Oak Street 
 UNCLASSIFIED 
 
THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 From the collection of 
 Julius Doerner, Chicago 
 Purchased, 1918. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 
 https://archive.org/details/inlovingmemoryofOOmcph 
 
In Loving flemory 
 
 OF 
 
 Samuel Jarvis Glover, 
 
 WHO ENTERED INTO REST 
 OCTOBER EIGHTH, 1892. 
 
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 704611 
 
FUNERAL SERVICE 
 
 At his home, 1315 Michigan Avenue. 
 
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 ADDRESS BY HIS PASTOR, 
 
 Rev. Simon J. McPherson, D. D. 
 
'Q^HE Bible has much to say of genealogy. 
 
 The qualities of its leading characters, good 
 and bad alike, are traced back to their ancestors. 
 
 Abraham, Moses and David have biogra- 
 phies, which begin generations before their birth. 
 
 The Son of Man himself has his lines of 
 descent carefully narrated 
 
 On the other hand, how many weak or 
 wicked Kings of Israel have the taint in their 
 blood referred to Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, 
 who made Israel to sin. 
 
 Similarly, the modern doctrine of heredity 
 emphasizes a natural law. Like tends to beget 
 like in human nature as well as in the lower 
 orders of life. We can hardly account for a 
 
man’s character unless we learn something of 
 his origin and family history. Not only racial 
 and national traits, but personal characteristics 
 are handed down from father to son. 
 
 Samuel Jarvis Glover will illustrate the 
 fact that this law obtains in America as well 
 as in older countries. His qualities are largely 
 explained for us by his derivation. For some 
 centuries his stock was of clean, wholesome, 
 uncontaminated blood. His Glover forefathers, 
 who occupied their manor house at Manchester, 
 England, from 15?0 to 1677, were persecuted 
 for conscience sake in the reign of bloody 
 Mary. One of them, a nephew by marriage of 
 good Bishop Latimer, became a martyr in 1???. 
 
On both sides, he belonged to worthy 
 New England Puritans. On his mother’s side, 
 he traced his family tree to the Aldens and 
 the Mayflower. That he should become an 
 industrious, honest, self-reliant, and home-loving 
 man, was to be expected, as a development of 
 his native fibre. 
 
 Nearly forty years ago, while Jarvis was still 
 little more than a boy, he followed his married 
 sister to Chicago, as a unit in that New Eng- 
 land migration, which has been such a tonic 
 to the life of our city and the Northwest. 
 
 No beating of drums announced his ar- 
 rival, or characterized his useful career. He 
 went quietly to work, and he worked quietly 
 
and effectively to the week before he left this 
 world. His rise was not in any way phenom- 
 enal, but, like that of many others who have 
 been among our best citizens, it was steady, 
 persistent, and based on merit- 
 
 While he made no verbal claims for him- 
 self or his blood, the momentum of character 
 and heredity carried him to an honorable place 
 among his peers. His employers learned to 
 depend upon him and to trust in him. 
 
 After serving the Michigan Southern Rail- 
 way Company for a number of years, he 
 accepted a position of responsibility in the 
 Fort Wayne Railway Company, with which he 
 remained for a quarter of a century. 
 
The late George W. Cass liked to refer to 
 him as “one of my boys.” Trained under that 
 official, his self-control, or else his equable 
 temperament, made him popular with the public, 
 and his carefulness, fidelity, and strict integrity 
 rendered him the safe and valued custodian of 
 millions of money. Before the war, he formed 
 a business-like partnership which continued for 
 almost thirty years, down, indeed, to the day 
 of his death. 
 
 A man’s inner character is best known to 
 those who stand nearest to him. 
 
 His partner, a deeply bereaved mourner 
 here, to-day testifies, that, during that long 
 period, there was never a serious business 
 
difference, never a suspicion, nor ever a sharp 
 or angry word between them. They believed in 
 one another without being once deceived. Such 
 facts are an unanswerable testimonial to char- 
 acter, and one of the sweetest comforts in 
 bereavement. They make the ministry of mem- 
 ory sacred. Moreover, the same competent 
 witness assures us that, throughout these years, 
 partnership meant friendship; that Mr. Glover 
 was always not only the trustworthy business 
 man, but a gentleman, and that he never was 
 heard to utter a coarse or profane word. Is not 
 that practical Christianity of an impressive type? 
 
 When we remember, also, as attested by 
 those who knew him best, that Mr. Glover 
 
dispensed many charities, unobtrusively, to un- 
 fortunates who were brought into business 
 relations with him, especially striving to help 
 them to help themselves; are we not reminded 
 of an often neglected business injunction of 
 St- Peter (1st Ep. St. Peter, ?d, 8th and 9th 
 verses): “Be ye all of one mind, having com- 
 passion one of another; love as brethren, be 
 pitiful, be courteous; not rendering evil for evil, 
 or railing for railing; but contrariwise blessing, 
 knowing that ye are thereunto called that ye 
 should inherit a blessing.” 
 
 The social qualities of this friend of ours 
 is known to many of you quite as well as to 
 me. He enjoyed social life, but in an unosten- 
 
tatious fashion. He valued friendship, because 
 he had the capacity to be a friend. While 
 communicative on all common interests, with 
 a manner always even, cordial and open, he 
 was somewhat reserved, as to all the deeper 
 and more intimate experiences of his own 
 heart. The result was, that he was a pleasant 
 acquaintance to hundreds, and probably to 
 thousands, but he was the familiar friend to 
 comparatively few. The public hardly knew 
 him well, but those next to him understood his 
 whole nature, and, in consequence, loved him 
 with extraordinary intensity. He kept himself 
 generally conversant with public questions, espec- 
 ially with those bearing upon the development 
 
of this city, and he thought of them earnestly 
 as a public spirited man, but he never cared 
 to become conspicuous as a public leader. He 
 was modest, as fine natures are wont to be, 
 and his voice was not heard in the streets. 
 
 The heart of his social qualities was re- 
 vealed in domestic life. His devotion to his 
 family was of a most rare sort, constant, con- 
 siderate, and uniformly affectionate. He could 
 hardly speak of his mother, after she was taken 
 away, without tears. He never married, but 
 the love commonly given to wife and children, 
 he lavished upon brothers and sisters. I have 
 never seen a more striking example of fraternal 
 devotion. His home was always happy , unkind 
 
words, selfish actions, and unlovely thoughts 
 were unknown. They were not banished, be- 
 cause they never entered — never seemed to look 
 in. The trio who in later years composed it 
 were like an equi-lateral triangle, without rival- 
 ry, mutually dependent, and sufficient to one 
 another, and on every side presenting one un- 
 changing front to the world without. To his 
 sister, in the home, he was not only thought- 
 ful and affectionate, but gallant and chivalrous. 
 Her companion at all social functions, on pub- 
 lic occassions in the church. At a friend’s 
 house he was at once a brother, a friend, and an 
 escort. To his inseparable brother he was what 
 David was to Jonathan; they had a reciprocal 
 
and wonderful affection, passing the love of 
 women. Perfect sympathy and confidence dis- 
 tinguished all their relations. It is not strange 
 that to-day they feel as though they were 
 losing their stay and their staff, nor, that they 
 recollect his whole life with them as really 
 Christ-like in its leading aspects. As his 
 brotherliness to the married members of the 
 family was hued with the same colors of 
 affectionateness, even if the relations were 
 necessarily less intimate, it is not strange that 
 there is in this household to-day a sense of 
 loss too great for words and too deep even for 
 tears. The extent of their common loss, how- 
 ever, is the measure of their gratitude and joy. 
 
 u. OF ILL LIB. 
 
However deeply our friendly hearts sympathize 
 with them, we instinctively congratulate them on 
 all that they have been permitted to enjoy and 
 on the great treasure that they had to give 
 back to God. 
 
 With profound thankfulness, we may like- 
 wise learn that there was eternal hope in this 
 manly heart when it failed. God was the 
 strength of his heart and his portion forever. 
 While rather taciturn about his consecrated, 
 religious sentiments, and while making no such 
 public confession of them as was made by his 
 ancestor at the cost of life itself, he did ac- 
 knowledge them in his home, particularly to 
 his trusted sister. Not many months ago, 
 
sitting with her here in the cool of the day, he 
 voiced his faith in these words: 
 
 “Auspicious Hope, 
 
 In thy sweet gardens grow 
 Wreaths for all care — 
 
 A balm for every woe.” 
 
 To his like-minded brother he said that on 
 the stone that should mark his last resting- 
 place, he should like to have inscribed these 
 words of our Christ: 
 
 ‘ ‘ Let not your hearts be troubled; ye believe 
 in God; believe also in me.” 
 
 A child of the covenant, he was true to 
 the religious faith of his ancestors. He loved 
 the Bible, and especially those Psalms which, 
 
as he said, expressed our heart experiences so 
 much better than we could express them our- 
 selves. He loved the simple worship of the 
 Church of Christ. He particularly loved its 
 hymns, of which three favorites of his are to be 
 heard at these services to-day. To-day, in the 
 chief cathedral in the chief city in the world, 
 reverend hands are laying to rest the dust of 
 the great modern singer of faith, hope and love. 
 
 With no less reverend hands we are cor- 
 dially administering the last offices to an 
 esteemed colleague, neighbor, friend and brother. 
 However different the outward conditions of 
 their lives, 1 feel sure that Samuel Jarvis Glover 
 shared not only in the soul’s struggles, but 
 
also in the heart triumphs of Lord Tennyson, 
 and in his sweet and melodious trust. His life 
 equally testified in common manhood’s phrase: 
 “Our wills are ours; we know not how. 
 
 Our wills are ours to make them thine.” 
 His death, as it casts its halo backwards 
 upon the lives that loved him, was a greeting 
 to the Life of the World: 
 
 Strong Son of God, 
 
 Immortal Love. 
 
 As earth is God’s first temple, we may 
 bid him farewell with the heroic address: 
 
 “In the great cathredal leave him. 
 
 God accept him; Christ receive him.” 
 
Hymn No. l. 
 
 The Hymns Sang at the Services at the house, 
 
 1315 MICHIGAN AVENUE. 
 
 Jesus, lover of my soul, 
 
 Let me to thy bosom fly, 
 
 While the billows near me roll, 
 
 While the tempest still is high: 
 
 Hide me, O my Saviour hide, 
 
 Till the storm of life is past; 
 
 Safe into the haven guide: 
 
 Oh! receive my soul at last! 
 
 Other refuge have I none; 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on thee: 
 
 Leave, ah! leave me not alone, 
 
 Still support and comfort me: 
 
 All my trust on thee is stayed, 
 
 All my help from thee I bring; 
 
 Cover my defenceless head 
 With the shadow of thy wing. 
 
Hymn No. 2. 
 
 In the Christian’s home in glory 
 There remains a land of rest; 
 
 There my Saviour’s gone before me 
 To fulfill my soul’s request. 
 
 There is rest for the weary, 
 
 There is rest for the weary, 
 
 There is rest for the weary, 
 
 There is rest for you— 
 
 On the other side of Jordan, 
 
 In the sweet fields of Eden, 
 
 Where the tree of life is blooming, 
 There is rest for you ! 
 
 He is fitting up my mansion, 
 
 Which eternally shall stand, 
 
 For my stay shall not be transient 
 In that holy, happy land. 
 
 There is rest, etc. 
 
 Pain nor sickness ne’er shall enter, 
 Grief nor woe my lot shall share; 
 But in that celestial center 
 I a crown of life shall wear. 
 
 There is rest, etc. 
 
 Death itself shall then be vanquished, 
 And his sting shall be withdrawn; 
 Shout for gladness, O ye ransomed ! 
 Hail with joy the rising morn. 
 There is rest, etc. 
 
Hymn No. 3. 
 
 Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb; 
 
 Take this new treasure to thy trust, 
 
 And give these sacred relics room 
 To slumber in the silent dust. 
 
 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear, 
 
 Invade thy bounds; no mortal woes 
 Can reach the peaceful sleeper here, 
 
 While angels watch the soft repose. 
 
 So Jesus slept; God’s dying Son 
 
 Passed thro’ the grave and blessed the bed: 
 Rest here, blest saint, till from his throne 
 The morning break, and pierce the shade. 
 
 Break from his throne, illustrious morn ! 
 
 Attend, O earth ! his sovereign word: 
 Restore thy trust: a glorious form 
 Shall then ascend to meet the Lord ! 
 
Hymn No. 4. 
 
 Abide with me ! Fast falls the eventide, 
 
 The darkness deepens— Lord with me abide ! 
 When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
 
 Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me 1 
 
 Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day; 
 
 Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away; 
 Change and decay in all around I see; 
 
 O thou, who changest not, abide with me ! 
 
THE BENEDICTION. 
 
 “Now the God of peace, that brought again from the 
 dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, 
 through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you 
 perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you 
 that which is well pleasing in his sight, through Jesus 
 Christ; to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” 
 

 
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