Dwight Moody Jr. was born on November 7, 1897. He was Will and May’s second child, and D.L. was delighted to have a grandson and a namesake. Sadly, a year later, little Dwight died suddenly. D.L. and Emma were in California when they heard the news. D.L. wrote back to his grieving son and daughter-in-law: “I cannot think of him [Dwight] as belonging to earth. The more I think of him, the more I think he was only sent to us to draw us all closer to each other and up to the world of light and joy. I could not wish him back, if he could have all [that] earth could give him. And then the thought that the Savior will take such good care of him! No going astray, no sickness, no death. Dear, dear little fellow! I love to think of him, so sweet, so safe, and so lovely!”
D.L. was deeply saddened when Will wrote back to say that little Irene was also unwell and doctors predicted that she might die. When D.L. and Emma arrived back in Northfield, Irene was feeling much better, but it did not last. Irene was diagnosed with tuberculosis and died on August 22, 1899. This was followed by more difficult news: in September D.L.’s mother-in-law, Emma Revell, also died.
Throughout all of this, D.L. continued to preach. In early November 1899 he began a series of meetings in Kansas City at Convention Hall, a huge building used for horse shows that seated fifteen thousand people. The hall was filled to capacity as D.L. preached in it six times a day. However, something was wrong. Although D.L. hated to admit it, his chest was sore and his body grew weak. Sometimes he barely had the energy to stand upright, and walking was an effort for him.
While in Kansas City, D.L. received a telegram that boosted his spirits. He had a new granddaughter, Mary Whittle Moody. D.L. prayed that Mary would ease Will and May’s pain at having lost their first two children. He wrote immediately to his son: “My dear Will, I am full of praise and thanksgiving today and am delighted to think of [you and] May with a daughter. Dear little child, I already feel my heart going out toward her. Kiss the dear baby for me. I do feel as if our prayers have been answered. Thank God for another grandchild.”
D.L. then cut a clipping from the newspaper that contained a photograph of him preaching in Convention Hall. He enclosed the clipping in a letter to his three-year-old granddaughter Emma:
My dear Emma,
I am glad that you have a little cousin. Will you kiss her for me, and will you show her your grandfather’s picture? I do not think she will know me, but you can tell her all about me, so she will know me when she gets older, and we will play together with her. I am going to send her a little kiss, just one little one.
Your grandfather,
D. L. Moody
Within two days of hearing the good news of his granddaughter’s birth, D.L. took a turn for the worse. His chest hurt. A doctor came and applied mustard packs to D.L.’s chest, but the packs did not ease the pain. By the end of the week D.L. agreed that he should go home to Northfield and rest. His assistant and a doctor accompanied him on the long train ride. Along the way D.L. sent telegrams to his wife describing his state of health.
November 17, 1899, Kansas City. Doctors think I need rest. Am on my way home. Have three friends with me. Will wire often.
November 18, Taylorville, Ill. Improving rapidly. Have not felt so well for a week.
November 18, Montpelier, Ohio. Have had a splendid day. No fever. Heart growing better all the time. No pain, I am taking good care of myself, not only for the loved ones, but for the work I think God has for me to do on this earth. If they will keep the wires open (on Sunday) I will wire in the morning.
D.L. arrived in Northfield on the evening of November 19, 1899. He rested awhile before climbing the stairs to his bedroom. D.L. hoped to be up and about the next morning. Meeting his new granddaughter was at the top of his agenda, followed by checking up on the boys’ and girls’ schools, inspecting the barn, and hunting for eggs with little Emma. However, D.L. never again walked down the stairs.
For the next five weeks D.L. lay in bed. Sometimes he felt well enough to write and receive visitors. At other times he was weak and tired. His son Will brought the new baby, Mary, to visit, which cheered D.L. greatly, as did the daily visits from Emma Fitt.
On the morning of December 22, 1899, D.L. began to fade fast. Looking at Emma and reaching for her hand, he said, “You have been a good, dear wife.” Then he looked away. “No pain, no valley! It’s bliss!” he said before lapsing into unconsciousness.
Waking up, D.L. saw his whole family surrounding the bed. “Why are you all here?” he asked.
“We’ve gathered because you are not well,” Will replied.
“I must have been in a trance,” D.L. told them all. “I went to the gates of heaven. Why, it is wonderful, and I saw the children!“
“Father, did you really see them?” Will asked.
“Yes, I saw Irene and Dwight.”
At this, Will broke down in tears. “If only I could go.”
D.L. comforted his son. “Will, you must not cry. Your work is before you.”
But Dwight Lyman Moody’s work was over. A few minutes later he was dead.
On December 26, 1899, five days before the dawn of a new century, D. L. Moody was buried. Following a brief family service at the house, his casket was placed upon a stand and carried by thirty-two Mount Hermon students to the Congregational Church half a mile away. A huge funeral service was held, at which many of D.L.’s prominent friends spoke. The Mount Hermon boys then carried D.L.’s casket up Round Top Hill to D.L.’s final burial place, within view of the house where he had been born sixty-two years before.
As the mourners stood surveying the snowy scene, they recalled D.L.’s words:
Someday you will read in the papers that D. L. Moody, of East Northfield, is dead. Don’t you believe a word of it! At that moment I shall be more alive than I am now. I shall have gone up higher, that is all, out of this old clay tenement into a house that is immortal; a body that death cannot touch, that sin cannot taint, a body fashioned like unto His glorious body. I was born of the flesh in 1837. I was born of the Spirit in 1856. That which is born of the flesh may die. That which is born of the Spirit will live forever.
Throughout his life, D. L. Moody would allow no building to be named in honor of him. Following his death, however, the Chicago Avenue Church was renamed Moody Church in his honor, and the Chicago Bible Institute was renamed Moody Bible Institute.
