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WALT HOLCOMB’S TRIBUTE I have been asked by Mr. Ralph Bingham, presi dent of the International Lyceum Association, to speak this afternoon, for the association, regarding the work of Mr. Jones on the lyceum and Chautau qua platform. Also, by Dr. Broughton’s co-workers to be present and speak of Mr. Jones and the work of his last days. Perhaps, not in the history of the church, or the state has there been just such an assembly as this. We meet to do honor to a man who stood absolutely alone in the Christian world. This being true, this service will go down in history as one separate and distinct, because of the unique and marvelous per sonality of the man to whom we this day pay our tribute. With our hearts broken and spirits crushed, the most triumphant words to us are those of our Savior: “Well done, thou good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.” One of Mr. Jones’ most favorite texts was, “I have fought a good fight; I have kept the faith; I have finished my course. Henceforth, there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness.” He was a real Chris tian soldier, and fought more manfully than any one else I ever knew on the battle field. He kept his faith centered in God, and God kept him and that which he had committed to him. He was the best runner, it seems to me, that ever entered the Christian race. No man ever kept his eyes more completely upon the goal and strove harder to win and have others win. While there has come into my life an indescribable sorrow, and a peculiar grief, yet I have heard a note of triumph, ever since he “fell on sleep.” When I think of how manfully and heroically he fought, and how hard the devil tried to defeat him, and what a calamity it would have been for the cause of right, had he not won the race, there comes into my heart joy, peace and resignation at his heavenly coronation. As a leading citizen of his town said to me: “I had just finished reading Mr. Jones’ last letter to the Journal, when I heard the news of his death, I shouted, ‘Glory to God, he has quit fighting the devil and gone to playing with the angels.” The Hour of Promotion. Last Monday morning, on a Rock Island train from Oklahoma City, we were aroused about six o’clock by the cry of his daughter, Mrs. Pyron, say ing: “Oh, Mr. Holcomb, hurry to papa! 1 believe be is dying.” In a moment we were by his side, but the fatal stroke soon put an end to all that was mortal of our deceased brother. With both of his hands in mine and close to his noble heart, with his good wife, daughters and secretary standing near, he passed peacefully and quietly to his reward. A quiet, calm repose played over his face, and we knew that his white, blood washed soul had gone home. Brother Jones lived on the train more than any other man. He loved railroads, steam engines, pal ace cars and beautiful Pullmans. He loved the rail road men from the president down to the humblest porter. Among the most beautifu lillustrations that he has ever used have been fathered from rail road scenes. Next to his home, in what place could he have died that would have been more home-like to him! The train had been standing still for an hour or more, blockaded by a freight wreck. He had walked through the car several times and chat ted pleasantly with the porter. His faithful daugh ter was heating him a cup of water when he sud denly collapsed. Perhaps God had the train to stand still long enough for his weary, tired servant to lie down and die with ease and comfort. Not only did he love the railroad men, but they loved him with tenderest affection. After his death we wired Presi dent W. J. Thomas, of the N. C. and St. L. railway, for a train to bring his sacred remains home. Brother Jones had said for years that, just before going to his reward, he wanted to come home from the hardest fought battle of his life. Surely it was at Oklahoma City that he had the hardest hill to climb. In an immense building, poorly prepared for the very disagreeable weather, he labored day and night without a murmur or complaint. Finally, tired and weary, with his vitality low, we boarded the train homeward bound. In view of the heavy rains which had made it impossible for the closing service, we left a few hours earlier than he had planned. While upon the train he seemed very bright and cheerful, and spoke of the victory that had come in the fight. Then he talked for quite a while with some travel ing men about their becoming Christians, and get ting ready for a better life beyond. Then going to the berth of his devoted wife and sweet, faithful daughters, he kissed them good night and left a hus band's love and a father's blessing upon them, and then he went to the berth of a dying consumptive. Here is a beautiful little incident which closes the charitable deeds of the last thirty-five years. He The Golden Age for October 25, 1906. had heard that this young man, with his broken hearted wife, was in the chair car without money or friends. He immediately called the Pullman conduc tor and had them assigned to a berth, paying the fare for them. Then he uttered the last words that I ever heard him say. Stooping by the berth, he said: “I am sorry to see you suffering so. I am glad that we found you and got this comfortable bed for you. I hope you will sleep well tonight. If you should need me, don’t fail to call me. I shall be glad to serve you. I will see you in the morning, and get your transportation at Memphis to your home at Faletteville.” Before reaching the city he had gone to the city of God. Knowing his sympathy for the poor, I took some of the money that we found on his person and gave the dying man enough money to take him home, telling him that this completed the last act of love of Brother Jones. A Preacher and—A Man. Mr. Jones was a man, not simply a preacher. While I believe a preacher’s position commands re spect, yet I lift my hat to a preacher who first of all a man. God never made a bigger nor grander thing than when he made a man, and if I were to start out looking foi' the most manly man in the little affairs of life as well as the great problems of life, I would go to Rev. Sam P. Jones. Studying him up one side and down the other, taking him as he daily lived, he was the most manly Christian that I have known. This noble character of his furnishes the basis for the great preacher that the world rec ognizes him to be. While it may sound a little extravagant to some, I am going to pronounce Mr. Jones the greatest preacher of his or any other age. While there have been other men who have accomplished great good, with him he was bright and sparkling while doing the good. He was the wittiest, most humorous, most vigorous man that ever faced an audience. At a Western Bible Conference, the famous Scotch preacher, Rev. John McNeil, stood and listened for an hour or more, when his own time was being en croached upon, and then rushed up on the platform, and said: “Every time I have crossed the waters and returned to my Scotch people, they talk to me about the great preachers of America.” And then turning to an audience of a thousand or more famous divines from all the great cities of our land, he said: “They never ask me about any of you, but they wanted to know if I met or heard Sam Jones. When I return home I shall take great pleasure in telling them what I think of this marvelous man,” and then turning to the preachers again, he said: “Some of you say that anybody can talk like Sam Jones. 1 would advise you then to try it,” remarked McNeil. “If you have anything up your sleeve that will draw the people, hold them and move them as this man does, I would suggest to you to begin at once.” The great Scotchman knew that back of those utter ances was a great brain, a big heart and a powerful personality. This, with God’s anointing, accounts for the wonderful power he had over men. When we take into consideration that he drew the largest audiences of any man living or dead, and that they hung on his words as if they were hypno tized, and that, too, through a long ministry of thirty five years, we have to admit that nothing but genius and greatness can do such wonders. The Common People Heard Him Gladly. Some people have said that he wasn’t doctrinal enough in his preaching, but if you have listened to him with discrimination, you have been impressed by how faithfully he preached the fundamental doc trines of the Bible. He preached them as Paul did at time; almost always he used the Master’s method in getting them before the people. He would take a great truth, and pick up a common object and illus trate it so that it made the common people hear him gladly, while the aristocracy looked on and wondered and marveled. 1 believe he preached more like the man of Galilee than any one who has followed him. It is often said that a preacher has preached his way into the hearts of his people. This trite saying never meant so much to me before. Thousands attended his funeral, thousands gazed upon the special train containing his sacred remains, thousands of your citizens greet ed him at the station, and lined your streets and stood with uncovered heads, and perhaps fifteen or twenty thousand viewed his remains in your State Capitol, and, had his body been permitted to remain there twenty-four hours longer, I verily believe that twenty-five thousand more would have looked into his calm face. When a governor or a president dies, astate or ana tion bows in grief and pays tribute and does honor to the office, if they do not in heart to the ruler; but when a private citizen passes away, or a minister of Sam Jones' Co-worker Speaks of Great Evangelist to Over Four Thousand People at the Tabernacle. the gospel, the honors conferred upon him are for real merit. The world through the public press, and in a thousand other ways honored Mr. Jones because they loved him. Let us preachers get up our heads. His first sermon was on “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ.” His last one was on “My grace is sufficient for Thee.” Having seen the great tribute and honor rightfully paid him, I declare it is the greatest triumph for the church and the gospel that we have seen in years. Let us never for one mo ment be ashamed of our high and holy calling. As a lecturer he was even more popular than as a preacher, and his lyceum work afforded him great opportunities for doing good. He was one of those men who could pick up an audience at first appear ance, and mould it with his thoughts. I seriously doubt whether he ever lectured without lifting some one to holier and better things. But the Chautauqua platform was his throne as a lecturer. After his great meeting in Cincinnati, twenty years ago, Bishop Vincent came down to Cincinnati and inter viewed him regarding a lecture at Lake Chautauqua, New York. From that time he has spent most of his summer lecturing at Chautauquas. The largest and best of them throughout the western states are those where he has appeared the oftenest. Some of them have had him year after year for the last twenty years. Some were going to give him a twentieth anniversary next season. His crowds got larger each year. His lectures pleased, edified and strengthened the people the oftener they heard him. He was the celebrity at the Chautauquas. The good that he ac complished at these summer gatherings will never be known in this life. Riding out of Chicago a few years ago, we stepped off the train, and a young man rushed up in an automobile, and said: “Mr. Jones I wan the honor of driving you around to the hotel. When you were here last year I was a miserable sot, but I haven’t touched a drop of liquor since I heard your lecture.” This was just one instance out of the thousands that might be mentioned. He Outlived His Critics. Tn his preaching and lecturing he encountered many critics. Some of them objected to his style and manner and words, but I want to say that to me he never uttered a word that did not have a refining in fluence upon my nature. I have never heard him when he didn’t make me long for better and holier things, and make me despise the little things of life. I always went away loving the Bible and mother, home and God, more. Nine-tenth of his critics died before he passed away. The other tenth have been converted by his death. A prominent critic in Cin cinnati last fall, in our meeting went away fired with anger to fight the work. I noticed in a Cincinnati paper the other day, where he changed his mind be fore Mr. Jones’ death, and had written a beautiful tribute to his memory. Perhaps there is less criti cism in the world today and more love for Sam Jones than any man that the world has buried in the last century. While his oratory was unlike other men, it will go down in history as the cleverest and most win some and powerful of any living man. While others have moved audiences by their excited appeals, he in a quiet, conservative style broke men’s hearts, stirred their consciences and moved their wills as no other man has done. His wonderful influence will tell in ages to come. The marvelous gifts of wit, humor and pathos were never more fully consecrated to God and served their purpose better than with him There never was a day that he did not create a smile and drive away the burden from the hearts of his fellow men. His Mirth and Pathos. He started waves of laughter that encircled our nation. From generation to generation his unique and matchless words will be handed down in private conversation. It will not require the printed page to preserve them. They will be repeated again and again bv those that are to live. His pathos was the rarest and sublimest ever given to man. It was never more in evidence than the last night he preached, in which he said how he would like to go to heaven, if it should be God’s will The entire audience wept like broken hearted chil dren. That night, that scene, will never be forgotten T feel that I have lost the truest, noblest and best friend I ever had. To say I loved him expresses it mildly. God only knows how his love and interest in me and my work have helped me and strengthened me thus far. His memory will ever be fresh in my mind, and I shall be better prepared for the days to come bv having been with him through sunshine and trial. May his great mantle fall on a thousand min isters of the gosnel and God grant that those of us here today may be included in that number. 11