LIBRARY OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
PRINCETON, N. J.
PRESENTED BY
Mrs. Huston Dixon
BX 9225 .B3
S8
]
Stone, John
Timothy, b.
1868.
Footsteps in a
parish
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
AN AT^'-^-'
MALTBIE D
AS A PAHTOR
BY
JOHN TIMOTHY STONE
HIS SUCCESaOK IN
BBOWN MEMOaiAL CHCRCH. BAi.VI M(«KI!;
"Others have laboured, and
are entered into ther '- '
N£
MA I/FBI E liAVKNPOKT BAHCOCK
A'/v„„ „ p/.ftfonrnp/, takfr, ,„ Halt>,m„-f
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
AN APPRECIATION OF
MALTBIE DAVENPORT BABCOCK
AS A PASTOR
BY /
JOHN TIMOTHY STONE
HIS SUCCESSOR IN
BROWN MEMORIAL CHURCH, BALTIMORE
"Others have laboured, and ye
are entered into their labour."
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
NEW YORK ...... 1908
Copyright, 1908. by
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Published October, 1908
^0
THE LOYAL PEOPLE OP
BROWN MEMORIAL CHURCH,
WHOSE LOVE AND FAITHFULNESS
HAVE CAUSED THOSE WHO HAVE MINISTERED TO THEM
TO RISE UP AND CALL THEM BLESSED
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
A PASTOR
'He knows but Jesus Christ, the crucified.
Ah, little recks the worldling of the worth
Of such a man as this upon the earth!
Who gives himself — his all — to make men wise
In doctrines which his life exemplifies.
The years pass on, and a great multitude
Still find in him a character whose light
Shines round him like a candle in the night;
And recognize a presence so benign
That to the godless even it seems divine.
He bears his people's love within his heart,
And envies no man, whatsoe'er his part.
His church's record grows, and grows again.
With names of saintly women-folks and men.
And many a worldling, many a wayward youth.
He counts among the trophies of his truth.
Oh, happy man ! There is no man like thee,
Worn out in service of humanityi
And dead at last, 'mid universal tears, —
Thy name a fragrance in the speaker's breath.
And thy divine example life in death."
By Dr. J. G. Holland,
From The Learned Professions.
FOOTSTEPS IN A
PARISH
"They ring for service," quoth the fisherman;
"Our parson preaches in the church to-night.
. . . He's a rare man,
Our parson; half a head above us all."
IN Jean Ingelow's beautiful poem,
"Brothers and a Sermon," we
find a fitting testimony of the
one whose life as a pastor we are to
consider:
I have heard many speak, but this one man —
So anxious not to go to heaven alone —
This one man I remember, and his look.
Till twilight overshadowed him. He ceased.
And out in darkness with the fisher folk
We passed and stumbled over mounds of moss.
And heard, but did not see, the passing beck,
[3]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
Ah, graceless heart, would that it could regain
From the dim storehouse of sensations past
The impress full of tender awe, that night.
Which fell on me! It was as if the Christ
Had been drawn down from heaven to track us
home
And any of the footsteps following us
Might have been His.
Those who knew Maltbie Daven-
port Babcock as a pastor, a fellow-
pastor or a friend, during any part
of the thirteen years he spent in Bal-
timore, have little need of memory
sketches of his life and love; for
somehow his unique personality be-
came ingrafted into their very lives.
Years have passed since he left Balti-
more to take up the pastorate of the
Brick Church in New York, and
much that has been said and written
of him, naturally reflected that brief
and marvellous pastorate there.
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
From the very first, my work in Foot-
Baltimore was intimately associated ^^^^^'
with the work which he had so re-
cently laid down. Prompted and
convinced by him personally, more
than by any other save the Divine
Spirit, to take up the work here, I
have always noted and gratefully
welcomed his unmistakable foot-
prints all along the way. Although
we have well entered upon the ninth
year since he trod the path before
us, time and passing multitudes
have not destroyed his footprints;
and we are still reminded that **we
can make our lives sublime."
All who knew him as a pastor
have cherished the memory of those
incidents which related him to them,
for his was an ideal pastorate. The
emphasis has well been placed upon
[5]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
his power in the pulpit, and also upon
the directness and force of his written
word. His voice and pen are known,
but no gift of his exceptional versa-
tility surpassed his devotion and use-
fulness as a jMstor. With this in view
I have felt constrained to write,
prompted not only by deep personal
regard, but also by a sense of duty.
Many new faces have come among
his old parishioners, and there are
countless children growing up who
will never know him save as a name,
unless we who knew and loved keep
him before them and give them the
blessing of incidental reminiscences.
One cannot but believe that many
ministers as well as students in our
seminaries, may gain a blessing in the
consideration of one who was so real
and vital a force in his day and gen-
[6]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
eration, and whose life incarnated,
whose spirit breathed and whose
face reflected his Master so unmis-
takably.
Although his recognized pulpit
power is not the subject of our
thought, perhaps, before leaving it
entirely, a quotation from an article
in "The Congregationalist," written
shortly after his New York pastorate
began, might be given:
I would that I could reproduce his As a
very language. He is a master of P^^<^^^
sharp, short Saxon words. Words
of four syllables are scarce in his
vocabulary. His sermon was only
half an hour long, but it was what
my old professor of homiletics would
call a march, not a promenade. It
moved to the one aim of bringing
men, before they left that house, to
say, "We will at once confess Christ
before men." It dealt at close range
[7]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
with each man's conscience. Though
he said some severe things, the smile
that played about his face, and the
love that looked from his eyes proved
that he was, as a friend at my side
remarked, "the apostle of a religion
of happiness."
I have heard some of the most
noted revival preachers and evan-
gelists of this century, but I have
never heard the real gospel of Jesus
pressed home more tenderly, log-
ically and powerfully than that morn-
ing on Fifth Avenue. And I rejoiced
that in that commanding centre,
where Sunday after Sunday he
speaks to the most wealthy and cult-
ured classes of the metropolis, to
club men and society women. Dr.
Babcock is to stand possessing the
light and terminology of modern
scholarship, yet telling the *'old, old
story of Jesus and his love" in a
way that in time must melt the walls
of indifference.
We would also quote briefly from
[8]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
that timely soul-stirring article by
Mr. Robert E. Speer:—
"There was at the table reclining
in Jesus' bosom, one of His disciples
whom Jesus loved." Mr. Speer
quotes this verse as the one doubt-
less called to mind by many in their
thoughts of Dr. Babcock. He recalls
their last meeting together.
We were walking in the country, Natural-
climbing a hill overlooking the Hud- ^^^^•
son, and the spring of his step was
only a sign of the spring of his mind
and soul. Suddenly he stopped to
catch sight of a little bird on a tree,
and watched it with delight swing to
and fro on the frailest of twigs, while
he quoted some lines from one who
saw the symbol of spiritual freedom
in the ease and liberty of the bird.
"Like as a bird, that lighted
Upon a branch that swings
Yet sways on, unaffrighted
Knowing he has his wings."
[9]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
That was his own spirit — jubilant,
sparkling. I never knew a life that
seemed here on earth so truly to
show forth the bright gladness of the
life of those who stand "all rapture
through and through, in God's most
holy sight."
He continues:
Unseif- No one ever touched Dr. Babcock
ishness. ^^thout gaining some sense of his
rich indifference to expenditure of
himself. There was no incessant re-
currence of the same notes, no repe-
tition of phrases and anecdotes. He
was himself always, but he was
showing himself always careless of
the out-go, prodigal with himself.
He had enough and to spare. . . .
He was perpetually seeing things in
new ways and speaking of them so.
His mind declined to work in trite
and commonplace forms. In this as
in many other things he was a real
genius. There was a tingle and bite
to his habits of thought and forms
of speech that would have compelled
[10]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
attention if they had not captivated
it willingly. He did not seek to be
philosophical or abstruse. He did
seek to be personal and direct, and
to clutch each man's conscience
and will and life and soul with the
jubilant, symphonic truth of God.
Perpetually flashes of humour bright-
ened all his talk. He could not have
prevented them if he had tried. . . .
He was a personal worker of super-
lative capacity. He was the very
prince of pastors, full of the most
ingenious devices of individual in-
terest and generous personal love.
He kept a record of the deaths in his
congregation, and on the anniversary
of the sorrow wrote to the one who
mourned. He had called on every
family in the Brick Church in New
York, within the first year. . . .
Unique as a preacher, we turn to Pastoral
1 • -VT 1 . . 1 Calling.
nim as a pastor. Nothmg m the
large round of his regular and irreg-
ular duties interfered with his devo-
[11]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
tion and faithfulness to pastoral visi-
tation. Directly after his office hour,
daily, he went into his parish. Few
men could make as many calls and
cover so wide an area. His sympa-
thetic personality attracted to the
church people from all parts of the
city, to say nothing of a wide sub-
urban following. Although regular
and systematic in visiting definite
districts, constantly he was com-
pelled to hasten to far-separated
points on account of sickness or dis-
tress. For many years he used a
bicycle, and it is said that no one
knew the definition of a straight line
between two Baltimore points better
than he, choosing almost instinct-
ively the pavements which meant
quickest transportation.
No doubt some pastors uninten-
[12]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
tionally exaggerate the number of
calls they really make, or are so
swamped by the immense number
they would like to make, that they
fail to note the discrepancy between
the ideal and the actual. Few pas-
tors can make a large number of
calls in an afternoon and still call
satisfactorily. The ordinary pastor
perhaps averages six or eight, taking
into account the distances to be
covered in a large parish. Dr. Bab-
cock frequently made five or six an
hour, and often fifteen or twenty in
an afternoon. He was able to run in
and out so as to accomplish the ob-
ject of a pastor as well as if he had
stayed longer. He had a way of
running into homes where he knew
all was well, and saying he simply
ran in to say "Boo." In other
[13]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
words the people knew through some
such by-word that he was thinking
of them but was too busy to stay
longer. On one occasion, when asked
why he could not stay longer, he re-
plied: "Why, did you think I had
time to come around here and bring
my knitting?" He had a way fre-
quently of asking the servant, when
he was told that Mrs. So-and-So
*' would be down in a few minutes,"
to tell her he was going to run in next
door, and would be back in five or
ten minutes, adding that she would
understand. When he did sit in the
parlour and wait, it was always to
utilize some book or magazine on the
library table, or one from his pocket.
His method of controlling the con-
versation was such that he quickly
got down to the essential, and often
[14]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
gave the impression that he had
stayed much longer than he really
had. He seemed to anticipate
thoughtfully just what topics of vital
interest should be approached and
encouraged.
The afternoon's calling was in-
variably followed by numerous notes
in the evening. The day's work was
done day by day, hence the inertia
and discouragement of accumulated
details were overcome. Frequently
a note simply contained a line or two
with a bit of a poem or quotation
enclosed which touched the indi-
vidual case; sometimes merely a
marginal word, or initials written
upon the edge of a card. It was the
personal touch all the way along,
day by day, week by week, year in
and year out.
ri5i
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
His tireless, unceasing labour as
a pastor is almost incomprehensible.
Although the church numbered
nearly eight hundred members, and
almost double that in congrega-
tional adherents, he worked without
an assistant, and aimed to call in
each home during the year, many
years attaining that aim.
Students. His work with students was re-
markable, and although he did not
by any means call upon all those
who sat under his ministry, he fol-
lowed up very carefully the men
whom he did know, and with whom
he was in touch. Students' rooms
were often entered in a quiet, natural
way. He sat down with the boys im-
mediately, making them feel suffi-
ciently at home so that pipes were
not thumbed out, or coats drawn on.
[16]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
In speaking of his work among
young men, one already quoted says,
"He never gave up hope, but once
on a man's track, so to speak, he
was never shaken off. He watched
his man, let him alone, touched him
again, met him when he was needed,
and appeared to abandon him, while
he bore him unceasingly on his heart,
and was resolved never to let him
go until brought to Christ. A per-
fect genius in conversation, flinging
off sparks as from a blacksmith's
anvil, he never lost sight of the spir-
itual end. He was filled with Christ's
passion for men, and used his un-
rivalled gifts never for mere social
ends but always for the diviner use."
He related the parish to the pulpit Frank-
ness.
m many practical ways, and never
hesitated to suggest from the pulpit
[17]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
in a frank and simple manner,
specific opportunities to assist. For
instance, he occasionally referred to
the inconvenience a pastor undergoes
in hunting for people who have
moved, simply because they fail to
notify him. He would cite the thought-
fulness of a woman who would send
down word when dressing or occu-
pied, that she could not come down
at once, and suggested his returning.
He frequently used a telephone, or
correspondence, to make appoint-
ments, where he had failed to gain
access through the ignorance or care-
lessness of unreliable servants.
Always alert to commend, he did
not hesitate to reprove the church in
her failings, but always with the
remedy at hand. Tardy attendance
at church service, and an unfriendly
[18]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
spirit toward strangers were reproved
in the following editorial, which he
wrote for the Church ''Monthly:"
The ushers of Brown Memorial Tact.
are thoughtful men, held in honour
for their work's sake if not for their
patience. They earn a salary which
is never paid, except when the mem-
bers of the church, by words of sym-
pathy and recognition, warm their
hearts. In several ways we can
lighten their spirits and lengthen
their lives. Come punctually to
church. It helps the order of God's
house. It will give you a short
preparatory service. To be a little
ahead of time costs but a little
thought, and will prove an invest-
ment from which fine dividends are
drawn all through life.
Tell the usher, as you enter church,
of any vacant seats in your pew. If
you have sittings and the vestibule is
crowded, go through the chapel or
the yard of the Manse, and enter
the church by one of the west doors,
[19]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
Strangers should not do this. If you
find your place taken, remember that
the usher is but **dust and ashes,"
like yourself, and that this is a "well
regulated family." Smile on him
and say, **It is all right. I will take
the stranger's chance to-day." So you
will relieve his fears and find a
saint's niche in his esteem. The
service may be blessed to you from
a new point of view.
Thought- When the church became over-
crowded during the latter part of his
pastorate in Baltimore, he frequently
placed in the hands of a friend his
card, asking the usher to give to the
individual whose name was written
upon the card a seat.
He had an arrangement with the
sexton of the church, whereby nu-
merous personal notes were an-
swered through the medium of the
church service. A drawer of his
[20]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
desk was permanently designated
for the faithful sexton. This was
visited every Sunday morning before
service, and numerous notes quietly
placed in the hands of the ushers,
who gave them to parishioners w^hen
entering or leaving the church, the
number of the pew, or location in
the church, frequently designated on
the envelope as addressed.
Although loyal to the standards of Breadth.
his church, and believing in her con-
sistent character. Dr. Babcock w^as
not a narrow denominationalist. He
was not anxious to make Presbyte-
rians, but Christians, and as readily
urged people to unite with other
churches as with his own, w^hen cir-
cumstances warranted it. To one he
writes, "Just *Why are you a Pres-
[211
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
byterian ? ' is a question we do not
ask you. If you are to be a better
Christian by the grace of God and
enjoy Him, the object of the Pres-
byterian Church has been accom-
plished."
To one who had received help at
a church service, but who did not
feel quite at home, and had written
to make an appointment, he wrote,
"You are welcome (pews, or no
pews) if there is here the help you
need. You need not give your-
self any concern about uniting with
this communion (we are all one in
Jesus Christ). You need not unless
you want to. I shall be glad to call
on you at your home the first chance
I get. Pay as little attention to dis-
couragements as possible. Plough
ahead as a steamer does, rough or
[221
FOOTSTEPS MN A PARISH
smooth, rain or shine. Carry your
cargo and make your port, is the
point."
Many teachers, both in our public Teachers.
and private schools, some of whom
were not identified with the church
in membership, looked upon him as
pastor. Even after his removal to
New York, he kept in touch with
many of them. He writes to one,
"Your note gave me real pleasure.
I wish you could have blown over
here with the breeze. Blow into
New York City some time when we
are at home, and say at church that
you are one of my 'old time friends,'
and sit near the front, and then come
to 14 East Thirty-seventh, and pick
a bone with us. I hope the Summer
will refresh you. To be useful is the
[23]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
core and crown of life. Be more
useful than ever. Remember me
thru the 'teacher coterie.'' Ever your
friend, Domine B."
Recrea- Although some have said that he
did not know how to rest, those who
knew him most intimately realized
that change of employment was rest
to one of his temperament. At the
close of a vacation he writes: "There
would be no deep colour, or real joy,
in vacation, if it did not draw out the
hard work and send us back heartier.'*
" He seemed to see the need, physi-
cal as well as mental, in some who
were overworked and never failed
to enlighten them. Let me sug-
gest apropos of something in your
note, that nature is a punctilious
bookkeeper and charges up every
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
item in our vital account. It may be
that you have been overdrawing, liv-
ing beyond your means. Shut off
the harshest note and put on the
softest dulciano. I believe in getting
tired. No one is worth anything to
the world who does not get tired,
but a day's work that a night will
not rest, a year's work that a vaca-
tion will not rest, is not good work.
Steady yourself, for you know you
are of the intense kind. Leisurely
is not lazily. The heart rests be-
tween its beats, and I know you
know the secret of lifting your heart
to the Lord, and letting it rest with
Him even in the midst of your cares."
He rejoiced in personal corre- Corre-
spondence; questions which touched ence.
vital points. Probably no minister
[25]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
ever had a larger ^personal corre-
spondence. Scores of notes were
often written in a day, and to each
he gave his best, real self. For ex-
ample, "You do me good like medi-
cine, and I thank you heartily.
Your friend is wrong. No earnest
heart is hurt by words of apprecia-
tion."
He always dealt precisely with the
problem at hand. To one in diffi-
culty he wrote: "Obedience is the
eye of the soul. Communion is the
opportunity of obedience sooner or
later rewarded. John 14 : 21, is true,
unchangeable, — but just when Jesus
manifests Himself is not said. Obey
and trust. Ever your friend, M. D. B."
Brevity. His peculiar gift in brevity and
exactness should be noted. He had
[26]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
a remarkable way of putting words
together, relating thought and eu-
phony, comdensing truth but light-
ing up dark skies as with an electric
flash. To a nature-lover he wrote:
Thank you for your kindest words.
I think of your friendship with pleas-
ure and rejoice in your vision and
your devotion to duty and beauty.
His pen was his servant as a pas- Note-
tor as much as his feet in calling, ^^^^'
and especially in meeting individual
problems. To one who had written
her doubts as to Christian Science,
he answered with the following letter:
I can only speak for myself. I
would not consider Christian Science
anything short of the Witch of Endor.
The basis of it on which it certainly
has helped many people is a truth
always known and now more and
more appreciated. . . . The power
[27]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
of mind over matter ! That is hardly
explored yet, although Magnetism,
Perkins "Metallic Tractors," Mes-
merism, Hypnotism, Telepathy, and
what not, have dug quite a way into
the mountain. There is the practical
human basis of C. S. on the divine
side. I wish I knew what God
thinks, but this much is true, that this
new system which denies the ^person-
ality of God (and that ends "our
faith"), the reality of sin and the
atonement, may call itself Christian,
but is an infringement on the patent.
I think C. S. neither Christian nor
scientific. I could tell you of people
I have known intimately, who were
uplifted, exalted, cured and who
afterwards absolutely collapsed, and
in several distressing instances, died.
Their whole system breaks down at
death. Mrs. Eddy will die when her
time comes just like the rest of us.
They are full of words, and are cov-
ered up in inconsistencies. I would not
have anything to do with them. I can
give you all you want to read, if you
[28]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
care to have me. I am in no way in-
different to the sufferings in this par-
ticular case nor to your heart. Can-
not she claim God's goodness and
power quite as well under James's
auspices (James 5 : 15), as under
Mrs. Eddy's ? I send you a small
book and clippings.
This little poem which follows is the
one he enclosed and is a sample of
a vast number he constantly used,
always suggestive and to the point.
Rest in the Lord, my soul;
Commit to Him thy way.
What to thy sight seems dark as night.
To Him is bright as day.
Rest in the Lord, my soul;
He planned for thee thy life,
Brings fruits from rain, brings good
from pain,
And peace and joy from strife.
[29]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
Rest in the Lord, my soul;
This fretting weakens thee.
Why not be still? Accept His will;
Thou shalt His glory see.
His correspondence reached to all.
The man who delivered milk at the
house, the street-car conductor or
the piano-tuner, were looked upon not
so much as servants, but as friends.
To his piano-tuner, he once wrote:
Enclosed find Two Dollars ($2.00)
for your last medical services to your
patient in the parlour. Our quar-
tette is broken up for the summer,
and our house is to be cleaned out in
a week or two. With heartfelt appre-
ciation for all your kindnesses, and
with the hope that next winter your
professional services will be called
for, I am
Yours very truly,
M. D. B.
He was gifted in helping two
[30]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
persons at the same time, as the fol-
lowing letter will show:
Dear Mr. Blank:
A poor woman in our church has
a piano which a blind man used to
tune for One Dollar. If you can
afford to do it for that price, call at
the enclosed address, presenting this
card. Then, when you are in our
neighbourhood, cast your friendly eye
and turn your critical ear upon my
piano.
When he went to New York his im-
mediate duties increased immeasur-
ably, but no detail of need seemed to
escape his notice and loving thought.
He seemed to appreciate George
Eliot's thought, **I desire no future
that will break the ties of the past."
All kinds of personal notes went to
different people. His same old piano-
tuner received the following letter:
[31]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
Before I leave for my work, I wish
to tell you how much I appreciate
the perfection of the work you have
done on my piano (and violin, too),
and the punctuality and politeness
that have always characterized you.
Wherever I am, I hope you will al-
ways think of me as your sincere
friend.
Acknowl- Every kindness and gift was
promptly and characteristically ac-
knowledged. A bouquet of wild flow-
ers brought at once this note:
Oh, so beautiful and refreshing!
How near flowers bring your thoughts
to children, birds, angels and the
good God!
In acknowledging a Christmas gift
from one of the older members of the
church he wrote:
Happy, hearty thanks to you, and
many more New Years, as the loving
[321
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
Father thinks best, and 100000000000-
0000000000000000 in the Ufeto come.
An elder who had brought him a
brace of partridges from a little
hunting trip in Virginia, received an
illustrated card portraying a man
walking in the mountains, with the
sun rising, and his gun discharg-
ing over his head, with the words
*'Many thanks," and the date.
One of the most characteristic illus- Sym-
pathy.
trations of the far reach oi his sym-
pathy and love is related by a mother
in one of the other large parishes of
his own denomination. The only
daughter in the home had suddenly
been stricken with a disease, slow but
necessarily fatal, which ultimately
caused her death. The church of which
she was a member had been for some
[33]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
time without a pastor. That Summer
he spent abroad. When in Edinburgh,
he remembered a former conversa-
tion with this girl and thought of her
in her illness, and without a pastor.
Recalling this conversation they once
had together in regard to Edinburgh,
he wrote a long and beautiful letter,
explaining how much he knew she
must miss a pastor at that time. It
was not as if he had taken time to
do these things from the duties of
his own parish, for this was the
"second mile" in his life, and one
who so constantly and faithfully
remembered those of his own mem-
bership, naturally and spontaneously
gave his best to others also.
Youv^ He entered into the life of the
reopie.
young of the parish by a sympathetic
[341
03
•^3
&J0
'I
o
^
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
understanding and appreciation of all
their occupations. The reading of the
young lives was constantly a matter
of interest to him. To one he writes:
With the selections of your reading
in Thackeray, Eliot and Dickens, I
am in deep sympathy. Why will peo-
ple drink muddy water, when such
clear-flowing can be had }
A vacation letter in answer to one
whose love for nature always was
recognized, says:
Store up these lovely memories, and
be faithful, and let all the holiness
of beauty lure you to the beauty
of holiness. I pray that seeing God
in everything may lead you to show-
ing Him in everything. May Sum-
mer rest be Winter work for us all.
All kinds of suggestions he had to
interest the boys and girls in the
parish. When visiting the galleries
[35]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
in Paris, on the trip taken in 1898,
he wrote:
One of the pleasantest ways of
eating your cake and having it too,
is making an album of famous pict-
ures. They can be picked up here
and there in magazines, or bought
for little money in large quantities.
Little by little your acquaintance-
ship grows, and with it your works
of art and genius. More education
and cultivation can be gained from
such a course than coins, stamps, or
autographs can give. I will be glad
to hear that any of the boys and girls
at home will make a beginning, and
I will aid and abet them all I can.
His marvellous thoughtfulness was
seen on his last trip to the Holy Land.
Just before he was called from earth
I received the following note from
him, dated —
Bethel, first half day out
of Jerusalem,
[36]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
I have ordered four hundred cards The
adorned with flowers of Palestine, ^^'^^ren
to be sent to you for the Brown Me-
morial Sabbath School Scholars, with
oidtime love and greeting. The
Brown Memorial travellers are do-
ing well and adding much to the
pleasure of the party. This pict-
ure is of the edge of the Valley Ked-
ron, looking from Jerusalem toward
Mount of Olives. Love to you and
our friends.
These cards are now framed and
adorn hundreds of homes in Balti-
more and elsewhere.
His love and interest in the chil-
dren was singularly beautiful. If
ever a man loved them he did, but
few took so much time with them.
His notes to the children are fasci-
nating. Would that we could exactly
reproduce many, showing his quick
and striking use of illustration. Here
[37]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
is a note to the Junior Department
in the Sunday School:
My dear Junior Brothers and
Sisters:
Child I hope you will all be true to your
Letters, promise and true to your Saviour
and Master, this year. Attend punct-
ually the meetings, learn your verses,
take your part, remembering that
these are the most important days of
your life, beginning good habits or
bad ones. The wax gets hard in the
shape it was when soft. The dough
cake bakes in the form of the pan.
The hot iron gets cold and stiff in
the mould, and children make or mar
their lives before they are twelve.
Try every day to please Jesus, and
you will grow up to be like Him.
Ever your friend,
M. D. Babcock.
A Easter gift from two little sisters
prompted the following:
Thank you for the green egg and
the pink basket. I appreciate your
[38]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
thinking of me when you have so
much to learn, and so many games
to play, and so many little friends,
and so many good meals to eat, and
everything. I hope you will both
ask yourselves every day, "What
can I do to make some one happy
to-day?" This will help to make
your life like the life of the loving
Saviour.
Ever your friend,
Maltbie D. Babcock.
Even a valentine from two little sis-
ters had a unique reply which is repro-
duced in facsimile opposite page 40.
His children's sermons, given at cui-
least twice during the year, were Sermom.
anticipated and remembered. He
once said, "Talking to children is
one of the most delightful tasks in the
world, but talking to children before
adults is like David dancing before
the Lord with Michal looking out of
[39]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
the window." But he forgot the
adults, and talked directly to the
children, and frequently on Chil-
dren's Day asked them to write for
him extracts of the sermon. Chil-
dren never have forgotten his love
for the word Grow, which he fixed
in the memory by the acrostic **Go
Bight On Working'' The following
selections from his sermons, as re-
membered by nine-year old listeners,
show his power as well as his simple
impressive style:
9^y-^ \^Tiat is the chief end of man.? It
^^ ^ * is neither his head nor his feet, but
the chief end of man is to glorify God
and enjoy Him forever. What is
meant by glorifying ? It means to do
our very best to praise the one who
has helped us. For example: Some
one asked a little girl to play a piece
on the piano, and she said, *'Oh, no,
I could not think of such a thing."
[40]
REV. MALTBIE DAVENPORT BABCOCK,
BROWN MEMORIAL PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH.
BALTIMORE.
%
^^^ fC&^ U^ iasiL-
'd\J^---?sr: (nt
7
A reply to a valentine from two si
sters
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
She was asked, "How long have you
been taking lessons?" "For two
years," she said. Well, this little girl
was not glorifying her teacher. An-
other little girl was asked if she could
play a piece. She said, "Yes, sir,
you are very kind to ask me," and
she played very well, only making a
few mistakes. She was asked, "How
long have you been taking lessons .^"
and she replied, "One year." Well,
that little girl was glorifying her
teacher. What is man for.^ Man
was made to do the best he could to
glorify God. He was not made to
kick like a mule, nor bark and snarl
like a dog, nor to be a dumb figure
dressed up like those in front of the
clothing stores. Like a watch, he
was made for a certain purpose.
The best thing a watch can do is to
keep correct time. It is not to be
used to prop up a broken piano leg,
or for any other strange use. Every
one has his share of good to do even
if he is poor and helpless.
March 17, 1891.
[41]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
Once upon a time Jesus was in a
house with many people. He saw
a bUnd man coming. Do you think
He said, '* What can I get this man to
do for me.^" No, Jesus thought,
*'What can I do for this poor bhnd
man.^" Jesus "went about doing
good." Acts 10:38. You should
not go around teasing your little
brother and sister. You do not want
this on your tombstone, **This is the
child who teased everybody." You
should not always want the largest
piece of anything. You do not want
this on your tombstone, **This was
a greedy child." You should be kind
to everything.
Once a gentleman was walking
along the street, when he saw a dog
wagging his tail and trying to get in
a gate. He thought, '*What can I
do for this poor dog .^" He laid down
his satchel, walked across the street,
opened the gate and let him in, and
made the dog feel glad.
I would rather be a stream of
water than a pool, for it goes around
[42]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
doing good. The birds come down
and drink out of it. It runs through
the spring-house and keeps the milk
cool. It dampens the farmer's ground
and does lots of good. But the pool
stands still, just as stingy as can be,
with nothing but frogs and tadpoles
in it.
The door is the entrance to any The
place. I suppose you have passed ^^^^'
through at least six doors to-day;
the bed-room door, the bath-room
door, and if every boy and girl had
their breakfast they passed through
the dining-room door, front door,
Sunday School door and church
door. There are ugly doors which
you bang! When the boys come
home from school, they think so
much about the piece of ginger-bread
they are going to get, that they leave
the front door open, and baby
catches cold. Presently mother calls,
"Where in the world does that draft
come from ? You, Harry, shut that
door." Then Mr. Harry gives the
door a bang. That is the same as
[43]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
making the door swear. Doors hang
on a very small thing called a hinge.
Not long ago, as a minister was
walking across the fields, he became
very thirsty, so he stopped at a house
and asked a pretty little girl for a
drink of water. "Certainly," she
said, and she brought him a dipper
full. Then he asked her if she knew
who said, " I am the water of life," and
she said *' Jesus." Then he asked her
if she ever asked for this water of life,
and she said "No." So he passed on.
Some years later, when he was on a
steamboat, a lady came up to him and
asked him whether he knew her.
"No," he said, "I do not." "Do you
not remember some time ago when
you were crossing the field, and you
stopped at a house and asked for a
drink of water .^" "Yes," said he,
"I believe I do." "Well, I am that
little girl, and I have been a Chris-
tian ever since." This was a large
door on a very small hinge.
The following is from an eight-year-
old boy:
[44]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
The Bees. The bees are s\wajs The Bees.
busy. They are not like the flies.
FHes are lazy. The way bees talk,
they talk with their two hairs in the
front of their mouth. Sometimes they
say, ** There is a bug over there. Let
us go and get it." The next is about
its body. It is a little round thing with
several wings on it. Its tongue is as
long as its body. Now suppose your
tongue was as long as your body.
Now, wouldn't it be funny when the
doctor comes, if he would say,'** Put
out your tongue." The third thing is
about its legs. When they come out
of the flowers the powder is all over
their backs. Then they use their feet
to brush it all off. Their legs are just
like brushes. The female bees are
always busy. They are not like the
male bees. They are lazy, fly low to
the ground, and keep up a nasty
buzz. The females are very useful.
They go out and get honey and sap.
The things they live in are called
hives. Sometimes a snail gets into
the hive, and the bees sting it to
[45]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
death, and then fly out and get some
sap or gum and spread all over it.
The bees teach us a lesson about not
being lazy. Whenever father or moth-
er are sick or tired, ask them if you
can't go on the errand for them. If
they are better tell them they better
go driving and I will stay at home.
This from a nine-year old:
The My dear Pastor: This is what I
H^ouse remember of the sermon. Don't hit
people younger than yourself. It is
a bad spirit that makes you do it.
. . . There are four things, the tem-
ple, the bad man, the porter, and the
King. The temple is yourself, the bad
man is Satan, the Porter is the man
that lived in the King's house, the
King is the Lord. The Porter kept
the King's house very clean and nice,
but one day the bad man came and
said to the Porter that he was one of
his friends; and the Porter said,
'*Are you.^" *'Yes," was the reply.
Then the Porter said, "If you are,
you can come in," and the bad man
[46]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
came in, and when he did, he took
a sword out of his breast and said:
**This house is mine, and you are my
slave." The Porter was afraid, but the
bad man was stronger than he. The
bad man put bad books on the ta-
bles, and bad pictures on the walls.
Soon the King came and said to the
Porter, **Open the door." But the
bad man shook his fist at him, and
told him not to open the door. Then
the Porter heard a sound that said
that he better had, that it would be
better for him, so when the bad
man's back was turned, the Porter
opened the door, and the King said,
"Get out of this house." Then the
King made a good house out of it,
and you would have thought it an-
other house. After that, the bad man
came again and again, but the Por-
ter would not let him in.
Dr. Babcock instituted the custom
of the Church Session giving a Bible
to each baptized child who had at-
tained the age of twelve years. This
[47]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
is what he prepared to be placed in
each Bible.
Bible When Jesus was twelve years old
inscrip- jj^ ^g^g taken to the Temple at Je-
rusalem, because He was no longer
a little child, but a youth who would
soon be a man. We feel to-day that
when you are twelve years of age you
are old enough to think earnestly
about right and wTong, and about
your rapidly forming character. We
believe that you are the Lord's. You
were given to Him in Baptism by
your parents, and were thus recog-
nized as a child-member of Christ's
Church. As such a member, you have
received from us a Bible. It tells of
God's love to you (Jer. 31 : 3, Mark
10 : 14, Romans 5 : 8, 1 John 4 : 7-
11). If God loves you and has given
Jesus to be your Saviour and Friend,
will you not of your own accord give
yourself to Him .^ (Romans 12:1,
2 Cor. 5 :14, 15). He will accept you
(Matt. 11 : 28-30, John 6 : 37). He
asks you to trust Him and to try to
[48]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
please Him. He asks you to obey
Him, and says that He will accept
your obedience for love (Matt. 7 :
24, 25, John 14 : 21-23, 1 John 2 :
5). You are not saved because you
try to be good, but you try to be
good because you are saved. A
Christian life is living your thanks
to God for His love to you (1 John
4 : 19). Because Jesus died for you,
you try to live for Him.
When you know you have given
yourself to Him, and are going to do
your best to obey and serve Him,
confess Him as your Saviour and come
to His table (Matt. 10 : 32-33.
Read your Bible every day to know
more about God's love and your duty
(2 Timothy 3:15). Be obliging,
obedient, pure, trustful, unselfish,
forgiving, industrious, persevering,
punctual. Do not read anything your
conscience disapproves. Do not criti-
cise unless it is your duty. Live the
Golden Rule, the life of Love (Matt.
7 : 12, Acts 20 : 35, John 13 : 34).
If you are in doubt about anything,
[49]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
think what Jesus would do (1 John
2 :6), and pray to your Father in
Heaven to show you what is right
and to help you to do it. Try to live
so that Jesus w ill be pleased ; so that
you will make your home, your
school, your church, your work, your
play better and not worse on your
account; so that People will learn
about Jesus and the Christian life
through you (Matt. 5 : 16) ; so that at
last you may hear the words, "Well
done, good and faithful servant."
(Matt. 25 : 21.)
This was signed by the Pastor and
Clerk of the Session.
''Dolt The following incident taken from
(HiTLife ^ recent sermon at Brown Memorial
Motto.) Church, upon " The Sunday School,"
I use as personal testimony of Dr.
Babcock's value of work among the
children :
There are numbers of children who
[50]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
are not regularly in any Sunday
School. The most effective way to
reach these families is through the
children. Some fifteen years ago.
Dr. Babcock was walking down a
street in Baltimore within half a
mile of our church, and saw a little
girl fall on the sidewalk. He helped
her to her feet, and as she looked up
at him in surprise and gratitude, he
asked her whether she went to Sun-
day School. Receiving a negative re-
ply, he called soon at her house, and
invited the child and her mother to
come to church and Sunday School.
They came, and became regular
attendants. Within a month or two,
a little cousin in a neighbouring street
came with them, and another family
was reached. Not to go into details,
to my knowledge, six persons have
united with this church as the direct
result of following up that brief con-
versation with the little child who
had stumbled. And better still, a half
dozen families have through this in-
cident, taken their natural place in
[51]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
the church through the Sunday
School. Is not this a picture of our
principle ? Is not the church of Christ
His divinely appointed institution to
lead us nearer to Him and to asso-
ciate us more nearly in His serv-
ice ? Is not the Church of Christ the
*' Meeting House" of the homes and
the community, and not only the
place where individuals may meet
and worship God, but a place where
the family altar may receive a deep
inspiration in the common worship
with other firesides ? Through the
child in the Sunday School, the
homes without God should find the
church, and the church should find
them.
The City. His pastoral work touched the en-
tire city. All in need seemed to seek
him. His warm heart and practical
human interest made him a magnet
for those out of employment and con-
sequently in distress! Old residents
in the city, and those who are com-
[52]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
petent to judge, claim this to be true
to a greater degree than with any one
who has ever resided in Baltimore,
and there was a cause for this. His
unfailing sympathetic reply was usu-
ally followed by the securing of a situ-
ation for the person in need. After a
time this caused much comment,
and frequently astonishment. '*At
this time," writes one who was in
close touch with the factories, foun-
dries, mills, etc., and who knew of
many changes among employes, "if
Dr. Babcock was especially inter-
ested in a man or woman, I do not
recall a single instance in which em-
ployment was not there. If I antici-
pated great trouble, a letter from him
to a member of the firm (whether
known by him or not) seemed to act
like magic. I have known firms hav-
[531
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
ing no vacancy to take on an extra
man more than once on account of a
letter from him. His magnetism ex-
tended to Jew and Romanist ahke.
Influential men among both, when
asked to enlist in the cause of secur-
ing employment for some unfortunate
one, would confer and generally land
the man safely. So far had the knowl-
edge of this spread, that finally cer-
tain persons comfortably situated in
desirable positions, wrote endeav-
ouring to better their conditions,
but the talisman was not used for
such cases." Almost more than hu-
man insight seemed to detect the
motive which was not genuine and
worthy.
Students Studcuts always sought him, and
^^^^' were sought out by him, that he might
[54]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
meet their need. At his death, a
former Johns Hopkins student wrote
of him as "a personal loss to hun-
dreds of former students scattered
all over the world." He refers to him
as a favourite with the young men of
the university, who were helped and
encouraged by his pure life and heart-
to-heart preaching. He was espe-
cially kind and helpful to those strug-
gling with poverty and assisted many,
regardless of church aflfiliations, to
obtain the employment necessary to
finish their course. He singled out
those who were obliged to spend
Thanksgiving and Christmas vaca-
tions in Baltimore, and invited
them to his cheerful home, and
they really felt they were among
friends who had deep interest in
their welfare.
[55]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
At the The influence over college men, as
0 eges. ^^ ^^^ them, was just as strong as his
influence in the pulpit. "The Har-
vard University Forum," of Janu-
ary 25, 1898, contains an article
which shows the impression he made
there.
Harvard. On Saturday morning appeared
this notice in the "Crimson": "Rev-
erend M. D. Babcock, of Baltimore,
will conduct service at Appleton
Chapel to-morrow evening. He is re-
garded as one of the most conspic-
uous young preachers of the Pres-
byterian Church in the East, and has
been called to several of the largest
pastorates. This will be his first visit
to Harvard."
Knowing that Dr. Babcock is a
Syracuse graduate, and that he deliv-
ered the Alumni oration in Crouse
Hall in 1895, I went down to Apple-
ton to hear him.
Before the hymn was finished read-
[56]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
ing, the speaker had produced a
favourable impression on the audi-
ence. Standing in the high Puritan
pulpit, overlooking a church of pil-
lars, galleries and high-backed seats
full of Harvard men, he looked, in
his robes, not unlike a clergyman of
the Church of England. No fire,
however, was lacking in voice or
manner. He went straight to his sub-
ject. Every man is an individual
with a work. Not "learning for
learning's sake," not 'Hruth for
truth's sake," but self-culture for self-
consecration ; self-mastery for service!
Clear, modulated voice, pungent ar-
gument, and strenuous earnestness,
relieved at times by a light touch
of humour, waked up that audience
as Harvard audiences seldom are
awakened.
After his sermon was over, and as
the great organ was playing the
postlude, I heard a man say to his
neighbour, "I've been studying 'for
learning's sake,' but I believe he s
right!" The next day I saw several
[57]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
that believed "he's right," and the
whole college has been talking of
him ever since.
HisPho- During those years which imme-
diately followed his annual visit, the
students' rooms throughout the
schools and colleges where he
preached had his photograph in
evidence. This was especially true
in room after room among the boys
in the fifth and sixth forms at the
Hill School, for here particularly he
seemed to have a hold upon their
hearts, and frequently when I have
been calling on the boys in their
rooms, a happy lad would say, as I
stopped before the photograph, "He
gave that to me himself."
The Hill In speaking of the Hill School,
memory goes back to the occasion of
my first visit there during the Winter
[58]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
of nineteen hundred and one or two.
Many demands for outside work
came to me those first years in Balti-
more, especially from the schools
and colleges, and it was wise to de-
cline most invitations. But when the
invitation came from the Hill School,
I recalled a single remark he made
on the night of my installation. His
part was the charge to the pastor,
but just before we entered the
church, in his happy pleasantry of
impulsive suggestion, he said, "Do
not say 'Yes' to all the invitations
you get, but if they ask you to go up
to preach to the boys at the Hill
School, you go'' This made a dent
in my memory, because much of his
charge was devoted to the counsel of
refusing outside and additional work.
The first time I visited the Hill
[59]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
School will ever be fresh in my mem-
ory. They were in the old chapel then,
or the long general class room used as
a chapel. His favourite hymns were
used. I did not feel like an inter-
loper but as if his very presence
gave inspiration and personality to
the message. The warm welcome
from all immediately touched a re-
sponsive chord, which vibrated, and
has vibrated as the years have gone
by. Those manly boys in the upper
forms all remembered him on that
January day, and during the service
I referred to the personal wish he
had expressed as to them, if the in-
vitation came to preach. Every fel-
low seemed linked to him through
his affectionate, winsome personality,
and many a hand-shake which was
mine that day, I recognized as alive
[60]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
with the ambition and spirit he had
created.
Somewhat similar was the re- student
Confer-
sponse everywhere with students, ences.
The Summer previous, at Asheville,
at the Southern Student Conference,
one of the manly young leaders in
the work of a Southern university
greeted me with the remark that he
had found Christ one Sunday morn-
ing when visiting his brother, then a
student at Johns Hopkins Univer-
sity, with whom he attended church
at Brown Memorial.
On entering the chapel when
preaching at Princeton, the Fall of
that same year of nineteen hundred
and two, the old care-taker, upon
hearing that I came from Baltimore,
remarked, "We had a man from
Baltimore here three years ago, who
[61]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
kept the boys awake. In fact they
did not seem to want to have him
stop preaching." (Any man who
knows college students, reahzes the
force of this compHment.) One may
well imagine the preacher's feeling
of helplessness with such an intro-
duction, but the day was unique in
that it was the first Sunday of Presi-
dent Wilson in his executive capac-
ity, and perhaps the novelty of things
in general alleviated distress.
Searching The following information comes
to me as personal testimony from
one now a successful physician in our
city, but formerly a missionary under
our Foreign Board, whose return was
occasioned by ill health in his family:
In 1893, my plans for earning my
college expenses having fallen
through, I found myself facing the
[G2]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
situation of paying for room, food
and college fees with twenty dollars
in my pocket. My chum, like my-
self, a medical student preparing for
the Foreign Field, was in the same
case. We chose Baltimore as a place
where living expenses are cheaper
than in New York, paid the college
lees, rented a room and hunted up
the cheapest places to buy food. We
found that it would be possible after
paying fifty cents a week apiece for
room rent, to live on one dollar's
worth of food, and started in on this
basis; but even so, our funds soon
ran short and the problem of earn-
ing a few dollars became a vital one.
One day as I was walking back from
college, I remembered how pressing
this need had become. As I neared
my lodging (a little upper-story back
room on Broadway), I noticed a bi-
cycle at the door of the house, but
paid no attention to it, and wended
my way upstairs, trying as I passed
the family downstairs to be as cheer-
ful as usual.
[63]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
Individ- In my room, an angel in disguise
Veeds ^^^ awaiting me, for there sat a man
whom my room-mate introduced as
Dr. Maltbie Babcock, pastor of
Brown Memorial Church. With-
out further ceremony, he said to me,
**Do you know me.'^ Did you ever
hear me speak on the subject * Over-
coming Difficulties' ? Have you ever
been to the Y. M. C. A. ? and did
you write a letter to me, and not sign
your name, as being a young man
who had overcome difficulties .^ "
As soon as I could catch my
breath, after this business-like be-
ginning, I replied, "Yes, I have
heard of you, and have heard you
speak; but as to writing the letter,
I cannot say, for I often write letters
and forget them as soon as they are
written." So he went on to describe
the letter which said in substance,
"I have heard you speak this after-
noon on the subject of * Overcom-
ing Difficulties,' and wondered
whether I could not tell you some-
thing about overcoming difficulties in
[64]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
the way of getting an education. I
have been living in a garret, and my
food and rent have only cost me one
dollar and a half a week," etc., etc.
"Well," I said, "Dr. Babcock,
that suits my case, and the writing
looks like mine, but I do not remem-
ber doing it."
Then he said, "Do you know
Reverend C. H. Daniels, of Bos-
ton.?" I said '^Yes." "Well, he sent
me to you, and do you know how .?"
I could not imagine, so he said,
"Well, it was this way. When I re-
ceived your anonymous letter, I put
it away with the sermon, 'Over-
coming Difficulties,' and when I
preached that sermon at Dr. Dan-
iels's church in Boston in the Spring,
I related this little incident, and said,
' I have often wished that I could find
those boys who are striving so hard
to get an education.' After service.
Dr. Daniels said to me, *Dr. Bab-
cock, I can tell you who one of those
young men is, for he has written to
me telling me of his work in Balti-
[65]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
more where he is preparing to go as
a medical missionary.' When I re-
turned home this letter was awaiting
me, the name and 215 N. Broadway
given, asking me to please go to see
you and find out how you are get-
ting along. So here I am, ready to
do anything I can to help you; and
you know there are many people in
my congregation who stand ready to
give me anything I need to help
those who help themselves. So don't
you hesitate to call upon me at any
time. Good-bye," and he was gone.
But let me say that the next mail
brought a check for five dollars,
which was the first of several re-
ceived that Winter. Not only this,
he did not forget to see that we had
a good Christmas dinner and often
gave us an order for groceries at the
best store in town.
All through the following Winter,
Dr. Babcock still watched over us,
and when my room-mate fell ill with
typhoid fever, he stood by us in all
our diflSculties. After my gradua-
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tion and hospital service was over,
when I was ready to sail for Africa
and was married, we both joined
Brown Memorial Church, and his
helpful letters to me on the field were
always of good cheer.
A dear friend has just written me
a letter regarding him, which adds
to our thought. She writes:
He opened every window of his
soul toward Him who is love. Who
"went about doing good," then
turned his glad face to every creature
that crossed his path, and light and
warmth radiated from him to them.
The little children that he met always
received his cheery smile. Yes, it
once pleased him that a common
little English sparrow continued to
drink when he had passed close to it.
He knew the value of trifles. It is THfie
out of littleness that greatness ger-
minates. He realized that words
and acts are seeds. Only God can
estimate the harvest. This kept him
[67]
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alert for opportunities. Once no-
ticing on the train a bright, inteUigent
boy who was plying his mother and
sister with questions until their pa-
tience was exhausted, he beckoned
to the boy and showed him a new
watch with a peculiar mechanism
which he explained to the delighted
child. Suddenly the boy exclaimed,
"I know you, sir, you preached in
our church in Washington one Sun-
day on ' Luck.' I liked that sermon,
but people are lucky sometimes,
aren't they.?" In the sermon to
which the boy referred occurred the
true definition of the accidental,
"Luck is law unrecognized. Chance
is purpose in disguise." I do not
doubt that the sermon that followed
addressed to the one little listener in
reply to his eager question was as
full of thought as the memorable
one to the great congregation.
Human He kncw human nature. He stud-
Nature, j^^j j^ jj^ j.]^^ Ijy^g ^f ]^jg q^^ congre-
gation and the people that daily
crossed his path, and the material
[68]
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thus gained was woven into his ser-
mons. In his prayers more powerful
than his sermons, his people felt that
he was indeed their priest bringing
their individual needs to the "Great
High Priest."
He knew the Word of God, the The
revelation of the Divine nature and ^^'*^-
the key which unlocks the mystery
of the other two volumes and con-
verts knowledge into life.
In a sermon on "The Bible" he
once said :
The Bible holds its influence over
men, not because it is thousands of
years old, but because it is a present
answer to present needs. This Book
will keep you from sin or sin will
keep you from this Book.
The following illustration he also
used at the time:
Some years ago, two gentlemen
were riding together, and as they
were about to separate, one ad-
[69]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
dressed the other thus: "Do you ever
read your Bible?" "Yes, but I get
no benefit from it, because, to tell the
truth, I feel I do not love God."
"Neither did I," replied the other,
"but God loved me." This answer
produced such an effect upon his
friend, that to use his own words, it
was as if one had lifted him off the
saddle into the skies, so great was
the truth it opened up to his soul.
Ministe- He never defined the limit of his
tesy. parish with any degree of strictness.
Every courtesy and thoughtful atten-
tion was extended to the interests of
other pastors and churches. When-
ever he crossed the line of another
pastor, he quickly stepped aside to let
the other have his full place. As a
neighbour, he never hesitated to enter
a home where there was need, no
matter what the church relation. One
night on coming home to the manse
[701
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
quite late, he saw a light burning in
an unaccustomed place in the home of
an invalid. Following his impulse he
was quickly on the steps, and after
ringing the bell quietly, inquired if
there was anything he could do to
help. It was just the moment when
a friend was needed, and his thought-
fulness has never been forgotten, not
only by the family benefited, but by
the entire neighbourhood. It is only
another illustration of that wonder-
ful truth, often forgotten, that im-
pulse prompted by loving thought
seldom goes astray.
The footprints would not lead us far Con-fi- ^
enough if we did not follow them a Men.
little farther into the personal realm.
Peculiarly he seemed to possess the
gift of discriminating insight as to
[71]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
character, and was able to distinguish
between the man with honest pur-
pose and will and the one who
feigned sincerity. We would not so ex-
aggerate as to claim that errors of
judgment were never made, but re-
peated incidents show that the per-
centage of such mistaken confidence
with him was almost at the minimum.
One morning, a close friend and
prominent banker, responded to his
call over the 'phone, and was requested
to let a certain man, who was on his
way down to the bank, have one hun-
dred dollars on his account. Dr. Bab-
cock added, "I will be down in a few
hours and fix it up with you." The
banker replied, suggesting that per-
haps he did not know that this
particular man was a worthless
and well-known dead beat. He also
[721
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
volunteered that the man would
be glad to get fifty cents, to say
nothing about a hundred dollars.
The reply came, "Well, I believe he
has started on a different track. I am
sure he can be trusted. You let him
have the one hundred dollars, and
take his note for it." In recounting
the incident later, the banker ad-
mitted that he had never let an equal
sum go out of his hands more re-
luctantly. He followed implicitly Dr.
Babcock's directions, taking the note,
and, of course, failed to hear from
the man. Some two or three years
later, a gentleman walked into his
private office, well-dressed, alert and
straightforward. "You do not know
me," he said. Upon gaining a nega-
tive reply, he added, "You do not
seem to remember letting me have
[73]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
one hundred dollars some years ago
at Dr. Babcock's request. I think you
have my note for the same. I have
come in to pay that note with full
interest to date." He then stated he
had gone directly to his home, had
begun life anew, and had been suc-
cessful and happy. He added, "No-
body believed in me in Baltimore
outside of Dr. Babcock, and he was
the first man who gave me any faith
in myself."
Conver- He had a way of controlling the
sation. . . ,. , , ,
conversation m hnes related to the
special interests of the home or indi-
vidual. The subject nearest to heart-
need was delicately introduced, con-
fidence being established at once.
The approach to the inner life was
never suggested unless he saw the
[74]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
door open, yet with perfect frank-
ness he made his errand known, and
sometimes even ran the risk of open-
ing a troubhng question when he
was assured that there was uneasi-
ness and anxiety.
A mother's heart was being broken
by a dissolute son. Night after night
the neighbours knew the old story,
as carriage or friend would bring him
home intoxicated. He knew that
mother's heart, and also her delicate
sensitiveness, so unwilling to realize
that others knew. Upon shaking
hands with her as he left, he quietly
said, "Remember me to your son
and ask him to stop after the ser-
vice some Sunday evening; I have a
favour he can do for me." That man
became interested, and in time was
reclaimed.
[75]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
infor- Before or after the Summer season,
when spending a few weeks in town
alone, he had the habit of calling up
certain homes by 'phone, and telling
them he would be around for lunch,
or dinner. In some cases, he did not
hesitate to run in without the slight-
est invitation to breakfast. At onetime,
feeling he did not know a gentleman
in the parish quite as well as he de-
sired, and knowing his genial nature
and kindly spirit, he told him he was
coming in some morning for break-
fast. After a quick run on his wheel
in the park, he stopped at the house
one morning, and asked the butler if
Mr. So-and-So was at home. He then
asked him to show him to the guest's
bath room, and after taking a bath,
came down to breakfast to greet the
family. His happy host in recounting
[76]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
the incident later, said that nothing
he ever did so touched him in the dis-
play of his confidence and friendship.
It is said, *'To know Dr. Babcock Sorrow.
well, to realize what a friend he could
be — one must have trouble." A close
friend in the parish writes: "I had
the misfortune during the two years
he was my pastor to be both healthy
and happy, yet it was in one of life's
dark hours that I first went to Brown
Memorial and it was there that the
help came. He»did more to educate
me in those two short years than all
the schools I had attended. My let-
ters are rather personal, but there are
some beautiful thoughts in them, and
I shall be glad to leave them with
you for you and Dr. Babcock are
now inseparably associated. One of
[77]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
the great secrets of his success lay m
the fact that Hke his Master, he ad-
dressed the potentiaHty, not the act-
uality, in his hearers. 'Take up thy
bed and walk.' 'Thou art Peter.'"
We can never help any one in whom
w^e do not believe. Dr. Babcock made
each man feel that he had faith in
him because there is no limit to the
possibility that even the weakest can
attain in Christ. Quoting from one of
his sermons, he alludes to the unnec-
essary anxiety of many:
For every trial God sends, He gives
sufficient grace for its endurance;
but He promises no grace with which
to bear anticipations, and we little
know how very large a portion of our
mental sufferings arises from antici-
pation of trial.
At the His gift in times of sorrow may be
seen in this incident. A young woman
[781
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had lost one of her parents. It was her
first great sorrow. Life was dark,
every day cloudy. Her piano had not
been touched, and before it had been
her greatest joy, almost a passion, for
she played beautifully. He had not
been able to see her when he called
before ! Her friends seemed to have no
way of cheering her. As the servant
took his card, he said: "I do not
think she will see you," but at his
word went upstairs. Almost imme-
diately there came into her room
above the distant but certain strains
of her favourite sonata. The soft pedal
could not smother the personality of
the marvellous touch she knew so
well. Before the card had reached
the third story, she with blinded eyes
was hastening down. The spell was
broken. After ten minutes between
[79]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
pastor and motherless child, the sun-
light had riven the cloud, and from
the front door she went back again
to her dear companion, to let heart
and hand blend in sympathy and
comfort.
*'Be One afternoon, the room I entered
was a little parlour in a modest home
on one of the side streets. A little
child let me in, and came running
back to tell me that her mother
would be in in a few moments. As I
lifted the shade to spend the time glanc-
ing over the evening paper, my eye
fell upon the opposite wall, and there
was his picture neatly framed; just
above in an artistic setting, his little
poem, "Be Strong." Near by hung
another small frame, with one of the
four hundred cards of pressed jQowers
[80]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
sent to the Sunday School children
from the Holy Land on that last
trip. Suddenly the walls of that room
seemed to expand. A vision of scores
of such scenes was called to mind,
not only in quiet, unassuming homes
like this, but also among the wealthy.
In delicate frame, amid the varied
costly ornaments of the mantel-piece,
or in some conspicuous or honoured
spot upon the wall this same picture
hangs. Scarcely a home which he knew
throughout the entire parish in which
his photograph is not seen ; often up-
stairs on the little stand near the bed-
side, or chair of an invalid, or shut-in.
His relationship to the ministers of Fellow
the city was close and personal, and ters
never controlled by denominational
lines. Recently at a little gathering
[81]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
of ministers representing many de-
nominations, a like testimony came
from three of differing creeds. Of the
many letters of welcome from fellow
pastors when they came to Baltimore,
Dr. Babcock's had been the first re-
ceived. Similar testimony was ex-
pressed from the same men as to his
letters of sympathy. One pastor of
long years' standing in the city referred
to a serious personal accident some
fifteen years before. He said that the
first of four hundred letters of sym-
pathy which he received reached
him from Dr. Babcock, sent by a
special messenger. This is another
illustration of the place which the
word "now" had in his vocabulary.
In this particular instance it was
stated that he must have received
the news of this accident by tele-
[82]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
phone or by word of mouth, and
immediately dispatched his note.
There was a Httle girl, sick with chicken-
chicken-pox, strange to say, very
sick. She grew worse each day. The
doctor said she must see no one. She
seemed so sad and discouraged. If
she could only be her own happy little
self again! Just to laugh once would
mean that she was getting better, so
the doctor said. Dr. Babcock never
asked if he might go upstairs, but
slipped away from those in the par-
lour, saying, "I'll be back in a min-
ute." Into the chamber he stole noise-
lessly, and looking warningly at the
girl's mother, softly told the child that
he had come to tell her a story. He
"knew a little boy who had the
chicken-pox, and nobody knew what
[83]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
was the matter with him. One day,
the Httle fellow looked up into his
mother's face and said, 'Mother, I
know what I've got. I've got the
chicken-pox ; 'cause I found a feather
in the bed.'" The little face had
turned on the hot pillow, and as he
kissed the little hand good-by, both
mother and child were really laugh-
ing. A moment more, and he was on
the street, hastening on to the next
number, all of which he knew by
heart. To this day, that mother will
tell you how he saved that child's
life.
Cards. The frout room was brilliantly
lighted. Little tables filled both
rooms. Cards were here and there.
A few ladies had already gathered.
Others were coming up the street
[84]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
steps. All confused the hostess came
forward and said, "Well, you've
caught me this time. What do you
think of this, anyhow.?" (Four or
five such scenes have been related to
me, but one reply will suffice.) As he
slipped out, he said earnestly, "I've
only called to ask how the boy was
getting along in college." He never
seemed to lose his sense of appro-
priate and suggestive help. His open
words, public and private, were fear-
less as to all the subtle sins of so-
ciety, but he never allowed an ill-
timed word to cross-purpose his in-
terest and responsibility in a home.
That mother began to think of her
boy in college with an awakened
conscience which took responsibility
and prayer into account. This new
line of thought was associated with
[85]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
that which had grown almost con-
trolling. The card table, after all, was
a secondary, not a primary affair.
The But what was the secret of his
Secret. pi
power ? How otten the question comes
to us from strangers, who have heard
of his magnetism, his drawing and
holding power, and who cannot ex-
plain it. As the years go on, and make
a clearer focus and more accurate per-
spective possible, the answer seems
increasingly satisfying, "It was the
utter sweetness of his spirit, his
Master's spirit, which the emptying
of himself of self and selfish desires
and selfish dominance had made
possible to possess in double measure.
He seemed to be entirely possessed
of a spirit of love to all the world,
without distinction of class, age, sex,
[86]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
or color. This combined with a fine
sensitiveness of perception of an-
other's view-point gave him power to
put himself in another's place and to
do as he would be done by." To this
definition of good-breeding, Dr. Bab-
cock certainly lived up in all his
dealings with men. It was no matter
of parish expediency, of keeping on
the right side of his people, of being
able even to "do them good," that
elusive and questionable possibility
which flies before us like a will-o'-
the-wisp, persuading us to help by
doing rather than by being. The
carpenter in the house, the ash-man His in-
in the alley, the child on the street,
even the yellow dog that he passed
— all were the better for his presence.
Why.^ I believe the answer is, there
was in him the Spirit of Christ, of peace
[87]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
and good-will, of love, joy, gentleness,
goodness and the intense desire to
share his Father's love with his
Father's children. This made the
atmosphere in which he lived seem
cleaner, purer, more holy.
In this connection, we quote from a
letter from one church member to an-
other. This quotation he once printed
in the w^eekly calendar.
For yourself I have many times be-
sought the Lord. Truly He is able to
keep what we commit. Perhaps you
have not really committed everything
in your heart and life to Him. You
know the word "commit" means
"deposit." and that is taking one's
hands off. We are to reckon ourselves
dead, and that is our good self as
well as our bad self. In a word, I do
believe we are to have done with the
subjective in our Christian life and
ever be occupied with Christ who is
[88]
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our life. This may not seem very
practicable, but I assure you it is.
Study about Him; think of Him; let
the Holy Spirit glorify Him in your
apprehension, and then He will be
glorified in your experience. Com-
munion with Christ is most certainly
the source of all likeness to Christ.
Below it he wrote :
The outward look, not the inward, Re^iect-
leads to health. The upward look, *^^-
not the downward, leads to humility.
The Christward look, not the self-
ward, leads to holiness and Heaven.
"But we all, with unveiled face, re-
flecting as a mirror the glory of the
Lord, are transformed into the same
image from glory to glory, as by the
Lord— the Spirit." 2 Cor. 3 : 18.
Although very many instances have Personal
Wovk.
come to light of that brief but effec-
tive pastorate in the Brick Church,
we would recount but one which calls
attention characteristically to his win-
[89]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
some yet persistent work for the
souls of men. A young man of bril-
liant and striking personality, who
had been brought up strictly in a
church of another denomination from
Dr. Babcock's, was struggling to
complete his education in New York.
This Sunday morning on which he
attended the Brick Church service,
was the one previous to communion.
After the announcements. Dr. Bab-
cock leaned forward, and with most
earnest evidence of personal feeling,
urged those who had hesitated here-
tofore to confess Christ, to do so at
that time, stating that if there were
any individuals present, no matter
of what religious training, who be-
lieved in Jesus Christ and desired
to serve Him, he would be glad to
talk with them after the service.
[90]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
Then he added: "Young man, do
not leave this place without letting
me talk with you, if you think that
I can help you. I would request all
friends in the parish to make way for
strangers and those in need of spir-
itual help, at the close of the service."
The young man had for years been
considering this question, but had
from time to time postponed the de-
cision. He decided immediately to
take the step; but the friend with
him urged him to walk down town
with him, and hesitating, the resolve
was broken, and he went down Fifth
Avenue with his friend. At every
street crossing, his conscience
pricked him, and finally, after pass-
ing one or two of the hotels, he told
his friend, that he was going back to
speak to Dr. Babcock.
[91]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
As he walked up the aisle, he saw
a number of people who were still
waiting to greet the pastor socially,
but with a peculiar instinct, Dr. Bab-
cock seemed to catch the eye of this
young man, and excusing himself to
all the others, he reached through
the crowd and beckoned to him,
**You wanted to see me personally?
Is it in regard to the invitation I gave
this morning?" After a few words.
Dr. Babcock said, *'I will call on you
this week." Although the young man
tried to make other arrangements,
he was firm and said, *'No, I will see
you in your room."
Three times that week Dr. Bab-
cock went to see that student, up in
his little room at the top of one of
the four or five story buildings now
cut up into roomers' quarters. The
[92]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
third time he found him, and al-
though the man had been reluctant
to let him see the restricted condi-
tions which his small means could
alone afford, this was quickly over-
come, and he spent over an hour in
that young man's room, until he set-
tled freely and completely each per-
sonal difficulty. The open confession
the following Sunday was decisive
and sincere. The young man related
this incident to the pastor of his
home church in a neighbouring city,
saying that Dr. Babcock had urged
him to confess Christ in a church of
his own denomination unless he felt
definitely led to do otherwise.
No greater or more beautiful trib- The Fa:
^ . Reach.
ute has recently been paid to this
man of God as a city pastor than that
[93]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
impersonal reference made by Miss
Mary E. Richmond, formerly en-
gaged in the charity work of our
city, in her little book recently pub-
lished, "The Good Neighbour."
The last chapter begins by saying,
*' I am forcibly reminded of one who
was called from this earth some
years ago but whose ministry in a
large city church still remains an in-
spiration to many. His creed and
mine differed widely and I seldom
heard him preach, but there was no
public task with which I was asso-
ciated that did not show the influence
of his daily endeavour to apply the
Gospel of Christ to the life of the
city in which we both worked. The
city's great net- work, with its tangles
here, its gaps there, its complex of
relations, political, educational, in-
[94]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
dustrial, social— this huge net and its
motley contents he saw largely and
sanely but with an intense compas-
sion for the spiritually undernour-
ished that were caught within its
mesh.
" Some clergymen who feel this ' call Training
of the city,' fling themselves un- Church.
selfishly into its life, but dissipate
their strength by becoming directors
of many boards, attending many
meetings and making many ad-
dresses on a great variety of topics.
This was not his way. Having in mind
always that the exercise and develop-
ment of the members of his own con-
gregation in the Christian life was his
highest duty, he set himself the task
of studying first the needs of the city
in which they lived then the possi-
bilities both social and spiritual of
[951
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
the many agencies created to meet
these needs; and last, the aptitudes
and capacities of his people. The
city was their workshop, and into it
he fed them freely, associating them
with every uplifting work that was
going forward. Some of his men
visited prisons and became volun-
teer probation oflficers in charge of
individual boys, others founded an
equitable loan company for the
poorer sort of borrowers and many
worked hard in municipal cam-
paigns. The women of his church
visited families in distress under the
best guidance that he was able to
secure for them, and gave efficient
aid on hospital committees and in
children's work.
The church had no group of char-
itable buildings, no new charities to
[96 J
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
which it could point with pride; it
was a city as a whole that bore elo-
quent witness to the power of his
preaching. But in however many
places outside the church boundaries
his people may have made that
power felt, all the work that they did
was religious work; they always so
regarded it, and their first loyalty
was always to their church and its
leader. Sometimes it seemed to me,
an onlooker, that he played upon
the community as upon a great organ,
drawing from it new and inspiring
spiritual harmonies."
The Memorial window which com- Memc-
memorates his love and faithfulness
in Brown Memorial has this text:
"Not disobedient unto the Heavenly
Vision." As we look with John the
[97]
FOOTSTEPS IN A PARISH
Seer from desolate Patmos up into
the mysterious beauty of "The Holy
City," we catch the gleam of light
from the city itself, and as it scintil-
lates in the sparkling water of the
River of Life, we see the angels on
the right lifting up their crowns to
him that overcometh.
The beautiful tablet which inscribes
his memory in the Brick Church, in
New York, gives us the secret:
Not slothful in business, fervent in
spirit, serving the Lord, rejoicing in
hope, patient in tribulation, contin-
uing instant in prayer. He preached
the word with gladness, comforted
the sorrowful with tender mercy and
brought a blessing in the name of
Christ to the hearts of his people
who remember him ever with grate-
ful love.
[98
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Understanding 9/11