I have read much but, thus far, excerpted little of Robert Collyer. I will, at some point remedy that. For now, this anecdote from William Channing Gannett at a celebration of Collyer's 85th birthday.
"It was good to have Dr. W. C. Gannett present at the meeting for he could speak so accurately out of his own high feeling of the feelings of us all. "I have long cherished one dear little reminiscence of Robert Collyer", he said, "which I have all to myself. It goes back to nearly half of the eighty five years, back of his New York life, back of the Chicago fire, back of the building of his first church, which went up in flames. It was Thanksgiving of 1868—Robert Collyer writing his Thanksgiving sermon of forty years ago. He wrote it on his lap in pencil and as he finished each sheet he scattered it upon the floor beside him and his wife picked each one up as he finished it and arranged them carefully together. And that is what he has been doing ever since—scattering the pages over the whole world and men and women have been picking them up and reading them with delight. Robert, you have been doing that ever since and throwing your pages over the world. Robert, you are a millionaire of love— and that is the only kind of a millionaire it is worth being."