"Washington, D.C., May 20, 1893.
"To Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage, Bible House, New York.
"I would be very glad to see you on the 27th of May in Philadelphia on board the Russian flagship 'Dimitry Donskoy' at eleven o'clock, to tender to you in presence of our brilliant sailors and on Russian soil, a souvenir His Majesty the Emperor ordered me to give in his name to the American gentleman who visited Russia during the trying year 1892.
"Cantacuzene."
Gladly I obeyed this request, and was presented, amid imperial ceremonies, with a magnificent solid gold tea service from the Emperor Alexander III. These were the sort of appreciative incidents so often happening in my life that infused my work with encouragements.
The months preceding the close of my ministry in Brooklyn developed a remarkable interest shown among those to whom my name had become a symbol of the Gospel message. There was a universal, world-wide recognition of my work. Many regretted my decision to leave the Brooklyn Tabernacle, some doubted that I actually intended to do so, others foretold a more brilliant future for me in the open trail of Gospel service they expected me to follow.
All this enthusiasm expressed by my friends of the world culminated in a celebration festival given in honour of the twenty-fifth anniversary of my pastorate in Brooklyn. The movement spread all over the country and to Europe. It was decided to make the occasion a sort of International reception, to be held in the Tabernacle on May 10 and 11, 1894.
I had made my plans for a wide glimpse of the earth and the people on it who knew me, but whom I had never seen. I had made preparations to start on May 14, and the dates set for this jubilee were arranged on the eve of my farewell. I was about to make a complete circuit of the globe, and whatever my friends expected me to do otherwise I approached this occasion with a very definite conclusion that it would be my farewell to Brooklyn.
I recall this event in my life with keen contrasts of feeling, for it is mingled in my heart with swift impressions of extraordinary joy and tragic import. All of it was God's will—the blessing and the chastening.
The church had been decorated with the stars and stripes, with gold and purple. In front of the great organ, under a huge picture of the pastor, was the motto that briefly described my evangelical career:—
"Tabernacle his pulpit; the world his audience."
The reception began at eight o'clock in the evening with a selection on the great organ, by Henry Eyre Brown, our organist, of an original composition written by him and called, in compliment to the occasion, "The Talmage Silver Anniversary March." On the speaker's platform with me were Mayor Schieren, of Brooklyn, Mr. Barnard Peters, Rev. Father Sylvester Malone, Rev. Dr. John F. Carson, ex-Mayor David A. Boody, Rev. Dr. Gregg, Rabbi F. De Sol Mendes, Rev. Dr. Louis Albert Banks, Hon. John Winslow, Rev. Spencer F. Roche, and Rev. A.C. Dixon—an undenominational gathering of good men. There is, perhaps, no better way to record my own impressions of this event than to quote the words with which I replied to the complimentary speeches of this oration. They recall, more closely and positively, the sensibilities, the emotions, and the inspiration of that hour:
"Dear Mr. Mayor, and friends before me, and friends behind me, and friends all around me, and friends hovering over me, and friends in this room, and the adjoining rooms, and friends indoors and outdoors—forever photographed upon my mind and heart is this scene of May 10, 1894. The lights, the flags, the decorations, the flowers, the music, the illumined faces will remain with me while earthly life lasts, and be a cause of thanksgiving after I have passed into the Great Beyond. Two feelings dominate me to-night—gratitude and unworthiness; gratitude first to God, and next, to all who have complimented me.
"My twenty-five years in Brooklyn have been happy years—hard work, of course. This is the fourth church in which I have preached since coming to Brooklyn, and how much of the difficult work of church building that implies you can appreciate. This church had its mother and its grandmother, and its great-grandmother. I could not tell the story of disasters without telling the story of heroes and heroines, and around me in all these years have stood men and women of whom the world was not worthy. But for the most part the twenty-five years have been to me a great happiness. With all good people here present the wonder is, although they may not express it, 'What will be the effect upon the pastor of this church; of all this scene?' Only one effect, I assure you, and that an inspiration for better work for God and humanity. And the question is already absorbing my entire nature, 'What can I do to repay Brooklyn for this great uprising?' Here is my hand and heart for a campaign of harder work for God and righteousness than I have ever yet accomplished. I have been told that sometimes in the Alps there are great avalanches called down by a shepherd's voice. The pure white snows pile up higher and higher like a great white throne, mountains of snow on mountains of snow, and all this is so delicately and evenly poised that the touch of a hand or the vibration of air caused by the human voice will send down the avalanche into the valleys with all-compassing and overwhelming power. Well, to-night I think that the heavens above us are full of pure white blessings, mountains of mercy on mountains of mercy, and it will not take much to bring down the avalanche of benediction, and so I put up my right hand to reach it and lift my voice, to start it. And now let the avalanche of blessing come upon your bodies, your minds, your souls, your homes, your churches, and your city. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel from everlasting to everlasting, and let the whole earth be filled with His glory! Amen and Amen!"