PRE-17-Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen Difference Between Our Judgments Concerning the Living and the Dead—Memorial Service at Columbus, Mississippi. In the course of our narrative we have introduced the various opinions entertained of Brother Shaw while living—most of them just, no doubt, but some perhaps giving undue prominence to peculiarities which the writers would have regarded as unpardonable in themselves, but which formed an inseparable part of Brother Shaw’s character, and may have in some degree contributed to his success. Many good preachers are unable to tell an anecdote in a manner acceptable to their hearers, while others can employ them in a way to give great point and force to their arguments; and very few are able to interject a moving song into their addresses. Both these Brother Shaw could do with admirable effect. In fact, the song and apt illustration were often the strong points of the sermon, making it far more effective than it could possibly have been had these been wanting. It was these that tipped the arrows of truth, as with flame, and feathered them so that they flew swiftly and surely until they hung quivering in the stricken heart. While living his methods occupied more attention than his work; since he has gone his work claims more of our attention than his methods; and in view of that work, finished, alas! too soon, much criticism, which in life seemed just, is disarmed; and there are few who would not be willing to subject themselves to criticism, far severer than he ever encountered, could they but leave a tithe of such blessed results behind. As winter’s snow covers dead leaves, barren meadows, trunks of fallen trees, rough ravines, and unsightly ruts, in its stainless winding-sheet, so death hides all but the great outline of life, and leaves but the memory of that which is truest and best in the lives of those we shall see on earth no more.
Memorial services in honor of the dead evangelist were held at various places, where in life he had labored; but one service, held at Columbus, Mississippi, his home for some time preceding his death, will be found to be of peculiar interest. This meeting was held in the Christian Church, on the 14th of June, about one week after his tragical end, and was participated in by the ministers of the different churches, and other prominent personages. The Rev. Dr. Franklin was chairman of the meeting. The proceedings were in the following order:
MEMORIAL ADDRESSES.
Dr. Curtis said:
“Responsive to the invitation of my church, I offer its humble tribute to the solemn services of this occasion. We come to strew flowers upon the tomb of our friend and brother; and to enter the Parthenon of the heart’s best affections for oblations worthy of his memory. Cut the garlands which we bring, all blooming and fragrant with evergreen enamelings, are but silent symbols of heartswelling emotion that disdains the literature of speech. Such expressions, when language was impoverished and bankrupted for utterance, have distinguished civilized man in all ages, and under all forms of society. The Cecrops, the Mausoleum, the Taj Mahal, and Cæcilia Mettela, were but so many silent tombs men erected to perpetuate the memory of the noble and venerated dead.
“And the pathway of Time is strewed with the debris of shattered and exfoliating monuments to dead styles of thought, dead forms of taste, of art, and literature, as well as dead heroes and distinguished dead men. There they stand and lie, magnificent in their ruins, in Torso beauty, but with the silent eloquence of the Elgin collection—types of eternal beauty.
“So our monumental meeting to-night, to do honor to the memory of Elder Knowles Shaw, is more to manifest what we feel, than to essay the formulation of that feeling in words. We would rather invoke the expressiveness and dignity of silence to declare his merits and avouch our grief.
“Elder Shaw, the inaugurator of the ‘Murphy Movement’ in our midst, and so beneficent in its results, is no more. His life-work is concluded, and the fruitage of nearly two years’ of laborious efforts to meliorate the condition of man, and to promote the honor of God, is with us, as a rich and glorious legacy; and, though dead, and his ministries of love—in preaching, exhorting, singing, and praying with us—is lost to us forever, and the example of his pure and upright life is taken from us; yet in affection and in memory he is with us, and, as Abel from the slumberous past speaks to the Christian heart, so Knowles Shaw speaks to us.
“He was ever prompt in duty, earnest in action, zealous in the advocacy of truth, and pure in motive. He was rather a peculiar man, of undoubted genius, of wonderful memory, of boundless energy, and a faculty of hopefulness that threw an inspirational glamour over all the landscape of life, lighting it up with electric and poetic beauty. The very clouds of adversity all had bright silver linings to him. The normal condition of his being was that of happiness; and the boon he so much enjoyed himself, and which was as if his ‘spirit was lapped in Elysium,’ he desired all others to share; and, hence, becoming the center of a magic circle of social happiness, he diffused a paradise of pleasure wherever he was. The spell was enchantment; the fruitage, fruition.
“His powers were all bent in the direction of virtue and unselfishness. He lived not for himself, but preeminently for others. He worked and talked and moved as one conscious of the obligation of existence, and apprehensive that life was too short to accomplish all of duty, and that what was to be done must be done quickly. His life was really an idyl—a poem of unselfish goodness and earnest usefulness. May we imitate his many virtues, emulate his noble zeal, and have embalmed in our hearts the forms of beauty and goodness that chastened and distinguished his valuable life. And, as no force is ever destroyed, as no thought ever dies, let us not despond or grow weary in the good work he begun. It will go on. It is the fiat of destiny. Let us assist in its progress and development.
“And now, let us comfort our hearts in this very sad bereavement. The good are not only blessed in the transition of death, which is a mere change in the mode of being, but ‘they rest from their labors, and their works do follow them.’ As the sweetness of the perished rose lingers in the atmosphere around the parent stem, so do the labors and virtues of the dead exhale from the very tomb the freshness and fragrance of unsullied lives. The treasures of thought and learning conserved from the ravages of time in parchments, manuscripts, and books, in painting, sculpture, and architecture, are but a legacy bequeathed to us from preceding ages and generations of men for our use and happiness; and to be faithfully transmitted, unimpaired and improved, to succeeding generations. So of individual worth and merit. Everything in this world is fragmentary. One generation, and one individual, accomplish only so much, and another takes up the unfinished work and carries it on; and thus the cause of civilization and progress, as the cause of virtue, are carried forward, and the noblest ends of destiny achieved.
“Knowles Shaw lives again in his teaching, in his example, and in the magnetic force left behind him. Death is but an episode in life; and, in the graceful style of one of the South’s brightest sons, ‘the limits even of time are overstepped, and the threads broken by death are woven in a new fabric beyond the stars. Not until the vast tapestry is unrolled before us in the pavilion of eternity itself, and the constituent figures are seen to be inwrought with an exquisite unity of design, shall we be able to frame a judgment of the wisdom of the whole.’ But enough is known and appreciable to show the wonderful beauty of design, and to fix confidence in the benevolence and wisdom underlying those parts more occult and less understood. Thus we recognize all things to be for the best; and, to the devout heart, are felt to be a thing of beauty and a joy forever.
“What is our loss is his gain; and how pleasant it is to feel that Knowles Shaw lives again, not only in the affections of those who loved him so well, but in the benignant smiles of that Savior whom he served so faithfully.
“There’s no such thing as death,
To those who live aright;
‘Tis but the racer casting off
What most impedes his flight.
“‘Tis but one little act
Life’s drama must contain—
One struggle greater than the rest,
And then an end of pain.
“There’s no such thing as death;
That which is thus miscalled
Is life escaping from the chains
That have so long enthralled.
“‘Tis but the bud displaced
As comes the perfect flower;
‘Tis faith exchanged to sight,
And weariness to power.”
Judge T. C. Lyon said:
“In the collection of the antiquary there is to be found a medal struck by the city of Worms, in 1617. It represents a lighted candle shining upon the open Word, while a serpent endeavors to extinguish it; a hand from the skies points, indicating that divine strength feeds the flame; an inscription underneath signifies, ‘O Lord, let it shine on forever.’ The Truth, the Light, the Spirit of Evil, the Divine Protection, the Prayer of the Faithful! How fit an illustration this of the grand conflict between the Powers of Darkness and of Light, which now is, and has been, and will be until the millennial host triumphant shall crown earth’s rightful King.
“But, alas, for mortal weakness! As the warrior sees, in the hard contest, the crest of some champion, triple armed, unexpectedly sink, faith trembles, and, beholding, the expostulatory cry ascends, ‘Could it not shine on, O Lord; can the dust praise thee; can it declare thy truth?’
“Is it to be denied but that with such feelings not a few in this presence and community regard the sudden extinguishment of the light of life and usefulness in him whose work among us, as humanitarian and Christian—as lover of his race and of his God—we are now here met to commemorate. But, the reflection comes, the temple of highest human hopes cannot be marred by human loss; complete to-day as yesterday, no pillar can fall, nor stone of the corner crumble. God’s work, as it regards man, in its every aspect, is his own; and his hand wars not against itself. By him, of him, and through him, are not only are all things permitted, but all things are. Stupendous thought! From eternity to eternity sweeps instant upon instant the eternal mind. It guides alike the rolling sun and the falling leaf; the shooting star and the floating azure speck. One of the greatest of mere men, captive upon the sea-girt rock, as he turned his eyes from the mighty past of his fallen fortunes, upward, exclaimed, ‘Our days are reckoned?’ So thought Napoleon in the days of rationalistic philosophy; and a greater hath spoken of the ‘measure of his days,’ and declared, ‘my times are in thy hand.’ No; the creative will did not commit his supreme work, with all its destinies, to blind, unmeaning chance, to be drifted black and blackening hell-ward. With a calm philosophy, therefore, let us believe the hand of Omniscience, and nothing short of it, marked the day of our friend’s birth, and the day of his death, and the manner of that death as well. The logical idea of a perfect God demands the acknowledgment. To creature challenge, he replies: ‘Be still, and know that I am God.’
“The divine purpose in this death may be to us inscrutable—the strong man falling in the midst of his strength—but could his voice now reach us from his seat of higher knowledge, doubtless it could and would unfold tremendous reason why. To you of his own flock, it might reveal a forbidden leaning upon an arm of flesh. He needeth not the strong; not since that time He sent the Galilean fishermen forth to make conquest of the world. Perhaps a glorying that was ‘not all in the Lord;’ perhaps in the hour of conscious weakness to strengthen faith; and, perhaps, by such and so terrible a death, to make the deeper impress of his teaching and example. These things, it might be, you would learn; but, of a surety, desponding hearts, Christ’s own words to his sorrowing disciples would be his to you: ‘It is expedient that I go away.’
“To others, who knew him better, I leave a general analysis of the character of the departed; attempting only, in haste, to draw lessons that may be profitable to some from this sorrowful occasion. Nevertheless, I cannot forbear to exalt, specially, two characteristics, plain to the passer-by, in the character of this, it must be confessed, extraordinary man: His devotion and his courage—the sword and buckler of the truth.
“Knowles Shaw was, to some, a singular man, and singular in his ways. His idea of saving the souls and minds and bodies of his fellow-men, and augmenting the grand sum of temporal and eternal good during life’s short span, differed from that of such, as duly once a week, with awful voice proclaim to immortals, heedlessly treading the crumbling verge of abysmal woes, without end, the gospel of the Son of God, as the sure, quick, and only escape, then, with as due awaiting, passed with polished hand and tongue of proper courtesy, and that alone, until the appointed time returns; aye, his practice differed. Consecrated, internally subjected, as it were, ardent, active, and continuing, the zeal of the Lord’s house bore him from the pulpit to the street, to the place of business, to the work-shop, and, if needs be, to the gutter—hailing, persuading, urging, with affectionate solicitude, to reformation and a better life. ‘Now,’ blazoned in living light upon his breast, was the talismanic word of his action. Moreover, ye bear him witness, the woe is not of his calling, either express or by cowardly implication, light darkness, or darkness light, His bugle blast, and it was a blast, gave forth no uncertain sound on any question affecting man’s highest welfare. He called evil, evil; and good, good. With a flash of the spirit of the Tishbite of old, he scouted Baal and his worshipers; and, with a boldness akin to that of the great worthies—from Peter and the Apostles to Luther, Calvin, John Knox, Bunyan, Wesley, and Whitfield—he hesitated not to declare, as he believed it, the whole counsel of God. Not hard is it to conceive, that had he lived in the days of the early church, prisons would have known him oft, and stonings, and scourgings, and the wild beasts of Ephesus, until through fire he had ascended to a martyr’s crown.
“The priceless value of the soul he seemed to feel as well as preach. To the eye following in that ceaseless round of his good work here, there, everywhere, at home, abroad, by day, by night, every day, every night, instant in season and out of season — his abounding labors expressed a conviction along with him, whose majestic thought proclaimed, that, were the sun to be clothed in sackcloth, and the moon to veil her face, all Nature could not utter a groan too deep to mark the calamity of a lost soul.
“The record of the good done by the lamented, here in his charge, is written on the hearts of how many before me; the measure of his philanthropic labors in temperance reform, what numbers in this community can gratefully attest. There is need of no tongue of mine to tell. Before the man and his works were laid down the prejudices of years.
“And, now, when we consider all, need we be surprised that eleven thousand converts marked the seventeen years of the ministry as evangelist of the Rev. Knowles Shaw! Eleven thousand! what sheaves to gather! ‘A part have crossed the flood; a part are crossing now.’ Here let your hearts revert with me to his own touching hymn, sung just now:
“‘When my final farewell to the world I have said,
And gladly lie down to my rest;
When softly the watchers shall say, “He is dead,”
And fold my pale hands o’er my breast;
And when, with my glorified vision at last,
The walls of “that city” I see,
Will any one then at the beautiful gate
Be waiting and watching for me?’
“‘Waiting and watching!’ Does he ask, Shall any one be waiting and watching for me? My friends, when on this evening one week ago, by time of Earth, it was announced in the courts of Heaven that this soldier of the Cross was about to be called to his reward; that the Lord’s joy was full; that the crown was ready; and when the bright-liveried escort past the portals, what, think you, was there waiting and watching for him? Where was that glorious company—the seals of his ministry; the redeemed thousands gone before! Where the angelic host, with whom there had been joy eleven thousand times in heaven over those sinners repentant? Where the choirs seraphic? Yea, where the King himself? I know there was waiting and watching at the beautiful gate! Nor watched nor waited long! From the smoking wreck of instant death, in the land of pain and sorrow, the released spirit shot upward, borne on wings swifter than the swift-winged light, it passed within the door opened in Heaven. Strain, strain the spirit’s eyes to catch a glimpse of that welcome. The glittering throng; the sainted loved ones; his own eager thousands of the redeemed; the glad angels; the Master’s plaudit; his Lord’s joy; the everlasting crown; the stars that are to shine forever and ever! Son, daughter, of this sorrowing vale, let him ‘rest’ inside those beautiful gates of which he sang in such uncommon strains; within the walls of that city which, with glorified vision, he so longed to see! ‘Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the glory of thy Lord.’
“We leave him there. And now to you who loved him who loved you, and yet loves you: would you honor the man as is given man most to honor the dead? Then, in your minds and hearts, continue to hear the voice that is still. Remember his words; walk in his ways.
“In the market-place of a German town there stands a statue, placed there by pious hands, of beautiful significance. High up over the bustling throng, where the people are buying and selling, and cumbered with the things of earth, there is a figure of an angel pointing heavenward, with a scroll in his hand, on which are these solemn words:
“‘Things that are seen are temporal; But the things that are not seen are eternal.’
“Could you adopt a truer, a more deserved reminder of the one that is gone, than, in sacred fancy, to behold him behind that vacant desk, where the memory will keep him long, pointing you ever, like the angel monitor of the busy mart, heavenward, heavenward! while from his unmoving hand you read his faithful teaching as you read God’s warning:
“‘Things that are seen are temporal; But the things that are not seen are eternal.’”
Mr. Ross Tabb said:
“We have assembled to-night for the purpose of giving expression to our love for, and regret at, the loss of one who was with us, and of us, and now is not. Death has suddenly laid its hand upon our leader, and filled our order with mourning. A week ago this night a happy household expectant watched his coming; a few short hours past, and most unwelcome news—DEAD—crushes into the hearts of family and friends, and bows them down in very weakness. Never was a community more heavily shocked than by the announcement, ‘Knowles Shaw is dead!’ The short life he had spent with us had so interwoven itself with ours, that his death was our personal loss.
“But we bow in humble submission to this, to us, most terrible decree of our Father; sorrowing that he should call our beloved brother, in the very midst of his usefulness, from our people. Why it is that, in God’s economy, such a man—whose life had been one untiring effort for the enlightenment and elevation of his fellows—should be given to the sickle of death, is beyond the ken of mortals; but we can only accept the fact, and say:
“’Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace—
Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face.’
“But, though our brother has gone from us, he yet speaks to his well-nigh broken-hearted people; bidding them to weep not, grieve not, falter not, but look forward to that beautiful, pure life promised in the hereafter to the faithful. The good that men do lives after them. Think you, my friends, the memory of such a man can perish? Will not his spirit dwell among us until the last pulsation of the heart cease? Will not the recollection of his kindnesses, his willingness at all times to relieve suffering, his steady rebuke of wrong in every guise, be an incentive to this people to occupy a higher plane of virtue and morality and Christian fellowship? Prominent actors in life’s history live not to, nor for, themselves; and whether for good or evil, generations to come are shaped by their lives; if this be true, surely the world is the better for Knowles Shaw’s living.
“Eighteen months ago, as a stranger, he visited us. He labored with the Christian Church for a few weeks; and, by his energy, practical piety, and devotion to the cause, awakened an interest not alone in the church but the whole community. Crowded houses waited on his preaching. His church was awakened from its lethargy, and so impressed were they with his usefulness that he was asked to become their pastor. He cast his lot with us; and, from that time forward, his life was one of unceasing activity in all that tended to the moral and spiritual advancement of this people; and he lived the song he loved so well: ‘Scatter seeds of kindness for the reaping by and by.’
“He became interested in the question of Temperance; and, infusing his life into it, soon had the community aroused. He delivered powerful addresses in advocacy of the cause; and, as the result, over eighteen hundred persons, in this vicinity, joined the movement. He possessed, in a remarkable degree, the vitalizing power that made alive all with whom he was associated; with his convictions, life was too short to be wasted in fruitless efforts. He realized to a greater extent, than any one I ever knew—
“A charge to keep I have,
A God to glorify;
A never-dying soul to save,
And fit it for the sky.’
“And with this high purpose in view, he labored faithfully to the end. His last work was a fitting crown to his life’s labors. But he has gone from us. No more will we see him in this house, laboring with this church in the cause of Christianity, nor with this people in the work of Temperance.
“We now have but the light of his example to beacon us on, but that light is full-orbed; and in fancy we can see him clothed in the garments of immortality, keeping guard over this people he loved so well. We know his wishes and zealous work in the cause of Temperance, and his untimely death should be an incentive to earnest work upon our part. Living as he lived, death had no terrors. He fully realized that “twas not the whole of life to live, nor all of death to die;’ and he left us the full exemplification of the beautiful lines :
“‘So live that the summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan that moves
To the mysterious realms, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death.
Thou go not like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him and lies down to pleasant dreams.’”
“Closing the exercises, the Rev. Dr. Lipscomb, of the Methodist Episcopal Church, said:
“Mr. President, Ladies and Gentlemen:
“I hesitate whether to attempt to draw the tribute I may offer, from the impressions which the life and character of Elder Knowles Shaw have made upon my intellect, or from those which personal intercourse and warm friendship have made upon my heart.
“It is easy to estimate the character of most men, Strong, well-developed traits of intellect, or extraordinary physical endowments, command our admiration, while a luxuriant growth of the affections find an easy passage-way to our hearts. The one we can admire, but may not love; the other we can love, but may not admire.
“Knowles Shaw could not be measured by either of these rules. He stands before us, in the combination of his nature and acquirements, one of the most peculiar men of the age. He might justly be called a human paradox—a natural anomaly.
“His physical appearance was almost outre in its unusual peculiarities. Six feet three inches high; square and angular at every joint; long-armed, and long-limbed, he was straight as an American aborigine, and as muscular and active as a trained athlete. His eye was sharp and clear, and looked right before him, and his whole bearing was one of fearless aggression and personal prowess.
“His huge hand seemed made to grasp a double-edged sword, as it cut down every opposing enemy. His huge foot was rightly placed when it crushed the necks of his foes. ‘Forward’ was written all over his physical being, and real strength backed every letter of the enstampment.
“His mind partook largely of the peculiarities of his body. Self-educated, he had not learned to conform to the habits of the academy, nor was his brain illuminated by the lamp of the student. He learned as he lived, in the great world around him, and acquired knowledge as he needed it. He had no use for knowledge but to use it, and he used none but what was useful. His strong mind grasped truth vigorously, and he handled it with confidence and with power. Too direct for sophistry, too honest for claptrap, he spoke to the point, and drove his arrows to the mark. Aggressive, fearless, powerful, he stood the impersonation of an invading conqueror, before whom opposition must yield and every resistance withdraw.
“In this world of ours the logical pathway of such a character would be written in blood, and enemies would everywhere spring up to dispute his progress. Nard blows are ever received upon an uplifted arm, and human hearts are wooed, not conquered. But, strange to say, Knowles Shaw had no enemies. The women loved him, the children loved him, the men loved him. Hearts opened to him as roses to the sunshine. Tears were the oftenest jewels he received, and human affection almost hedged up his moving footstep. Thousands flocked to hear him speak, thousands received his enunciations without reluctance or dissent. His sermons and speeches were oracular to his hearers, and current coin in immense territories of mind. Intellectual submission was co-extensive with the field of his labor, and his voice was the herald of his own success.
“These things are the strange things that disturb our minds. Such success makes sad havoc with our established theories, and Knowles Shaw is still before us an enigma—a great human paradox. God is wonderfully wise; nature is wonderfully kind. There exists a great law, called by philosophers the law of compensation, that has a domain as wide as humanity, and opens into every department of man’s nature. It fills vacuums with air, it puts flesh on bones, it lays smooth tracks over rough places, supplies deficiencies with excess, and makes power work as the handmaid of weakness. God knew Knowles Shaw in physique and brain was a merciless tyrant, and he placed within him that which would moderate the strength of his arm and soften the violence of his spirit. He gave him a great human heart, that filled every crook and cranny of his organism, that ran out to the extreme end of his longest finger, and pulsated in every foot-fall of his huge limbs. It saturated his very being with the love of his fellows, opened all his vision toward the woes and wants of men, and sent him an evangelist proclaiming ‘good news’ to the lost millions of earth—a herald of salvation and a soldier of the cross. It gave a melody to his voice that sent up to heaven magic wreaths of song, or wrapped his listening hearers in benedictions of joy. His tongue was tuned like an angel’s harp, and its softest, sweetest notes were messages of consolation and words of hope to the weary and forlorn.
“Did you ever hear him sing? Oh! the wonder that such a man was so mystically endowed. It was not the voice of a woman, nor yet of an angel; it was the voice of a MAN that had in it a ring half heaven, half earth—strong but sweet, magical but true. It could sing of Jesus and of sin; it could sing away the darkness and then rise on the strongest pinions of light; it could ‘shiver’ in the cold despair of the broken heart, ‘drift away’ into the loneliness of lost affection, and come back again bright as the face of a reformed drunkard’s wife, and warm as the love of the happy children that clustered at her knee. God sent him out a singing evangelist, a hero with his harp, a warrior whose eyes sparkled with tears, and whose blows were for the healing of the nations.
“His great heart destroyed his selfishness. He never worked for himself, he never fought for himself. He wanted no pelf in his pocket, nor bays on his brow. He worked and labored and fought for his Master and his brother. If he was strong, he used his power to lift up his fallen fellow-man. He struck for us, not against us. If he was brave, he used his courage to destroy our enemies, not us; and ten thousand dark fortresses of hell have felt his prowess as he rescued there from the poor fallen sin-stricken sons of Adam. His trophies are in this house, but he baptized them in his Master’s name. Rescued ones are all around us, but we pay no ransom but love, and his highest joy was to point us to still higher heights, and help us on to where all is peace and safety forevermore.
“The people of Columbus needed Knowles Shaw. I needed him. God sent him; and may your life and my life, stamped in the image of the Jesus he preached and the temperance he proclaimed, be to him the tribute we pay and the monument we rear.”
None but men who felt what they said could give utterance to such sentiments as the above; and they serve to show how deeply Brother Shaw had impressed a community into which he had come less than two years before a stranger. While all the addresses were overflowing with true and deep feeling, I am sure t h a t the reader will agree with me in regard to the last, that as a true, tender, and affectionate tribute to departed worth, it has seldom been equaled.