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CONVENTION AT CARTERSVILLE
ARTERSVILLE, the home of celebri
ties, was a “wide open” town recently..
No, no! not “wide-open” in the Chi
cago sense, but wide-open to the mes
sengers and visitors to the Georgia
Baptist Convention. It would be a
great deal to say that the convention
never before had such royal entertain
ment—for every place it has met has
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done the noble part. But there was something about
Cartersville’s hospitality that was well-nigh start
ling in its beauty. There was an eagerness in its
bestowment that was as refreshing as the dews
of spring, and as warm as the sunlight that stream
ed and beamed from cloudless November skies. The
Methodist and Presbyterian neighbors seemed de
termined to outdo their Baptist brethren in enter
taining their own Baptist Convention, and Hon. W.
J. Neel, chairman of the committee on entertain
ment, grew red in the face because there were not
enough of the six or seven hundred visitors to “go
all the way round” to these open doors and hearts
that were clamoring for them. And this same lit
tle “big” man actually got up before that big
crowd and invited the convention back next year
in order to satisfy the unsatisfied hospitality of
big-hearted Cartersville.
An Ideal Welcome.
Not only did the ideal hospitality of the people
bespeak an ideal welcome, but the address of wel
come itself, delivered by Judge A. M. Foute, fit
into the mold of the ideal. It was brief, it was
rich, it was rare, it was “racy.” In five minutes
he said more things to make a crowd of visitors
feel good than we ever heard in the same compass
of time before. He didn’t know he could be funny.
He didn’t “crack a smile,” but he provoked a
hundred. From the time he said with solemn
voice, “I face a great crowd of good-looking women
and tolerably good-looking men,” on to his mourn
ful declaration, “We have heretofore had plenty to
eat in Cartersville, but since the coming of this
convention nobody knows how long that state of
affairs will continue,” he kept the audience in a
swing of delight.
The response, too, was a gem. It was delivered
by Pastor L. E. Roberts, of Monroe. His wit was
captivating and his conclusion brilliant and spir
itual.
Lincoln and the Shower of Stars.
He told of Abraham Lincoln’s being awakened
one night with the terrifying shout: “The stars
are falling—the world is coming to an end.” Lin
coln walked out and looked on the falling meteors
from the blazing firmament. But beyond all that
meteoric disturbance the great man’s keen eyes
sought and found the North Star fixed and undim
med, the “seven pointers” in their circling splen
dor—the Pleiades serene and beautiful—and then
he walked back calmly and rested through a tran
quil night.
And so we, as Christians, he declared, may
sometimes witness what seems like a falling of the
stars of Faith and Truth, but we have only to look
beyond the disturbance and find the fixed stars of
Regeneration, Atonement and the Deity of our
Lord shining yet in all their glory—and then our
souls can rest in peace and joy.
Twelve Times President.
The convention honored itself by honoring for
the twelfth time Ex-Governor Wm. J. Northen as
president, and for about the same time Dr. B. D.
Ragsdale. They make a team unsurpassed in all the
land.
This brief sketch is not intended as a report of
the proceedings, but only as a glimpse at special
conquests in and by the convention.
The annual sermon, by Dr. John E. White, of At
lanta, on “Let the Dead Bury their Dead,” etc.,
was a masterpiece of practical Bible truth and sa
cred eloquence.
The report on State Missions by the new secre
tary, Rev. J. J. Bennett, was eagerly awaited.
Nearly $150,000 was reported for all purposes, and
a decided increase was voted for next year. The
only fault that was found concerning Joe Bennett
The Golden Age for December 6, 1906.
was the fact that he didn’t make a single bit of a
speech himself. Everybody wanted to hear the
new secretary. His modesty was almost provok
ing. But he selected men who could and did speak
•—Copeland on “The Mountain Boy,” Robinson on
“The Mountain School,” and Jester on “South
Georgia,” stirred the natives.
The orphans, nearly a hundred strong, came up
from Hapeville one day and broke everybody’s
hearts—just by standing there for us to look at
them. Henry Durand, John M. Green, Fred J.
Cooledge and Frank S. Etheridge, with many wo
men—hand-maidens of God—stood there among
the fatherless children to whom they had been try
ing to be father and mother, and Superintendent
R. D. Hawkins smiled like a parent over the scene.
Dr. Jameson was called to his “throne of power”
and about $12,000 was subscribed to clear the
debt on the new building.
When Dr. S. Y. Jameson, the new president of
Mercer, rose to speak for the first time in his
new position, the audience arose to greet him and
gave him the Chautauqua salute. His speech,
“swept the deck” with common sense and vigorous
eloquence. Everybody said, “Jameson will win,”
—and he will! Indeed, he has already won!
Dr. B. I). Gray’s speech on “Home Missions,”
was an avalanche of power—a wondrous blending
of wit, pathos and burning truth. If B. D. Gray
did not love the Gospel so well he could make thous
ands on the lecture platform. To hear him is
1 ‘perpetual delight. ’ ’
Dr. Nunnally’s resolution on the liquor ques
tion set things on fire, and H. W. Williams’ re
port on Temperance added fuel to the flames. The
convention believes in an early effort for state pro
hibition. Get ready to show your colors. The
battle is on.
The gold watch presented to Dr. J. 11. Kilpatrick
as a token of love on the fiftieth anniversary of’
his connection with the convention, was a beautiful
incident. No wonder everybody rose in the pres
ence of the “grand old man” to do reverence to
his gray hairs, his wisdom and his character.
Willingham on missions! Will the man never
run dry? Giant in form, in mind, in speech and
devotion. It was the hypnotism of conquering
truth and consuming zeal. And all the words of
all the returned missionaries put Dr. Willingham’s
speech into the italics of heaven.
And A. A. Williamson’s “mellow melody,” and
the same, sweet songs of Mrs. A. B. Conyers flowed
like crystal streams through the smiling fields of!
truth and worship.
The writer was a fortunate guest in the home of
Mrs. Sam P. Jones. The great evangelist had said
before his death that he wanted to take care of
fifty delegates to the coming convention if he could.
And it was a beautiful spirit that caused Mrs.
Jones, so soon after—indeed, in the very midst
of her great sorrow, to throw open her
home-like home to all comers during the conven
tion. No guest in the home brought more sunshine
and joy to all hearts than Dr. T. T. Eaton, of
Louisville. He knew just how to scatter flowers
where they were most needed.
And Mrs. Jones was a mother—a sister—a bene
diction to us all. W. D. LT.
God Had Not Settled Yet.
A certain fanner, who was an infidel, sent to
the editor of a weekly newspaper the following let
ter:
“Sir:—l have been trying an experiment. I
have a field of Indian corn which I ploughed on
Sunday. I planted it on Sunday. I did all the
cultivating which it received on Sunday, and on
Sunday hauled it to my barn; and I find that I
have more corn per acre than has been gathered by
any of my neighbors during this October!”
What a triumphant sneer lay behind these words
of the skeptic! But one thinks the light faded
from his eyes as he read the sentence which the
editor appended to his letter: “N. B.—God does
not always settle his accounts in October.”—Ex
change.
Letter From Campbell Morgan.
We have received from Dr. G. Campbell Morgan
the following letter which will hold special inter
est just now for readers of The Golden Age:
Buckingham Gate, London, S. W., Nov. 6, 1906.
Mr. W. I). Upshaw, Editor The Golden Age,
Lowndes Building, Atlanta, Ga.
My dear Mr. Upshaw:
Thank you very much for your letter under
date October 23rd.
You refer therein to my accepting your prop
osiaion for the American serial rights of my
personally revised notes of my “Track
Through the Bible.” lam too busy to write
anything like a prospectus as you suggest in
addition to the work I am actually doing for
publication. I propose that the first article
you receive will be an introductory one to the
whole series. After that first article I shall
at once proceed with the book by book work.
Beginning thus with the first week in January,
the Old Testament will occupy just a year, ac
cording to my present arrangements.
With kindest regards, I am, ever sincerely
yours,
G. Campbell Morgan.
A Beautiful Funeral.
“E’en sorrow touched by Thee grows bright
With more than rapture's ray,
As darkness shows us worlds of light
We never saw by day.”
A starless night is not always the emblem of sor
row. We saw a funeral service recently at a
little country church in Georgia which had about
it more of beauty than of sorrow.
Lucius Cuthbert Blanton, a younger minister of
the Gospel, died at his father’s home in Atlanta on
the night of the 16th, and his body was laid to
rest Sunday morning at Shiloh Church, near Far
rar, of which the deceased was one time the be
loved pastor.
True, parents, brothers and sister wept, and
mingling with their natural tears came the many
expressions of grief from the people whom the
young shepherd had led through pastures green and
by waters still. And saddest of all, the devoted
young wife, with a little fatherless darling in her
arms, desolate in her sorrow beside the bier of
him who but yesterday had wooed her with his
manly love and blessed her with an honored name.
Her loneliness was enough to touch and melt the
stoutest heart.
But a star came out in the night—then the dawn
of Heaven broke over the Everlasting Hills. The
pastor-friend of the deceased spoke on the glories
of the Resurrection Morn. “Blest Be the Name”
was sung in ringing triumph. Tears grew crystal
with the Light of the skies, and although we cam?
away and left “the wayworn body resting ’neath
the autumn flowers at last,” we came with the
roundelays of Eternal Hope singing in our hearts
and the Rainbow of God’s promise kissing the
clouds of gloom into the brightening glory which
only the Christian’s Faith can see and feel.
Cut down in life’s bright and promising morn
ing—his incompleteness filled out in the complete
ness of Christ—O, the beauty thus to live, thus to
die, and thus to live again!
Right thinking is the foundation of right living.
To live the highest life of which we, as human
beings, are capable, we must firmly believe and live
up to our belief that we can, should, and must
resolutely master our thoughts as well as our ac
tions; and that we must control the mental pict
ures in which we indulge as much as the words
which issue from our lips. As a man “thinketh
in his heart, so is he.” Thoughts generate feel
ing. When discouraged and depressed, lift up
your chest, take an attitude of courage, and speak
these words several times, slowly and earnestly—
“faith, hope, courage.” When sensitive over ill
treatment, take the correct physical attitude and
say, several times slowly and earnestly—“love,
patience, forgiveness,” and see if you don’t feel
better.—Selected.
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