The following Sunday, May 13, 1894, just after the
morning service, the Tabernacle was burned to the
ground.
1895-1898
Among the mysteries that are in every man’s
life, more or less influencing his course, is the
mystery of disaster that comes upon him noiselessly,
suddenly, horribly. The destruction of the New
Tabernacle by a fire which started in the organ loft
was one of these mysteries that will never be revealed
this side of eternity. The destruction of any
church, no matter how large or how popular, does not
destroy our faith in God. Great as the disaster
had been, much greater was the mercy of Divine mystery
that prevented a worse calamity in the loss of human
life. The fire was discovered just after the morning
service, and everyone had left the building but myself,
Mrs. Talmage, the organist, and one or two personal
friends. We were standing in the centre aisle
of the church when a puff of smoke suddenly came out
of the space behind the organ. In less than fifteen
minutes from that discovery the huge pipe organ was
a raging furnace, and I personally narrowly escaped
the falling debris by the rear door of my church study.
The flags and decoration which had been put up for
the jubilee celebration had not been moved, and they
whetted the appetite of the flames. It was all
significant to me of one thing chiefly, that at some
points of my life I had been given no choice.
At these places of surprise in my life there was never
any doubt about what I had to do. God’s
way is very clear and visible when the Divine purpose
is intended for you.
I had delivered that morning my farewell sermon before
departing on a long journey around the world.
My prayer, in which the silent sympathy of a vast
congregation joined me, had invoked the Divine protection
and blessing upon us, upon all who were present at
that time, upon all who had participated in the great
jubilee service of the preceding week. On the
tablets of memory I had recalled all the kindnesses
that had been shown our church by other churches and
other pastors on that occasion. The general feeling
of my prayer had been an outpouring of heartfelt gratitude
for myself and my flock. As I have said before,
God speaks loudest in the thunder of our experiences.
There were several narrow escapes, for the fire spread
with great rapidity, but, fortunately, all escaped
from the doomed building in time. Mr. Frederick
W. Lawrence and Mr. T.E. Matthews, both of them
trustees of the church, were exposed to serious danger
and their escape was providential. Mr. Lawrence
crept out on his hands and knees to the open air,
and Mr. Matthews was almost suffocated when he reached
the street.
The flames spread rapidly in the neighbourhood and
destroyed the Hotel Regent, adjoining the church.
At my home that day there were many messages of sympathy
and condolence brought to me, and neighbouring churches
sent committees to tender the use of their pulpits.
In the afternoon the Tabernacle trustees met at my
house and submitted the following letter, which was
adopted:—
