The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1911-01-05
\ LESSON II. TEMPERANCE
WAS DELIVERED MONDAY
Afternoon at the M. E. Church by Rev.
G. X. Williamson. The Pastor.

The sermon which follows was deliv-
cred over the remains of the late CLYDE
C. Liller IN st. Paul's M. E. church in
Oakland Monday afternoon by Rev. G.
r. Williamson, the pastor, and is here
published by special request of Mrs.
Liller and quite number of other Oak
land people, including members of all
denominations as well as some not con-
nected with any church.
The scene before US is sad beyond all
power of description. It is not my bus
mess as a minister to apologize for the
mistakes of the dead man whose body
lies in this casket.
''As the tree falls it must lie, Our
limitations are such, and we see through
a glass darkly, so that it is not always
possible to tell how the tree falls.
1t is customary to eXalt the virtues of
the dead, and to minimize their faults,
while we eXalt the faults of the living,
and minimize their virtues. God would
have US do justice to both the dead and
the living. We who are living demand
Justice. If we are the object of criticism
our demands are not so imperative if
some one else is the object. Certainly,
if the pale lips before US could speak
we would only hear mild demand for
simple justice.
So | endeavor to approach the task be-
fore me, which is by no means pleasant
one. with a sense of justice to both liv
ing and dead. A man who himself
must stand before the judgment bar of
God to give an account of the deeds
done in the body" surely cannot afford
to do on an occasion like this anything
that would embarrass him in the great
day. This funeral talk cannot be de-
livered without taking into account the
living as we'll as the dead. The dead
can't talk back, the living can, and
probably will, so ! will say as little of
the dead as possible, and speak directly
to and of the living.
First, CLYDE Liller, the man. 1t is
needless to say his sun has gone down
while it is yet day. When he should
have been at his best. in the prime of
manhood's powers, the supporter and
defender of his family, taking his place
as citizen in a great Republic, bearing
his share of life's burdens, suddenly the
light went out, and the spirit went
back to the God who gave it.
Clyde Liller, when at himself, was
generous, large hearted man. His wife
has said more than once to the speaker
that, "When Clyde was sober one could
not wish for better husband, a better
father" But when whiskeY goes in
the man goes out. Social life in Ameri-
ca is such that the man with a weak
ness for alcohol has tremendous battle
to fight, and in most instances is the
loser. At some time in his life, | know
not when, he tasted the poison and later
found the scriptures true, cat last it
biteth like a serpent and stingeth like
an adder, The habit once contracted,
its effects felt, his will power weakened,
it got beyond his control, until the fin
ished product, the legitimate fruit Of
the American saloon lies a helpless,
pitiless corpse before us, A woman has
been made widow, three children made
orphans, because the liquor traffic pays
revenue, and some men will sell it re-
CARELESS Of the widows cry and the
orphans wall.
Some Ione is saying, He ought to
have let it alone when he saw he could
not control it. 0 yes, how easy to
say that and now little it means. That
strong man who boasts that he can take
it or let it alone, usually takes it, and
sooner or later becomes a hopeless
wreck himself. Another says, Let
whiskey alone and it will let you alone "
This is another assertion as false as
Satan himself. These innocent children
let it alone, but it did not let them
alone. This heart broken widow let it
alone, but it did not, it would not, let
her alone. Either directly or indirectly
this horrible monster, the liquor traffic,
has his satanic clutches around the
throat of every man, woman and child
in our fair land.
want to say here that to my person
al knowledge Clyde Liller did made
struggle, and a brave one, to stem the
tide aud free himself from the manacles
that bound him hand and foot. When
he would go to work in the hope that he
was victor, on his way to the shop his
nostrils were greeted with the stencil of
the foul poison; boon companions were
ready to lure him away from all his
good resolutions; men were ready TO
take his Hast nickel and sell it to him
regardless of the protests of his inno-
cent wife; every fibre of his being was
crying out for alcohol. He fell time and
again only to get up and make brief
struggle and fall again, until, hope
less, helpless wanderer, away from
home and friends, the tired bdoy lay down
to sleep the dreamless sleep. Such is the
picture, the awful tradegy, of one
human life. But we make in this coun-
try 100, 900 drunkrads' tgravesa year, 277
each day. During this funeral hour
II other of our fellow citizens will go in
the same way, and thus the miserable
work goes on from year to year
Clyde sought the comfort and help of
religion. He had religious nature.
| have prayed with him in my own home,
and witnessed with profoundest pity his
hopeless struggle.
My predecessor, Rev. J. B. Work
man, told me he never worked as hard
to save a man as he did to save CLYDE
Liller. But the miserable grog shop
with its doors always open was suffici-
entity powerful to overbalance any inAu-
ence for good, and thus the task of say
ing him under the present conditions
had to be abandoned. He tried working
in dry town, but the national govern
ment itself is in the miserable liquor
business, and for the small pittance of