had gone to California, thousands of miles away. Did that father say, " Let him go?" No; off he went to the Pacific coast, seeking the boy. He went to San Francisco, and adver- Moody's child stories. 25 tised in the newspapers that he would preach at such a church on such a day. When he had preached, he told his story, in hopes that the boy might have seen the ad- vertisement and come to the church. When he had done, away under the gallery, there was a young man who waited until the audience had gone out; then he came to- ward the pulpit. The father looked and saw it was that boy, and he ran to him, and pressed him to his bosom. The boy wanted to confess what he had done, but not a word would the father hear. He forgave him freely, and took him to his home once more. I tell you christ will welcome you this minute if you will come. Say, "I will arise and go to my Father." May God incline you to take this step. There is not one whom Jesus has not sought far longer than that father. There has not been a day since you left Him but He has followed you. -o- There was a friend of mine in Philadelphia go- ing by a drinking saloon one night, and he saw in that saloon a professed Christian playing cards. He just took a pencil, wrote on a card, and saw a little boy and said, "My boy, here is some money. I want you to do an errand for me. You see that man on the side of the table where those three are playing cards with them?" Says he, "Yes I do." "Well," says my friend, "just take that card to him. " The boy started, and my friend watched him when he handed this card to him. What was written on the card was, " Ye are my witnesses." The man 'jjj took the card, looked at it, sprang to his feet, and rushing out into " ye are my witnesses." the street asked the boy where the card came from. The boy said, "A man over there gave it to me." But the man had slipped away, and the poor man died a few 26 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 27 months afterwards. "Ye are my witnesses." Where- ever you find a professed Christian going in bad company, you may look for something worse. o When the Lawrence mills were on fire a number of years ago — I re, but when the mill fell 11 fell in, and after it had fallen in, the ruins caught fire. There was only one room left entire, and in it were three mission Sunday- school children imprisoned. The neighbors and all hands got their shovels and picks and crowbars, and were work- ing to set the children free. It came on night \v (( and they had not yet reached the children. When they were near them, by some mis- chance a lantern broke, and the ruins caught fire. They tried to put it out, but could not succeed. They could talk with the children, and even pass to them the flames had now reached them, 28 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. some coffee and refreshments, and encourage them to keep up. But, alas, the flames drew nearer and nearer to this prison. Superhuman were the efforts made to rescue the children; the men bravely fought back the flames; but the fire gained fresh strength and returned to claim its victims. Then piercing shrieks arose when the spectators saw that the efforts of the firemen were hope- less. The children saw their fate. They then knelt down and commenced to sing the little hymn we have all been taught in our Sunday-school days, oh, how sweet, "Let others seek a home below which flames devour and waves overflow." The flames had now reached them; the stifling smoke began to pour into their little room, and they began to sink, one by one, upon the floor. A few moments more and the fire circled around them and their souls were taken into the bosom of Christ. Yes, let others seek a home below if they will, but seek ye the kingdom of God with all your hearts. o While I was attending a meeting in a certain city some time ago, a lady came to me and said, ' ' I want you to go home with me; I have some- i thing to say to you." When we reached her Moody's child stories. 29 home, there were some friends there. After they had retired, she put her arms on the table, and tears began to come into her eyes, but with an effort she repressed her emotion. After a struggle she went on to say that she was going to tell me something that she had never told any other living person. I should not tell it now, but she has gone to another world. She said she had a son in Chicago, and she was 1 very anxious about him. When he was young he got interested in religion at the rooms of the Young Men's Christian association. He used to go out in the street and circulate tracts. He was her only son, and she was very ambitious that he should make a name in the world, and wanted him to get into the very highest circles. O, what a mistake people make about these highest circles. Society is false; it is a sham. She was deceived like a good many more votaries of fashion and hunters after wealth at the present time. She thought it was beneath her son to go down and asso- ciate with those young men who hadn't much money. She tried to get him away from them, but they had more influence than she had; and, finally, to break his whole association, she packed him off to a boarding-school. He went soon to Yale College, and she supposed he got into one of those miserable secret societies there that have ruined so many young men, and the next thing she heard was that the boy had gone astray. She began to write letters urging him to come into the kingdom of God; but she heard that he tore the letters 30 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. up without reading them. She went to him to try and regain whatever influence she possessed over him, but her efforts were useless, and she came home with a broken heart. He left. New Haven, and for two years they heard nothing of him. At last they heard he was in Chicago, and his father found him and gave him $30,- 000 to start in business. They thought it would change him, but it didn't. They asked me, when I went back DROWNED IN LAKE MICHIGAN. to Chicago, to try and use my influence with him. 1 got a friend to invite him to his house one night, where I intended to meet him, but he heard I was to be there, and did not come near, like a good many other young men who seem to be afraid of me. I tried many times to reach him, but could not. While I was traveling one day on the New Haven railroad, I bought a New York paper, and in it I saw a dispatch saying he had been MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 31 drowned in Lake Michigan. His father came on to find his body / and after considerable searching, they dis- covered it. All his clothes and his body were covered with sand. The body was taken home to that broken- hearted mother. She said, "If I thought he was in heaven I would have peace." Her disobedience of God's law came back upon her. So, my friends, if you have a boy impressed with the gospel, help him to come to Christ. Bring him in the arms of your faith, and He will unite you closer to Him. •o- The apostle was going into Jericho for the last time. By the wayside he finds a poor, blind beggar who asks for a farthing, and he says, " Silver and gold have I none, but I can tell you of a great physician in Israel who can cure you." " Can cure me?" he says. " I was born blind." " Yes, but I have talked to a man in Jerusalem who says he was born blind, but now he sees." "Why," says Bartimeus, "how is that?" "Well, sir, Jesus of Nazareth was in Jerusalem, and a boy, he said, led him up to Him, and He just made clay with spittle 32 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. and anointed his eyes, and sent him to wash in the pool of Siloam. If you could only go up to Jerusalem, all you would have do would be to tell Him. He don't charge anything." "He don't charge anything?" "No; He treats princes, potentates, and penniless all alike, • for nothing; you have only to come before Him, and ask Him." I can see Bartimeus' eyes light up as he cries out, "HI can get my eyes by asking, I will get them." He takes his place by the wayside in expectancy. All at once he hears some one coming, and he cries out, " Who is com- ing? What does it mean?" At this no one answers him, but he begins to mistrust that it is Jesus of Nazareth. He has been told how great crowds flock about Him. And he cried out again in a louder voice, and they told him Jesus of Naza- reth was passing by. And he cried again, I WAS BORN BLIND. then, with all his might, "Thou son of David, have mercy upon me Some in the crowd thought Christ was ■■mW iiiiii 1 11 1 iSR^'' ' : ', ■' ■ ■■■'■■■ i ;,."- 'ilillli llifflll ' i ' ' ! ' ■' ' ' ■ : WBbh SB :! I \v v ; I ssskls^i**' . '•■'.;: Joseph Interpreting Pharoah's Dream. Genesis, xli. MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 35 going up to Jerusalem to be crowned king, and did not want Him to be disturbed by the blind beggar; they cried out not to disturb the Master, but the beggar would not cease, but cried all the louder, "Thou son of David, have mercy upon me." And the prayer reached the ear of the Son of God, and he hushed all the voices about Him while He heard the earnest suitor. There was no mistake. -o- I remember a few years ago, a little child died, and just before his soul went home he asked his father to lift him up, and the father put his hand under the head of the child andraised it up. But the child only said, "HIGHER, FATHER, HIGHER." "That is not enough; that is not what I want; lift me right up." The 36 Moody's child stories. child was wasted all to skin and bones, but still his father complied, and lifted the dying child out of his bed. But the little fellow kept whispering, fainter and fainter, " Lift me higher, higher, higher!" And the father lifted higher and higher, till he lifted him as far as he could reach. Yet, still the barely audible whisper came, "Higher, father, higher," till at last, his head fell back, and his spirit passed up to the eternal King — high at last. So, my dear friends, let your constant cry be higher, higher, more near the cross of the Son of God. •o- " SURELY THAT MAN IS BLIND." Out west, a friend of mine was walking along one of the streets one ; dark night, and saw approaching him a man with a lantern. As he came up close to him he noticed by the bright light that the man seem- ed as if he had no eyes. He went past; but the MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 37 thought struck him, "Surely that man is blind." He turned around and said, ''My friend, are you not blind?" "Yes." " Then what have you got the lantern for?" " I carry the lantern that people may not stumble over me, of course," said the man. Let us take a lesson from that blind man, and hold up our light, burning with the clear radiance of heaven, that men may not stumble over us. ■o- There was a little boy con- verted and he was vjpy^ full of praise. When God con- verts boy or man his heart is full of joy, can't help praising. His father was a pro- fessed Christian. The boy wondered why he didn't talk about Christ, and didn't go down to the spe- cial meetings. One day, as the father was reading the papers, the boy 38 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. came to him and put his hand on his shoulder, and said, " Why don't you praise God? Why don't you sing about Christ? Why don't you go down to these meetings that are being held?" The father opened his eyes, and looked at him and said, gruffly, "I am not carried away with any of these doctrines. I am established." A few days after they were getting out a load of wood. They put it on the cart. The father and the boy got on top of the load, and tried to get the horse to go. They used the whip, but the horse wouldn't move. They got off and tried to roll the wagon along, but they could move neither the wagon nor the horse. u I wonder what's the matter?" said the father. " He's established," replied the boy. You may laugh at that, but this is the way with a good many Christians. -o- I remember when I was a boy I went several miles from home with an older brother. That seemed to me the longest visit of my life. It seemed that I was , then farther away from home than I had ever been before, or have ever been MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 39 since. While we were walking down the street we saw an old man coming toward us, and my brother said, " There is a man that will give you a cent. He gives every new boy that comes into this town a cent." That was my first visit to the town, and when the old man got opposite to us he looked around, and my brother, not wishing me to lose the cent, and to remind the old man that I had not received it, told him that I was a new boy in the town. The old man, taking off my hat, placed his trembling hand on my head, and told me I had a Father in heaven. It was a kind, simple "you have a father in heaven." act, but I feel the pressure of the old man's hand upon my head to-day. You don't know how much you may do by just speaking kindly. ^SiJi^ It is not long ago, it just seems the other day, when my dear friend Dr. Mathie- WW son, now in heaven, told | me he was preaching the 3gi|? gospel in Scotland, and a minister told him he had in his congregation a little idiot boy. He did not know what to do with him; he had spoken to him many times, but the boy always said, ' ' Ye maun wait till a' come to ye, and when a' come I'll sing ye a sang an' tell ye a story; but ye maun wait till a' come to ye." The minister heard that the boy was dying, and he went to him and said, " Sandy, you promised me that you would sing me a song and tell me a story before you died; will you tell it now? 1 ' " Yes, minister," replied the boy, " Three in ane an' ane in three, an' Jesus Christ He died for me; tha's a'." ' ' Three in one and one in three, and Jesus Christ He died for me." I tell you I would rather be a poor idiot, and know that, than be one of the mightiest and so-called wisest men in the city of Chicago, and not believe that Jesus took my place and died for me on Calvary's cross. The gospel is very simple; it is very easy to understand. 4 o Have faith in God! Take Him at His word! Believe what He says! Believe the record God has given of His Son! I can imagine some of you saying, ' ' I want to, but I have not got the right kind of faith." What kind of faith do you want? Now, the idea that you want a different kind of faith is all wrong. Use the faith you have got; just believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. Not only that, you can't give any reason for not believing. If a man told me he couldn't believe me, I should have a right to ask him why he couldn't believe me. I should have a right to ask him if I had ever broken my word with him; and if I had not broken my word with him, he ought to believe me. I would like to ask you, has God ever broken His word? Never. My friends, He will keep His word. God condemns the world because they believe not on Him; that is the root of all evil. A man who believes in the Lord Jesus Christ won't murder, and 41 42 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. lie, and do all these awful things. Don't get caught up by that terrible delusion that unbelief is a misfortune. Unbelief is not a misfortune, but is the sin of the world. Christ found it on all sides of the world. When He first got up from the grave, He found that His disciples doubted. He had reason to cry out against unbelief. o People say this Bible was good enough for ancient days, but we have men of culture, of science, of litera- ture now, and its value has decreased to the people of our day. Now, give me a better book, and I will throw it away. Has the world ever offered us a better book? These men want us to give up the Bible. What are you going to give us in its place? O, how cruel infidelity is to tell us to give up all the hope we have, to throw away Moody's child stories. 43 the only book which tells the story of the resurrection. They try to tell us that it is all a fiction, so that when we lay our loved ones in the grave we bid them farewell for time and eternity. Away with this terrible doctrine! The Bible of our fathers and mothers is true, and the good old way is true. When man comes and tries to draw us from the old to the new way, it is the work of the devil. But men say we have outgrown this way. Why don't men outgrow the light of the sun? They shouldn't let the light of the sun come into their build- ings; should have gas; the sun is old, and gas is a new light. There is just as much sense in this as to take away the Bible. How much we owe the blessed Bible! Why, I don't think human life would be safe if it wasn't for it. Look at the history of the nations where the Bible has been trampled under foot. Only a few years ago France and England were pretty nearly equal. Eng- land threw the Bible open to the world, and France tried to trample it. Now, the English language is spoken around the world, and its prosperity has increased, while it stands foremost among the nations. But look at France. It has gone down and down with anarchy and revolution. Let us not forsake the old way. -o- And The Bears. I said to my little family, one morning, a few weeks before the Chicago fire, "I am coming home this after- noon to give you a ride." My little boy clapped his hands. " O papa, will you take me to see the bears in Lincoln park?" " Yes." You know boys are very lond of seeing bears. I had not been gone long when my little boy said, Mamma, I wish you would get me ready." "0,"she said, "it will be a long time before your papa comes.' "But I want to get ready, mamma." At last he was ready to have the ride, face washed, and clothes all nice and clean. ' ' Now, you must take good care and not get yourself dirty again," said mamma. O, of course he was going to take care; he wasn't going to get dirty. So off he ran to watch for me. However, it was a long time yet until the afternoon, and after a little he began to play. When I got home, I found him outside, with his face all covered with dirt. " I can't take you to the park th;;tt 44 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 45 way, Willie." "Why, papa, you said you would take me." "Ah, but I can't; you're all over mud. I couldn't be seen with such a dirty little boy." "Why, I's clean, papa; mamma washed me." " Well, you've got dirty since." But be began to cry, and I could not convince him that he was dirty. "I's clean; mam- ma washed me!" he cried. Do you think I ar- gued with him? No. I just took him up in my arms, and carried him into the house, and showed him his face in the looking-glass. He had not aword to say. He could not take my word for it; but one look (^P at the glass was enough; he saw it for himself. "why, i's clean, papa." He didn't say he wasn't dirty after that! Now, the looking-glass showed him that his face was dirty, but I did not take the looking-glass to zuash it; of course not. Yet that is just what thousands of people do. The law is the looking-glass to see ourselves in, to show us how vile and worthless we are in the sight of God; but they take the law and try to wash themselves with it. mw$$ V0MSi K Al c^ e ^y When- ever I think about this subject, two fathers come before me. One lived on the Mississippi river. He was a man of great wealth. Yet he would have freely given it all, could he have brought back Kis eldest boy from his early grave. One day that boy had been borne home unconscious. They did everything that man could do to restore him, bat in vain. "He must die," said the doctor. "But, doctor," said the agonized father, "can you do nothing to bring him to consciousness, even for a moment?" ' * That may be, " said the doctor, "but he can never live." Time passed, and after a terrible suspense, the father's wish was gratified. ' ' My Moody's child stories. 47 son," he whispered, " the doctor tells me you are dying." ' ' Well, " said the boy, ' ' you never prayed for me, father; won't you pray for my lost soul now?" The father wept. It was true he had never prayed. He was a stranger to God. And in a little while that soul, unprayed for, passed into its dark eternity. O father, if your boy was dying, and he called on you to pray, could you lift your burdened heart to heaven? Have you learned this sweet- est lesson of heaven on earth, to know and hold com- munion with your God? And before this evil world has marked your dearest treasures for its prey, have you learned to lead your little ones to a children's Christ? What a contrast is the other father! He, too, had a lovely boy, and one day he came home to find him at the gates of death. "A great change has come over our boy," said the weeping mother; "he has only been a little ill before, but it seems now as if he were dying fast." The father went into the room and placed his hand on the forehead of the little boy. He could see the boy was dying. He could feel the cold damp of death. "My son, do you know you are dying?" "No; am I?" "Yes; you are dying?" " And shall I die to-day?" Yes, my boy, you cannot live till night." "Well, then, I shall be with Jesus, to-night, won't I, father?" ' ' Yes, my son, you will spend to-night with the Savior." Mothers and fathers, the little ones may begin early; be in earnest with them now. You know not how soon you may be taken from them, or they may be taken from you. There- 4 8 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. fore let this impression be made upon their minds, that you care for their souls a million times more than for their worldly prospects. -o- One afternoon I noticed a lady at the services whom I knew to be a Sun- day-school teacher. After the service I asked her where her class was. " O, " said she, " I went to the school and found only a little boy, and so I came the only boy in the class. away. ' ' Unly a little boy!" said I. "Think of the value of one such soul! The fires of a reformation may be slumbering in that tow-headed boy; there may be a young Knox, or a Wesley, or a Whitefield in your class." -o- Joseph Making Himself Known to His Brethren. Genesis, xlv. the Lord has done for you." When this man found himself delivered, he wanted to go with the Savior. That was grati- tude. Christ had saved him and redeemed him. He had redeemed him from the hand of the enemy. And this man cried, "Let me follow you around the world; where You go I will go." But the Lord said, "You go home and tell your friends what good things And he started home. I would like to have been in that house when he came there. I can imagine how the children would look when they saw him, and say, ' ' Father is coming. " ' ' Shut the door," the mother would cry. " Look out! fasten the window; bolt every door in the house." Many times he very likely had come and abused his family, and broken the chairs and tables and turned the mother into the street and alarmed all the neighbors. They see him now 51 52 Moody's child stories. coming down the street. Down he comes till he gets to the door, and then gently knocks. You don't hear a sound as he stands there. At last he sees his wife at the window and he says, "Mary!" "Why," she says, "he speaks as he did when I first married him; I wonder if he has got well?" So she looks out and asks, " John, is that you?" "Yes, Mary," he replies, " it's me; don't be afraid any more; I'm well now." I see that mother, how she pulls back the bolts of that door, and looks at him. The first look is sufficient, and she springs into his arms and clings about his neck. She takes him in and asks him a hundred questions — how it all happened — all about it. " Well, just take a chair and I'll tell you how I got cured." The children hang back and look amazed. He says, " I was there in the tombs, you know, cutting myself with stones, and running about in my nakedness, when Jesus of Nazareth came that way. Mary, did you ever hear of Him? He is the most wonderful man; I've never seen a man like Him. He just ran in and told those devils to leave me, and they left me. When He had cured me I wanted to follow Him. But He told me to come home and tell you all about it. The children by- and-by gathered about his knee, and the elder ones ran to tell their playmates what wonderful things Jesus had done for their father. Ah, my friends, we have got a mighty deliverer; I don't care what affliction you have, He will deliver you from it. The Son of God who cast out those devils can deliver you from your besetting sin. MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 53 s A young man went home from one of our meetings some time ago. He had been converted. He had previously been dissipated young man. His mother had made it a rule, she told me, that she "would not retire till he came home." That was her rule, she said, " never to go to bed till my boy was at home. If he did not come home till five o'clock in the morning, I sat up, and when he was out all night I got no sleep; but when he came home I always met him with a kiss. "MOTHER. I HAVE BEEN CONVERTED. 54 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. I threw my arms around his neck. I treated him just as if he was kind, attentive and good. Sometimes he would be out all night. Those nights I would not" go to bed. He used to know it. One night he came home. I looked to see if he was under the influence of liquor. He came up to me, and he said, ' Mother, I have been con- verted,' and then I fell on his neck and embraced him, and wept over him tears of joy. Why," said she, "Mr. Moody, you don't know what joy it gave me. I cannot tell you. You don't know what a load it took off my heart. You don't know how I praised God that my prayers had been answered." -o- I remember a mother who heard that her boy was impressed at one of our meetings. She said her son was a good enough boy, and he didn't need to be converted. I pleaded with that mother, but all my pleading was of no account. I tried my influence with the boy ; but when I was pulling one way she was pulling the other, and of course her in- fluence prevailed. Naturally it would. Well, to make a long story short, some time after, I happened to be in the county jail, and I saw him there. " How did you come MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 55 here?" I asked. "Does your mother know where you are?" "No, don't tell her; I came in under an assumed name, and I am going to Joliet for four years. Do not let my mother know this," he pleaded; "she thinks I am in the army." I used to call on that mother, but I had promised her boy I would not tell her, and for four years she mourned over that boy. She thought he had died on "don't tell mother where i am.' the battle-field or in a southern hospital. What a bless- ing he might have been to that mother, if she had only helped us to bring him to Christ! o I remember to have heard a story of a bad boy who had run away from home. He had given his psg. father no end of trouble. He had refused all the in- vitations which his father had sent him to come home and be forgiven, and help comfort his old heart. He had even gone so far as to scoff at his father and mother. But one day a letter came, telling him his father was 56 Moody's child stories. dead, and they wanted him to come home and attend the funeral. At first he determined he would not go, but then he thought it would be a shame not to pay some little respect to the memory of so good a man; and so, just as a matter of form, he took the train and went to the old home, sat through all the funeral services, saw his father buried, and came back with the rest of the friends to the house, with his heart as cold and stony as ever. But when the old man's will was [/ brought out to be read, the ungrateful son found that his father had re- $%&£. membered him along with the rest of the family, and had left him an inherit- ance with the others, who had not gone astray. Tbis broke his heart in penitence. It was too much for him, and his old father, during all those years in which he had been so wicked and rebellious, had never ceased to love him. That is just the way our Father in Heaven does with us. That is just the way Jesus does with people who refuse to pive their hearts to Him. He loves them o in spite of their sins, and it is this love which, more than anything else, brings hard-hearted sinners to their knees. HIS FATHER REMEMBERED HIM I can see him now. He has resolved. His old associates laugh at him, but what does he cnre for public opin- ion? " I have made up lry mind," he says. He don't stay to get a new suit of clothes, as some men do in com- ing to Christ. They want to do some good IS deeds before they go, kill the fatted calf. come. He just started as he was. I see him walking on through dusty roads and over hills, and fording brooks and rivers. It didn't take him long to go home when he made up his mind. Then the prodigal is nearing the homestead; see him. I remember going home after being away for a few months. How I longed to catch a glimpse of that old place! As I neared it I remembered the sweet hours I had spent with my brother, and the pleasant days of childhood. Here is the prodigal as he comes near his old home; all his days of happy childhood come before 57 58 Moody's child stories. him. He wonders if the old man is still alive, and as he comes near the home he says, " It may be that the old man is dead." Ah, what a sad thing it would have been if on returning he had found that his father had gone down to his grave mourning for him. Is there any one here who has a father and mother, whose love you are scorning, and to whom you have not written for years? I said to a prodigal the other night, "How long is it since you have written to your mother?" "Four years and a half." " Don't you believe your mother loves you?'» 1 ' Yes, " he replied, "it is because she does love me that I don't write to her. If I was telling her the life I've been leading, it would break her heart. " " If you love her," I said, "go and write her to-night and tell her all." I got his promise, and I am happy. I can't tell how glad I feel when I get those young prodigals to turn to their fathers and mothers, because I know what joy will be in the hearts of those parents when they hear from their prodigal son. As he nears his father's home, he wonders again if his heart has turned against him, or if he will receive a welcome. Ah, he don't know his father's heart. I can see the old man up there on that flat roof, in the cool of the day, waiting for his boy. Every day he has been there, every day straining his eyes over the country to catch the first glimpse of his son should he return. This evening he is there, still hoping to see the wanderer comeback. By-and-by he sees a form in the distance coming toward the house. As he comes nearer and Moody's child stories. 59 nearer he can tell it is the form of a young man. He cannot tell who it is by his dress. His robe is gone, his ring is gone, his shoes are gone, but the old man catches sight of the face. I see him as he comes running down, as if the spirit of youth has come upon him, his long white hair floating through the air. He rushes past his servants, out the door, and up to his son, whom he takes to his bosom. He rejoices over him. The young man tries to make a speech; tries to ask him to be one of his servants, but the father won't listen to it. When he gets him to the house he cries to one servant, " Go, get the best robe for him"; to another, " You go and get a ring and put on his finger"; " Get shoes for him," he cries to another; " Go, kill the fatted calf," is the order given to another, "for my son has returned." Ah, there was joy there. '• My boy who was dead is alive again." There was joy in that house. -o- I know a mother who lives down in the southern part of Indiana. Some years ago her boy came up to Chicago. He hadn't been in the city long before he was led astray. A neighbor happened to come up to Chicago, and found him one night in the streets drunk. When that neighbor went home, at first 6o MOODY S CHILD STORIES. he thought he wouldn't say anything about it to the boy's father, but afterwards he thought it his duty to tell him. So in a crowd in the street of their little town he just took the father aside, and told him what he had seen in Chicago. It was a terrible blow. When the children had been put to bed that night he said to his wife, ' ' Wife, I have bad news. I have heard from Chi- cago to-day." The mother dropped her work in an instant and said, "Tell me what it is." "Well, our son has been seen on the streets of Chicago drunk." Neither of them slept that night, but they took their burden to Christ, and about day- light the mother said, "I don't know how, when or where, but God has given me faith to believe that our son will be saved and will never come to a drunkard's grave. One week after, that boy left Chicago. He couldn't tell why; an unseen power seemed to lead him to his mothers home, and the first thing he said on coming over the threshold was, " Mothe r , I have come home to ask you to pray for me." And soc n after he came back to Chicago a bright and shining light. WELL, OUR SON HAS BEEN SEEN ON THE STREETS OF CHICAGO DRUNK." A little child whose father and mother had died, was taken into another family. The first night she asked if she could pray, as she used to do. They said, " O, yes." So she knelt down, and prayed as her mother taught her; and <0^ when that was ended she added a little prayer of her own, "O God, make these people as kind to me as father and mother were." Then she paused and looked up, as if ex- pecting the answer, and added, "Of course He will." How sweetly simple was that little one's faith; l|l||Sj she expected God to < « do, " , , 0F C0URSE HE WILL and of course she got her request. 61 iS I remember a number of ^ years ago I went out of Chi- cago to try to preach. I went down to a little town where m was being held a Sunday- school convention. I was a perfect stranger in the place, and when I arrived a man stepped up to me and asked me if my name was Moody. I told him it was, and he invited me to his house. When I got there he said he had to go to the convention, and asked me to excuse his wife, as she, not having a servant, had to attend to her household duties. He put me into the parlor, and told me to amuse myself as best I could till he came back. I sat there, but the room was dark, and I could not read, and I got tired. So I thought I would try and get the children and play with them. I listened for some sound of childhood in the house, but could not hear a single evidence of the presence of little ones. When my friend came back I said, " Haven't you any children?" " Yes," he replied, "I have one, but she's in heaven, and I am glad she is there, Moody." "Are you glad that your child's dead?" I inquired. He went on to tell me how he had worshiped that child; how his whole life had been bound up in her to the neg- lect of his Savior. One day he had come home and 62 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 63 found her dying. Upon her death he accused God of being unjust. He saw some of his neighbors with their children around them. Why hadn't He taken some of them away? He was rebellious. After he came home from her funeral he said, "All at once I thought I heard her little voice calling me, but the truth came to my heart that she was gone. Then I thought I heard her feet upon the stairs; but I knew she was lying in the grave. The thought of her loss almost made me mad. I threw myself on my bed and wept bitterly. I fell asleep, and while I slept I had a dream, but it almost seemed to me like a vis- ion. ' 'I thought I was go- ing over a barren field, and I came to a river so dark and chill-looking that I was going to turn away, when all at once I saw on the opposite bank the most beautiful sight I ever looked at. I thought death and sorrow could never enter into that iovely region. Then I began to see beings all so happy looking, and among them I saw my little child. She waved her little angel hand to me and cried, 'Father, father, come this way.' I thought her voice sounded much sweeter than it did on earth. In SHE S IN HEAVEN. 6 4 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. my dream I thought I went to the water and tried to cross it, but found it deep, and the current so rapid that I thought if I entered, it would carry me away from her forever. I tried to find a boatman to take me over, but couldn't, and I walked up and down the river trying to find a crossing, and still she cried, ' Come this way.' All at once I heard a voice come rolling down, ' I am the way, the truth and the life; no man cometh unto the Father but by Me.' The voice awoke me from my sleep, , and I knew it was my Savior calling me, and pointing the way for me to reach my darling child. I am now superintendent of a Sunday-school; I have made many converts; my wife has been converted, and we will, through Jesus as the way, see one day our child." _o I remember when Dr. Arnold, who has gone to God, was delivering a ser- mon, he used this illustra- tion. The sermon and text have all gone, but that illus- tration is fresh upon my mind to-night and brings ^T> home the truth. He said, '7%0f \ ' You have been sometimes out at dinner with a friend, and you have seen the faith- ful household dog standing watching every mouthful his The Nativity. Luke, ii, 7-20. Moody's child stories. 67 master takes. All the crumbs that fall on the floor he picks up, and seems eager for them, but when his master takes a plate of beef and puts it on the floor and says, ' Rover, here's something for you,' he comes up and smells of it, looks at his master, and goes away to a cor- ner of the room. He was willing to eat the crumbs, but he wouldn't touch the roast beef; thought it was too good for him." That is the way with a good many Christians. They are will- ing - to eat the crumbs HE WOULDNT touch the roast beef. but not willing to take all God wants. Come boldly to the throne of grace and get the help you need; there is an abundance for every man, woman and child. o I remember a child that lived with her parents in a small village. One day the news came that her father had joined the army (it was at the beginning of our war), 68 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. and a few days after the landlord came to demand the rent. The mother told him she hadn't got it, and that her husband had gone into the army. He was a hard- hearted wretch, and he stormed and said that they must leave the house; he wasn't going to have people who couldn't pay the rent. After he was gone, the mother threw herself into the arm-chair, and began to weep bitterly. Her little girl, whom she had taught to pray in faith (but it is more difficult to practice than to preach), came up to her, and said, " What makes you cry, mamma? I will pray to God to give us a little house, and won't He?" What could the mother say? So the little child went into the next room and began to pray. The door was open, and the mother could hear every word, " O God, you have "what makes you cry, mamma?" come and taken away father, and mamma has got no money, and the landlord will turn us out because we can't pay, and we will have to sit on the doorstep, and mamma will catch cold. Give us a little home." Then she waited as if for an answer, and then added, " Won't you, please, God? ! ' She came out of the room quite happy, expecting a house to be given them. The mother MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 6 9 felt reproved. I can tell you, however, she has never paid any rent since, for God heard the prayer of that little one, and touched the heart of the cruel landlord. God give us the faith of that little child, that we may likewise expect an answer, ' ' nothing wavering. •0- Son, Remember 1 have been twice in the jaws of death. Once I was drowning, and the third time I was about to sink I was rescued. In the twinkling of an eye everything I had said, done, or thought of, flashed across my mind. I do not understand how everything in a man's life can be crowded into his recollection in an instant of time, but nevertheless it all flashed through my mind. Another time when I thought I was dying, it all came back to me again. It is just so that all things we think we have for- ?o Moody's child stories. gotten will come back by-and-by. It is only a question of time. We will hear the words, "Son, remember," and it is a good deal better for us now to remember our sins and confess them before it is too late. Christ said to His disciples, "Remember Lot's wife." Over and over again, when the children of Israel were brought out of Egypt, God said to them, ' ' Remember where I found you, and how I delivered you." He wanted them to remember His goodness to them, and the time is coming when, if they forget His goodness and despise it, they will be without mercy. ■o- I remember in the north of England a prominent citizen told a sad case that happened there in the city of Newcastle-on-Tyne. It was about a young boy. He was very young. He was an only child. The father and mother thought everything of him and did all they could for him. But he fell into bad ways. He took up with evil characters, and finally got to running with thieves. He didn't let his parents know about it. By-and-by the gang he was with broke into the house, and he with them. Yes, he had to do it all. They stopped outside of the building, while he crept in and started to rob the MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 71 till. He was caught in the act, taken into court, tried, convicted, and sent to the penitentiary for ten years. He worked on and on in the convict's cell, till at last his term was out, and at once started for home. And when he came back to the town he started down the street where his father and mother used to live. He went to the house and rapped. A stranger came to the door and stared him in the face. "No, there's no such person lives here, and where your parents are I don't know," was the only welcome he received. Then he turned through the gate, and went down the street, asking even the children that he met about his folks, where they were living, and if they were well. But everybody looked blank. Ten years rolled by, and though that seemed per- haps a short time, how many changes had taken place! There where he was born and brought up he was now an alien, and unknown even in the old haunts. But at last he found a couple " M0THER - M0THER - D0N ' T Y0U KN0W MF -" of townsmen that remembered his father and mother, but they told him the old house had been deserted long 72 MOODYS CHILD STORIES. years ago, that he had been gone but a few months be- fore his father was confined to his house, and very soon after died broken-hearted, and that his mother had gone out of her mind. He went up to the mad-house where his mother was, and went up to her and said, " Mother, mother, don't you know me? I am your son." But she raved and slapped him on the face and shrieked, ( ' You are not my son," and then raved again and tore her hair. He left the asylum more deadthan alive, so completely broken-hearted that he died in a few months. Yes, the fruit was long growing, but at the last it ripened on the harvest like a whirlwind. -o- I once knew a little cripple who lay upon her death-bed. She had given her- self to God, and was distressed only be- cause she could not labor for Him actively among the lost. Her clergyman visited her, and hearing her complaint, rold her that there from her sick-bed she could offer prayers for those whom she wished to see turning to God. He advised her to write the names down, and then to pray earnestly; and then he went away and thought of the subject no more. Soon a feeling of great religious interest sprang up in the village, and the churches were crowded nightly. The MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 73 little cripple heard of the progress of the revival, and inquired anxiously for the names of the saved. A few weeks later she died, and among a roll of papers that was found under her little pillow was one bearing the names of fifty-six per- sons, every one of whom had in the revival been converted. By each name was a little cross, by which the poor crip- HE advised her to write the names DOWN, AND THEN PRAY EARNESTLY. pled saint had checked off the name of the converts as they had been reported to her. o ■ VICTORY. I remember when out in Kansas, while holding a meeting, I saw a little boy who came up to the window crying. I went to him and said, ' ' My little boy, what is your trouble?" "Why, Mr. Moody, my mother's dead, and my father drinks, and they don't love me, and the 74 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. Lord won't have anything to do with me because I am a poor drunkard's boy." "You have got a wrong idea, my boy; Jesus will love you and save you, and your father too," and I told him a story of a little boy in an eastern city. The boy said his father would never allow the canting hypocrites of Christians to come into his house, and would never allow his child to go to Sunday-school. A kind-hearted man got his little boy and brought him to Christ. When Christ gets into a man's heart, he cannot help but pray. This father had been drinking one day and coming home he heard that boy praying. He went to him and said, "I don't want you to pray any more. You've been along with some of those Christians. If I catch you praying again I'll flog you." But the boy was filled with God, and he couldn't help praying. The door of communication was opened between him and Christ, and his father caught him praying again. He went to him. " Didn't I tell you never to pray again? If I catch you at it once more, you leave my house." E'e thought he would stop him. Not very long after this, one 4ay his father had been drinking more than usual, and DIDN T I TELL YOU NEVER TO PRAY AGAIN?" Moody's child stories. 75 coming in found the boy offering a prayer. He caught the boy with a push and said, " Didn't I tell you never to pray again? Leave this house. Get your things packed up and go." The little fellow hadn't many things to get together — a drunkard's boy never has — and he went up to his mother's room. " Good-by, mother." "Where are you going?" " I don't know where I'll go, but father says I cannot stay here any longer; I've been praying again," he said. The mother knew it wouldn't do to try to keep the boy when her husband had ordered him away, so she drew him to her bosom and kissed him, and bid him good-by. He went to his brothers and sisters and kissed them good-by. When he came to the door, his father was there, and the little fellow reached out his hand. " Good-by, father; as long as I live I will pray for you," and left the house. He hadn't been gone many minutes when the father rushed after him. ""My boy, if that is religion, if it can drive you away from father and mother and home, I want it." Yes, maybe some other little boy has got a drinking father and mother. Lift your voice to heaven, and the news will be carried up to heaven, " He prays." -0- There are four men coming down the streets of Capernaum. I never knew them, but if I met them in the streets of Bos- ton, I should feel like grasping them by the hand. Perhaps one of them was he who wsts converted not long before; per- haps the other was the leper who went to Jesus and got cured, and when he came home, his wife didn't know who is was, and couldn't believe it was her husband; and an- other had been cured perhaps of blindness, and here was the man with the palsy who had nearly shaken himself into his grave. The doctors of Jerusalem had all given him up as a hopeless case. "Why," they said, "he cannot even get his food to his mouth, he shakes so. We can't do anything with him." Well, these young converts came along — I suppose they were young; they have more faith than any one else — and they see this man with the palsy and instantly say that one word from Him will put it away. But they cannot get him there; they don't see how they can carry him, and finally one of them 76 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 77 goes and gets a neighbor, and says, ' ' Here's a man with the palsy; if we can get him up to where Christ is, He can just heal him at once." I think he would be astonished, and say, "What, save that man; impossible! He can't be cured." But the young convert persists, and tells him of those who had been made to see, and the deaf to hear, and the lame to walk, and so convinced "THY sins are forgiven thee." the neighbor that at last he said, ' ' Well, I will help you and go and see this wonderful physician," and away they go and hunt up another young convert, who had been lame for years. He is not strong enough to help them, however, and they find another man. He has been deaf and dumb for years. And these four young converts take yS MOODY'S CHILD STORIES. this man with the palsy and put him, I suppose, on what we called during the war a stretcher, and away they go to Christ. They had faith in what they were about. I can imagine the young men saying, as they carry him along, " We will not have to carry him back again; the palsy will be gone; it will be cured then." On they go with their load, and when they get to the house, they find it crowded inside and a multitude standing outside. They say to the people, " Let us pass; we want to take the poor man to Christ." But they say. " Why, there is no hope for him; he is past all cure." "Ah," say the your g converts, "that is nothing. Jesus of Nazareth can cure him; all things are possible to Him." But they wouldn't stand aside. They wouldn't allow them to get in. But these four men are not going to take this man back. They are determined not to fail. They hesitate a mo- ment, then go to the next house; it is a neighbor's. There were no bells in those days, and so they knock. When the neighbor comes to the door they say, "We want to get into the next house; let us go through yours." " O, yes," says the man, and they ascend the staircase, and get on the roof, and get over to the next house. There's no entrance through there, and so they dig a hole, they tear up this roof. A great many people in this city would be opposed to this sort of thing. They would say. " If you want to get into the house, you want things to be done decently; don't tear up the roof in that way.* But, my friends, if we want to go to work for Christ, wa MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 79 must tear off the top of the house, if it's necessary. We must use vigorous means. These young men had good faith, and that's what we want here. But when they had torn off the roof they had nothing to let the man down by. So they looked about and made a rope of their own clothing, and down they laid him right among the Phari- sees and learned doctors, right at the feet of Jesus. And it is a good place to put a poor sinner. And we are not told whether that man with the palsy had any faith. But the Son of God looked up, and saw their faith, the faith of the four men, and it pleased Him. It was like a cup of refreshment that satisfied the longings of His soul; He saw the brightness of their faith when He looked upon them. And He said to the sick man, " Son, be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee." o there I read some time ago of a vessel that had been off on a whaling voy- age, and had been gone about three years. I saw the account in print somewhere lately, but it happened a long time ago. The father of one of those sailors had charge of the light- house, and he was expecting his boy ^,y. to come home. It was time for the Sfi^-^ whaling vessel to return. One night came up a terrible gale, and this father fell asleep, 8o MOODY S CHILD STORIES. and while he slept his light went out. When he awoke he looked toward the shore, and saw there had been a vessel wrecked. He at once went to see if he could not yet save some one who might be still alive. The first body that came floating towards the shore was, to his great grief and surprise, the body of his own boy. He had been watching for that boy for many days, and he had been gone for three years. Now, the boy had at last come in sight of home, and had perished be- cause his father had let his HIS father let the light go out. light go out. I thought, what an illustration of fathers and mothers to-day that have let their light go out! -o- I remember in the exposition building in Dublin, while I was speaking about heaven, I said something to the effect that, ' ' perhaps at this moment a mother is looking down from heaven upon her daughter here to-night," and I pointed down to a young lady in The Star in the East. Matthew, ii, 1-12. MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 83 the audience. Next morning I received this letter: " On Wednesday, when you were speaking of heaven, you said, ' It may be this moment there is a mother look- ing down from heaven expecting the salvation of her child who is here. You were apparently looking at the very spot where my child was sitting. My heart said, 'That is my child. That is her mother.' Tears sprang to my eyes. I bowed my head and prayed, ' Lord, direct that word to my darling child's heart; Lord, save my child." I was then anxious till the close of the meeting, when I went to her. She was bathed in tears. She rose, put her arms round me, and kissed me. When walking down to SPEAKING ABOUT HEAVEN. you she told me it was that same remark (about the mother looking down from heaven) that found the way home to her, and asked me, * Papa, what can I do for Jesus" In Chicago a few years ago there was a little boy who went to one of the mission Sunday- schools. His father moved to another part of the city about five miles away, and every Sunday that boy came past thirty or forty Sunday- schools to the one he attended. And one Sunday a lady who was out collecting scholars for a Sunday-school met him and asked why he went so far, past so many schools. " There are plenty of others," said she, "just as good." He said, ' ' They may be as good, but they are not so good for me."" Why not?" she asked. "Because they love a fellow over there," he answered. Ah, love won him! "Because they love a fellow over there!" How easy it is to reach people through love!" Sunday-school teachers should win the affections of their scholars if they wish to lead them to Christ. 8 4 IF I TELL THE WORLD OF JESUS. I remember while in Boston I attended one of the daily prayer -meet- ings. The meet- ings we had been holding had been al- most always addressed b y young men. Well, in that meeting a little tow-headed Norwegian boy stood up. He could hardly speak a word of English plain, but he got up and came to the front. He trembled all over, and the tears were trickling down his cheeks, but he spoke out as well as he could, and said, " If I tell the world about Jesus, then will he tell the Father about me." He then took his seat; that was all he said; but I tell you that in those few words-he said more than all of them, old and young together. Those few words went straight down into the heart of every one present. * * If I tell the world; " yes, that's what it means to confess Christ. 85 I am told that when General Sherman went through Atlanta t o- ward the sea, through the southern states; he left in the fort, in the Kenesaw mountains, a little handful of men to guard some rations that he brought there. And General Hood got into the outer rear and attacked the fort, drove the men in from HOLD THE FORT, FOR I AM COMING. the outer works into the inner works, and for a long time the battle raged fearfully. Half of the men were either killed or wounded; the general who was in command was wounded seven different times; and when they were 86 Moody's child stories. 87 about ready to run up the white flag and surrender the fort, Sherman got within fifteen miles, and through the signal corps on the mountain he sent the message, "Hold the fort; I am coming. W. T. Sherman.' That message fired up their hearts, and they held the fort till reinforcements came, and thefort did not go into the hands of their enemies. Our friend, Mr. Bliss, has written a hymn entitled ' ' Hold the fort, for I am coming, " and I'm going to ask Mr. Sankey to sing that hymn. I hope there will be a thousand young converts coming into our ranks to help hold the fort. Our Savior is in command, and He is coming. Let us take up the chorus. Ho! my comrades, see the signal Waving in the sky! Reinforcements now appearing, Victory is nigh! Cho. — " Hold the fort, for I am coming," Jesus signals still, Wave the answer back to heaven, " By Thy grace we will." See the mighty hosts advancing, Satan lending on; Mighty men around us falling, Courage almost gone. — Cho. See the glorious banner waving, ' Hear the bugle blow, In our leader's name we'll triumph Over every foe. — Cho. Fierce and long the battle rages, But our Help is near; . Onward comes our Great Commander, Cheer, my comrades, cheer!— Cho. P. P. Bliss. When I was holding meetings a little time ago, at Wharnecliff, in England, a coal district, a great burly collier came up to me, and said in his Yorkshire dialect, ' ' Dost know wha was at meetin' t'night?" "No," I answered. "Why," said he, " So-and-so" (mention- ing name). The name was a familiar one. He was a very bad man, one of the wildest, wickedest men in Yorkshire, according to his own confession, and accord- ing to the confession of everybody who knew him. "Well," said the man, "he cam' into meetin' an' said you didn't preach right; he said thou didn't preach noth- in' but the love o' Christ, an' that won't do for drunken colliers; ye want shake 'em over a pit, and he says he'll ne'er come again." He thought I didn't preach about hell. Mark you, my friends, I believe in the pit that burns, in the fire that's never quenched, in the worm that never dies; but I believe that the magnet that goes down to the bottom of the pit is the love of Jesus. I 88 Moody's child stories. 89 didn't expect to see him again, but he came the next night, without washing his face, right from the pit, with all his working clothes upon him. This drunken colliei sat down on one of the seats that were used for the chil- dren, and got as near to me as possible. The sermon was love from first to last. He listened at first atten- tively, but by-and-by I saw him with the sleeve of his rough coat, wiping his eyes. Soon after we had an in- quiry-meeting, when some of those praying colliers got around him, and it wasn't long before he was crying, "O Lord, save me; I am lost; Jesus, have mercy upon me"; and he left that meeting a new creature. His wife told me herself what occurred when he came home. His little children heard him coming along; they knew the step of his heavy clogs, and ran to their mother in terror, clinging to her skirts. He opened the door as gently as could be. He had had a habit of banging the doors. When he came into the house and saw the chil-* dren clinging to their mother, frightened, he just stooped down and picked up the youngest girl in his arms, and looked at her, the tears rolling down his cheeks. ' ' Mary, God has sent thy father home to thee," and kissed her. He picked up another, " God has sent thy father home"; and from one to another he went, and kissed them all; and then came to his wife and put his arms around her neck, "Don't cry, lass; don't cry. God has sent thy husband home at last; don't cry," and all she could do was to put her arms around his neck and sob. And then 90 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. he said, "Have you got a Bible in the house, lass?" They hadn't such a thing. "Well, lass, if we haven't we must pray." They got down on their knees, and all he could say was: " Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, Look upon a little child; Pity my simplicity — for Jesus Christ's sake, amen." It was a simple prayer, but God answered it. While I was at Barnet some time after that, a friend came to me, and said, "I've got good news for you. So-and-so [mentioning the collier's name] is preaching the gospel everywhere he goes, in the pit, and out of the pit, and tries to win everybody to the Lord Jesus Christ." _ _ Let met give you a leaf out of my experience. When I was in Boston I used to attend a Sabbath- school class, and one day I recollect a Sabbath- school teacher came around behind the counter of the shop I used to work in, and put his hand on my shoulder, and talked to me about Christ and my soul. I had not felt I had a soul till then. I said, " This is a very strange thing; here is a man who never saw me till within a few days, and he MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 91 is weeping over my sins, and I never shed a tear about them." But I understand it now, and know what it is to have a passion for men's souls and weep over their sins. I don't remember what he said, but I can feel the power of that young man's hand on my shoulder to-night. Young Christian men, go and lay your hand on your com- rade's shoulder, and point him to Jesus. Well, he got me up to the school, and it was not long before 1 was brought into the kingdom of God. I went thou- sands of miles away after that, but I often thought I should like to see that man again. Time rolled on, and at length I was at Boston again; and I recollect, one night when I was preaching there, a fine, noble-looking he put his hand on my shoulder. young man came up the aisle, and said, "I should like to speak with you, Mr. Moody; I have often heard my father talk about you." " Who is your father?" I asked. ''Edward Kemble,"was the reply. "What!" said I, "my old Sunday-school teacher?" I asked him his 92 Moody's child stories. name, and he said it was Henry, and that he was seven- teen years of age. I tried to put my hand on his shoulder just where his father did on my shoulder, and I said to him, " You are just as old as I was when your father put his hand on my shoulder. Are you a Christian, Henry?" " No, sir," he said; and as I talked to him about his soul with my hand on his shoulder, the tears began to trickle down. " Come," said I, " I will show you how you can be saved," and I took him into a pew and quoted promise after promise to him. And I went on praying with him, but as he did not get light, I read to him the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, "All we, like sheep, have gone astray." "Do you believe that, Henry?" "Yes, sir, I know that's true." " 'We have turned every one to his own way.' Is that true?" "Yes, sir; that's true, and that's what troubles me; I like my own way." " But there is another sentence yet, Henry; l The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.' Do you believe that, Henry?" "No, I do not, sir." " Now," I said, "why should you take a verse of God's word and cut it in two, and believe one part and not another. Here are two things against you, and you believe them; and here is one in your favor, but you won't believe that. What authority have you for serving God's word in that way?" "Well," he said, "Mr. Moody, if I believed that I should be saved." \ ' I know you would," I replied, " and that's exactly what I want you to do. But you take the bitter, and won't have the sweet with it." So I held him to that little word hath—" He hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all." A little child at one of the meetings was seen talking so earnestly to a companion that a lady sat by her to hear what she was saying, and found that the dear child was telling how much Jesus loved her, and how she loved Him, and asked her little com- panion if she would not love Him too. The lady was so much im- pressed by the child's words that she spoke to an anxious soul that very how much she loved jesus. night for the first time in her life. And so ' ' a little child shall lead them." 93 When the California gold fever broke out, a man went there, leaving his wife in New Eng- land with his boy. As soon as he got on and was successful he WcS to send for them. It was a long time before he succeeded, but at last he got money enough to send for them. The wife's heart leaped with joy. She took her boy to New York, got on board a Pacific steamer, and sailed away to San Francisco. They had not been long at sea before the cry of " Fire! fire!" rang through the ship, and rapidly it gained on them. There was a powder magazine on board, and the captain knew the moment the fire reached the powder, every man, woman, and child must perish. They got out the life- boats, but they were too small! In a minute they were overcrowded. The last one was just pushing awa) T , when the mother pleaded with them to take her and her boy. " No," they said, "we have got as many as we 94 MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 95 can hold. " She entreated them so earnestly that at last they said they would take one more. Do you think she leaped into that boat and left her boy to die? No! She seized her boy. gave him one last hug, kissed him, and dropped him over into the boat. " My boy," she said, "if you live to see your father, tell him I died in your place." This is a faint type of what Christ has done for us. He laid down his life for us. He died that we might live. Now, will you not love Him? What would you say of that young man if he should speak contemptuously of such a Savior? May God make us loyal to Christ! My friends, you will need Him one day. You will need Him when you come to cross the swellings of Jordan. You will need Him when you stand at the bar of God. o My little boy had some trouble with his sister one Saturday, and he did not want to forgive her. And at night he was going to say his prayers, and I wanted to see how he would say his prayers, and he knelt down by his mother and said his prayers, and then I went up to him, and I said, " Willie, did you pray?" "I said my prayers." "Yes, but did you pray?" "I said my prayers." "I know you said 9 6 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. them, but did you pray?" He hung his head. "You are angry with your sister?" " Well, she had no business to do thus and so." "That has nothing to do with it; you have the wrong idea, my boy, if you think that you have prayed to-night." You see he was trying to get over it by saying, ' ' I said my prayers to-night." I find that people say their prayers every night, just to ease their conscience. And then I said, ' ' Willie, if you don't forgive your sister, you will not sleep to-night. Ask her to forgive you." He didn't want to do that. He . loves the country, and he has been talking a great deal about the time when he can go into the country and play out- 's? doors. So he said, " O, yes, I will sleep well S8||§i enough; I am going to think about being out " l SAID MY PRAYERS " there in the country." That is the way that we are try- ing to do; we are trying to think of something else to get rid of the thought of these sins, but we cannot. I said nothing more to him. I went on studying, and h?S mother came down stairs. But soon he called his mother, and said, ' ' Mother, won't you please go up and ask Emma if she won't forgive me?" Then I afterwards The Fligth Into Egypt. Matthew, n, 13-15- to .4 mOody's child stories. 99 heard him murmuring in bed, and he was saying his prayers. And he said to me, "Papa, you were right, I could not sleep, and I cannot tell you how happy I am now." Don't you think there is any peace until your sins are put away. My dear friends, the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ is the gospel of peace. o There is an in- stitution in Lon- don, in connection with which a gen- tleman of wealth has done a great deal of good. He went down to the Seven Dials, one of the worst places in London, and there he used to stay till two o'clock in the morning, picking up young street Arabs, and taking them into the house of shelter. That man has spent thousands of pounds in that quarter of London. When I was there he had upwards of three hundred young men, whom he had brought from those slums, who were, some in China, others in Australia, and some in this country. When he would take them from the horrible pit he would have their photographs taken LofC. 100 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. m their rags and dirt. Then they were taken to a bath and given new clothes. They were put into an institu- tion, taught a trade, and not only the rules of life, but every one of them was taught to read his Bible. After keeping them a few years and educating them, before they left, they were taken to a photograph gallery and had their picture taken, and both were given to them. This was to show them the condition in which the insti- tution found them, and that in which it left them. So, my friends, remember where God found you. o- There was a time when our little boy did not like to go to church, and would get up in the morning, and say to his mother, TEACHING HER CHILD 'What day is to- morrow?" "Tuesday." "Next day?" "Wednesday." " Next day?" "Thursday;" and so on, till he came to the answer, "Sunday." "Dear me," he said. I said to the mother, "We cannot have our boy grow up to hate Sunday in this way; that will never do. That is MOODY S CHILD STORIES. IOI the way [ used to feel when I was a boy. I used to look upon Sunday with a certain amount of dread. Very few kind words were associated with the day. I don't know that the minister ever put his hand on my head. I don't know that the minister ever noticed me, unless it was when I was asleep in the gallery, and he woke me up. This kind of thing won't do; we must make the Sunday the most attractive day of the week; not a day to be dreaded; but a day of pleasure." Well, the mother took the work up with this boy. Bless those mothers in their work with the chil- dren. Sometimes I feel as if I would rather be the mother of John Wesley or Martin Luther or John Knox than have all the glories in the world. Those mothers who are faithful with the children God has given them will not go un- MRS . moody teaching her child. rewarded. My wife went to work and took those Bible stories and put those blessed truths in a light that the child could comprehend, and soon the feeling of dread for the Sabbath with the boy was the other way. ' ' What day's to-morrow?" he would ask. "Sunday." "I am glad." And if we make those Bible truths interesting — break them up in some shape so that the children can get at them, then they will begin to enjoy them. Dr. Booth of New York, "who has lost all his chil- dren—I say lost, but they are not lost; they are all in heaven— was telling me about being in an eastern country some time ago, and he saw a shepherd going down to a stream, and he wanted to get his flock across. He went into the water and called them by name, but they came down to the bank and bleated, and were too much afraid to follow. At last he got out of the water, tightened his girdle about his loins, and took up two little lambs and put one inside his frock, and an- other inside his bosom. And then he started into the water, and the old ones looked up to the shepherd instead of down into the water. They wanted to see HE TOOK UP TWO LITTLE LAMBS. 1 02 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 103 their little ones, and so he got them over the water and led them into the green pastures on the other side. How many times the Good Shepherd has come down here and taken a little lamb to the hilltops of glory, and then the father and mother begin to look up and follow! Am I not talking to some father or mother that has some loved one gone over the stream? The Good Shepherd has taken it that He may draw you to the world of light, where He has gone to prepare mansions for those that love Him. o When I was a little boy, I remember I tried to catch my shadow. I don't know i£ you were ever so foolish; but I remember running after it, and trying 'to get ahead of it. I could not see why the shadow always kept ahead of me. Once I happened to be racing with my face to the sun, and I looked over my head and saw my shadow coming back 104 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. of me, and it kept behind me all the way. It is the same with the Son of Righteousness; peace and joy will go with you while you go with your face toward Him, and these people who are getting at the back of the sun are in darkness all the time. Turn to the light of God, and the reflection will flash in your heart. Don't say that God will not forgive you. It is only your will which keeps His forgiveness from you. o There was an Englishman who had an only son; and only sons are often petted, and humored and ruined. This boy became very headstrong, and very often he and his father had trouble. One day they had a quarrel, and the father was very angry, and so was the son; and the father said he wished the boy would leave home and never come back. The boy said he would go, and would not come into his father's house again till he sent for him. The father said he would never send for him. Well, away went the boy. But when a father gives up a boy, a mother does not. You mothers will understand that, but the fathers may not. You know there is no love on earth so strong as a mother's love. A great many things may separate a man and his wife; a MOODY S CHILD STORIES. I05 great many things may separate a father from his son, but there is nothing in the wide world that can ever sep- arate a true mother from her child. To be sure, there are some mothers that have drank so much liquor that they have drunk up all their affection. But I am talking about a true mother; and she would never cast off her boy. NOW, MY SON, JUST SPEAK TO YOUR FATHER. Well, the mother began to write, and plead with the *Oy to write to his father first, and he would forgive him; but the boy said, " I will never go home till father asks me." Then she plead with the father, but the father said, io6 Moody's child stories. "No, I will never ask him." At last the mother came down to her sick-bed, broken-hearted, and when she was given up by the physicians to die, the husband, anxious to gratify her last wish, wanted to know if there was nothing he could do for her before she died. The mother gave him a look; he well knew what it meant. Then shp said, ' ' Yes, there is one thing you can do. You can send for my boy. That is the only wish on earth you can gratify. If you do not pity him and love him wher\« I am dead and gone, who will?" " Well," said the father, "I will send word to him that you want to see him." "No," she says, "you know he will not come for me. If ever I see him you must send for him." At last the father went to his office and wrote a dis- patch in his own name, asking the boy to come home. As soon as he got the invitation from his father, he started off to see his dying mother. When he opened the door to get in, he found his mother dying and his father by the bedside. The father heard the door open, and saw the boy, but instead of going to meet him, he went to another part of the room, and refused to speak to him. His mother seized his hand; how she had longed to press it! She kissed him, and then said, " Now, my son, just speak to your father. You speak first, and it will all be over." But the boy said, " No, mother; I will not speak to him until he speaks to me." She took her husband's hand in one hand and the boy's in the other, and spent her dying moments in trying to bring about a reconciliation. Thee MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 107 just as she was expiring, she could not speak, so she put the hand of the wayward boy into the hand of the father, and passed away. The boy looked at the mother, and the father at the wife, and at last the father's heart broke, and he opened his arms, and took that boy to his bosom, and by that body they were reconciled. Sinner, that is only a faint type, a poor illustration, because God is not angry with you. I bring you to-night to the dead body of Christ. I ask you to look at the wounds in his hands and feet, and the wound in his side. And I ask you, "Will you not be reconciled?" o At one of our meetings in England, a noted dog- fighter was present, and related the following story about himself. He said he had been carrying on the business of a dog- fighter in the east end of London, and had a very valua- ble dog, called " Tiger, " which had cost a deal of money, and had also won a good deal of money in dog-fights. io8 MOODYS CHILD STORIES. Well, he had a fight on the dog for Whit-Monday, for £20; but a few da)'s before that a little child of his died, and it had affected him very much. He did not know what to do to get rid of his feelings, and so he was going to a public-house to have a pipe and something to drink, to help him to forget his sorrow; but as he was going he thought, "Well, there's this Moody and Sankey, suppose I go and hear them?" He went and heard Mr. Moody speak, and came out thinking it was all very good, but did not concern him. His business was very dull, and he had no sport to go to, so he went again. This time Mr. Aitken was the preacher, and the man said that it appeared as if the preacher left off speak- ing to the audience and directed his remarks straight at him. He sat down that he should not see him, but he only hit him harder than before. The service being over, he felt uncomfortable, and went and made inquiries about the matter, and then found that all men were born in sin. After a deal of conver- sation, and by the grace of God, he was enabled to trust simply in Jesus, and since that time he had been quite HE THREW THE DOG IN THE RIVER. MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 109 happy. There was his dog; what was he to do with that? Every time he saw Tiger he saw there was a terrible link between his past life and his present, and he was afraid if he sold the dog, he would only lead some one else into sin. So he at last decided to destroy the dog, although it cost him a good sum of money, and was a very valuable animal. This he did; he tied the dog in a sack and drowned him in the river. o One day in the inquiry- room, a man about my age came to me, WEEPING FOR HIS CHILDREN. and he sald he wanted to see me alone. I took him one side, and he told me a story that would make almost any man weep. He was in a good position, a leading business man of the community. He had a beautiful wife and children. He was ambitious to get rich fast, and in an unguarded mo- ment he forged; and in order to cover up that act he had committed other guilty acts, and he had fled. He was a fugitive from justice, and he said, " I am now in the tor- ments of hell. Here I am; away from my family. A reward has been offered for me in my city. Do you think I ought to go back?" I said, " I don't know. You had better go to God and ask Him about it. I would not like no MOODYS CHILD STORIES. to give you advice." You could hear him sob all over that church. He said, " T will go to my room, and I will come and see you to-morrow at twelve o'clock." The next day he came to me, and he said, "I do not belong to myself; I belong to the law. I have got to go and give myself up. I do not care for myself, but it will disgrace my family, but if I don't I am afraid I will lose my soul." This day I got a letter from him. I think I would like to read it to you. I told some people here of it to-day, and they said, 1 ' You ought to take it to Charlestown, and read it to the convicts in the state prison." But I thought I had better read it before I got there. It may keep some man from getting there. Some one here may have just commenced. He may : ^' : to-morrow commit a o, how sad; how bitter sin is! forgery and bring sorrow and gloom upon his loved ones. It was only three days ago that I got a letter from a wife and mother, asking me to see her husband. He had committed forgery. The officers came that night and took him. It was a terrible shock to that wife. But let me read the letter. MOODY S CHILD STORIES. Ill Jefferson City, Mo., April 8, 1877. Mr. Moody: Dear Brother: When I bade you good-by in Far- well hall, you said, " When it is all over, write me." I wrote you in December. I thought then that it would soon be over. [Let me say right here that that letter which came in December drew a picture that has fol- lowed me all these days. He said he went to his home. The trial was to come off in another county. He wanted to see his wife, and he went to his home. He did not want his children to know that he was at home, because it might get out among the neighbors, and he wanted to give himself up and not be arrested. Then after his wife had put the children to bed, he would steal into the room, but he could not speak to them or kiss them. Fathers, was not that pretty hard? Would not that be pretty hard? You tell me sin is sweet! There are men with their eyes wide open; no, n6t with their eyes wide open; they must be closed when men say that sin is sweet. There is that man that loved his children as you love yours, and he did not dare to speak to them.] I wrote you in December, thinking all would soon be over, but the state was not ready to try me, and so I was let out upon bail till April. Yesterday my case was disposed of, and I received sentence for nineteen years. [O, how sad; how bitter sin is! May God open the eyes of 112 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. the blind! Christians, always pray that God may open the eyes of the blind. Christ came for the recovery of sight to the blind. I hope every sinner will get his eyes open and see that sin is bitter and not sweet. The time is coming when you have got to leave this earth.] Now I am in my prison cell, clothed in a convict's garb. It is all over with me. A long term of civil death and ab- sence. [Then there is a long dash. I suppose he could not pen it. Away from that wife and those dear chil- dren!] Now I have met the law. Pray for me that 1 may be sustained with consoling and needed strength. Pray for the loved ones at home; my dear parents, and brothers and sisters, and my dear wife and children ■.-. [Another long dash.] And I ask that the attorney that was very kind to me may be prayed for, that he may be- come a Christian. And if not asking too much, a few words will be gratefully received. Address me in care of penitentiary in Jefferson City, Mo. I pray that your labors may be blessed, and when you preach warn men to beware of the temptation of doing evil that good may come of it; warn them to beware of the ambition for wealth. Prayerfully and tearfully yours. -o- ■■■■ Jesus Questioning the Doctors. Luke, ii, 4I-5 1 * President Lincoln. During the war I re- member a young man not twenty, who was court-martialed down in the front and sen- tenced to be shot. The story was this: The young fellow had enlisted. ! He was not obliged to, but he went off with another young man. They were what we would call "chums." One night this companion was ordered out on picket duty, and he asked the young man to go for him. The next night he was ordered out him- self, and having been awake two nights, and not being used to it, fell asleep at his post, and for the offense he was tried and sentenced to death. It was right after the order issued by the president that no interference would be allowed in cases of this kind. This sort of thing had become too frequent, and it must be stopped. When the news reached the father and mother in Vermont, it nearly broke their hearts. The thought that their son should be shot was too great for them. They had no hope that he would be saved by anything they could do. "5 n6 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. But they had a little daughter who had read the life of Abraham Lincoln, and knew how he had loved his own children, and she said, "If Abraham Lincoln knew how my father and mother loved my brother he wouldn't let him be shot." That little girl thought the matter over, and made up her mind to see the president. She went to the White House, and the sentinel, when he saw her imploring looks, passed her in, and when she came to the door and told the pri- v a t e secretary that she wanted to see the presi- dent, he could not refuse her. She came into the chamber and found Abraham Lincoln sur- rounded by his generals and THE PRESIDENT'S HEART WAS TOUCHED. counselors, and when he saw the little country girl„ he asked her what she wanted. The little maid told her plain, simple story; how her brother, whom her father and mother loved very dearly, had been sentenced to be shot; how they were mourning for him, and if he was to MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 117 • lie in that way it would break their hearts. The presi- dent's heart was touched with compassion, and he imme- diately sent a dispatch canceling the sentence, and giving the boy a parole so that he could come home and see that father and mother. I just tell you this to show you how Abraham Lincoln's heart was moved by compassion for the sorrow of that father and mother, and if he showed so much, do you think the Son of God will not have compassion upon you, sinner, if you only take that crushed, bruised heart to Him? -0- I remember when I went to California just to try and get a few souls saved on the Pacific coast, I went into a school there, and asked, " Have you v/ got some one who can write a plain hand?" "Yes." Well, we got up the blackboard, and the lesson upon it proved to be the very text we have to- night, t ' Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven. " And I said, " Suppose we write upon that board some of the earthly treasures? And we will begin with 'gold.' " The teacher readily put down "gold," and they all com- prehended it, for all had run to that country in hope of finding it. ' ' Well, we will put down ' houses ' next, and n8 Moody's child stories. then 'land.' Next we will put down 'fast horses." They all understood what fast horses were; they knew a good deal more about fast horses than they knew about the kingdom of God. Some of them, I think, actually made fast horses serve as gods. ' ' Next we will put down ' tobacco.'" The teacher seemed to shrink at this, "Put it down," said I; "many a man thinks more of tobacco than he does of God. Well, then we will put down 'rum.'" He objected to this; didn't like to put it down at all. " Down with it! Many a man will sell his reputation, will sell his home, his wife, his children, everything he has, for rum. It is the god of some men. Many here are ready to sell their present and their eternalwelfare for it. Put it down;" and down it went. " Now, " said I, "suppose we put down some of the heavenly treasures. Put down 'Jesus" to head the list, then ' heaven,' then ' river of life,' then 'crown of glory,' and we went on until the column was filled, and then just drew a line and showed the heavenly and the earthly things in contrast. My friends, they could not stand comparison. If a man just does that, he cannot but see the superiority of the heavenly over the earthly treasures. Well, it turned out that the teacher MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 119 was not a Christian. He had gone to California on the lusual hunt — gold; and when he saw the two columns placed side by side, the excellence of the one over the other was irresistible, and he was the first soul God gave me on the Pacific coast. He accepted Christ, and that man came to the station when I was coming away, and blessed me for coming to that place. When I was in Europe, Mr. Spurgeon told me a story of a boy who was in an orphan asylum. This little boy came up to Mr. Spurgeon and said, "Mr. Spurgeon, would you allow me to speak to you?" He said, " Cer- tainly; get upon my knee." The little fellow got up, and jaid, " Mr. Spur- geon, supposing that your mother was dead, and that your father was dead; and that you were put into this institu- tion; and that '"cause that's me." there were other little boys that had no father or mother, 120 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. but that they had cousins and uncles and aunts, and that they brought them fruit and candy and a lot of things. Don't you think that you would feel bad? 'Cause that's me." Why, Mr. Spurgeon put his hand in his pocket, and gave the little fellow some money right off. The little fellow had pleaded his cause well. When men come to God and tell their story — I don't care how vile you are; I don't care how far down you have got; I don't care how far off you have wandered — if you will tell it all into His ear, the relief will soon come. o I can give you a little experience of my own family. Before I was fourteen years old the first thing I remember was the death of my father. He had been unfortunate in business, And Her Prodigal Son. and failed Soon after his death the creditors came in and took everything. My mother was left with a large family of children. One calamity after another swept over the entire household. Twins were added to the family, and my mother was taken sick. The eldest bov was fifteen years of age, and to him my mother looked *w a stay in her calamity, but all at once that boy be^'ixme a wanderer. He had MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 121 been reading some of the trashy novels, and the belief had seized him that he had only to go away to make a fortune. Away he went. I can remember how eagerly she used to look for tidings of that boy; how she used to send to the post-office to see if there was a letter from him, and recollect how we used to come back with the sad tidings, " No letter." I remember how in the even- ings we used to sit beside her in that New England home, and we would talk about our father, but the moment the name of that boy was men- tioned she would hush us into silence. Some nights when the wind ^ was very high, and the house, which was upon a hill, would tremble at every gust, the voice of my mother was raised in prayer for that wanderer who had treated her so un- "o, it is my lost son." kindly. I used to think she loved him more than all the rest of us put together, and I believe she did. On a Thanksgiving day — you know that is a family day in New England — she used to set a chair for him, thinking he would return home. Her family grew up, and her boys 122 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. left home. When I got so that I could write, I sent letters all over the country, but could find no trace of him. One day while in Boston the news reached me that he had returned. While in that city, I remember how I used to look for him in every store — he had a mark on his face — but I never got any trace. One day while my mother was sitting at the door, a stranger was seen coming toward the house, and when he came to the door he stopped. My mother didn't know her boy. He stood there with folded arms, and great beard flowing down his breast, his tears trickling down his face. When my mother saw those tears she cried, " O it is my lost son," and entreated him to come in. But he stood still, " No, mother," he said, " I will not come in, till I hear first you have forgiven me." Do you believe she was not willing to forgive him? Do you think she was likely to keep him long standing there? She rushed to the threshold, and threw her arms around him, and breathed forgiveness. God will forgive you. o I remember, while in Mo- bile attending meetings, a little incident occurred which I will relate. It was a beau- tiful evening, and just before the meeting some neighbors Father's Arms. MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 123 and myself were sitting on the front piazza enjoy- ing the evening. One of the neighbors put one of his children upon a ledge eight feet high, and put out his hands and told him to jump. Without the slightest hesitation he sprang into his father's arms. Another child was lifted up, and he, too, readily sprang into the arms of his father. He picked up another boy, larger than the others, and f^f^f^\^ (ZlX!^^"" iTY^V held out his arms, but he wouldn't jump. He cried and screamed to be taken down. The man begged the boy to jump, but it was of no use; he couldn't be induced to jump. The incident made me curious, and I stepped ilgjll up to him, and asked, HE SPRANG INTO HIS FATHERS ARMS . " How was it that those two little fellows jumped so readily into your arms, and the other boy wouldn't?" " Why," said the man, " those two boys are my children, and the other boy isn't; he don't know me." -o- There is a beautiful legend told about a little girl who was the first-born of a family in Egypt, when the destroying angel swept through that land, and consequently who would have been a victim on that nigbf if the protecting blood were not sprinkled on the door posts of her father's house. The order was that the first born should be struck by death all through Egypt. This little girl was sick, and she knew that death would take her, and she might be a victim of the order. She asked her father if the blood was sprinkled on the door-posts. He said it was, that he had or- dered it to be done. She asked him if he had seen it there. He said no, but he had no doubt NO BLOOD ON THE POOR, POST. 124 MOODY S CHILD STORIES, 125 that it was done. He had seen the lamb killed, and had told the servant to attend to it. But she was not satis- fied, and asked her father to go and see, and urged him to take her in his arms and carry her to the door to see. They found that the servant had neglected to put the blood upon the posts. There the child was exposed to death until they found the blood and sprinkled it on the posts, and then it was safe. See to it that you are safe in Christ. o At one time my sister had trouble with her little boy, and the father said, " Why, Sammy, you must go now and ask your mother's forgive- ness." The little fellow said he wouldn't. The father says, ' ' You must. If you don't go and ask your mother's forgiveness, I shall have to undress you and put you to bed." He was a bright, ner- vous little fellow, never still a moment, and the father thought he would have such a dread of being undressed and put to bed. But the little fellow wouldn't, so they undressed him, and put him to bed. The father went to his business, and when he came home at noon he said to his wife, "Has Sammy asked your forgiveness?" "No," she said; " he hasn't." So the father went to him, and 126 MOODYS CHILD STORIES. said, " Why, Sammy, why don't you ask your mother's forgiveness?" The little fellow shook his head, " Won't do it." "But, Sammy, you have got to." " Couldn't." The father went down to his office, and stayed all the afternoon, and when he came home he asked his wife, "Has Sammy asked your forgiveness?" "No; I took something up to him and tried to have him eat, but he wouldn't." So the father went up to see him, and said, "Now, Sammy, just ask your mother's forgiveness, and you may be dressed and come down to supper with ? : ; -^>^ IpLINCL #gW Little Johnny and his sister were one day going through a long, narrow tunnel. The railroad company had built small clefts here and there through the tunnel, so that if any one got caught in the tunnel when the train was passing, they could save themselves. After this little boy and girl had gone some distance in the tunnel, they heard a train com- ing. They were frightened at first, but the sister ju*t Moody's child stories. 139 put her little brother in one cleft, and she hurried and hid in another. The train came thundering along, and as it passed, the sister cried out, "Johnny, cling close to the rock! Johnny, cling close to the rock!" and they were safe. The " Rock of Ages " may be beaten by the storms and waves of adver- sity, but "cling close to the rock," Chris- tians, and all will be well. The waves don't touch the Christian; he is sheltered by the Rock "that is higher than I," by the One who is the strong arm, and the Savior who is mighty and willing to save. o I remember when I first began to work for the Lord, fifteen or sixteen years ago, there was a Boston business man who was converted there and stayed three months, and when leaving he said to ±iis ^niiaren. me ^^ ^gj-g was a man living on such a street in whom he was very much interested, 140 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. and whose boy was in the high school, and he had said that he had two brothers and a little sister who didn't go anywhere to Sabbath-school, because their parents would not let them. This gentleman said, " I wish you would go round and see them." Well, I went, and I found that the parents lived in a drinking saloon, and that the fathe r kept the bar. I stepped up to him and told him what I wanted, and he said he would rather have his sons be- come drunkards, and his daughter a harlot, than have them go to our schools. I thought that it looked pretty dark, and that he was pretty bitter to me, but I went a second time, thinking that I might catch him in a better humor. He ordered me out again. I went a third time and found him in better humor. He said, " Ycu are talking too much about the Bible. Well, I will teil you what I will do; if you teach them something reason- able, like ' Paine's Age of Reason,' they may go." Then MR. MOODY, YOU CAN HAVE MY CHILDREN GO TO YOUR SUNDAY-SCHOOL." Moody's child stories. 141 I talked further to him, and finally he said, " If you will read Paine's book, I will read the New Testament." Well, to get hold of him I promised, and he got the best of the bargain. We exchanged books, and that gave me a chance to call again and talk with that family. One day he said, ''Young man, you have talked so much about church, now you can have a church down here." "What do you mean?" "Why, I will invite some friends, and you can come down here and preach to them; not that I believe a word you say, but I do it to see if it will do us chaps any good." "Very well," I said; "now let us have it distinctly understood that we are to have a certain definite time." He told me to come at 11 o'clock, saying, "I want you to understand that you are not to do all the preaching." " How is that?" " I shall want to talk some, and also my friends." I said, " Supposing we have it understood that you are to have forty minutes and I fifteen, is that fair?" Well, he thought it was fair. He was to have the first forty and I the last fifteen minutes. I went down, and, behold, the saloon-keeper wasn't there. [ thought perhaps he had backed out, but I found that the reason was that he had . found that his saloon was not large enough to hold all his friends, and he had gone to a neighbor's, whither I went and found two rooms filled. There were atheists, infidels, and scoffers there. I had taken a little boy with me, thinking he might aid me. The moment I got in, they plied me with all sorts of questions, but I said I hadn't 142 Moody's child stories. come to hold any discussion; that they had been discuss- ing for years and had reached no conclusion. They took up the forty-five minutes of time talking, and the result was there was no two who could agree. Then came my turn. I said, "We always open our meetings with prayer; let us pray." I prayed and thought perhaps some one else would pray before I got through. After I finished the little boy prayed. I wish you could have heard him. He prayed to God to have mercy upon those men who were talking so against His beloved Son. Hts voice sounded more like an angel's than a human void;. After we got up, I was going to speak, but there was not a dry eye in the assembly. One after another went out, and the old man I had been after for months, and some- times it had looked pretty dark, came, and putting his hands on my shoulder, with tears streaming down his face, said, " Mr. Moody, you can have my children go to your Sunday-school." The next Sunday they came, and after a few months the oldest boy, a promising young' man then in the high school, came upon the platform, and with his chin quivering and the tears in his eyes, said, " I wish to ask these people to pray forme; I want to become a Christian." God heard and answered our prayers for him. In all my acquaintances I don't know of a man whom it seemed more hopeless to reach. I be- lieve if we lay ourselves out for the work, there is not a man in this city but can be reached and saved. I don't care who he is; if we go in the name of our Master, and MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 143 persevere until we succeed, it will not be long before Christ will bless us, no matter how hard their heart is. " We shall reap if we faint not." I didn't have a warmer friend in Chicago; he was true to me. o John Wanamaker, superintendent of probably one of the largest Sunday-schools in the world, had a theory that he would never put a boy out of his school for bad conduct. He argued, if a boy misbehaved himself, it was through bad training at home, and that if he put him out of the school, no one would take care of him. Well, this theory was put to the test one day. A teacher came to him, and said, " I've got a boy in my class that mast be taken out; he breaks the rules continually, he swears and uses obscene language, and I cannot do anything with him." Mr. Wanamaker did not care about put- ting the boy out, so he sent the teacher back to his class. But he came again, and said that unless the boy was taken from his class, he must leave it. Well, he left, and a second teacher was appointed. The second teacher came with the same story, and met with the same reply from Mr. Wanamaker. And he resigned. A third teacher was appointed, and he came with the same story as the others. Mr. Wanamaker then thought he would 144 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. be compelled to turn the boy out at last. One day a few teachers were standing about, and Mr. Wanamaker said, " I will bring this boy up and read his name out in the school, and publicly excommunicate him." Well, a young lady came up, and said to him, " I am not doing what I might for Christ; let me have the boy; I will try and save him." But Mr. Wanamaker said, " If these young men cannot do it, you will not. " But she begged to have him, and Mr. Wanamaker consented. She was a wealthy young lady, surrounded with all the luxuries of life. The boy went to her class, and for several Sundays he behaved himself and broke no rule. But one Sunday he broke one, and, in reply to some- thing she said, spit in her face. She took out her pocket -handker- chief and wiped her face, but she said nothing. Well — , 9 she thought upon a plan, and she said to him, " John" — we will call him John — ''John, come home with me." "No," says he; 11 I won't; I won't be seen on the streets with you." She was fearful of losing him altogether if he went out of the school that day, and she said, "Will you let me walk Daniel in the Lions' Den. Daniel, vii Moody's child stories. 147 home with you?" "No, I won't," said he; " I won't be seen on the street with you." Then she thought. upon another plan. She thought on the " Old Curiosity Shop," and she said, " I won't be at home to-morrow or Tues- day, but if you will come round to the front door on Wednesday morning there will be a little bundle for you." " I don't want it; you may keep your own bundle." She went home, but made the bundle up. She thought that curiosity might make him come. Wednesday morning arrived, and he had got over his mad fit, and thought he would just like to see what was- in that bundle. The little fellow knocked at the door, which was opened, and he told his story. She said, "Yes, here is the bundle." The boy opened it and found a vest, and a coat and other clothing, and a little note written by the young lady, which read something like this: "Dear Johnnie: Ever since you have been in my class I have prayed for you every morning and evening, that you might be a good boy, and I want you to stop in my class. Do not leave me." The next morning, before she was up, the servant came to her and said there was a little boy below who wished to see her. She dressed hastily, and went down stairs, and found Johnnie on the sofa weeping. She put her arms around his neck, and he said to her, " My dear teacher, I have not had any peace since I got this note from you. I want you to forgive me." " Won't you let 148 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. me pray for you to come to Jesus?" replied the teacher; and she went down on her knees and prayed. And now Mr. Wanamaker says that boy is the best boy in his Sunday-school. And so it was love that won that boy's heart. o OVED ONE e IPVEK There are a great many things to sepa- rate a man from his wife, or one friend from an- other; but the mother's love is generally un- ch a nge able. Her son maybe a murderer; public opinion may be against him; the daily journals may write him down; his friends may forsake him, but that mother will take her stand in the court be- side her boy. The jury may give a verdict against him, and he may be sentenced to death; but you will find that mother going down to his cell, and she will love him through it all. She don't care for public opinion; she LOVE FOR HER SON WILL REMAIN. MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 149 don't heed the sentiments of the press. Everything may be gone from her, but love for her son will remain. And when that son has been executed, and life has left his body, she will go down to his grave and water it with tears, and will cherish the memory of that boy as long as she lives. But all this is not to be compared with the love of God. God's love is not confined to one man; it is universal and unfailing and unchangeable. - — - — - — o While down at a convention in Illinois an old man got past seventy years; he said he remembered but one thing about his father, and that one thing followed him all through life. He could not remember his death, he had no recollection of his funeral, but he recollected his father, one winter night, taking a little chip, and with his pocket knife whittling out a little cross, and told how God in His infinite love sent His Son down here to redeem us; how He had died on the cross for us. The story of the cross followed him through life; and I tell you if you teach these children truths, they will follow them through life. ^nty 1 In Detroit, at an international convention of I ^JfcJKr ^ le Young Men's Christian association, Judge Olds was present as a delegate from Colum- bus. One evening he was telling about the mighty power Christians summon to their aid in the petition "for Christ's sake," "in Jesus' name," and he told a story that made a great impression on me. When the war came on, he said, his only son left for the army, and he became suddenly interested in soldiers. Every soldier that passed by brought his son to remem- brance; he could see his son in him. He went to work for soldiers. When a sick soldier came there to Co- lumbus one day, so weak h e couldn't . walk, the | I judge took | , . I him in a car- I riage, and got \ him into the soldier's home. Soon RnBU THE FATHER SAW IT WAS HIS OWN SON'S WRITING. I50 Moody's child stories. 151 he became president of the soldier's home in Columbus, and used to go down every day and spend hours in looking after those soldiers, and seeing that they had every comfort. He spent on them a great deal of time and a great deal of money. One day he said to his wife, " I'm giving too much time to these soldiers. I've got to stop it. There's an important case coming on in court, and I've got to attend to my own business." He said he went down to the office that morning, resolved in future to let the soldiers alone. He went to his desk, and then to writing. Pretty soon the door opened, and he saw a soldier hobble slowly in. He started at sight of him. The man was fumbling at something in his breast, and pretty soon he got out an old soiled paper. The father saw it was his own son's writing. "Dear Father: This young man belongs to my company. He has lost his leg and his health in defense of his country, and he is going home to his mother to die. Ii' he calls on you, treat him kindly. " For Charlie's Sake." "For Charlie's sake." The moment he saw that, a pang went to his heart. He got up for a carriage, lifted the maimed soldier, drove home, put him into Charlie's room, sent for the family physician, kept him in the family and treated him like his own son. When the young soldier got well enough to go to the train to go home to his mother, he took him to the railway station, put him in the nicest, most comfortable place in the car- 152 Moody's child stories. riage, and sent him on his way home to his mother. " I did it," said the old judge, " for Charlie's sake." Now, whatsoever you do, my friends, do it for the Lord Jesus' sake. Do and ask everything in His name, in the name of Him " who loved us and gave Himself for us." o One day as a young lady was walking up the street, she saw a little boy run- ning out of a shoemaker's shop, and behind him was the old shoemaker chasing him with a wooden last in his hand. He had not run far until the last was thrown at him, and he was struck in the back. The boy stopped and began to cry. The Spirit of the Lord touched that young lady's heart, and she went to where he was. She stepped up to him, and asked him if he was hurt. He told her it was none of her business. She went to work then to win that boy's confidence. She asked him if he went to school. He said, "No." "Well, why don't you go to school?" " Don't want to." She asked him if he would not like to go to Sunday-school. " If you will come," she said, " I will tell you beautiful stories and read nice books." She coaxed and pleaded with him, and at last said that if he would consent to go, she would meet him on the corner MOODY S CHILD STORIES. i S3 of a street which they should agree upon. He at last consented, and the next Sunday, true to his promise, he waited for her at the place designated. She took him by the hand and led him into the Sabbath-school. " Can you give me a place to teach this little. boy ? r? she asked of the superintendent. He looked at the boy, but they didn't have any such looking little ones in the school. A place was found, THE LAST WAS THROWN AT HIM AND HE WAS STRUCK IN THE BACK. however, and she sat down in the corner and tried to win that soul for Christ. Many would look upon that with contempt, but she had got something to do for the Master. The little boy had never heard anybody sing so sweetly before. When he went home he was asked where he had been. "Been among the angels," he told his 154 Moody's child stories. mother. He said he had been to the Protestant Sabbath- school, but his father and mother told him he must not go there any more, or he would get a flogging. The next Sunday he went, and when he came home, he got the promised flogging. He went the second time and got a flogging, and also a third time with the same result. At last he said to his father, " I wish you would flog me be- fore I go, and then I won't have to think of it when I am there." The father said, "If you go to that Sabbath- school again, I will kill you." It was the father's custom to send his son out on the street to sell articles to the passers-by, and he told the boy that he might have the profits of what he sold on Saturday. The little fellow hastened to the young lady's house, and said to her, " Father said that he would give me every Saturday to myself, and if you will just teach me, then I will come to your house every Saturday afternoon." I wonder how many young ladies there are that would give up their Saturday afternoons just to lead one boy into the king- dom of God. Every Saturday afternoon that little boy was there at her house, and she tried to tell him the way to Christ. She labored with him, and at last the light of God's spirit broke upon his heart. One day, while he was selling his wares at the railroad station, a train of cars approached unnoticed, and passed over both his legs. A physician was summoned, and the first thing after he arrived the little sufferer looked up into his face, and said, " Doctor, will I live to get home?" MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 155 "No, " said the doctor; "you are dying." "Will you tell my mother and father that I died a Christian?" They bore home the boy's corpse, and with it the last message that he died a Christian. O, what a noble work was that young lady's in saving that little wanderer! How pre- cious the remembrance to her! When she goes to heaven, she will not be a stranger there. He will take her by the hand and lead her to the throne of Christ. She did the work cheerfully. O, may God teach us what our work is, that we may do it for His glory! o I turn man." You know I have an idea that the Bible is like an album. I go into a man's house, and while waiting for him, I take up an album and open it. I look at a pic- ture. "Why, :: that looks like a man I know." over and look at another. "Well, I know that By-and-by I come upon another. "Why, that 156 Moody's child stories. man looks like my brother." I am getting pretty near home. I keep turning over the leaves. "Well, I declare, there is a man who lives in the street I do; why, he is my next-door neighbor." And then 1 come upon another, and I see myself. My friends, if you read your Bibles, you will find your own pictures there. It will just describe you. Now, it may be there is some Phari- see here to-night; if there is, let him turn to the third chapter of John, and see what Christ said to that Phari- see. " Except a man be born again, he cannot enter the kingdom of God." Nicodemus, no doubt, was one of the fairest specimens of a man in Jerusalem in those days, yet he had «to be .born again, else he couldn't see the kingdom of God. But you may say, ' ' I am not a Phari- see; I am a poor, miserable sinner, too bad to come to Him." Well, turn to the woman of Samaria and see what He said to her. See what a difference there was between that publican and that Pharisee. There was as great a distance between them as between the sun and the moon. One was in the very highest station, and the other occupied the very worst One had only himself and his sins to bring to God, the other was trying to bring in his position and his aristocracy. I tell you, when a man gets a true sight of himself, all his position and station and excellences drop. See this prayer, "I thark God," "I am not," "I fast," "I give," "I possess." Why, if he had delivered a long prayer, and it had been put into the hands of printers, they would have to send Moody's child stories. 157 out for some "I's." " I thank God." "I," "I," " I." When a man prays, not with himself, but to God, he does not exalt himself; he don't pass a eulogy upon him- self. He falls flat down in dust before God. In that prayer you don't find him thanking God for what He had done for him. It was a heathen, prayerless prayer, merely a form. I hope the day will come when formal prayers will be a thing of the past. I think the reason why we cannot get more people out to the meetings is because we have too many formal prayers in the churches. These formal Christians get up like this Pharisee, and thank God they are not like other men; but when a man gets a look at himself, he prays with the spirit of the publican. I once heard of a father who had a prodigal boy, and the boy had sent his mother down to the grave with a broken heart. One evening the boy started out as usual to spend the night in drinking and gambling, and his old father, as he was leaving, said, "My son, I want to ask a favor of you to-night. You have not spent an evening with me since your mother died. Now, won't you gratify your old father by staying at home with him?" " No," said the young man, i 5 8 MOODY S CHILD STORIES, "it is lonely here, and there is nothing to interest me, and I am going out." And the old man prayed and wept, and at last said, 4< My boy, you are just killing me as you have killed your mother. These hairs are growing white, and you are sending me, too, to the grave." Still the boy would not stay, and the old man said, ' ' If you are de- ' IF YOU GO OUT YOU MUST GO OVER THIS BODY. termined to go to ruin, you must go over this old body to-night. I cannot resist you. You are stronger than I, but if you go out, you must go over this body." And he laid himself down before the door, and that son walked over the form of his father; trampled the love of his father under foot, and went out. -o- MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 159 Doctor Andrew Bonar told me how, GET HOLD OF. I heard of a Sun- day-school concert at which a little child of eight was going to re- cite. Her mother had taught her, and when the night came the little thing was trembling so she could scarcely speak. She commenced, " Jesus said," and completely broke down. Again she tried it, " Jesus said suffer," but she stopped once more. A third attempt was made by her, " Suffer little children, and don't any- body stop them, for He wants them all to come," and that is the truth. There is not a child who has a par- ent in the Tab- ernacle but He wants, and if you but bring them in the arms of your faith, and ask the Son of God to bless them SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN. *9* 192 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. and train them in the knowledge of God, and teach them as you walk your way, as you lie down at night, as you rise up in the morning, they will be blessed. o Took the Whippings. When I was a boy my mother used to send me outdoors to get a birch stick to whip me with; and at first I used to stand off from the rod as far as I could. But I soon found that the whipping hurt me more that way than any other; and so I went as near to my mother as I could, and found the punishment lighter. And so when God chastens us let us kiss the rod and draw as near to Him as we can. Some one has said that God sent one son into the world without sin, but no son without sorrow. We are not able to read the prob- lem now, or to see just why we are affected; but by-and-by we shall know, and all will be made plain. There is one pas- sage of Scripture which has Ml USED TO STAND 0FF FR0M THE ROD." Moses in the Bulrushes. Exodus, ii. MOODY'S CHILD STORIES. 195 always been a great comfort to me. In the eighth chap- ter of Romans, Paul says, ' ' All things work together for good to them that love God." A few years ago a little child of mine had the scarlet fever; and I went to the druggist's to get the prescription which the doctor had ordered, and told him to be sure and be very careful in making it up. And the druggist took down one bottle after another, in any one of which there might be what would be rank poison for my child; but he stirred them together and mixed them up, and made just the medicine which my child needed; and so God gives us a little ad- versity here, a little prosperity there, and works all for our good. . o There is a story of Dr. ChalmerSo A lady came to him, and said, " Doctor, I cannot bring my child to Christ. I've talked, and talked, but it's of no use." The doctor thought she had not much skill, and said, " Now, you be quiet, and I will talk to her alone." When the doctor got the Scotch lassie alone he said to her, "They are bothering you a good deal about this question; now, suppose I just tell your mother you don't want to be talked to any more 196 Moody's child stories. upon this subject for a year. How will that do?" Weil, the Scotch lassie hesitated a little, and then said she didn't think it would be safe to wait for a year. Some- thing might turn up. She might die before then. "Well, that's so, " replied the doctor, "but suppose we say six months. " She didn't think even this would be safe. " That's so," was the doctor's reply; "well, let us say three months." After a little hesitation, the girl finally said, ' ' I don't think it would be safe to put it off for three months; don't think it would be safe to put it off at all," and they went down on their knees and found Christ. o HE TALKED TO HER ALONE. A lady had a little child that was dying. She thought it was resting sweetly in the arms of Jesus. She went into the room, and the child asked her, Moody's child stories. 197 " What are those clouds and mountains that I see so dark?" "Why, Eddy," said his mother, "there are no clouds or mountains; you must be mistaken." "Why, yes, I see great mountains, and dark clouds, and I want you to take me in your arms and carry me over the mountains." "Ah," said the mother, "you must pray to Jesus; He will carry you safely." And, my friends, the sainted mother, the praying wife, may come to your bed- side and wipe the damp sweat from your brow, but they cannot carry you over the Jordan when the hour comes. This mother said to her little boy, " 1 am afraid that it is unbelief that is coming upon you, my child, and you must pray that the Lord will be with you in your dying moments." And the two prayed, but the boy turned to her, and said, "Don't you hear the angels, mother, over the mount- D0N ' T Y0U HEAR THE ANGEL s? ains, and calling for me, and I cannot go?" ' ' My dear boy, pray to Jesus, and He will come; He only can take you." And the boy closed his eyes and prayed, and when he opened them a heavenly smile overspread his face, as he said, "Jesus has come to carry me over the mountains." 198 Moody's child stories. Dear sinner, Jesus is ready and willing to carry you over the mountains of sin, and over your mountains of unbelief. Give yourself to Him. ■o- SAD FAREWELL. A few years ago I was in a town in our state, the guest of a family that had a little boy about thirteen years, who did not bear the family name, yet was treated like the rest. Every night when he retired, the lady of the house kissed him, and treated him in every respect like all the other children. I said to the lady of the house, " I don't understand it." I think he was the finest look- ing boy I have ever seen. I said to her, " I don't un-. derstand it." She says, "I want to tell you about that boy. That boy is the son of a missionary. His father and mother were missionaries in India, but they found they had got to bring their children back to this country to educate them. So they gave up their mission field, and came back to educate their children, and to find some missionary work to do in this country. But they were not prospered here as they had been in India, and the father said, "I will go back to India"; and the mother said, " If God has called you to go, I am sure it will be my duty to go and my privilege to go, and I will go with MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 199 you." The father said, " You have never been separated from the children, and it will be hard for you to be sepa- rated from them; perhaps you had better stay and take care of them." But after prayer they decided to leave their children to be educated, and they left for India. This lady heard of it and sent a letter to the parents, in which she stated if they left one child at her house, she would treat it like one of her own children. She said the mother came and spent a few days at her house, and, being satisfied that her boy would receive .- - proper care, consented to leave him, and the night before she was to leave him, the missionary said to the western lady, ' ' I want to leave my boy to- morrow morning without a tear"; said she, " I may never see him again." But she didn't want him to think she was weeping for ^ MAY NEVE r see him again." anything she was doing for the Master. The lady said to herself, " She won't leave that boy without a tear." But the next day when the carriage drove up to the door, the lady went upstairs, and she heard the mother crying in prayer, ' ' O God, give me strength for this hour. Help me to go away from my boy without a tear." When she ^oo Moody's child stories. jame down there was a smile upon her face. She hugged him and she kissed him, but she smiled as she did it. She gave up all her five or six children without shedding a tear, went back to India, and in about a year there came a voice, "Come up hither." Do you think she would be a stranger in the Lord's world? Don't you think she will be known there as a mother that loved her child? o Previous to my coming across to this great country of ours, I was holding meet- ings in London. I took my ticket from there to Man- chester to bid some friends good-by. When I got to the railway carriage I saw little groups of boys around two little fellows. Their coats were threadbare, with patches here and there care- fully covering up the holes. Some good mother, it was evident, too poor to send them away in fine style, was trying to make them as neat as she could. The boys be- longed to a Sunday-school in London, and the group around them were their school-mates, who had come down to bid them good-by. They shook hands, and then MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 20I their Sunday-school teacher did the same, and wished them godspeed. After that their minister came and took them by the hand, and breathed a prayer that they would be blessed. When they all had bade the boys good-by, a poor widow came up and put her arm around the companion of her son. Perhaps he had no mother, and she kissed him for his mother, and wished him good- by. Then she put her arms around the neck of the other boy, and put his arms around her, and she began to weep. 4 'Don't cry, mother, " said the boy," don't cry; I'll soon be in America, and I'll J save money, and soon send for you to come out to me; I'll have you out with me. Don't cry." He stepped into the carriage, the steam was turned on, and the train was in mo- tion when he put his head out of the win- dow, and Cried, " DON'T CRY, MOTHER, I'LL SOON BE IN AMERICA, „ nl n AND i'll save money and send for you." ' ' r arewell, dear mother"; and the mother's prayer went out, "God bless m y hoy, God bless my boy." Don't you think that when 202 MOODYS CHILD STORIES. they came to America, and sent the first letter to Eng- land, that mother would run quickly to the door when the postman came with that letter? How quick that mother would take that letter and break the seal! She wants to hear good news. There is not one here who has not a message of good news, of glad tidings; better news than was ever received by a mother in England from a son in America, or from a mother in England by a son in America. It is glad tidings from a loving Savior; glad tidings of great joy. -o- But I have another story to tell. It was Ralph Wallace who told me of this one. A cer- tain gentleman was a member of the Presbyterian church. His little boy was sick. When he went home his wife was weeping, and she said, " Our boy is dying; he has had a change for the worse. I wish you would go in and see him." The father went into the room and placed his hand upon the brow of his dying boy, and could feel the cold, damp sweat was gathering there; that the cold, icy hand of death was feeling for the chords of life. " Do you know, my boy, that you are dying?" asked the father. "Am MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 203 I? Is this death? Do you really think I am dying?" " Yes, my son, your end on earth is near." "And will I be with Jesus to-night, father?" "Yes, you will be with the Savior." "Father, don't you weep, for when I get there I will go straight to Jesus and tell Him that you have been trying all my life to lead me to Him.'' God has given me two little children, and ever since I can re- member I have direct- ed them to Christ, and I would rather they carried this message to Jesus, that I had tried all my life to lead them to Him, than have all the crowns of the earth; and I would rather lead them to Jesus than give them the wealth of the world. I challenge any man to speak of heaven without speaking of children. " For of such is the king- dom of heaven." " AND WILL I BE WITH JESUS TO-NIGHT, FATHER?" -O- The first two or three years that I at- tempted to talk in the meetings, I saw that the older people did not like it. I had sense enough to know that I was a bore to them. li Well, I went out upon the street and I got eighteen little children to follow me the first Sunday, and I led them into the Sunday-school. I found that I had something to do. I was encouraged, and I kept at that work. And if I am worth anything to the Christian church to-day, it is as much due to that work as any- thing else. I could not explain these Scriptural pas- sages to them, for I did not then comprehend them, but I could tell them stories; I could tell them that Christ loved them, and that He died for them. I did the best I could. I used the little talent I had, and God kept giv- ing me more talents, and so, let me say, find some work. See if you can get a Sabbath-school to teach. If you cannot get that, go down into the dark lanes and by- ways of the city and talk to them and sing some gospel hymns; or, if you cannot sing, take some one with you 204 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 205 that can sing some of these songs of praise. Sing or read the twenty-third psalm, or pray, and you can get a blessing in that way. When you have won one soul to I FOUND THAT I HAD SOMETHING TO DO. Christ, you will want to win two, and when you get into the luxury of winning souls it will be a new world to you, and you will not think of going back to the world at all. -o- Not long ago a young man went home late. He had been in the habit of going home late, and the father began to mis- trust that he had gone astray. He told his wife to go to bed, and dismissed the servants, and said he would sit up till his son came home. The boy came home drunk, and the father in his anger gave him a push into the street, and told him never to enter his house again, and shut the door. He went into the parlor I VE BEEN THE MEANS OF LEADING YOU ASTRAY, AND I WANT YOUR FRIENDSHIP. and sat down, and began to think, "Well, I may be to blame for that boy's conduct after all. I have never 206 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 207 prayed with him. I have never warned him of the dangers of the world." And the result of his reflections was that he put on his overcoat and hat, and started out to find his boy. The first policeman he met he asked eagerly, " Have you seen my boy?" " No." On he went till he met another. "Have you seen anything of my son?" He ran from one to another all that night, but not until the morning did he find him. He took him by the arm and led him home, and kept him till he was sober. Then he said, ' ' My dear boy, I want you to for- give me; I've never prayed for you; I've never lifted up my heart to God for you; I've been the means of leading you astray, and I want your forgiveness. " The boy was touched, and what was the result? Within twenty-four hours that son became a convert and gave up that cup. -o- I rl B. ^^^R^/j^X There is a little story that has gone the round of the American press that made a great impression upon me as a father. A father took his little child out into the field one Sab- bath, and, it being a hot day, he lay down under a beautiful, shady tree. The 208 MOODYS CHILD STORIES. little child ran about gathering wild flowers and little blades of grass, and coming to its father and saying, ''Pretty, pretty!" At last the father fell asleep, and while he was sleeping the little child wandered away. When he awoke, his first thought was, "Where is my child?" He looked all around, but he could not see it. He shouted at the top of his voice, but all he heard was the echo of his own voice. Running to a little hill, he looked around and shouted again . No response! Then going to a precipice at some distance, he looked down, and there, upon the rocks and briars, he saw the mangled form of his loved child. While he was sleeping his child had wandered over the precipice. I thought, as I heard that, what a picture of the church of God! How many fathers and mothers, how many Christian men, are sleeping now while their children wander over the terrible precipice right into the bottomless pit. Father, where is your boy to-night? HE SAW THE MANGLED FORM OF HIS LOVED CHILD. O- Hagar in the Wilderness. Genesis, xlv. I heard of a little child some time ago who was burned. The mother had gone out and left the three chil- dren at home. The eldest left the room, and the remaining two began to play with fire, and set the place in a blaze. When the youngest of the two saw what she had done, she went into a little cupboard and fastened herself in. The remaining child went to the door and knocked and knock- ed, crying to her to open the door and let her take her out of the burning build- ing, but she was too frightened to do it. It seems to me as if this was the way with hundreds and thousands. Christ stands and knocks, but they've got their hearts barred and bolted, because they she knocked and knocked. don't know that He has come only to bless them. 211 J i- 7 / V ^ (J> Suppose I say to my boy, " Willie, I. want you to go out and bring me a glass of water. " He says he doesn't want to go. ' ' I didn't ask you whether you wanted to go or not, Willie; I told you to go." " But I don't want to go," he says. " I tell you, you must go and get me a glass of water." He does not like to go. But he knows I am very tond of grapes, and he is very fond of them him- self, so he goes out, and some })| one gives him a beautiful clus- ter of grapes. He comes in, and says, "Here, papa; - here is a beau- tiful cluster of grapes for you." "But what about the water?" "Won't "won't the grapes be acceptable, papa?' 212 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 213 the grapes be acceptable, papa?" " No, my boy, the grapes are not acceptable; I won't take them; I want you to get me a glass of water. " The little fellow doesn't want to get the water, but he goes out, and this time some one gives him an orange. He brings it in and places it before me. "Is that acceptable?" he asks. "No, no, no!" I say, "I want nothing but water; you cannot do anything to please me until you get the water." And so, my friends, to please God you must first obey Him. o A friend in Ireland once met a little Irish boy who had caught a sparrow. The poor little bird was trem- bling in his hand, and seemed very anxious to escape. The gentle- man begged the boy to let it go, as the bird could not do him any good; but the boy said he would not, for he had chased it three hours before he could catch it. He tried to reason it out with the boy, but in vain. At last he offered to buy the bird; the boy agreed to the price, and it was paid. Then the gentleman took the poor little thing and held it out in 214 Moody's child stories. his hand. The boy had been holding it very fast, for the boy was stronger than the bird, just as Satan is stronger than we, and there it sat for a time, scarcely able to realize the fact \ that it had got liberty; but in a little while it flew away, chirping, as if to say to the gen- tleman, " Thank you! thank you! you have redeemed me." That is what redemption i s — buying back and setting free. So j] Christ came back to break the fet- ters of sin, to open the prison doors, and set the sinner free. This is the good news, the gospel of Christ; " Ye are not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ." THE POOR LITTLE BIRD WAS TREMBLING IN HIS HAND. A minis- t e r who had lost his child asked an-, other min- is te r to come and preach for him. He came and he told how he lived on one side of a river, and felt very little interest in the people on the other side, until his daughter was married and went over there to live, and then every morning he went to the win- dow and looked over the river, and felt very much concerned about that town and all the people there. "Now," said he, " I think that as this child has crossed another river, heaven " will be dearer to him f I; than ever it has been before." Shall we not just let our hearts and affections be set on the looking over the river. other side of the river? It is but a step; it is but a vail; we shall soon be in the other world. 215 My little boy, who has been sick and in the habit of waking up every morning at six o'clock, an hour before I want to wake, woke up one morning at half- past five, and his mother told him he must keep still for an hour and a half; and he kept making a noise, till at last his mother had to speak pretty quick to him, and when I woke up I found the little fel- low sobbing. I said, " Willie, what's the matter?" Well, he was pretty angry ,. ^.^ with his mother. He got out of bed and knelt down, and I said, " What areyou going to do?" " I'm going to say my prayers." I told him God wouldn't hear his prayer while he was angry with his mother. If you bring your prayers to God and have aught against ke asked his mother to forgive him. 216 Moody's child stories. 217 your brother you need not pray. Well, the little fel- low went off upstairs, and by-and-by he went up and asked his mother to forgive him, and then he prayed and went off with a light heart, and kept a light heart all day. Christ says, "You can get victory through Me." How easy, when the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts, it is to speak kindly of those who hate us and speak contemptuously of us! I remember seeing a story some time ago in print. It has been in the papers, but it will not hurt us to hear it again. A family in a southern city were stricken down with yellow fever. It was raging there, and there were very stringent sanitary rules. The moment anybody died, a cart went around and took the coffin away. The father was taken sick and died, and was buried; and the mother was at last stricken down. The neighbors were afraid of the plague, and none dared to go into the house. The mother had a little son and was anxious about her boy, and afraid he would be neg- lected when she was called away, so she called the little fellow to her bedside, and said, " My boy, I am going to leave you, but Jesus will come to you when I am gone." The mother died, the cart came along, and she was laid 218 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. in the grave. The neighbors would have liked to take the boy, but were afraid of the pestilence. He wandered about and finally started up to the place where they had laid his mother, and sat down on the grave and wept himself to sleep. Next morning he awoke and realized his position, alone and hun- gry. A stranger came along and seeing the little fellow sitting on the ground, asked him what he was waiting for. The boy remem b e r e d what his moth- er had told him and answered, "i am waiting for jesus." " I am waiting for Jesus," and told him the whole story. The man's heart was touched, tears trickled down his cheeks, and he said, "Jesus has sent me," to which the boy replied, " You have been a good while coming, sir." He was provided for. So it is with us. To wait for re- sults we must have courage and patience, and God will help us. -o- RAYER At the close of one of the after- no o n meetings we had in the Berkeley street church a few weeks ago, a little child brought me a note. I put it in my pocket, and read it when I got home. It was this, " Won't you pray that my mother may come home?" On inquiry I found that she was a little waif, her father was dead, and that her mother had deserted her and gone out to San Francisco, and had been gone over a year. Well, I must confess it kind of staggered me that they should pray that that mother might come back. But this note has just been handed to me, "You will remember the little child who asked prayers for her mother to return home, having been absent a year. This mother has returned, and was at the meeting with her little child on Friday night." The little child now wants us to pray that her dear mother may be converted, 219 PRAY THAT MY MOTHER MAY BE CON- VERTED. I remember one time my little girl was teasing her mother to get her a muff, and so one day her mother brought a muff home, and, although it was storming, she very MUFF. naturally wanted to yo out in order to try her new muff. So she tried to get n e to go out with her. I went out with her, and I said, " Emma, better let me take your hand." She wanted to keep her hands in her muff, and so she refused to take my hand. Well, by- and-by she came to an icy place, her little feet slipped, and down she went. When I helped her up, she said, " Pa- pa, you may give me your little finger." "No, my daughter, just' take my hand." "No, no, papa, give me your little finger." Well, I gave my finger to her, and tor a little "papa, give me your hand. 220 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 221 way she got along nicely, but pretty soon we came to another icy place, and again she fell. This time she hurt herself a little, and she said, ' ' Papa, give me your hand, " and I gave her my hand, and closed my fingers about her wrist, and held her up so that she could not fall. Just so God is our keeper. He is wiser than we. A vessel was wrecked off the shore. Eager eyes were watch- ing and strong arms manned the life-boat. For hours they tried to reach that vessel through the great breakers that raged and foamed on the sand-bank, but it seemed impossible. The boat appeared to be leaving the crew to perish. Bat after a while the captain and sixteen men were taken off, and the vessel FOR HOURS THEY TRIED TO REACH THAT VESSEL. 222 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. went down. "When the life-boat came to you," said a friend, " did you expect it had brought some tools to re- pair your old ship?" " O, no," was the response; " she was a total wreck. Two of her masts were gone, and if we had stayed mending her, only a few minutes, we must have gone down, sir. " ' ' When once off the old wreck, and safe in the life-boat, what remained for you to do?" " Nothing, sir, but just to pull for the shore." Light in the darkness, sailor, day is at hand! See o'er the foaming billows fair haven's land, Drear was the voyage, sailor, now almost o'er, Safe within the life-boat, sailor, pull for the shore. Cho. — Pull for the shore, sailor, pull for the shore! Heed not the rolling waves, but bend to the oar; Safe in the life-boat, sailor, cling to self no more! Leave the poor old stranded wreck, and pull for the shore. Trust in the life-boat, sailor, all else will fail, Stronger the surges dash and fiercer the gale, Heed Dot the stormy winds, though loudly they roar; Watch the " bright morning star," and pull for the shore. — Cho. Bright gleams the morning, sailor, lift up thy eye; Clouds and darkness disappearing, glory is nigh! Safe in the life-boat, sailor, sing evermore; "Glory, glory, hallelujah! " pull for the shore. — Cho. P. P. Bliss. I remember when I was a boy and went to Boston, I went to the postoffice two or three times a day to see if there was a letter for me. I knew there was not, as there was but one mail a day. I had not any employment, and was very homesick, and so I went constantly to the postoffice, thinking perhaps when the mail did come in, my letter had been mislaid. At last, however, I got a letter. It was from my youngest sister, the first letter she ever wrote to me. I opened it with a light heart, thinking there was some good news ^tTTERg from home, but the bur- den of the whole letter was that she had heard there were pickpockets in Boston, and warned me to take care of them. I thought I had better get some money in hand first, and then I might take care of pickpockets. And so you must take care to remember salvation is a gift. You don't work for salvation, but work day and night after you have got it. 223 AT LAST I GOT A LETTER. There is a story told of an inci- dent that occurred during the last Indian mutiny. The English were besieged in the city of Luck- now, and were in momentary expectation of perishing at the hands of the fiends that sur- rounded them. There was a little Scotch lassie in this fort, and, while lying on the ground, she suddenly shouted, her face aglow with joy, " Dinna ye hear them comin'? Dinna ye hear them comin'?" " Hear what?" they asked. ''Dinna ye hear them comin'?" And she sprang to her feet. It was the bagpipes of her native Scotland she heard. It was a native air she heard that was played by a regiment of her countrymen marching to p the relief of those cap- tives, and these deliver- ers made them free. O my friends, don't you hear Jesus Christ crying to you to-night? IT WAS THE BAGPIPES OF SCOTLAND SHE HEARD. 224 Lazarus and the Rich Man. Luke, xlv. When we were in Great Britain, in Manchester, a father woke up to the fact that we were going away THAT WAS COK- from that town. XV_CjO JL JiiJD. Just as we were about closing he got wonderfully interested in the meet- ings, and when we had gone to another town he said to his wife, "I have made a mistake; I should have taken you and the chil- dren and the ser- vants to those meetings. Now, I'm going to take my son from busi- ness, and take you and the children and the servants to the town where they are being held now, and take a house and have you all attend the meet- in^ " TTp ramp " MR - moody, my wife has got converted." 227 228 Moody's child stories. and took a house and sat down determined to remain there till all had been blessed. I remember him coming to me one night, soon after arriving, and saying, " Mr. Moody, my wife has got converted; thank God for that. If I get nothing else I am well paid." A few nights after he came in and said his son had become converted, and then told me one of the servants had been brought under the influence; and so he went on until the last day we were to be in that town arrived, and he came to me and said the last one of the family had yielded himself up to Christ, and went back to his native city rejoicing. When we were in London the father and son came up and as- sisted in the work, and I don't know a happier man in all Europe than that one. o A few years ago, at the mouth of Cleveland harbor, there were two lights, one at each side of the bay, called the upper and lower lights; and to enter the harbor safely by night, vessels must sight both of the lights. These western lakes are more dangerous sometimes than the great ocean. One wild, stormy night, a steamer was try- ing to make her way into the harbor. The captain and pilot were anxiously watching for the lights. By-and- Moody's child stories. 229 by the pilot was heard to say, " Do you see the lower light?" " No," was the reply; "I fear we have passed them." "Ah, there are the lights," said the pilot; " and they must be, from the bluff on which they stand, the upper lights. We have passed the lower lights, and have lost our chance of getting into the harbor." What was to be done? They looked back, and saw the dim outline of the lower light- house against the sky. The lights had THEY WENT CRASH AGAINST THE ROCKS. gone out. " Can't you turn your head around?" " No; the night is too wild for that. She won't answer to her helm." The storm was so fearful that they could do nothing. They tried again to make for the harbor, but they went crash against the rocks, and sank to the bot- tom. Very few escaped; the great majority found a watery grave. Why? Simply because the lower lights had gone out. Now, with us the upper lights are all right. 230 Moody's child stories. Christ Himself is the upper light, and we are the lower lights, and the cry to us is, keep the lower lights burning; that is what we have to do. He will lead us safe to the sunlit shore of Canaan, where there is no more night. Brightly beams our Father's mercy From His lighthouse ever more, But to us He gives the keeping Of the lights along the shore. Gho. — Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave! Some poor fainting, struggling seaman You may rescue, you may save. Dark the night of sin has settled, Loud and angry billows roar; Eager eyes are watching, longing, For the lights along the shore. — Cho. Trim your feeble lamp, my brother; Some poor seaman tempest-tossed, Trying now to make the harbor, In the darkness may be lost. — Cho. P. P. Bliss. I remember a mother that lay dying. She had been married the second time, and she had a boy that her second husband, this step-father, did not like, and his mother sent for me, and she said, " Now I am dying from consumption. I have been sick a long time, and since I have been lying here I have neglected that boy. He has got into bad company, and he is very, very unkind, and he is given to swearing; and, Mr. Moody, I want you to promise me that when I am gone, and he has no one to take care of him, you will look after him." I promised that I would. And soon after that mother died, and no sooner was she buried than that boy ran away and they did not know where he went to. The next Sunday I spoke to the children in my Sab- bath-school, and I asked them to look for him, and if they found him to let me know. And for some time I I PROMISED THAT I WOULD. did not hear of him, but one day one of my scholars told 231 232 Moody's child stories. me that the boy was a bell-boy in a certain hotel, and so I went there and I found him and talked with him. I remember it perfectly well; it was the third of July. He had no father or mother, but a step-father who did not care for him; and as I spoke to him kindly about Christ and what He had done for him, and how He loved him, the tears trickled down his cheeks, and when I asked him if he wanted to know Christ, he told me he did, and a little boy that was with me got down upon his knees and prayed with him; and at night — it was the night before the ' ' Fourth " — he went up upon the flat roof, and they were firing off cannon and sky-rockets, and there upon that roof at midnight, upon the top of that hotel, that boy was praying and calling upon God for light, for aid and for comfort, and now he is an active Christian young man, and superintendent of a Sabbath-school. He was taken right up, and he has held on, and he is leading others to Christ. There is a work for you. Take these children by the hand and lead them to the cross of Christ. They can be gathered into our churches, and be a blessing to the church of God. A gentleman one day came to my office for the purpose of getting me in- terested in a young man who had just got out of the penitentiary. "He says," said the gentleman, "he don't want to go to the office, but I want your permission to bring him in and introduce him, and I took him by the hand and told him I was glad to see him. I invited him up to my house, and when I took him into my family, I introduced him as a friend. When my little daughter came into the room, I said, "Emma, this is papa's friend." And she went up and kissed him, and the man sobbed aloud. After the child left the room, I said, ' ' What is the matter?" " O, sir;" he said, "I have not had a kiss for years. The last kiss I had was from my mother, and she was dying. I thought I would never have another one again." His heart was broken. 233 A little girl only eleven years old once came to me in a Sunday- school, and said, " Won't you please pray that God will make me a winner of souls?" I felt so proud of her, and my pride was justified, for she has become one of the best winners of souls in the country. O, suppose she lives threescore years, and goes on winning four or five souls every year; at the end of her journey there will be three hundred souls on the way to glory. And how long will it be before that little company swells to a great army? Don't you see how that little mountain rill keeps swelling till it carries everything before it? Little trickling streams have run into it, till now, a mighty river, it has great cities on its banks, and the com- merce of all nations floating on its waters. So when a single soul is won to Christ you can- not see the result. A won't you please pray that god will make me a winner of souls? 234 Moody's child stories. 235 single one multiplies to a thousand, and that unto ten thousand. Perhaps a million shall be the fruit; we can- not tell. We only know that the Christian who has turned so many to righteousness shall indeed shine ever and ever. . •■ / — The prodigal son -got down very low, but he did not get down low enough to beg; he went to work. — I've lived nearly forty years, and I've learned one thing if I've learned nothing else; that no man or woman who treats disrespectfully father or mother ever prospers. — The most devoted love on earth is the love of a mother for her child; but what is it in comparison to God's love? Mothers " may forget, yet I will not forget thee," saith the Lord. — When I was in England, my little girl said, " Papa, why don't those colored folks wash themselves white?" You might as well try to make yourselves pure and holy without the help of God. — Some one has said there were thousands of men in that camp who knew that God could use them, but David was the only one who believed that God would use him. Said David, " Now, I will go." 236 Moody's child stories. 237 — There are three thoughts that I have tried to bring out, that God is love; that His love is unchangeable; that His love is everlasting. The fourth thought is this, that His love is unfailing. Your love is not. — A great many people wonder why it is that they don't prosper, and are not blessed in the world. It is no wonder to me. The wonder is that God blesses them as He does. If I had a child in constant rebellion toward me, I wouldn't want that child to prosper until that spirit of rebellion would be swept away, because prosperity would, ruin them. — It seems to me after I am dead and gone, I would rather have a man come to my grave and drop a tear, and say, "Here lies the man who converted me; who brought me to the cross of Christ;" it seems to me I would rather have this than a column of pure gold reaching to the skies, built in my honor. If a man wants to be use- ful, follow Christ. STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. CHAPTER I. FROM A BOYHOOD OF LITTLE PROMISE HE GROWS TO BE A POWER. Dwight L. Moody was born on a little farm back of Northfield, Mass. , Feb. 5, 1837. There was a large family, and the farm alone was not sufficient to afford subsistence. The elder Moody was forced to help out the small income Dwight Lyman Moody, by Working with the trowel when building was brisk. He died, leaving a wife and seven children on the 28th of May, 18 14. In the morning of that day he was at his usual work, but feeling a pain in his side, caused by over-exertion, he went home to rest. At about one o'clock in the afternoon he felt the pain suddenly increasing, staggered to the bed, fell upon his knees beside it, and in this posture of prayer death seized upon him, before any one knew he was seriously ill. All that was left to the widow for her support was the little home on the mountain side, with an acre or 238 story of Moody's life. 239 two of land ; and even this was encumbered with debt. Of her seven children the eldest was but thirteen years of age ; and a month after her husband's death another boy and girl were born. Some of her worldly-wise neighbors advised her to give away or bind out her children, all except the twin babies ; but this she was determined not to do. God had endowed her with unusual strength both of body and mind, and, trusting in Him, she bravely lifted her burden of poverty and toil, and carried it patiently, hopefully, and at length cheerfully, until the little ones were able to help her bear it, and at last to fill her hands with plenty as they had filled her heart with love and care. Her brothers, in Boston, helped her to pay the interest of the mortgage on her home, the eldest boys helped to take care of the little farm, the mother took care of the house and children, and God took care of them all. Somebody has said; "When God wants to make a great man he begins by making a great women ;" a re- mark eminently true in this case ; for a careful study of the two characters will show that the best and strongest points about D. L. Moody were plainly enough inherited from his mother. It may be that a man can come to distinction who has a vain selfish woman for his mother. "All things are possible with God ;" but in such case, you only need 240 STORY OF MOODY S LIFE. to go a step further back and find that he takes after his grandmother. Mrs. Moody belongs to the women of the heroic age in America. If she had been born a hundred years earlier, there would have been among her sons a Warren, or a Putnam. She possessed that powerful physical organism by means of which the women of New England, in early days, were able to endure the toils and hardships of life in the wilderness. They helped their husbands to clear lands and fight Indians, besides doing their full share of work in taking care of the house and raising stalwart sons and buxom daughters to fill it. These women taught their children to * 'trust in God and fear nothing" But the basis of their character was religion ; not technical or theological religion, but that binding of soul to God which seeks to make him a partner in all busi- ness, as well as a hearer of all prayer. With such a nature, exercised and sanctified by sorrow, patience, and devotion, this women was qualified to be the mother of such a son. The boyhood of Dwight L. Moody was allied with poverty, hard work and at times even hunger. When he was old enough to run errands he was given a home by a neighboring farmer, who permitted him to attend school part of the time. He learned reading, writing and ciphering, and much boyish mischief, and had ad- mitted that as a boy he excelled in rough and tumble fighting. story of Moody's life 241 Aside from a splendid loyalty and love for his widowed mother there was nothing in young Moody's boyhood career to show any inclination toward piety. Although reared in a community near the scene of the famous religious awakening under Jonathan Edwards, 100 years before, it is not on record that Dwight L. Moody received any deep religious impression until he had grown to young manhood. As a boy he attended with his mother the Unitarian church in his native town. When he was 17 he picked up a few meager personal belongings and leaving home in quest of fortune and fame went to Boston, where one of his brothers was a salesman in a small shoe store. He had an uncle in the same line of busi- ness, and as soon as he entered the city he sought a position in his uncle's store. Young Moody rebelled against his relative's advice to go back to the farm, and finally his uncle took him in on condition that his nephew should be governed by his advice, and should attend the Sunday school and services at Mount Vernon Congregational church. The boy per- formed his duties in the store acceptably but for a time was careless in religious matters. The orthodox ser- mons that he heard from Sunday to Sunday went over his head, as he described it. His Sunday school teacher had better success with him, and there soon sprang up a bond of attachment between teacher and pupil. This teacher made a report to the church pastor on young Moody's prospecst in the religious life as follows: 242 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. ' 'He is very unlikely to become a Christian of clear and decided views of gospel truth, still less to fill any extended sphere of public usefullness." In due time young Moody applied for membership in the church. The board of deacons questioned him on points of doctrine and found him so backward that they refused him admission, or at least, advised him to wait for six months or a year, until he was better grounded in the faith. It was while under this pro- bationary discipline that Dwight L. Moody experienced the conversion that changed the whole trend of his nature and filled him with a passion for doing good to others that became the guiding star of his life. One day he went into the church of Dr. Kirk, a Congregational minister in Boston, and for the first time listened to an evangelical sermon. It had the effect of making him uncomfortable and he resolved not to go back. He felt that his heart had been laid bare and he wondered who had told the preacher about him. Some- thing induced him to go back the next Sunday, however, and the impression was renewed. His Sunday school teacher in the meantime had come to see young Moody at his place of business, and it was during a talk with this friend that he entered into the assurance of faith which was destined to make him a world power as a preacher and evangelist. At the end of twelve months story of Moody's life. 243 from his first application his name went upon the membership roll of the church. His business career in Boston seemed destined to be a failure and young Moody resolved to go to New York. He had no money and walked. In New York he again failed to secure a foothold, and began to dream of the west. He came to Chicago and soon was earning a good salary as a shoe salesman. It is said that he could sell more shoes than any two clerks in the store. One of his fellow clerks at this perion says of Moody: "He would never sit down in the store to chat or read the paper, as other clerks did when there were no customers, but as soon as he had served one buyer he was on the look-out for another. If none appeared, he would start off to the hotels or depots or walk the streets in search of one." Mr. Moody's religious tendencies were even then exerting a strong influence upon him. He became a puritan in spirit, and eschewed the theater, billiards, cards and dances as the enticements of the devil. He organized a debating society among his fellow clerks and night after night the young men debated foreordination versus free will and the slavery problem. Mr. Moody had joined the Plymouth Congregational church on the south side by letter, He started trouble in that aristocratic 244 story of Moody's life. congregation at once. He was filled with the desire to exhort and pray and would not be silenced. He hired four pews in the church and attempted to fill them with young men. He next applied for a place as teacher in the Sunday school, but was informed that pupils were needed more than teachers. The following * Sunday young Moody appeared with eighteen ragged urchins from the streets. Moody continued to bring recruits into the Sunday school, and as soon as a class was organized he handed it over to another teacher and started out after more, keeping on untill he had filled the school. Still the field did not satisfy him and he allied himself with one of the smaller Methdist churches, where he had a freer hand and was allowed to exercise evangelizing methods to the full. He conceived the idea of founding an independent mission on the north side and rented a deserted saloon building in Market street in the locality known as ' 'Little Hell." The first collection of boys he picked off the streets for a Sunday school class was a wonder. There was not a pair of shoes in the lot. The roll of names that the youngsters gave him to hand to the secreary contained the following : Red Eye Darby the Cobbler Smikes Billy Bucktooth Greenhorn Madden the Butcher Indian J ac ky Candles Black Stove Pipe Old Man Billy Blucannon Rag Breeches Cadet story of Moody's life. 245 The new mission was no sooner started than Mr. Moody began digging in another of the city's slums. At. the foot of the Lake Shore drive there was an ante^fire moral purlieu known as "The Sands," which was said to be worse than "Five Points" in New York or "Saint Giles" in London. Crime was common and less open than in "Little Hell." It was murder after nightfall and debauchery in daylight. When Moody went into this slum to drum up pupils for his mission he was hissed, derided and threatened. He thrived on opposition and bribed the little children with sweets and trinkets to come to his school. He won the gutter-snipe children first and then the men and women began coming to hear him preach. In a few months he had the biggest congregation on the north side. Mayor Haines took an interest in the work and granted Moody permission to take his "Sands" congregation into the hall over the old North market. The hall was generally used for a dance Saturday nights and there were no chairs. Early Sunday mornings Moody would sweep out the sawdust and scrub up the tobacco and beer. He elected himself a finance com- mitee to get some chairs. He went to John V. Farwell for help. Mr. Farwell went to the hall and found the school leaning up against the walls. He talked to the urchins and when he had finished Mr. Moody nominated him for superintendent of the North Market Sunday 246 story of Moody's life. school. He was elected, and from that time on the dry goods merchant helped Moody's work with his purse. The "Little Hell" and the "Sands" Sunday school jumped from a membership of 150 to 1,000. Mr. Moody distributed sugar and provisions and Mr. Farwell brought clothing. The north side ministers began to protest that the work Was irregular and interfered with the established Sunday schools. But it grew and prospered. For six years the North Market Sunday school was a power in the north side slums and was constantly adding depart- ments for education and usefulness. It is related that Moody at this period was often in danger of his life. He was chased by denizens of the slums. Once he was caught by a man whose wife had been persuaded to emty a jug of whisky into the street. There were a dozen desperadoes around him. He begged for a chance to pray before he should be killed. Telling of it afterward, Moody said that when he dropped on his knees he prayed harder than he ever did before. The crowd that was clamoring for his life was softened and in twenty minutes he was allowed to go to his Sun- day school and a large portion of the mob followed him, the leader, the man whose whisky had been wasted, afterward became a teacher in the school. CHAPTER II. INCIDENTS IN MR. MOODY S EARLY SUNDAY SCHOOL WORK IN CHICAGO. It was in the old North Market hall that President Lincoln made his first and only Sunday school address. Mr. Lincoln was in the city and Mr. Farwell conceived the idea that the ragged children would be pleased with a talk by the president. Mr. Lincoln was adverse to going, but finally consented. Mr. Farwell introduced the president of the United States to the motley crowd and said he would talk to them if they would take off their hats and be quiet. President Lincoln made a plain, old-fasioned address. ■ Fort Sumter was fired on a few months later and it is related that sixty of the unruly big boys of the school went to the front in response to Lincoln's first call for soldiers. At a jubilee held in an old rookery opposite Market Hall, on a certain thanksgiving night. The "old rookery" was none other than the ex-saloon, now Moody's prayer-room, a most forlorn and wretched place, dimly lighted, and with no fire, where thirty or forty 247 248 STORY OF MOLDY'S LIFE. children had assembled to hold a jubilee ; every one of them bearing marks of poverty, if not of actual want. Moody had appointed a kind of love-feast, at which every one was to tell what he was most thankful for. One little fellow, who had no other relative in the world but a decrepit old grandfather, with whom he lived in the greatest poverty, had become a Christian some time before, and, like others of the children, was trying to do a little home-missionary work on his own account. When his turn came to tell what he was most thankful for, he said, — "There was that big fel3ow, 'Butcher Kilroy,' who acted so bad that nobody would have him, and he had to be turned out of one class after another, till I was afraid he would be turned out of the school. It took me a long time to get him to come, and I begged for him to stay. I used to pray to Jesus every day to give him a new heart, and I felt pretty sure He would if we didn't turn him out. By- and- by Butcher Kilroy began to want to be a Christian, and now he is converted ; and that is what makes this Thanksgiving the happiest one in all my life." Another desperate case, of a boy they found on The Sands. He was a sort of chief of a gang of gutter-snipes^ who, partly because they admired him and partly be- cause they were afraid of him, allowed hirh to be a per- fect tyrant over them. It was a long time before they could get near enough to this young ruffian to speak to story of Moody's life. 249 him; but even he at last was caught with the missionary sugar, and invited to come to the mission school. It was a cold day in February ; but the only garment he had was a man's old overcoat, so ragged that it had to be stitched together around his body, giving him the appearance of being sewed up in a great dirty bag. A big pair of shoes, and papers wrapped around his legs, completed his winter costume. In this outfit he made his appearance on Sunday, at the door of the North Market School. Moody catching sight of him, gave him his hand, pulled him in, and, marching with him the whole length of the room, gave him a place in a class, with the same kindness and attention he would have shown to the best dressed boy on the North Side. At sight of this wretched waif, a stranger visiting the school was moved to tears. After the exercises were over, he took him to his house, and gave him a full suit of clothes belonging to his own son. The wild lad, thus civilized in appearance, continued to attend the school ; and at length, one by one, brought all his followers with him. That lad is now a Christian gentleman, in receipt of a large salary, and super- intendent of a Sunday school in one of our large cities. Many were the exciting scenes through which Moody passed, as month after month he continued the work of visitation. Sometime he was shamefully treated; and on more than one occasion he was actually in danger ±$o story of Moody's life. of becoming a martyr to the cause. One Sunday morning he was visiting families for the purpose of bringing their children to his school, when a powerful man, who had sworn to kill him, sprang upon him with a heavy club, before he knew he was in danger. It was a run for dear life. The Sands were in an uproar. Some cheered on their man, knowing if he caught him it would be all over with him ; while those who were friendly dared not come to his rescue, for fear of his wrathful pursuer. But it was all lost labor, to drive Moody away from a place where there were any children whom he felt ought to come to his school. On this occasion, as on Others, he escaped by being very swift-footed , but he was sore pressed by his enemy, who seemed really in hopes of putting an end to his labors by putting an end to his life. Not at all discouraged, he went back the next Sunday, and kept on going again and again, till at last his gentleness and patience disarmed his adversary, who gave him no further trouble. In his explorations one Saturday evening, he found a jug of whisky in a house, which the men had brought home to drink next day. They were all away from home ; but Moody gave the women a rousing temperance lecture, and persuaded them to let him emty the whisky into the street. Early on Sunday afternoon he returned, as he had promised, to take the children with him whom the women had consented to send to his school. But the men of the house were lying in wajt to give him a story of Moody's life. 251 pounding. He had touched them at a tender point, and they thirsted for revenge. The situation was desperate. One of them had stepped between him and the door be- fore he was aware of it, and all were about to pounce upon him, when Moody arrested proceedings on this wise, — "See here, now, my men, if you are going to whip me for spilling the whisky, you might at least give me time to say my prayers." So unusal a proposal attracted their attention, and they agreed to let him pray before they thrashed him, thinking it would add just so much to their sport. Moody at once dropped upon his knees and began to pray. Such praying these rough fellows had never heard. At first they were astonished, then they were interested, then they were softened ; and when he had finished his prayer they gathered around him, gave him their hands, de- clared he was a good fellow, — and in a few minutes Moody was triumphantly marching towards the North Market Hall, with all the children of the house at his heels. No class of persons was neglected, except those who had no need of attention. The great majority of those people, whatever other qualifications they lacked for being saved, had at least this one — they were sinners. The worst as well as the best who came to the great school, or the little prayer-meeting, found Mr. Moody, 252 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. or some of his workers, holding the door open for them, and inviting them to enter the kingdom of heaven. No matter how repulsive the person might be, Moody was always ready to help him ; he seemed to take the most interest in those who were most wretched and needy. Instances enough to fill volumes might be given of his successful work for those who had always been considered beyond the reach of grace and salvation. Among the worst places in the field was a sailors boarding-house, which was continually haunted by a rough, quarrelsome crowd. This place, vile and danger- ous to the last degree, Moody and his friend ventured to enter. They were set upon, and threatened with broken heads if they did not leave immediately ; but remember- ing that "a soft answer turneth away wrath, " they gently replied that they meant no harm, and, as proof of their kind intentions, offered to sing a song. This task, of course, fell to the lot of his friend; for Moody never could sing a note ; and he immediately struck up the hymn commencing — "O how happy are they Who the Savior obey, And have laid up their treasures above !" The crowd listened to the singing with evident enjoy- ment ; it was better singing than they were accustomed to. When the hymn was finished, Moody followed with prayer. From that day they were privileged characters in that house* and were held in high respect STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 253 by all the inmates. They captured the children of the keeper of the den for the North Market Mission, — every one of whom was afterwards brought to Christ. It was not often that their visits to saloons resulted so favorably as in the following case. Going into a drinking den one Saturday night, when the carousal was at its highest, they asked permission to leave some re- ligious papers for the men who were drinking at the little tables around the room. This being done, they entered into conversation with the keeper of the place, and presently drew out the fact that his parents were Christian people. The question instantly followed, "Do they know you are selling liquor?" The man hesitated, and seemed deeply affected. They gave him a kindly word, and then bade him good- night. But they had not gone far before one said to the other, — "We have neglected our duty ; let us go back and pray with that man." They immediately turned back, re-entered the saloon, begged the keeper's pardon for having neglected to pray with him, and, kneeling there in the sawdust, Moody offered a prayer which seemed the direct inspiration of the Holy Ghost. Mr. Moody's friend says, — "I never heard Moody pray like that before ; it seemed as if the baptism of the Holy One was upon him." Two weeks afterwards one of them met the man in 254 story of Moody's life. the street, who informed him that he had given up the saloon business, had left off drinking, and would die in the poor-house rather than sell any more liquor. The most miserable of the many wretched families they met in all their visitation was one which they found one Sunday morning in an attic. The husband, who was just on the verge of delirium tremens, had become half idiotic from drink, while the wife and children were half dead from starvation. The first thing done was to give them something to eat. Next they held a temper- ance meeting, and persuaded the man to sign the pledge, a copy of which they usually carried with them ; and by way of impressing it upon his stupid senses, they made him kneel down and place his hand upon the pledge, while they prayed to God to give him strenth to keep it. The next Sunday the whole family, decently clad, came to the mission school. An evening or two afterwards, passing by the same house, the man hailed them from his attic window, and threw them down a piece of silver, saying "I believe in that Sunday school, and I want to take a little stock in it." On Mr. Moody's friend returning to Chicago, six years afterwards, he was saluted by a gentlemanly stranger, who proved to be none other than the poor man who had thrown the money out of the attic window — now a prosperous man of business, with a beautiful home of story of Moody's life. 255 his own, and himself a leading member in a thriving church. One of Moody's strong points was his ability to keep every one around him hard at work. His method may be described in a single word — leadership. He was not skillful in giving minute directions, but he was always ahead, and they learned to follow him, and to do as he did. He was as ready to go down, as to go up, to find and save a sinner ; indeed, he was always ready to go anywhere or do anything which gave promise of such a result. It was impossible to be with him and not feel the contagion of his energy and faith. Scholars as well as teachers caught it from him, and began to be mission- aries on their own account, searching out and bringing in new scholars, and keeping the enthusiasm of the school always at fever heat. Prizes were sometimes offered for the largest number of new scholars brought in. On one occasion he pre- sented the most successful young missionary with a pet lamb, — a somewhat unusual gift of a Sunday school, but one which served as a striking and valuable object- lesson, which Moody was not slow to use. Among the band of young converts, which all the time increased around him, was a little girl, whose father owned a smaal vessel, with which he freighted lumber. Having given her own heart to the Savior, she tried to persuade her father to do the same. But he was a man having no taste for religion, though he was 2 $6 story of Moody's life. very fond of the child — whom he took with him on a certain voyage, during which she tried in vain to establish a prayer- meeting in the little cabin, an to convert some of the crew. On arriving at the lumber camp, this little missionary commenced a Sunday-school, as nearly as possible like the North Market Mission. Not content with this, and hearing of another encampment of wood- cutters similar to their own, she opened a second school among them also. During the severe northern winter she presided personally over both these institutions ; riding on horseback through the woods every Sabbath, after the manner of the early Methodist pioneers. It may be supposed that these two schools in the woods were of a very simple character, since the little girl herself was the entire force of officers and teachers ; and all the library and literature in use among them was her own little copy of the New Testament. The results of her labor cannot now be given ; but it is easy to imagine the tender interest with which those rough woodsmen sat at the feet of their child-missionary, charmed by her Christian courage, and cheered by her simple faith. The lumber season being over, the little vessel started for Chicago. During the voyage a terrfble storm arose, disabling the craft, and driving her rapidly to- ward a lee shore. The crew being completely exhausted, and expecting in a few minutes to be drowned, begged the little girl to pray for them, — which she did, with the story of Moody's life. 257 greatest composure. When she had told the good Lord all about them, and asked Him to take them out of their danger, if He thought best, and, above all things, to forgive their sins and make them ready for heaven, she began, in a clear, sweet voice, to sing that little Sunday-school hymn, — "We are joyously voyaging over the main, Bound for the evergreen shore." With the song new strength and hope seemed to come to the arms and hearts of the crew ; and renewing their efforts to v/eather the point which threatened their destruction, and aided, perhaps, by some slight change in the wind or abatement of the storm, the little craft weathered the rocks of the headland close enough to toss a biscuit ashore, and then swung out safely on the open course for home. To keep such assembly in order was of course im- possible ; though a degree of confusion which would have been fatal to an ordinary Sunday-school was no serious objection here. But sometimes a wild young barbarian would make his appearance, defying all authority, and actually disturbing the meeting ! There was one big fellow in particular who insisted on bringing his street manners into the schoolroom. All kinds of moral suasion seemed to be wasted on him. He was too big to be frightened, and too ignorant to be ashamed. After bearing with him for a long time, during which he continued to grow worse instead of 258 story of Moody's life. better, Moody and his friends began to fear that they had at last found one boy for whom nothing could be done. A great many evil spirits had been cast out by the influence of that school, but this one seemed de- termined to stay. To turn a scholar away as hopelessly bad would be a disgraceful confession of failure ; besides, it was contrary to all their ideas of the Gospel to shut this young ruffian out from the means of grace, when he was in such evident need of them. A solemn council was held one Sunday, but no one could think of any new method of reaching this desperate case. All the week it lay heavy on Moody's mind. The next Sabbath the big fellow appeared, more uproarious thon ever ; — there was actual danger of his breaking up the school. On this memorable day Mr. Moody determined to try the last remedy. His ample physical endowment for missionary work has already been mentioned, — of which on this day he made a very effective use. Coming suddenly upon the fellow, in the middle of the crowded hall, he seized him with both hands, fairly lifted him off legs, carried him into a little ante-room, locked the door, and proceeded to apply the treatment recommended by Solomon. This was by no means an easy task, for the culprit was as strong and active and savage as a wolf. The noise of the struggle awakened the most lively interest of the school, and by way of diversion Mr. Farwell started a song. Thus on the two sides of that story of Moody's life. 259 bolted door two widely different means of grace were in simultaneous operation. In due course of time Moody and his pupil emerged from the ante-room, both greatly flushed, and one com- pletely subdued. ' 'It was hard work," said Moody; "but I think we have saved him." Mr. Farwell met this very boy, now grown to a man, at the noon prayer-meeting. They recognised each other, and heartily agreed that Moody was right in applying desperate remedies for desperate diseases. After that his school was no more disturbed by such ruffians. He had shown a new claim to their admiration and respect. Order thus enforced became sacred in the opinion of all. A lad — the one nicknamed "Indian" — coming into the school one day, found a raw recruit sitting with his cap on. Instantly he drew it off, and hit the offender a blow between the eyes which laid him sprawling on the floor. "I'll learn you better than to wear your hat in this school," said he ; and then he passed quietly to his place, feeling the high satisfaction of having done his duty. One of Moody's friends reported a family to him where there were several children who were "due" at the North Market School, but whose father was a notorious infidel rum-seller, and would not let them come. 26o STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. The missionary at once called upon him ; but as soon as he made known his errand he was obliged to "get out of that place" very quickly, in order to save his head. Again and again he called, only to be driven away with curses and blasphemies. "I would rather my son should be a thief, and my daughter a harlot, than have you make fools and Christians of them over there at your Sunday-school," said the desperate man. But still Moody would not give up the case. One day, finding the man in a little better humor than usual, he asked him if he had ever read the New Testament, — to which the publican replied that he had not, and on his part inquired if Moody had ever read Paine's "Age of Reason. " Finding he had never done so, the man proposed to read the Testament if he would read the "Age of Reason." To this Moody at once agreed. "He had the best of the bargain ; but it gave me a chance to call again to bring him the book," said Moody. After wading through that mass of infidel abomi- nations, he called on the publican again, to see how he got on with the Testament ; but found him full of ob- jections and hot for debate. "See here, young man," said he ; "you are inviting me and my family to go to meeting : now you may have a meeting here if yo like." "What ! will you let me preach here in your saloon?" "Yes." story of Moody's life. 261 ' 'And will you bring in your family, and let me bring in the neighbors ?" "Yes. But mind, you are not to do all the talking. I and my friends will have something to say." "All right. You shall have forty-five minutes, and I will have fifteen." The time for the meeting was set, but when Moody reached the place he found that the company had re- moved to a larger house in the neighborhood, where a crowd of atheists, blasphemers, and wild characters in great variety, were waiting for a chance to make mince- meat of the young missionary, and use up the New Testament for ever. "You shall begin," said Moody. Upon this they began to ask him questions. "No questions 1" said he. "I haven't come to argue with you, but to preach Christ to you. Go on and say what you like, and then I will speak." Then they began to talk among themselves ; but it was not long before they quarrelled over their own different unbeliefs, so that what began as a debate was in danger of ending in a fight. "Order ! Your time is up," said Moody. "I am in the habit of beginning my addresses with prayer. Let us pray." "Stop! stop!" said one. "There's no use in your praying. Besides, your Bible says there must be 'two 262 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. agreed' if there is to be any praying ; and you are all alone," Without attempting to correct this false quotation, Moody replied that perhaps some of them might feel like praying before he got through ; and so he opened his heart to God. When he had finished, a little boy who had been converted in the Mission School, and had come with his friend to this strange meeting, began to pray. His childish voice and simple faith at once attracted the closest attention. As he went on telling the Lord all about those wicked men, and begging Him to help them to believe in Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost fell upon the assembly. A great solemnity came over those hard- hearted infidels and scoffers ; there was not a dry eye in the room. Pretty soon they began to be frightened. They rushed out, some by one door and some by the other — did not stop to hear a word of the sermon, but fled from the place as if it had been haunted. As a result of this meeting, Moody captured all the old infidel's children for his Sunday-school ; and, a little while after, the man himself stood up in the noonday prayer-meeting, and begged them to pray for his miser- able soul. Striking out in all directions, taking no thought of the prejudices or passions of those he met, but urging them all to come at once to Christ, and to the North Market Mission, it was impossible but that he should story of Moody's life. 263 make a good many enemies. One old woman, whose children he was inviting to his Sunday-school, seized a batcher's knife and rushed out to kill him. But he easily got away. Three ruffians, who had threatened him with a beat- ing, came into his prayer-room one night just after the meeting was over, when there was no one present but himself and a. lad. Knowing their errand, he invited them to sit down till he had gathered up his hymnbooks and Testaments, at the same time motioning the lad to leave. Unlike his first place of meeting, this room was lighted with gas, a single jet of which was burning. Towards this he made his way, picking up his books as he went along ; and then, as quick as a flash, he turned out the light, sprang over the benches in the darkness, and was off before his enemies suspected his design. Such slight annoyances as these, however, soon ceased to disturb his mind. He became accustomed to them. But what did really worry him was the boys disturbing his meetings and breaking the windows of the place in which they were held. When the strain on his patience came to be too severe, Moody determined to strike at the root of the matter ; and accordingly went to Bishop Duggan, the Romish prelate of Chicago, and laid his grievance be- fore him. He told the bishop that he was trying to do good, in a part of the city which everybody else had neg- 264 story of Moody's life. lected ; and that it was a shame that the members of the bishop's church should break the windows of his school- room. The zeal and boldness of the man surprised and de- lighted the bishop ; who promised that the lambs of his flock should hereafter be duly restrained. Moody, thus encouraged, went on to say that he often came upon sick people who were Roman Catholics ; he should be very glad to pray with them and relieve them, but they vere so suspicious of him that they would not allow him to come near them. Now, if the bishop would give him a good word to those people, it would help him amazing- ly in his work of charity. Such a request from a heretical Protestant was probably never made of a Catholic bishop before. But he very kindly replied that he should be most happy to give the recommendation if Mr. Moody would only join the Catholic Church ; telling him at the same time he seemed to be too good and valuable a man to be a heretic. "I am afraid that would hinder me in my work among the Protestants," said Moody. "Not at all," answered the bishop. "What ! do you mean to say that I could go to the noon prayer-meeting, and pray with all kinds of Christian people — Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, all together — just as I do now ?" story of Moody's life. 265 ' 'Oh yes," replied the bishop ; "if it were necessary, you might do that." "So, then, Protestants and Catholics can pray together, can they ?" "Yes." "Well, bishop, this is a very important matter, and ought to be aitended to at once. No man wants to be- long to the true Church more than I do. I wish you would pray for me right here, that God would show me His true Church, and help me to be a worthy member of it." Of course the prelate could not refuse ; so they kneeled down together ; and the bishop prayed very lovingly for the heretic, and when he had finished, the heretic began to pray for the bishop. From that day to the day of his death Bishop Duggan and Mr. Moody were good friends. The bishop made no progress in converting him, it is true ; but he stopped his wild young parishioners from breaking the prayer- room windows ; and if only Moody would have joined the Church of Rome there is no telling to what high dignities he might have come ! This incident was published recently in London, and a Catholic priest who read it called on Mr. Moody, and actually labored with him for a long time, with the ut- most zeal and earnestness, in the hope that he might be persuaded into the Church of Peter and Mary. 266 story of Moody's life. 4 'If you would only join the true Church," said the priest, "you would be the greatest man in England." But, as may easily be supposed, this kind of argu- ment made no impressiod upon a man who is more honored in bringing thousands of lost sinners to Christ than he would be by a seat in the chair af St. Peter himself. Mr. Moody had frequently been asked how he came to give up mercantile life, in which his prospect for success were so promising. He invariably made this reply: "The way God led me out of business into Christian work was as follows: "I had never lost sight of Jesus Chrst since the first night I met him in the store at Boston. But for years I was only a nominal Christian, really believing that I could not work for God. No one had ever asked me to do anything. "When I went to Chicago I hired five pews in a church, and used to go out on the street and pick up young men and fill these pews. I never spoke to those young men about their souls ; that was the work of the elders I thought. "After working for some time like that, I started a mission Sabbath school. I thought numbers were every- thing, and so I worked for numbers. When the at- teudance ran below 1.000 it troubled me ; and when it ran to 1.200 or 1. 500 I was elated. Still none was con- verted ; there was no harvest. story of Moody's life. 267 "Then God opened my eyes. There was a class of young ladies in the school, who were without exception the most frivoluous set of girls I ever met. One Sunday the teacher was ill and I took that class. They laughed in my face, and I felt like opening the door and telling them all to get out and never come back. "That week the teacher of the class came into the store where I worked. He was pale and looked very ill. "What is the trouble ?" I asked. "I have had another hemorrhage of my lungs. The doctor says I cannot live on Lake Michigan, so I am going to New York State. I suppose I am going home to die." 'He seemed greatly troubled, and when I asked him the reason he replied : "Well, I have never led any of my class to Christ. I really believe I have done the girls more harm than good." "I had never heard anyone talk like that before, and it set me thinking. After a while I said: "Supose you go and tell them how you feel. I will go with you in a carriage, if you want to go." He consented, and we started out together. It was one of the best journeys I ever had on earth. We went to the house of one of the girls, called for her, and the teacher talked to her about her soul. There was no laughing then ! Tears stood in her eyes before long. After he had explained the way of life he suggested that we have prayer. He asked me to pray. True, I had never done such a thing in my 268 story of Moody's life. life as to pray God to convert a young lady there and then. But we prayed, and God answered our prayer. "We went to other houses. He would go upstairs and be all out of breath, and he would tell the girls what he had come for. It wasn't long before they broke down and sought salvation. When his strength gave out I took him back to his lodgings. The next day we went out again. At the end of ten days he came to the store with his face literally shining. "Mr. Moody," he said, "the last one of my class has yielded herself to Christ. " I tell you we had a time of rejoicing. He had to leave the next night, so I called his class together that night for a prayer meeting, and there God kindled a fire in my soul that has never gone out. The height of my ambition had been to be a suc- cessful! merchant, and if I had known that meeting was going to take that ambition out of me I might not have gone. But how many times I have thanked God since for that meeting ! "The dying teacher sat in the midst of his class and talked with them, and read the fourteenth chapter of John. We tried to sing "Blest be the tie that binds," after which we knelt down to prayer. I was just rising from my knees when one of the class began to pray for her dying teacher. Another prayed, and another, and before we rose the whole class had prayed. As I went out I said to myself: "O God, let me die rather than lose the blessing I have received to-night." story of Moody's liee. 269 ' 'The next evening I went to the depot to say good- by to that teacher. Just before the train started one of the class came, and before long, without any prearrange- ment, they were all there. What a meeting that was ! We tried to sing, but we broke down. The last we saw of that dying teacher he was standing on the platform of the car, his ringer pointing upward, telling that class to meet him in heaven. "I didn't know what this was going to cost me. I was disqualified for business ; it had become distasteful to me. I had got a taste of another world, and cared no more for making money. For some days after the greatest struggle of my life took place. Should I give up business and give myself to Christian work or should I not ? I have never regretted my choice. Oh, the luxury of leading same one out of the darkness of this world into the glorious light and liberty of the gospel. " ■:o: CHAPTER III. MR. MOODY AND THE YOUNG MENS CHRISTION ASSOCI- ATION. CAMP AND FIELD. The great revival of 1857-58 led to organizing the Young Men's Christian Association of Chicago. Its first important work was the establishment of a 270 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. daily noon prayer-meeting, which, during the winter and spring, was very well attended. But after a while the impetus was lost, and the meetings grew smaller and smaller, till at last they seemed likely to die. From the first Moody had made himself conspicuous in these meetings by his blunt manners and bold attacks upon fashionable sins, such as tippling the use of tobacco, going to the theatre, playing billiards, and other loaferish games. He was very severe against professors of relgion who wish to enjoy as many pleasures of sin as possible, without spoiling their hopes of heaven — Christians who are so nearly like the people of the world that, except on Sunday, it is very hard to tell the difference. On this account he came to be looked upon with disfavor. Many sensitive people left off attending the noon prayer-meeting for fear of this bold brother, in whose eyes sin was sin wherever it might be found, and who was so insensible to the dignities of wealth, fashion, station, and age, that no offender was safe from being held up on the point of his spear. But Moody, having once put his hand to the plough, he never looked back. Therefore the coldness of some of his brethren produced no discouragement in his mind. A man who had achieved such success in the North Market Mission, which had been started against the ad- vice of every clergyman in the neighborhood, was not likely to be troubled by criticisms. The waning interest in the noon .prayer-meeting story of Moody's life. 271 roused him to new efforts on its behalf. When the attendance fell to half a dozen he was one of the six ; and when there were but three he was one of the three. One day, all brethren being out of town, nobody went to the prayer-meeting but one old Scotch woman. This excellent person set great store by the noon meet- ing, and, when no one else appeared, she determined to hold it herself rather than have it fail even for a single day. So, after waiting a long time, she put on her spectacles, went forward to the leader's desk, read a passage of Scripture, talked it over to herself, for the comfort of her old heart, and then offered prayer for the languishing meeting, and for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon it, and upon the city. Prayer being ended, she sung a psalm, and, the time having thus been all improved, she went comfortably home, feeling that she had done her duty, gained a blessing, and saved the noon prayer-meeting from utter exstinction. On relating her solitary experience, some of the brethren were deeply impressed by it. Mr. Moody at once set about the business of bringing in recruits ; and so well did he succeed, that very soon there was a large and regular attendance, and the meeting began to be marked with the presence of the Spirit of the Lord. Recognising his pre-eminent ability, the Young Men's Christian Association had appointed him Chairman of the Visiting Committee to the sick and to strangers. In the duties of this office he scoured the city in all di- 272 story of Moody's life. rections ; and very soon Moody and his pony became a familiar sight, especially in the regions of The Sands, the Association Rooms, and the North Market Hall. An old resident on the North Side, who was familiar with him in those days, declares that he would chase the wild small-fry up the streets and down the alleys, and, after a Sunday morning's search for new scholars, would emerge from some dirty lane, or court, his pony literally covered with ragged urchins, followed by others of the same sort, holding on by the tail, caching by the stirrups, or clinging to each other's rags ; and these he mould march in grand procession down the North Marked Sun- day School. The increasing attendance at the noon prayer-meeting had occasioned its removal to a large back room, in the Methodist Church block. To this place Moody removed his residence, — that is, removed himself. Having no longer any money, he determined fully to test the question whether God would really take care of him in his new work. At length he was brought to the necessity of sleeping on the benches of the prayer-room, and living on crackers and cheese. But he kept on with his work all the same. He collected considerable sums of money for the poor, and for the various works of charity and religion carried on by the Association ; but he would not use a penny of it for himself, because not given for that specific purpose. Presently, without a word from him, some of his story of Moody's life. 273 friends began to wonder how he was living ; and, finding out the poverty of his bed and board, they insisted on supplying him with abundant comforts of life. His zeal and devotion were the life and hope of the Association ; but he shocked the nice sense of propriety of some of these gentlemen by carrying its work among a class oi people who had hitherto been neglected, under the impression that its proper line of effort was among the higher classes of young men. ' 'Under Moody's leadership the Young Men's Christian Association became, like the North Market Mission, a free and popular institution, — extending its influence to all classes of society, and bringing the cultured and wealthy to the assistance of the ignorant and the poor. At the breaking out of the war, in 1861, the de- votional committee of the Young Men's Christian Associ- ation, of which Mr. Moody was chairman, found a new line of work made ready to their hands. On the arrival of the first regiment, ordered to Camp Douglas for in- struction, the committee was on the ground, and before the tents were fairly pitched a camp prayer-meeting was in progress. It was a matter of no little surprise and joy to the soldiers, many of whom had come from churches, Sun- day-schools, and Christian homes, to hear themselves saluted in the name of Christ almost before they could stack their arms, and to have the very first tent which was pitched in their camp put to its first use as a place 274 story of Moody's life. for prayer. Christian zeal kept pace with patriotism. Mr. Moody and his committee were obliged to call for help ; a hundred and fifty clergymen and laymen promptly responded to the call. Every evening eight or ten meetings were held in different camps ; and an al- most continued service, within reach of every regiment, on the Sabbath. Over fifteen hundred of these services were held in and around Chicago by the Association during the war. In these meetings Mr. Moody seemed almost ubiqui- tous ; he would hasten from one barrack and camp to another, day and night, week-days and Sundays, praying, exhorting, conversing personally with the men about their souls, and revelling in the abundant work and swift success which the war had brought within his reach. The chapel of the Young Men's Christian Association at Camp Douglas was the first camp chapel in existence — being built in the October of 1861. Meanwhile many of the soldier converts had been sent to the field, and, feeling the want of the means of grace which they had left behind, they sent re- peated calls to the Chicago brethren to come down and establish similar meetings among them. In response to this invitation Mr. Moody was sent to the army, near Fort Donelson — being the first regular army delegate from Chicago. Similar labors by other Associ- ations led to a convention in Norfolk, Virginia, on the STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 275 1 6th of November, 1861, where the United States Christian Commission was projected. The news of the battle of Fort Donelson, on the 15th of February, 1862, was the signal for sending to the field a special committee of relief, composed of the Rev. Robert Patterson, D. D., Mr Moody, and Mr. Jacobs. With them went a number of other brethren from Chicago, eager to minister to the sick and wounded and dying. Like the men who go down to the sea in ships, Moody and his brethren saw God's wonders in camp and field. Having so many sinners to point to the Savior, and so little time in which to do it, they prayed to the Lord to do His ' -short work." So many men found the Savior, and died while they were praying for them, that they came to have a strange familiarity with heaven. These souls seemed to be messengers between them and God, carrying up continually the fresh and glowing record of the work they were doing in His name. And so simple and easy did it become for them to "ask and receive," that they were rather surprised if the penitent for whose conversion they prayed was not blessed be- fore they reached the Amen. These wonders of grace in camp and field were re- ported at the Chicago noon prayer-meeting by Mr. Moody and his co-laborers, on their return from their frequent excursions to the front. By this means a very intimate connection was kept up between the work in 276 story of Moody's life. the army and the work at home, and the meeting be- came intensely interesting — especially to those whose husbands, sons, and brothers, were fighting for the Union. Strangely enough, as though no other place were so near to heaven, and no other believers had such access to the ear of the Lord, people from all over the State, and even from neighboring States, used to send requests for prayer to be read at the Chicago noon prayer- meeting. These requests were received by thousands ; and often, in quick succession, came the tidings of glorions answers to prayer, with offerings of glad thanks- giving, and sometimes gifts of money and supplies for helping on the work of the Commission. One of. the marvels of those days was the revival of religion among the rebel prisoners, — about ten thousand of whom had been taken at Fort Donelson and brought to Camp Douglass, which was transformed from a camp of instruction into a prison. Mr. Moody was impressed with the thought that these poor men needed the means of grace fully as much as the Union soldiers ; but to gain access to them was a matter of extreme difficulty. One day he succeeded in obtaining a permit to visit them, which he gave to his friend Mr. Hawley, the Young Men's Christian Associations Secretary ; and him- self took a can of kerosene oil to light up with, it being towards evening, — hoping, in the capacity of a servant, to be allowed to pass the guard along with his more story of Moody's life. 277 clerical-looking friend. But it was of no use ; the guard would not let in two men on one permit, though Mr. Moody exhibited his can of oil, and declared he was only going with the other gentleman to help along the meeting. The earnest discussion was overheard by the officer of the day, who came up to see what was the matter ; and recognising Mr. Moody, he took him to headquarters, vouched for his being all right, and obtained a pass for him to go in and hold meetings with the prisoners as often as he liked. In a few minutes he rejoined his friend Hawley in the prison. They announced the purpose of their visit ; and the men, being both surprised and pleased, gathered around them while they read the Scriptures, exhorted, and prayed. At the very first meeting the power of God was mani- fest, and a large number of the prisoners were inquiring what they must do to be saved. Meetings were held with them every afternoon and evening. The flame of revival spread throughout their entire camp. The tidings flew over the whole city and county, and pro- dused the most intense excitement. Great numbers of clergymen and lay workers begged for the privilege of assisting in the meetings. It was held to be a peculiar honor to lead one of those enemies to Christ. Great numbers were soundly converted ; and, returned to their Southern homes thanking God for their bonds, in which His servants had found them out, and where they, 278 story of Moody's life. though prisoners of war, had found peace and liberty in the Savior. In all this work Mr. Moody bore an important and honorable part. His frequent excursions to battlefiields and camps made him, more than any other man, the medium of communication between the work in the army and the work at home. He was on the field after the battles of Pittsburgh Landing, Shiloh, and Murfrees- boro', with the army at Chattanooga, and was one of the first to enter Richmond, where he ministered alike to friend and foe. After the war Mr. Moody renewed his labors in Chicago with redoubled vigor. The north side mission had grown in numbers and influence. He decided that a tabernacle was necessary and that $20,000 would be required. The building was erected in Illinois street. He consulted with other ministers and it was decided to - organize a church. This was the beginning of the famous "Chicago Avenue church," the present building being put up after the destruction of the original taber- nacle by the great fire. The new church began with a membership of 300. In 1864 Mr. Moody was married to Miss Emma C. Revell. Three children were born to them — Emma, William and Paul. Mr. Moody's aged mother died in 1896 and until her death lived in Northfield, adjoining the great evange'ist's home. story of Moody's life. 279 The great fire in 1871 changed the whole current of Mr. Moody's life work, but not at once. With his wife and two children he was roused in the middle of the night to find the fierce fire approaching their dwelling, and, leaving his little store of worldly goods to their , fate, he had to seek shelter in the house of a friend. Mr. Moody's school and church were swept away, but in one month after the fire a temporary erection was com- pleted and services again held. Besides caring for his own school and church Mr. Moody sent out an appeal as president for the Young Men's Christian Association, for help to rebuild. Money flowed in from Great Britain and elsewhere. When the Association building was well under way Mr. Moody be- gan to think of permanent premises for his school and church. When the building fund was started money came from all parts. Among the unique gifts was a colossal subscription from 500,000 Sunday school children of 5 cents each, all anxious to have a brick in Mr. Moody's tabernacle. From Pekin, China, he received $300 from converted Chinamen. A start was made at building the new church, but for some time only the basement story was used and it was not until years afterward that the present handsome structure was completed and occupied. o-^ 280 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. Moody and Sankey Meet. EVANGELIST INDUCES THE NOTED SINGER TO JOIN HIM. It was the hiatus following the shock of the great fire that turned Mr. Moody toward his real life work. He was very active in the national work of the Young Men's Christian Association convention in Indian- apolis. It was here that he met Ira D. Sankey, who later became his singing partner in revival work on two continents. It is said that Moody was dragging a prayer- meeting along under the deadening influence of one who was attemting to lead the singing. Sankey came in and was recognized by one who knew his musical ability. He was asked to handle the music and soon put life into the meeting. ' 'Where do you live ?" asked Moody of Sankey at the close of the meeting. "In Newcastle, Pa," replied Sankey. "I want you," said Moody with no explanation. "What for?" "To help me in my work in Chicago." "I can't leave my business," said Sankey. "You must. I have been looking for you for eight years. You must give up your business and come to Chicago with me." Sankey came and for years the two evangelists worked together in Chicago. The new style of revival story of Moody's life. 281 music shocked some of the ministers, but it won popular favor. In 1872 Moody and Sankey sailed for Liverpool, England, on direct invitation of English friends. Not having had a house of his own since the fire, Mr. Moody took his wife and children along. On arriving in Eng- land they began their labor in York, on the east coast. Progress was slow, but by degrees they won the con- fidence of the people. They visited Sunderland, New- castle and Carlisle in the north of England and interest in their services began to grow. Newcastle especially responded with many converts. Some Scotch friends, hearing of the revival, invited Moody and Sankey to pay a visit to Edinburgh. They went thither and be- gan a series of services that shook orthodox Scotland to its foundations. It was the spark to the dry tinder of centuries of formalism and preachers and congre- gations alike fell under the magic spell. Converts were made by thousands and there were no halls in the Scotch cities large enough to contain the audience that thronged to hear the Americans. For the next three years Moody and Sankey held revival services in all parts of Great Britain, concluding in 1875 with the remarkable thirty days' meeting in London. Professor Drummond, the Scotch writer, has said that Scotland would not be what it is today had it missed the year of Moody and Sankey. There are today in all parts of the United Kingdom buildings and institu- 282 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. tions bearing the names of Moody and Sankey. A writer in the Edinburgh Review compared the visit of Moody and Sankey to Scotland with the reformation of Martin Luther in its moral power and with the evangel- ism of Whitfield and Wesley in its sweeping results. All the larger centers of population in Scotland Ire- land and England were the scene of a remarkable re-, ligious awakening during the visits of Moody and Sankey. When the evangelists sailed from Liverpool on theiir return to America there was an enormous crowd of people to bid them bon voyage. They were the re- cipients of thousands of messages of good will and earnest invitations to pay a second visit. On arrival in the United States the two eeangelists plunged at once into a series of meetings in all the larger cities. Their work was in some degree a repetition of the success in Great Britain as to crowds and converts. :o:- story of Moody's life. 283 CHAPTER IV. MR. MOODY AT NORTHFIELD. Northfield is today the physical evidence of Moody's greatness as an educator as well as an evangelist. When in 1875 Moody, accompanied by Mr. Sankey, returned to America after an epoch-making tour of revivalism in Great Britain, it was expected that the evangelist would select Chicago for his home, as it had formerly been. But Moody had larger plans, and recognized that for the rest of his life he was to be a world evangelist without an abiding city. He would have to retire occasionally for a brief respite from his public labors and provide a shelter for his family. It was this twin purpose, as de- scribed by Mr. Moody himself, that first turned his thoughts to Northfield, his birthplace, as a permanent home. Nowhere could a more restful spot have been found. The trees which line the long, wide avenue in double rows on each side are tall and of vast girth and in the hottest days create ample shade. The old-fash- ioned white houses stand some distance from the road and from each other, and are mostly surrounded with lawns and flower beds. The old homestead which was Mr. Moody's birthplace was occupied by his mother un- til her death. It is a plain, old farmhouse, fronting upon a country road which branches from the main street of the village and winds easterly up the hillside 284 STORY OF MOODY S LIFE. toward a mountain district. It looks out upon orchards and meadows and has a large tree in its front dooryard. When Mr. Moody decided to make a permanent home in Northfield he bought for about $3,000 a plain but roomy frame house, with grounds, at the north end of the town near his mother's house. The build- ing fronts on the main road. To the building as Mr. Moody found it he made ad- ditions from time to time as they were required. His study was on the first floor near the entrance. Here was his workmg library. A fine clock, much admired by visitors, was sent to him by a lady in England who had been helped in the Christian life by Moody's illustration of a pendulum. Everything about the house was characterized by simplicity and the best story of Moody's life. 285 conditions of effective work. In the heart of Northfield Rev. Dr. Pentecost of Brooklyn also purchased a com- modious residence, and still further south is a modest white cottage which Mr. Sankey also bought and fitted up as a summer home, to be near his' fellow evangelist. Mr. Moody was no sooner domiciled in Northfield than he began to turn his attention to remedying the lack of educational facilities for the young people of the neighborhood. He was still a tremendous worker in the outside evangelistic field, but whenever he returned to Northfield the desire to benefit the young with schooling facilities was uppermost. His own early education had been deficient, and it became a fixed purpose of his life to remove a similar deficiency for the new generation of young people growing up in Northfield and vicinity. He first planned a school for girls. He built a small ad- dition to his own house, with room for eight girls, and when twenty girls had been admitted to these cramped quarters, with others seeking entrance, he built a small brick dormitory and classroom on the other side of the street. This was also soon over-crowded, and Mr. Moody, with the help of a retired Boston merchant, bought a hillside farm adjoining his own and his mother's holdings to the north. Plans for a building were begun and in 1879 the handsome brick building now known as East hall was erected. Its situation is more commanding than any of the other building put up later. It affords a superb view to 286 story of Moody's life. the west and north. The foreground is the eastern slope of the Connecticut valley and the river can be seen at intervals throughout many miles of its winding course. The western slope of the valley, partly wooded, culmin- ates in a range of forrest-clad hills. In the direction of Vermont is a wide landscape, fading into distant mountain peaks. East hall cost about $30,000, was de- signed as a dormitory and accommodates sixty students. The small brick building near Mr. Moody's house was for some time used in connection with it as a recitation hall. An additional dormitory was remodeled out of a large dwelling house farther north and named Bonar hall, after Rev. Dr. Bonar of Glasgow. This latter building was destroyed by fire in March, 1886. From the first Mr. Moody had kept down the charge of board and tuition for his girls to $100 a year. The expense for each student was about $160 a year, the balance being made up by benevolent contributions. Applications increased at such rate that it was decided in 1 88 1 to build another large dormitory. Moody was him- self absent in England during most of the next three years, but during his absence American friends and co- workers put up a large brick dormitory, costing about $60,000. The building was finished in 1884 and was named Marquand hall. Its site is to the northwest of East hall. The building is used entirely as a dormitory and accommodates about eighty students. About mid- way between Marquand hall and East hall a handsome story of Moody's liee. 287 building of brick and granite, called Recitation hall, was completed in 1885. The cost of the latter building, like a similar one afterward put up at Mount Hermon, was borne by the hymn-book fund. Moody used to say when pointing to either structure: "Mr. Sankey sang that building up." In fitting up Recitation hall it was arranged that partitions could be removed and the whole thrown into one auditorium. This hall has been the scene of many of the most memorable gatherings in Northfield of later years. In the same building are chemical, physical and botanical laboratories. A library building has also been given by generous friends. Improvements have been made on the grounds, which now have a parklike aspect. Winding drives connect the buildings with the main thoroughfare. The seminary grounds include more than 250 acres. There is an artificial lake, whose cost was borne by John Wanamaker of Philadelphia. Many additions and improvements have been made within recent years, but the seminary rules are the same as at the institution's humble beginning. Instead of scores the pupils are now numbered by hundreds. The cur- riculum is as thorough as in most girls' schools, with the addition of specific Christian training. A graduate of Wellesley college, Miss Evelyn S. Hall, organized the original teaching staff, which is still noted for proficiency. While the Northfield seminary was still in its infant state Mr. Moody decided to have also a school for boys. 288 story of Moody's life. His first purchase for this end was a 400 -acre farm in the town of Gill, about four miles from Northfield, in a southwesterly direction, across the Connecticut. He bought 200 acres first for $7,000 and a little later the other 200 acres for $5,500. The Connecticut River railroad traverses the site. The height upon which Mr. Moody decided to build his boys' school is now called Mount Hermon. There is a picturesque drive from Northfield to Mount Hermon. The river is crossed by a wire-rope ferry and there is telephone communication between the buildings of both institutions. The money with which the Mount Hermon property was bought was the gift of Hiram Camp, who wrote his check for $25,000. At first the old farmhouses found upon the place were used as dormitories. A small wooden building was first put up to serve as a recitation hall. When more dormi- tory room was needed Mr. Moody concluded to try the family system. Instead of housing a large number of boys in one building they were divided into groups of not more than twenty and housed in small cottages, each under the charge of two matrons. In 1885 a large building of brick and granite, called Recitation hall, was completed and dedicated. It contains class and recita- tion rooms, library, chapel and museum. There is a splendid view from the cupola of this building. After a few years Mr. Moody changed his plans and raised the age of admission for boys to 16 years and enlarged the story of Moody's life. 289 course of study. This broke up the family system to some extent, and new buildings on a large scale were begun in 1885. In June, 1886, a large dormitory, called Crossley hall, was dedicated. Later a large brick dining hall was erected, and within recent years there have been many additions, making the Mount Hermon seminary one of the best equipped boys' schools in the east. Mr. Moody always had strong views as to the ad- mission and training of his scholars of both sexes. At Mount Hermon the cost of board and tuition was also placed at $ioo a year, so that none was barred on the ground of expense. At Mount Hermon the students have always been required to perform a certain amount of manual labor in addition to class work. Some are- employed on the farm, some in the laundry and some in: housework. The students are for the most part a picked: body of young, vigorous Christians, who have been drawn to Mr. Moody's school from all parts of the earth. There are students from Germany, Scandinavia, Turkey, and even American Indians and Japanese. Of course the main body of students is of American extraction, and a large proportion of them are in training for missionary work. Whenever he was at Northfield Mr. Moody gave regular courses of lectures at both of his schools, and distinguished educators from all other seats of learning have been frequent lecturers. Besides his schools, Northfield, under Mr. Moody's 290 story of Moody's life. direction, became the center of gatherings of religious workers, culminating in the famous summer conventions which were begun in 1880 For nine months of every year up to the last year of his life Mr. Moody was en- grossed in arduous evangelistic labor in various parts of the country. His idea of a vacation was to throw him- self into his Northfield educational work and to plan big conventions which made Northfield a summer city. He called his first convention of Christian workers in 1880. The only large building then constructed was the one now known as East hall, behind which a capacious camp was pitched. Under this canopy from day to day were held meetings whose influence was world-wide. In 1 88 1 a convention was called for bible study and continued for thirty days. Rev. Dr. Bonar of Clasgow, who had just served as moderator of the general assembly of the Free church of Scotland, was a principal figure at this gathering. Dozens of equally prominent clergymen and evangelists attended and Mr. Sankey conducted the singing. For the next three years, owing to Mr. Moody's absence in England, there were no conventions, but in 1885 there was another August convention. Evere year since they have grown in interest. The attendance has averaged from 300 to 500 from a distance, and with the people of the vicinity the meeting often averaged 1,500. Moody was always the life and soul of these conventions and of late years many of the most prominent regular pasters in England and America have taken part. STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 29 1 Special conventions of college students have also been held under Mr. Moody's personal leadership. Whether the great evangelist's death will lessen the fame of Northfield as a convention city is a melancholy problem for a host of his friends and co-workers. Mr. Moody was stricken with heart trouble in Kan- sas City on Nov. 16, 1899, while holding revival meetings at Convention hall. He was compelled to give up his work, and on the day following started east in the care of a physician. Mr. Moody addressed great crowds during his stay at Kansas City. The meetings began on Sunday, Nov. 12. The crowds were immense, thousands of people rilling the hall afternoon and evening each day. The strain on Mr. Moody was great. He preached his last sermon on Thursday night, Nov. 16, fully 1 5,000 people listening to an earnest appeal which many stamped as one of the evangelist's greatest efforts. He was stricken the next morning at his hotel, but laughingly declared he was all right, and that he would be able to preach that after- noon. After he reached Northfield eminent physicians were consulted and everything was done to prolong life. Conscious up to the moment his eyes closed, well knowing his last sleep was about to begin, he died at 1 1 150 o'clock, Dec. 22, 1899. The end came quietly, peacefully, at his home in this village, which he loved so well and near to the scenes of many of his triumphs. 292 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. Mr. Moody first knew that the end was very near at 8 o'clock the previous night. He was satisfied that he would not recover, and when the doctor confirmed his opinion he said: "The world is receding and heaven opening." During the night Mr. Moody had a number of sinking spells, Despite his suffering he was kindness itself to those about him. At 7:30 o'clock in the morning Dr. Wood was again called. When he reached Mr. Moody's room he found his patient in a semi-conscious condition. When Mr. Moody recovered consciousness he said, with all his old vivacity: "What's the matter; what's going on here ?" "Father, you haven't been quite so well, and so we came in to see you," a member of the family replied. A little later Mr. Moody said to his sons: "I have always been an ambitious man — not am- bitious to lay up wealth, but to find work to do." Mr. Moody urged his two boys and Mr. Fitt to see that the schools at Northfield, at Mount Hermen and the Chicago Bible Institute should receive their best care. This they assured Mr. Moody they would do. During the forenoon Mrs. Fitt, his daughter, said to him: "Father, we can't spare you." Mr. Moody's reply was: "I'm not going to throw my life away. If God has more work for me to do I'll not die." story of Moody's life. 293 He was thoroughly conscious until within less than a minute of his death and told his family that as God called he was ready to go. At one time he told the attending physician not to give him any more medicine to revive him, as calling him back simply prolonged the agony for his family. In his closing hours there was no note of sadness, but one of triumph. ■:o:- TEACHING THE DEAF TO SPEAK. The Teeth the Best Medium and yhe Au di phone tsve Best Instrument for Conveying Sounds to the Deaf, and in Teaching the Partly Deaf and Dumb to Speak, Address Delivered by R. S. Rhodes, of Chicago, Before the Fourteenth Convention of American Teachers of the Deaf, at Flint, Michigan. Mr. President and Ladies and Gentlemen: I would like to relate some of the causes which led to my presence with you to-day. About sixteen years ago I devised this instrument, the audiphone, which greatly assisted me in hearing, and discovered that many who had not learned to speak were not so deaf as myself. I reasoned that an instrument in the hands of one who had not learned to speak would act the same as when in the hands of one who had learned to speak, and that the mere fact of one not being able to speak would in no wise affect the action of the instrument. To ascertain if or not my simple reasoning was correct, I borrowed a deaf-mute, a boy about twelve years old, and took him to my farm. We arrived there in the evening, and during the evening I experimented to THE AUDIPHONE. see if he could distinguish some of the vowel sounds. My experiments in this direction were quite satisfactory. Early in the morning I provided him with an audiphons and took him by the hand for a walk about the farm. We soon came across a flock of turkeys. We approached closely, the boy with his audiphone adjusted to his teeth, and when the gobbler spoke in his peculiar voice, the boy was convulsed with laughter, and jumping for joy con- tinued to follow the fowl with his audiphone properly adjusted, and at every remark of the gobbler the boy was delighted. I was myself delighted, and began to think my reasoning was correct. We next visited the barn. I led him into a stall beside a horse munching his oats, and to my delight he could hear the grinding of the horse's teeth when the audiphone was adjusted, and neither of us could without. In the stable yard was a cow lowing for its calf, which he plainly showed he could hear, and when I led him to the cow- barn where the calf was confined, he could hear it reply to the cow, and by signs showed that he understood their language, and that he knew the one was calling for the other. We then visited the pig-sty where the porkers poked their noses near to us. He could hear them with the audiphone adjusted, and enjoyed their talk, and understood that they wanted more to eat. I gave him some corn to throw over to them, and he signed that that was what they wanted, and that now they were satisfied. He soon, however, broke away from me and pursued the gobbler and manifested more satisfaction in listening to its voice than to mine, and the vowel sounds as com- paied to it were of slight importance to him, and for the three days he was at my farm that poor turkey gobbler btmd but Uttle rest. * HEARING THROUGH THE TEETH. With these and other experiments I was satisfied that he could hear, and that there were many like him; so I fcook my grip and audiphones and visited most of the institutions for the deaf in this country. In all institu- tions I found many who could hear well, and presented the instrument with which this hearing could be improved and brought within the scope of the human voice. But at one institution I was astonished; I found a bright girl with perfect hearing being educated to the sign language. She could repeat words after me parrot-like, but had no knowledge of their value in sentences. I inquired why she was in the institution for the deaf, and by examining the records we learned she was the child of deaf-mute parents, and had been brought up by them in the country, and although her hearing was perfect, she had not heard spoken language enough to acquire it, and I was informed by the superintendent of the institution that she pre- ferred signs to speech. I was astonished that a child with no knowledge of the value of speech should be per- mitted to elect to be educated by signs instead of speech,, md to be so educated in a state institution. This cir- cumstance convinced me more than ever that there was a great work to be done in redeeming the partly deaf children from the slavery of silence, and I was more firmly resolved than ever that I would devote the re- mainder of my life to this cause. I have had learned scientists tell me that I could not hear through my teeth. It would take more scientists than ever were born to convince me that I did not hear Ay sainted mother's and beloved father's dying voice with this instrument, when I could not have heard it «¥ifcbo»*t. THE AUDIPHONE- It would take more scientists than ever were born to * onvince me that I did not hear the voice of the Rev. James B. McClure, one who has been dear to me for the last twenty years, and accompanied me on most of my visits to institutions spoken of above, and who has en- couraged me in my labors for the deaf all these years, say, as I held his hand on his dying bed only Monday last, and took my final leave from him (and let me say, I know of no cause but this that would have induced me to leave him then), " Go to Flint; do all the good you can. God bless your labors for the deaf! We shall never meet again on earth. Meet me above. Good-by!" And, Mr. President, when I am laid at rest, it will be with gratitude to you and with greater resignation for the active part you have taken in the interest of these partly deaf children in having a section for aural work admitted to this national convention, for in this act you have con- tributed to placing this work on a firm foundation, which is sure to result in the greatest good to this class. You have heard our friend, the inventor of the tele- phone, say that in his experiments for a device to im- prove the hearing of the deaf, (as he was not qualified by deafness,) he did not succeed, but invented the tele- phone instead, which has lined his pocket with gold. From what I know of the gentleman, I believe he would willingly part with all the gold he has received for the use of this wonderful invention, had he succeeded in his efforts in devising an instrument which would have emancipated even twenty per cent, of the deaf in the in- stitutions from the slaverv of silence. I have often wished that he mijrht have invented the audiphone and HEARING THROUGH THE TEETHc received as much benefit by its use as I, for then he would have used the gold he derives from the telephone in carrying the boon to the deaf; but when I consider that in wishing this I must wish him deaf, and as it would not be right for me to wish him this great affliction, there- fore since I am deaf, and I invented the audiphone, J would rather wish that I might have invented the tele* phone also; in which case I assure the deaf that I would have used my gold as freely in their behalf as would he. [The speaker then explained the use of the audiometer in measuring the degree of 'hearing one may possess. Then, at his request, a gentleman from the audience, a superintendent of one of our large institutions, took a position about five feet from the speaker, and was asked to speak loud enough for Mr. Rhodes to hear when he did not have the audiphone in use, and by shouting at the top of his voice, Mr. Rhodes was able to hear only two or three "o" sounds, but could not distinguish a word. With the audiphone adjusted to his teeth, still looking away from the speaker, he was able to understand ordinary tones, and repeated sentences after him; and, when look- ing at him and using his eye and audiphone, the speaker lowering his voice nearly as much as possible and yet articulating, Mr, Rhodes distinctly heard every word and repeated sentences after him, thus showing the value of the audiphone and eye combined, although Mr. Rhodes had never received instructions in lip reading. The gentleman stated that he had tested Mr. Rhodes' hearing with the audiometer when he was at his institu- tion in 1894, and found he possessed seven per cent, in his left ear and nothing in his right.] FOR THE DEAF. THE AUDIPHONE && Instrument that Enables Deaf Persons to Hear Or- dinary Conversation Readily through the Medium of the Teeth, and Many of those Born Deaf and Dumb t« Hear and Learn to Speak. INVENTED BY RICHARD S. RHODES, CHICAGO. Medal Awarded at the World's Columbia Expo- sition, Chicago. The Audiphone is a new instrument made of a peculiar composition,, posessing the property of gathering the faintest sounds (somewhat similar to a telephone diaphragm), and conveying them to the auditory nerve, through the medium of the teeth. The external ear has nothing what- ever to do in hearing with this wonderful instrument. Thousands are in use by those who would not do without them for any consideration. It has enabled doctors and lawyers to resume practice, teachers to resume teaching, mothers to hear the voices of their children, thousands to hear their ministers, attend concerts and theatres, and engage in general conversation. Music is heard perfectly with it when, without i, not a note could be distinguished. It is convenient to carry and to use. Ordinary conversation can be heard with ease. In most cases deafness is not detected Full instructions will be sent with each instrument. The Audiphone- is patented throughout the civilized world. PRICE: Conversational, small size - - $3.00- Conversational, medium si2e, - - - - - - -3.00 Concert size, -----_._-- 5.00 Trial instrument, good and serviceable, - - - - - 1.50 The Audiphone will be sent to any address, on receipt of price, by Rhodes & McClure Publishing Co., 296 Wabash Avenue, Chicago, I1L PUBLISHED BY RHODES & McCLURE PUBLISHING CO., Chicago. ■HM handsomely bound in the best English and American cloths, with full Silver- embossed side and back stamp; uniform in style of binding. Together making a handsome libr^.-y, or, separately, making handsome center-table volumes. PRICE, $1.00 EACH. SENT POST-PAID. ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S STORIES AND SPEECHES; in one volume, complete. New (1897) edition, handsomely illustrated; containing the many witty, pointed and unequaled stories as told by Mr. Lincoln, including Early life stories, Professional life stories, White House and War stories; also presenting the full ; text of the popular Speeches of Mr. Lincoln on the great ques- tions of the age, including his "First Political Speech," "Rail- Splitting Speech," " Great Debate with Douglas," and his Won- derful Speech at Gettysburg, etc., etc.; and including his two great Inaugurals, with many grand illustrations. An instructive and valuable book; 477 pages. MOODY;S ANECDOTES; 210 pages, exclusive of engravings. Containing several hundred interesting stories, told by the great evangelist, D. L. Moody, in his wonderful work in Europe and America. Hundreds of thousands of copies have been sold. Illustrated with excellent engravings of Messrs. Moody, Sankey, Whittle and Bliss, and thircy-two full-page engravings from Gustave Dore, making an artistic and handsome volume. " A book of an- ecdotes which have thrilled hundreds of thou' sands." — Pittsburg Banner. MOODY'S GOSPEL SERMONS. As delivered by the great Evangel- ist, D wight Lyman Moody, in his revival work in Great Britain and America. Together with a biography of Mr. Moody and his co-laborer, Ira David Sankey. Including, also, a short history of the 'Great Revival. Each sermon is illustrated with a handsome, full-page ^engraving from Gustave Dore. The book also contains an engraving of D. L. Moody, Ira D. Sankey, Mr. Moody Preaching in the Royal Opera House, Haymarket, London, Chicago Tabernacle (erected for Mr. Moody's services) and "I Am the Way." ^. handsome and attractive vol- ume of 443 p ges. MOODY'S LATEST SERMONS. As delivered by the great Evangel- ist, Dwight Lyman Moody. Handsomely illustrated with twenty- four full-page engravings from Gustave Dore. 335 pages. MOODY'S CHILD STORIES. As related by Dwight Lyman Moody in his revival work. Handsomely illustrated with sixteen full-page engravings from Gustave Dore and 106 illustrations from J. Stuarl Littlejohn. A book adapted to children, bu,t interesting to adults. A handsome volume Should be in «verv family 1*9 tkafres Standard Publications, $1 each, bound in Cloth* .SAM JONES' GOSPEL SERMONS: 346 pages, exclusive of engravings. Sam Jones is pronounced "one of the most sensational preachers in the world, and yet among the most effective." His sermons are characterized by clearness, point and great common sense, including "hits" that ring like guns. Printed in large type, and illustrated with engravings of Sam Jones and Sam Small, and with nineteen full-page engravings from Gustave Dore. SAM JONES' LATEST SERMONS. The favor with which Sam Jones' Gospel Sermcns has been received by the public has induced us to issue this book of his Latest Sermons. Each sermon is illustrated with a full-page illustration from Gustave Dore's Bible Gallery. The book is bound unifoimly with his Gospel Sermons, and contains, besides illustrations, reading matter of 350 pages. SAM JONES' ANECDOTES; 300 pages. An exceedingly interesting and entertaining volume, containing the many telling and effective stories told by Mr. Jones in his sermons. They strike in all directions and always impart good moral lessons that can not be misunderstood. Adapted for the young and old. A book which everybody can enjoy. MISTAKES OF INGERSOLL; and his Answers complete; newly revised popular (1897) edition; illustrated, 482 pages. Containing the full replies of Prof. Swing, Judge Black, J. Munro Gibson, D. D., Chaplain D McCabe, Bishop Cheney, Dr. Thomas, Dr. Maclauglan, Dr. Goodwin and other eminent scholars to Inger. soil's Lectures on the "Mistakes of Moses, '- "Skulls," "What - Shall We Do to be Saved?" and "Thomas Paine," to which are appended in full these Ingersoll lectures and his replies A* fair presentation of the full discussion. GREAT SPEECHES OF COL. R. G. INGERSOLL; complete; newly revised (1897) edition; 409 pages. Containing the many eloquent, timely, practical speeches of this most gifted o.ator and states- man, including his recent matchless "Eulogy on Abraham Lincoln," "Speech on the Declaration of Independence," "To the Farmers on Farming," Funeral Oration at his Brother's Grave, etc., etc. Fully and handsomely illustrated. WIT, WISDOM AND ELOQUENCE OF COL. R. G. INGERSOLL; newly revised popular (1897) edition, illustrated; 336 pages. Con- taining the remarkable Witticisms, terse, pungent and sarcastic sayings, and eloquent extracts on popular themes, from Ingersoll's Speeches; a very entertaining volume. THE FIRST MORTGAGE; 310 pages. A truthful, instructive, pleas- ing and poetical presentation of Biblical stories, history and gospel truth; fully and handsomely illustrated from the world-renowned artist, Gustave Dore, by E. U. Cook, the whole forming an exceedtogly