ROBERT HOPKINS WARREN

HE IS JUST AWAY   "I cannot say, and I will not say. That he is dead; he is just away: With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand, He has wandered into an unknown land. "And left us dreaming how very fair It needs be since he lingers there. And you—oh, you— who the wildest yearn For the old-time step and the glad return. "Think of him faring on as dear In the love of There as the love of Here; Think of him still as the same, I say. He it not dead—he is just away."

His life was gentle and the elements so mixed in him that Nature might stand up and say to all the world, " -- this was a man."

George Adam Smith in writing the life of his friend, Henry Drummond, said it was like recording the history of a fragrance. One who intimately knew Bishop Warren may say the same concerning him. The charm of a radiant life and a stalwart Christian character, which no word of pen can catch or portray, was his. Those who listened to his ministry by the reading of this pen portrait will have memories awakened of a transparent personality through which God Himself shined.

Robert Hopkins Warren was born March 6, 1876, in Glenwood, New York, the state prolific of bishops of the Free Methodist Church. He was the only child of Frank J. and Flora Hopkins Warren. Following the great movement toward the West, his parents migrated to Fountain, Colorado, where Robert spent his boyhood days and received his early training in the public schools.

Like the majority of those who make a success of preaching the gospel, he was converted in his boyhood and thoroughly established in the things of God. From that time to the day of his divine promotion, his face was set as a flint toward Zion. He never had the painful ordeal of reaping in mature years the wild oats sown in youth. He escaped the scars that mark men who travel deep into the domain of sin.

Receiving a call to preach, he "was not disobedient to the heavenly vision." His whole career was spent in the service of the Free Methodist Church, holding pastorates in the Colorado, Wisconsin, Genesee, Kansas, Washington, and Southern California Conferences. He served as district elder in the Genesee, Washington, and Southern California Conferences.

Ontario, California, was his last pastorate. He was elected delegate to the General Conference at Winona Lake in 1935, at which time he was elected bishop. At the close of the Michigan Conference August 14, 1938, he was stricken with "leukemia." Immediately on his return to Seattle he entered the Swedish Hospital and passed away September 6, two weeks after his arrival home.

The elements which combined to make R. H. Warren the man he was are readily comprehended; they are self-evident in his transparent character. He was a gentleman with the descriptive adjective "Christian" fittingly attached -- a gentleman in spirit and in appearance. His physical bearing was that of a gentleman, disarming prejudice at first sight. His kindly countenance was not a social veneer but the reflection of a more kindly soul.

He was the soul of graciousness. "Sweet reasonableness" was more natural with him than with the most of the human race. To the human endowment was added the super touch of the divine and a tone of deep piety overcast the whole. He embodied the philosophy of Seneca, "God divided man into men that they might help each other." His love of men and his optimism were charmingly contagious.

John Bunyan's estimate of a happy man might well apply to Bishop Warren:

"The happy man is born in the city of regeneration, in the parish of repentance unto life. Educated in the school of obedience, works at the trade of diligence, does many jobs of self-denial, owns a large estate in the country of Christian Content, wears the plain garments of humility. He breakfasts every morning on spiritual prayer and sups every evening on the same, and also has meat to eat the world knows not of. He has gospel submission in his conduct, due order in his affections, sound peace in his conscience, satisfying love in his soul, real divinity in his breast, true humanity in his heart, the Redeemer's yoke on his neck, a crown of glory on his head, and the entire world under his feet."

His call to the ministry reminds one of the quaint and realistic description of the arming of Christian in Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress."

"The next day they took him and led him into the armory where they showed him all manner of furniture, which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that would not wear out. And there was here enough of this to harness out as many men for the service of their Lord as there be stars in the heaven for multitude.

"They showed him some of the engines with which some of his servants had done wonderful things. They showed him many excellent things with which Christian was much delighted. This done, they went to their rest again.

"On the morrow he got up to go forward. But first, said he, let us go into the armory. So they did; and when he came there, they harnessed him from head to foot, with what was of proof. Then he began to go forward, but Discretion, Pity, Charity, and Prudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill."

Sometimes God calls his servants and leads them into the armory as soon as they are converted. Like Saul of Tarsus, they get their commission from high heaven simultaneous with the voice of forgiveness. Such was Russell H. Conwell's call the very day of his conversion: "The next day found him visiting the poor and talking to his classmates concerning their religious life; and heard him declare to his teacher, Mr. Swindell, 'It's all settled; I must preach the gospel of Christ.' Notwithstanding his previous unimpeachable character, all his friends and acquaintances recognized the great transformation."

When only a youth eighteen years old, God gave Mr. Warren an unmistakable call and took him into the "armory" and forged and fitted the weapons of his warfare. Under the guidance of God that fitting process continued through the years. He was not so much a product of the schools as a self-made man with splendid native endowment which was nurtured by serious study. He was an incessant student. May young preachers lay this to heart. It was not by trick or mere rhetoric that he maintained his pulpit power. "The dead line of fifty" was not written across his intellectual or spiritual horizon. He was an untiring student of the Book and of those fields of literature most useful for the preacher.

His whole life was bound up in preaching the gospel. His conception of the high calling of the ministry, as well as his literary style, is given in the following article from his pen.

The Minister and the Spiritual Life

The church is the world's outstanding institution, the formative force of human society. There is nothing comparable to it among all the organizations of men. Other organizations have sprung up, flourished and fallen, but the church has remained, and its foundations are still unshaken, because it is more than an organization -- it is a living organism, and its "life is hid with Christ in God."

The unique power of the church as an institution is not in its thorough organization, not in its material splendor, not in its beautiful places of worship, not in its wealth nor in its vast numbers of adherents, but the power and efficiency of the church lies wholly in the supernaturalness of its work, and the divine authority of its message. Doctor Joseph Parker, in one of his last sermons, said, "Let the church be one of many institutions, and she will have her little day and die; but not till the world thinks she has gone stark mad will she be on the highroad of success."

It hath pleased the Head of the church in His divine wisdom to give to it a leadership of men divinely called and endowed with authority to preach the glorious gospel which is "committed to their trust," and "to make all men see what is the mystery which through the ages hath been hid in God, but now is revealed to us in his Son." There is no work in the world which is comparable in dignity and privilege to the work of the ministry. I fancy that angels would gladly take our places if they could, but it hath pleased God to call us "who were sometime darkness, but are now light in the Lord, to proclaim the gospel of the grace of God to them who are still in darkness and the shadow of death."

Doctor Forsythe has said that Christian preaching is the organized hallelujah of the ordered spiritual community. Preaching is persuasion through the power of divine truth, given out of a soul aflame with the love and conviction born of revelation and experience. It has no rival and no substitute among all the methods of human communication.

The ministry is not only a unique calling but each called man is unique, filling a place which none other ever has or ever can fill, and doing a work committed to him alone. Doctor Watkinson has said that there is no preacher but who holds the jewel at an angle at which it was never held before and causes it to shine with new and added luster.

We have an extraordinary work; we must be extraordinary men. We must bring our credentials with us every time we come into the pulpit. If we are true, our message will ring true. We cannot spend the week in mechanical trifling and come into our pulpits on Sunday as prophets of God. Only a great soul can preach a great sermon. . .

Our sermons are really the product and expression of what we are ourselves. Sermon-making is comparatively easy; it is the preacher-making which takes the struggle and the life blood. Bishop Quayle says, "Preaching is not the art of making and delivering a sermon; preaching is the art of making a preacher and delivering that." Are we not somewhat to blame for the disparaging criticism made upon the church and the ministry in late years? Is it not an absence of the supernatural and the awe-inspiring which has made the man of the world question the authority and divinity of the work of the church?

We who believe in the truthfulness and power of Christianity and who have some conception of what preaching calls for on the part of the preacher will agree with Dr. Francis L. Patton when he says, "There is no work that so enlists our entire manhood; no work in which all our powers of intellect, feeling and will so harmoniously co-operate; no work that so promptly marshals all our acquisitions for immediate use; no work that so subsidizes so many and such varied gifts and graces; no work in which the consciousness of immediate service so sweetens the act of service; no work in which the act of doing good to others is so attended with the feeling of benefit to ourselves; no work which, done in the name and for the sake of Christ, is so attended with the feeling of the blessed presence of Christ as that of preaching the gospel."

If we are true preachers we know that there is no work which makes a greater draft upon one's vital forces; no work which brings greater physical weariness, and no work which drives us oftener to our knees in the consciousness of our human limitations and our need of divine power than that of preaching. There are many in the ministry who could manage great commercial enterprises, who could be bank president or railroad president on less than half of the expenditures of the vital force and power which it takes to minister to their congregations the Word of God with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven. . .

It is easy to be a committee man or a financial agent; but preaching is not easy; praying is not easy; the cure of souls is not easy. Phelps in his Men and Books says, "Will you be a committee man or a preacher; will you be a man of affairs or a scholar? Will you be in demand as a ubiquitous delegate to councils, or will you be a prince in your pulpit? Leave executive bishoprics of the church universal to other hands. There are men enough who can do that service. It will never suffer for want of aspirants. If you have been created for the other thing, do that thing. Preach; let other men govern. Preach; let other men raise funds Preach; let other men solve the problems of perpetual motion of which church history is full. Preach!"

It is said that the English preachers are greater expositors than are Americans. The reason for this is not hard to find. The American preacher is too busy; he is burdened with too many things; he must be an organizer; he must carry great loads of responsibility; he has no time for study of the Word and prayer; he is serving too many tables. We must live in the heavenlies if we minister heavenly things to the people. It does not require much worldliness to put us out of tune, and the inevitable result is a discord, a marring of the harmony.

The best thing has not been said about a minister when it is said that "he is a good mixer." Let us be kind and gentle to all men, apt to teach, sympathetic and brotherly, but aloof from every compromising entanglement. God has honored us with an ambassadorship from the court of heaven; let us move among men with an abiding consciousness that we are come from God, that soon we are to give an account of our ministry in His presence. Then "may we be glad also with exceeding joy."

Doctor Jefferson says, "It is not for every preacher to be pastor of a large church, but every preacher may covet the joy of shepherding a church beautiful. Though men judge a church by the size of its membership, God judges, we may be sure, by the height of its ideals, the range of its sympathies, the reach of its aspirations, the depth of its convictions, the fineness of its temper, the graciousness of its disposition and the wealth of those graces which He saw in His well-beloved son. When you find that you cannot increase the size of your church, go to work with fresh energy to increase the dimension of its soul. Quality of life and not quantity is what counts in working out God's plans."

"To serve the present age,
My railing to fulfill,
Oh, may it all my pow'rs engage
To do my Master's will."

Bishop Pearce gives the following appraisement of him as a minister.

It is true that there are similarities in persons, but diversities are even more conspicuous. No man could answer to the description of the genial bishop but himself.

Cast in manly mold was his physical structure, well-built, symmetrical and of good height. His face revealed a refinement of character, and could truly be described as handsome.

His was an intellect which insisted on knowing, and his mind was therefore well stored. The bent of the mind was the guarantee of the obtainment. Yet he never had the showing of parade. His modesty permeated his orderly intelligence. His knowledge was couched in wisdom and was constantly yielding precious fruit. The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ ruled his life and richly governed his remarkably lucid and effective preaching.

He was at home in the pulpit as "to the manor born," didactic, evangelistic, convincing, encouraging, searching, refreshing. He could reprove without scolding and delight without flattering. His voice was peculiarly mellow; harshness was unknown to him, for in his measure he was like his Lord. His sermons were not "efforts," but they were delivered in demonstration of the Spirit and with power.

As an executive he was ever the gentleman, benign, yet firm and highly efficient. His presiding at the conferences and his conference addresses were equally acceptable and attractive."

The fine personal touch of R. H. Warren as a shepherd of souls is illustrated in the case of M. B. Robbins who as a lad of sixteen came to Seattle to attend the school. He with two ministers' sons, being reprimanded for some disorder in church, ceased to attend the house of God. Later all three as bank clerks sought the cabarets and night clubs night after night until his health broke. While regaining his broken health on a farm in Washington he was drafted during the World War. After his discharge from the army he returned to church and Brother Warren as pastor began to call on him at his place of business, once or twice a week for a year or more. We will let the youth, now a responsible business man, tell the story in his own words:

He never took advantage of an opening or put me "on the spot" while he was cultivating my friendship. Later, on one occasion he came into the store, walking as if he were going somewhere, and instead of the usual generous smile I noticed he was serious. After a brief salutation he said, "Marion, I have never spoken to you about your spiritual welfare. I think a great deal of you. I want your promise that you will do something about it in the very near future. Will you?" As he looked deeply into my eyes, mingled thoughts came fast. He had my confidence and to say "No" would be rude. I said, "Yes, I will."

More than thoughts began swarming now. There was a lump in my throat. In that moment of distress he extended his hand, gripped mine, and left me with my thoughts. He had planted the seed. I had given my word. The enemy said, "Now you're sunk." It finally drove me to my knees, where I heard a voice say, "Going to waste the cream of your life and give me the skim?" I said, "No, Lord." "When?" The enemy was on hand to answer for me. "Don't get excited; there's plenty of time." This continued until I left Seattle, journeyed to Los Angeles, and after deciding that all was fruitless until I disposed of this terrible struggle, found peace that passeth understanding.

Again we face the providence of God which is "past finding out." Three of the four bishops elected at the General Conference in 1935, all in the prime of life, passed on to their reward before the end of the quadrennium -- A. D. Zahniser, G. W. Griffith and R. H. Warren. Scarcely had R. H. Warren been elected bishop when illness began to develop upon him, yet heroically and uncomplainingly he carried on.

After three years of happy service in his new field, he received his call for promotion. With eagerness he had taken up his administrative duties as chairman of the Commission on Christian Education and as president of the Y. P. M. S. (now the F. M. Y.) Council when "God's hand touched him and he slept."

He had held four conferences in the cycle of 1938 when he was stricken at the close of the Michigan Conference. A special anointing was upon him as he delivered his last message Sunday morning at Spring Arbor. It was fitting that his closing sermon should be on the theme, "The things that remain." In the words of Rev. F. L. Baker, "His last sermon preached Sunday morning at the conference at Spring Arbor, Michigan, will be remembered by many who wept and rejoiced as the bishop made us to see the stability of God's throne, His Word, and His power to save, cleanse and keep to the end."

While walking with his son, Frank, a short time before his death he said, I'll not be able to leave you children very much in the way of material things." The quick reply of the son was, "Father, you will leave us far more than paltry dollars."

A valuable legacy he left his children. By his side stood a noble Christian woman, Alice Mary Warren, and into this home came seven children, three sons in the ministry, Paul, Frank, and Robert, and four married daughters, Flora, Miriam, Alice, and Ruth. He left a heritage of an unbroken family, all following in the paths of righteousness. This sidelight is given of the home by his son, Frank:

"We discovered that we could live normal, rational lives and be Christians. And consequently, as we came one by one to an age of accountability, we accepted Christ and His program for our lives and cemented a little closer the ties that bound us. Around the family altar, one by one, we found the Christ. No matter how busy the day, we had time for Scripture, a song and prayer. I shall never forget the morning I sailed for Japan, as I realized at family prayers that no longer would I be a member of that group. Yet there came the glad consciousness that in a more real way than ever I would be meeting with that group around 'a common mercy seat.'"

One is reminded of John Wesley's statement: "I left no money to any one in my will because I had none. But now considering that, whenever I am removed, money will soon arise from the sale of my books, I added a few legacies by a codicil, to be paid as soon as may be. But I would fain do a little good while I live, for who can tell what will come after him." [24] A sagacious New Englander of sterling moral worth who died without estate left this notable will, "To my children I will all my life in New England."

His end was peace. Surrounded by his family, he awaited the call of his master with keen anticipation. At his request the family sang "Rock of Ages." He then repeated the words, "And behold thee on thy throne." With the last words upon his lips, "The Lord is here -- it's all right," he peacefully rose to worlds unknown to behold his Savior on His throne. To him was granted the beautiful prayer of Fannie Heck:

Lord, grant me if Thou wilt,
To slip away
As slips the night
Into the dawning day,
So soft,
That e'en the watchers,
Watching,
Cannot say,
Here ends the night
And here begins the day,
But only know
The night's Thy night,
The day, Thy day.

His passing, after forty-four years as an ambassador of Christ, was like Bunyan's description of the saint's triumph whose last words were: "I am going to my Father; and though with great difficulty I go hither yet now I do not repent me of all the troubles I have been at to arrive where I am. My sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrimage and my courage and my skill to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with me to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles who shall now be my Redeemer.

"When the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the river side, into which as he went, he said 'O death, where is thy sting?' And as he went down deeper he said 'O grave, where is thy victory?' So he passed over and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side."

Knowing that the time of his departure was at hand, he arranged his own funeral service. A large concourse of people gathered in the First Free Methodist Church of Seattle, of which he had formerly been the beloved pastor. Rev. B. H. Pearson preached from the chosen text so characteristic of the life-long aspiration of the man, "Christ shall be magnified in my body whether it be by life or by death. For to me to live is Christ and to die is gain" (Phil. 1:20, 21). Fifty ministers gathered around the casket of the fallen comrade and sang his favorite hymn, "Rock of Ages." Each of the three sons, who are ministers, took part in the service, Frank bringing a tribute at the church on "Our Father," while the other two, Paul C. and Robert H., conducted the beautiful commitment ceremony at Mt. Pleasant cemetery.

Out of the deep a shadow, Then a spark; Out of the cloud a silence, Then a lark; Out of the heart a rapture, Then a pain; Out of the dead cold ashes Life again.

24 Journal XII, p. 462.