Dedication of the Melrose Sanitarium
By Percy T. Magan
“What Mean These Stones?”
THE new building of the New England Sanitarium at Melrose, Mass., is finished and occupied. On February 28 it was dedicated in the presence of a large company of people, a number of representative and distinguished men being in attendance, and participating in the ceremonies. To many that dedication was merely a festive—a gala-day—a time of speech-making, music, sightseeing, and the like. There are always those to whom the material side of things appeals. But in a deeper, truer sense, speech-making and music, congratulations and festivities, can not consecrate, can not hallow, can not dedicate, a building or a work. The great work of consecrating, of hallowing, and of dedicating lies deeper by far than all this. Charged with wondrous meaning are the words of Lincoln at the dedication of the soldiers’ cemetery at Gettysburg: “We can not dedicate, we can not hallow, this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract.” And it is even so with this sanitarium. In the erection of the building, whatever there has been of spiritual toilings and spiritual struggles,—these have been its consecration. The many prayers, the weary days of work, the anxious nights of wrestling,—it is these that have hallowed it. The sacrifices which were made, and the light from heaven which flooded the souls of the workers in answer to their heartfelt petitions,—these, with the blessing of God, have dedicated18this building in a larger, holier, and more sacred sense than any ceremony possibly can. To these workers the structure’s completed state signified infinitely more than mere pleasure at viewing a commodious building. With a large part of the old house in ashes, with scarcely any money with which to make a beginning, they could recall how God had inspired them with courage to decide to build. They could recall the times when their faith was tested, when it seemed that the work must cease, the structure stand unfinished, because of lack of means. They could recall how on one occasion, with bills to meet and an empty treasury, a lady whom none of them knew or had ever seen before, drove up, and deposited with the treasurer ten one-hundred-dollar bills which she had had in her house for years. And they could recall how on another occasion, when their need was great, a sister had placed in their hands a one-thousand-dollar gold certificate—one of such ancient design that her local banker had refused to accept it, fearing it might be a counterfeit. And they could recall the fruits of the faithful labor for God of former days when those who had once been patients and had received benefit in the institution came to their aid with generous gifts. And when the building was finished, and money was needed to purchase the furnishings, and there was nothing in the treasury, a patient kindly bought them all on his own responsibility, telling our brethren they could have their own time in which to pay for them. And thus it is that the blessed presence of the Spirit of God, moving in the hearts of the workers, and manifesting itself in all these varied experiences, in deed and in truth hallows and dedicates the buildings in which his work is to be carried on. These experiences are the real monuments of the dedication. It is these which will live and remain. When Israel crossed the Jordan into the promised land, Joshua commanded twelve stones to be set up in Gilgal to commemorate the event. The record says:— “And he spoke unto the children of Israel, saying, When your children shall ask their fathers in time to come, saying, What mean these stones? then ye shall let your children know, saying, Israel came over this Jordan on dry land. For the Lord your God dried up the waters of Jordan from before you, until ye were passed over, as the Lord your God did to the Red Sea, which he dried up from before us, until we were gone over: that all the people of the earth might know the hand of the Lord, that it is mighty: that ye might fear the Lord your God forever.”
And the timbers and stones of this new building are a monument to tell to those who shall labor here in future days how God helped and blessed and led his servants safely over hard places. Not only in the work of building has God’s presence been manifested. The Spirit hath wrought conviction in the hearts of many of the patients. It is not a mere handful that gather in the parlor for worship each morning, but practically every one who is able to be up. Interestingly they join in the service: fervently they take part in the prayer. And as a portion of the bread of life is broken to them day by day at this service, it elicits such a spirit of inquiry that I have often been detained by these patients the remainder of the morning, talking with them on themes of eternal interest. And it is this all-hallowed and all-hallowing spirit which alone can make our sanitarium work to stand in its lot and fill its place in the great closing work of mercy.