His Hold Upon His Friends
HIS HOLD UPON HIS FRIENDS
It has been said that he was dictatorial, sometimes extremely so, and it must be confessed that he did insist on his own way; but then, he had studied his work; he knew men, and he knew what would tell with them, and it was a rare thing ever to find him mistaken in his judgment. But even though he was brusque, sometimes almost to the point of rudeness, it is a mighty tribute to the power of his influence over men that he instinctively drew them about him. One of his English friends said of him, "He may make doorkeepers of us, or even door-mats, if he likes, and we will love him." And another has said of him, "Dear old Moody! We all love him, but some of us don't like him." He was, however, the most tender-hearted man I have ever known. Dr. George F. Pentecost has well said of him, "Intentionally he never wounded any one; he simply lacked perception, and did not put himself in the other man's place."
His heart was big enough to take in the whole world, and his sympathy with mankind was genuine. An instance of this occurred in New York. While he was in the midst of a sermon a baby commenced to cry, much to the annoyance of some of the audience, who darted cruel looks at the innocent child and the embarrassed mother. The mother waited for a favorable opportunity to go out, but Mr. Moody told her to remain where she was; he guessed his lungs were stronger than the baby's, and if any didn't like it, they could go out.
At the close of the service he made the unique announcement that the next afternoon he would preach to mothers with babies in their arms, and no one unaccompanied by a baby would be admitted. Never before was there such a gathering. The scene touched the heart of the great preacher, and his words the hearts of the mothers. Mr. Moody said afterward that a good many of the women present must have borrowed babies for the occasion.