The Beginning Of The End
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
On Wednesday came the first indications of a break-down. The great strain of speaking twice a day in so large a building as Convention Hall began to tell on Mr. Moody. After the night meeting he told the ministers that he was almost exhausted; that he must have some rest, and that it would be impossible for him to lead the inquirers' meeting in the church. He went at once to his room at the Coate's House, that he might rest and be ready for the great meetings of the next day. On Thursday afternoon he gave signs of exhaustion, though anything like a total physical collapse was not apprehended. To a sympathetic inquiry on the part of one of the city ministers, who-asked him how he felt, the answer was, "Not big." At night his appearance had changed. His face was flushed, and he perspired profusely. He appeared at times hardly able to support himself, and it seemed sometimes as though he would fall from weakness. The pauses after making his telling points were lengthened, but otherwise his presentation of the truth was as usual. "Then cometh the end." The benediction was pronounced. The public personal work of Dwight L. Moody was finished.
For tens of thousands of people whose lives were touched by the evangel of this soul-winner every incident of that last day will possess a deep interest. There was one circumstance of the afternoon that, in the light of what followed, seemed prophetic in its significance. When Mr. Moody sat in his chair, so tired, during the song service, before beginning his sermon, he asked Mr. Case to sing "Saved by Grace," Fanny J. Crosby's beautiful hymn. In it is the stanza:
"Some day the silver cord will break,
And I, no more, as now, shall sing;
But O, the joy when I shall wake
Within the palace of the King.
Then I shall see Him, face to face,
And tell the story, Saved by Grace."
But if Mr. Moody had any premonition of the approaching end, it passed away as he became possessed of his subject, "The Grace of God." He warned the older Christians to avoid living in the past. He denounced the pessimistic tendencies of those who were sure the former days were better than these. "I have no sympathy," he said, "with the idea that our best days are behind us. In a hopeful, cheery mood he spoke of the shock he had experienced some time before, when he picked up a paper and saw himself alluded to as "old Moody." "Why," he said, "I'm not old. I'm only a baby when considered in comparison with the great eternity which is to come."
The last sermon on Thursday night was on the parable of "The Great Supper." In it he dealt especially with the excuses men made for staying out of the Kingdom of God. Mr. Moody closed his sermon in a peculiarly effective way. He said that, if an excuse were written out by one of the reporters, asking God, "I pray Thee have me excused from the marriage feast," that no one in the house would sign it. If the note were written to go direct to God, "I will be there," all would want to sign it. "Now," said the preacher, "how many will accept this invitation? How many will say, 'I will?'" Then, as a number responded, the request was repeated. Still he lingered, his energies exhausted, and made one more appeal. "I'll wait a few minutes longer to see if anyone else, any man, woman or child, will say the word. I could stand here all night and listen to these 'I wills.'" So he went away to his long rest with the sound of "I will" spoken by those who were moved by his words still in his ears.