{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_14578/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_14578","id":"gutenberg_14578","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14578","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christianity -- Evangelism","Church of England -- Clergy -- Biography","Cornwall (England : County)","Evangelistic work -- England -- Cornwall -- History -- 19th century","Haslam, W. (William)"],"text":"FROM DEATH TO LIFE: Twenty Years of My Ministry.\n\nBY\n\nRev. William Haslam,\n\n(Late Incumbent of Curzon Chapel, Mayfair)\n\nReprinted by Rev. W. J. Watchorn.\n\nThis edition completes 130,000 copies.\n\nStandard Book Room, Brockville, Ontario\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nCHAPTER 1\nThe Broken Nest, 1841.\n\nCHAPTER 2\nReligious Life.\n\nCHAPTER 3\nOrdination.\n\nCHAPTER 4\nAntiquarian Researches and Ministry, 1843-46.\n\nCHAPTER 5\nThe New Parish, 1846.\n\nCHAPTER 6\nThe Awakening, 1848-51.\n\nCHAPTER 7\nConversion, 1851.\n\nCHAPTER 8\nThe Awakening, 1848-51.\n\nCHAPTER 9\nThe Visitor, 1851.\n\nCHAPTER 10\nThe First Christmas, 1851-52.\n\nCHAPTER 11\nDreams and Visions, 1851-4.\n\nCHAPTER 12\nBilly Bray, 1852.\n\nCHAPTER 13\nCottage Meetings, 1852.\n\nCHAPTER 14\nOpen-Air Services, 1852.\n\nCHAPTER 15\nDrawing-Room Meetings, 1852-53.\n\nCHAPTER 16\nOpposition, 1853.\n\nCHAPTER 17\nIndividual Cases, 1853.\n\nCHAPTER 18\nA Visit to Veryan, 1853.\n\nCHAPTER 19\nA Mission in the \"Shires.\" 1853.\n\nCHAPTER 20\nA Stranger from London, 1853.\n\nCHAPTER 21\nGolant Mission, 1854.\n\nCHAPTER 22\nThe High Church Rector, 1854.\n\nCHAPTER 23\nA Mission in Staffordshire, 1854.\n\nCHAPTER 24\nSanctification.\n\nCHAPTER 25\nThe Removal, 1855\n\nCHAPTER 26\nPlymouth, 1855\n\nCHAPTER 27\nDevonport, 1855\n\nCHAPTER 28\nA Mission to the North, 1855\n\nCHAPTER 29\nTregoney, 1855\n\nCHAPTER 30\nSecessions, 1856\n\nCHAPTER 31\nHayle, 1857-58\n\nCHAPTER 32\nBible Readings, 1858-59\n\nCHAPTER 33\nThe Work Continued, 1859\n\nCHAPTER 34\nThe Dismissal, 1860-61\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nThis volume is not so much a history of my own life, as of the Lord's\ndealings with me; setting forth how He wrought in and by me during the\nspace of twenty years. It will be observed that this is not, as\nbiographies generally are, an account of life on to death; but rather\nthe other way--a narrative of transition from death into life, and that\nin more senses than one.\n\nI had been given over by three physicians to die, but it pleased the\nLord, in answer to prayer, to raise me up again. My restored health and\nstrength I thankfully devoted to a religious and earnest life. In the\nheight and seeming prosperity of this, the Lord awakened me to see that\nI was dead in trespasses and sins; still far from Him; resting on my own\nworks; and going about to establish my own righteousness, instead of\nsubmitting to the righteousness of God. Then He quickened me by the Holy\nGhost, and raised me up into a new and spiritual life.\n\nIn this volume the reader will meet with the respective results of (what\nI have called) the Religious, as distinguished from the Spiritual, life.\nThe former produced only outward and ecclesiastical effects, while the\nlatter brought forth fruit in the salvation of souls, to the praise and\nglory of God.\n\nOne object in writing this book is to warn and instruct earnest-minded\nsouls, who are, as I was once, strangers to the experience of salvation,\nseeking rest where I am sure they can never find it, and labouring to do\ngood to others when they have not yet received that good themselves.\nThey are vainly \"building from the top;\" trying to live before they are\nborn; to become holy before they have become justified; and to lead\nothers to conversion before they have been converted themselves.\n\nA second object is--to draw the attention of every earnest, seeking, or\nanxious soul, to consider the Lord's marvellous goodness in first\nbearing with me in my religious wanderings, and then using me for His\nglory in the salvation of hundreds.\n\nAnother desire I have is--to cheer the hearts of believers who are\nworking for God, by relating to them what He has done through me, and\ncan do again, by the simple preaching of the Gospel. Here the reader\nwill meet with narratives of the Lord's work in individual cases, in\ncongregations, and in parishes--wonderful things which are worthy of\nrecord.\n\nI have not shunned to tell of the mistakes I fell into after my\nconversion, hoping that others may take heed and profit by them; and\nthen I shall not have written in vain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 1\n\nThe Broken Nest, 1841.\n\nAt the time in which this history begins, I had, in the providence of\nGod, a very happy nest; and as far as temporal prospects were concerned,\nI was provided for to my liking, and, though not rich, was content. I\nhad taken my degree; was about to be ordained; and, what is more, was\nengaged to be married; in order, as I thought, to settle down as an\nefficient country parson.\n\nWith this bright future before me, I went on very happily; when, one\nevening, after a hard and tiring day, just as I was sitting down to\nrest, a letter was put into my hand which had been following me for\nseveral days. \"Most urgent\" was written on the outside. It told me of\nthe alarming illness of the lady to whom I was engaged, and went on to\nsay that if I wished to see her alive I must set off with all haste. It\ntook me a very short time to pack my bag and get my travelling coats and\nrugs together, so that I was all ready to start by the night mail. At\neight o'clock punctually I left London for the journey of two hundred\nand eighty miles. All that night I sat outside the coach; all the next\nday; and part of the following night. I shall never forget the misery of\nmind and body that I experienced, for I was tired before starting; and\nthe fatigue of sitting up all night, together with the intense cold of\nthe small hours of the morning, were almost beyond endurance. With the\nmorning, however, came a warm and bright sunshine, which in some degree\nhelped to cheer me; but my bodily suffering was so great that I could\nnever have held up had it not been for the mental eagerness with which I\nlonged to get forward. It was quite consonant with my feelings when the\nhorses were put into full gallop, especially when they were tearing down\none hill to get an impetus to mount another.\n\nAt length, the long, long journey was over; and about thirty hours after\nstarting, I found myself staggering along to the well-known house. As I\napproached the door was softly opened by a relative who for several days\nhad been anxiously watching my arrival. She at once conducted me\nupstairs, to what I expected was a sick chamber, when, to my horror, the\nfirst thing I saw was the lid of a coffin standing up against the wall,\nand in the middle of the room was the coffin, with candles burning on\neither side.\n\nI nearly fell to the ground with this tremendous shock and surprise.\nThere was the dear face, but it seemed absorbed in itself, and to have\nlost all regard for me. It no longer turned to welcome me, nor was the\nhand stretched out, as theretofore, to meet mine. All was still; there\nwas no smile--no voice--no welcome-nothing but the silence of death to\ngreet me.\n\nThe sight of that coffin, with its quiet inmate, did not awaken sorrow\nso much as surprise; and with that, something like anger and rebellion.\nI was weak and exhausted in body, but strong in wilful insubordination.\nMurmuring and complaining, I spoke unadvisedly with my lips.\n\nA gentle voice upbraided me, adding, that I had far better kneel down in\nsubmission to God, and say \"Thy will be done!\" This, however, was not so\neasy, for the demon of rebellion had seized me, and kept me for three\nhours in a tempest of anger, filling my mind with hard thoughts against\nGod. I walked about the room in the most perturbed state of mind, so\nmuch so, that I grieved my friends, who came repeatedly to ask me to\nkneel down and say, \"Thy will be done!\" \"Kneel down--just kneel down!\"\nAt length I did so, and while some one was praying, my tears began to\nflow, and I said the words, \"Thy will be done!\" Immediately the spell\nwas broken and I was enabled to say from my heart, again and again, \"Thy\nwill be done!\" After this I was conscious of a marvellous change in\nmind; rebellion was gone, and resignation had come in its place. More\nthan that, the dear face in the coffin seemed to lie smiling in peace,\nso calm and so lovely, that I felt I would not recall the spirit that\nwas fled, even if it bad been possible. There was wrought in me\nsomething more than submission, even a lifting-up of my will to the will\nof God; and withal, such a love towards Him that I wondered at myself.\nGod had been, as it were, a stranger to me before. Now I felt as though\nI knew and loved Him, and could kiss His hand, though my tears flowed\nfreely.\n\nThe funeral took place the same morning: it was a time of great emotion;\nsorrow and joy met, and flowed together. I thought of the dear one I had\nlost, but yet more of the God of love I had found; and to remember that\nshe was with Him was an additional comfort to me. The funeral service\nwas soothing and elevating beyond expression; and yet, when it was all\nover, such a sense of desolation came upon me, that I felt utterly\nforlorn and truly sad.\n\nMy nest was now completely stirred up; but instead of bemoaning its\nbroken state, I could see the eagle fluttering over her young ones\n(Deut. 32:1). I was conscious that God was looking on, and that He had\nnot forsaken me in this great wreck.\n\nThe strain and excitement I had undergone naturally brought on an\nillness. I was seized with inflammation of the lungs, and was\ndangerously ill. From this, and other complications which supervened,\nthe doctor pronounced that I could not recover, and bade me prepare for\neternity.\n\nJudges and doctors, when they pass sentence of death, seem to regard\nreligion as necessary preparation for it. Too common, also, is this\nidea, even among those who do not belong to these respected professions.\nMy own opinion was much the same at that time.\n\nHaving received this solemn warning, I took down the Prayer-book, and\nreligiously read over the office for the Visitation of the Sick. I\nbecame so interested in this exercise, that I determined to read it\nthree times a day. The prayer for a sick child especially commended\nitself to my mind, so that, by changing a few words, I made it\napplicable to my own case, and used it not only three, but even seven,\ntimes a day. In substance, it petitioned that I might be taken to heaven\nif I died; or that, if it should please God to restore my health, He\nwould let me live to His glory. I did not at that time expect my days\nwould be prolonged, nor had I any wish to live, for the world was now\nperfectly blank and desolate to me. I felt as if I could never be happy\nagain; to be with God would be far better!\n\nI little dreamed that if I had died in that unpardoned and Christless\nstate, I should have been lost forever; for I was profoundly ignorant of\nthe necessity of change of heart--perfectly unconscious that I must be\nborn again of the Spirit. This vital truth had never come to my mind; I\nfelt a love for God, and in my ignorance I wished to die.\n\nOne morning the thought came to me, as I was sitting all alone by the\nfire, \"What have I been praying for?--that the Lord would take me to\nheaven if I died; or, if I lived, that He would let me live to His glory?\"\nWhy, this is heaven both ways!--heaven in heaven, or heaven on\nearth--whichever way it pleases God to answer my prayer. Somehow I felt\ncertain that He would answer it. I was exceedingly happy, and could not\nhelp thanking Him. From that day I began to feel better, and became\nimpressed with the idea that I was to live, and not die. The doctor\nsmiled at me when I told him so, for he did not believe it. He, and two\nother physicians, had told me that my lungs were diseased; indeed, six\nmonths afterwards, all three sounded me, and declared that one lung was\ninoperative, and the other much affected.\n\nYet, notwithstanding the doctor's discouraging announcement--for he told\nme, also, that \"it was one of the fatal signs of consumption for the\npatient to feel or think he was getting better\"--I had a certain\nconviction that I was to recover. As soon as the medical man had gone, I\nput on my coat and hat and went out for a walk. I trembled much from\nweakness, and found it necessary to move very slowly and stop often; but\nunder the shelter of a wall, courting the warmth of the bright-shining\nsun, I managed to make my way to the churchyard.\n\nWhile I was sitting there alone, the great bell struck out unexpectedly,\nand caused me to shake all over; for I was in a very weak condition. It\nwas the sexton tolling to announce the departure of the soul of some\nvillager from the world. Having done this, he came out with his boards\nand tools to dig the grave. He did not observe me sitting by; so he at\nonce commenced, and went on diligently with his work. The ground had so\noften been broken before that it did not take him long to accomplish his\ntask; he gradually got deeper and deeper into the ground, till he\ndisappeared altogether from my sight. I crept to the edge of the narrow\npit in which he was, and looking into it, I could not help thinking of\nthose words of Kirke White--\n\n\"Cold grave, methinks, 'twere sweet to rest\nWithin thy calm and hallowed breast!\"\n\nI had no fear of death, but rather felt that I should welcome it even\nmore than restoration to health.\n\nI have even now a most vivid remembrance of this, and place it on record\nto show how delusive' are our feelings: because I did not feel any\ndanger, I took it for granted that there really was none. That day,\nhowever, was an eventful one in my life; for, in the gladness of my\nheart, I gave myself to God, to live for Him. I had given my will\nbefore, and now I gave my life, and was happy in the deed. I did not\nknow at that time that faith does not consist in believing that I have\ngiven myself, even if I meant it ever so sincerely; but in believing\nthat God has taken or accepted me.\n\nAt the outset, I began with the former--a merely human faith--and its\nresult was consequently imperfect. I was spiritually dead, and did not\nknow it. Alas! What multitudes there are who are utterly unconscious of\nthe fact of this spiritual death, though there are few things more\nplainly declared and revealed in the Word of God.\n\nThe full meaning of the word death is too often misunderstood and\noverlooked. There are three kinds referred to in the Word of\nGod--spiritual, natural, and everlasting. The first is a separation of\nthe soul from God; the second, that of the body from the soul; and the\nlast, that of the unbelieving man, body and soul, from God forever.\n\nIt will be seen that there is one characteristic which is common to all\nthree kinds--that is, separation; and that there is no idea of\nfinality--death is not the end. When the Lord God created man, we\nsuppose that He made him not merely in the form of a body, but a man\nwith body and soul complete; and afterwards that He breathed into this\nliving man the Spirit, and he became a living soul. As such, he communed\nwith the eternal God, who is a Spirit. In this spiritual state he could\nwalk and converse with God in the garden of Eden. When, however, he\ndisobeyed the command which had been given to him, he incurred the\ntremendous penalty. The Lord God had said, \"In the day that you eat of\nthe tree of the knowledge of good and evil, you shall surely die.\" He\ndid eat, and he died there and then; that is, he forfeited that 'Spirit\nwhich had quickened his soul, and thus became a dead soul; though, as we\nknow, he remained a living man for nine hundred years before his body\nreturned to its dust.\n\nBy his one act of disobedience, Adam opened in an instant (as an\nearthquake opens a deep chasm) the great gulf, the impassable gulf of\nseparation which is fixed between us and God. By nature, as the children\nof Adam, we are all on the side which is away from God; and we are\nbecome subject also to the sentence pronounced against the life of the\nbody. We know and understand that we are mortal, and that it is\nappointed unto men once to die; but we do not seem to be aware of the\nmore important fact of the death of our souls. Satan, who said to our\nfirst parents, \"Ye shall not surely die,\" employs himself now in\ndeceiving men by saying, \"Ye are not dead;\" and multitudes believe him,\nand take it for granted that it is actually true. Thus they go on\nunconcerned about this awful and stupendous reality.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 2\n\nReligious Life.\n\nWith returning health and strength, I did not think of going back into\nthe world, but rather gave myself more fully to the purpose for which I\nsupposed that my life had been restored. I felt a thankfulness and joy\nin my recovery, which confirmed me more and more in my determination to\nlive to the glory of God.\n\nWhen I was able to return to the South, I did so by easy stages till I\ngot back to the neighbourhood of London; and there it was ordered that I\nshould be shut up for the remainder of the winter.\n\nDuring this season of retirement, I spent my time most happily in\nreading and prayer, and found great delight in this occupation. I was\nable to say, with the Psalmist, \"I love the Lord, because He has heard\nmy voice and my supplication;\" and, like him, I could say, \"I will call\nupon Him as long as I live; I will walk before Him in the land of the\nliving; and I will take the cup of salvation and call upon the name of\nthe Lord.\" That is, in secret or private life; in social intercourse\nwith my fellow-men; and in the worship of the sanctuary, I will seek the\nglory of God. I used to have much pleasure every day in asking God to\ngive me a deeper sense of His love, that I might unfeignedly thank Him,\nand show forth His praise with my life as well as my lips.\n\nAll this, be it observed, was because God had saved not my soul, but my\nlife; for as yet I had not, like the Psalmist, felt any trouble about my\nsoul. I knew nothing of what he describes as the \"sorrows of death and\nthe pains of hell.\" I had not been awakened by the Spirit to know the\ndanger and sorrow of being separated from God (which is spiritual\ndeath). I was perfectly unconscious that between God and myself there\nwas the \"impassable gulf\" I have already referred to, and consequently I\nhad not experienced such overwhelming anxiety as made the Psalmist cry\nout, \"O Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul.\" I knew nothing of the\nnecessity of passing from death to life, and therefore I could not say,\n\"The Lord has delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my\nfeet from falling.\"\n\nThe only thing I knew was that God was good to me, and therefore I loved\nHim, and was thankful, not for the sake of getting His favour, but\nbecause I thought I had it. I turned over a new leaf, and 'therewith\ncovered up the blotted page of my past life. On this new path I\nendeavoured to walk as earnestly in a religious way, as I had before\nlived in a worldly one.\n\nThis mistake into which I fell was natural enough and common as it is\nnatural; but for all this it was very serious, and might have been fatal\nto me, as it has proved to multitudes. I did not see then, as I have\nsince that turning over a new leaf to cover the past, is not by any\nmeans the same thing as turning back the old leaves, and getting them\nwashed in the blood of the Lamb.\n\nI have said before that I did not know any better; nor was I likely to\nsee matters in a clearer light from the line of study in which I was\nchiefly occupied. I was absorbed for the time, not so much in the Bible\nas in the \"Tracts for the Times\"--a publication which was engaging much\nattention. These Oxford tracts suited me exactly, and fitted my tone of\nmind to a nicety. Their object was the restoration of the Church of\nEngland from a cold, formal condition, into something like reality--from\na secular to a religious state; this also was my own present object for\nmyself. I read these writings with avidity, and formed from them certain\necclesiastical proclivities which carried me on with renewed zeal.\n\nI suppose I learned from the perusal of them to interpret the Bible by\nthe Prayer-book, and to regard the former as a book which no one could\nunderstand without the interpretation of the Fathers. Certain it is,\nthat I did not look to the Bible, but to the Church, for teaching, for I\nwas led to consider that private judgment on the subject of Scripture\nstatements was very presumptuous. I got, moreover, into a legal state,\nand thought my acceptance with God depended upon my works, and that His\nfuture favour would result upon my faithfulness and attention to works\nof righteousness which I was doing. This made me very diligent in\nprayer, fasting, and almsdeeds; and I often sat and dreamed about the\nworks of mercy and devotion which I would do when I was permitted to go\nout again.\n\nLike persons in this state of mind, I also relied on ordinances, and was\nsubject to them. I took it for granted that I was a child of God,\nbecause I had been baptized and brought into the Church; and having been\nconfirmed and admitted to the Lord's Table, I concluded that I was\nsafely on the way to Heaven. I see now the error of this very earnest\ndevotion, and that I was going about to establish my own righteousness\ninstead of submitting to the righteousness of God. I like to remember\nthese days and tell of them, not because I am proud of them-far\notherwise; but because they show the kind forbearance and patience of\nGod towards me, and, besides this, they give me a clearer idea of the\nstate of very many earnest people I meet with, who enter upon a\nreligious path in much the same way.\n\nSuch persons make the two mistakes already referred to. They start with\nbelieving in their surrender of themselves, instead of God's acceptance\nof it; and secondly, they make their continuance therein depend upon\ntheir repeated acts of devotion. They live and walk by their own works,\nnot by faith in the finished work of Christ. What shall I say to these\nthings? Shall I denounce them as delusions, or superstitious legality?\nNo. I would far rather that people should be even thus religious than be\nwithout religious observances--far rather that they should be subject to\nthe Prayer-book teaching than be the sport of their own vain imaginings.\nIf men have not given their hearts to God and received forgiveness of\nsins, it is better that they should give themselves to a Church than\nyield themselves to the world and its vanities.\n\nIf I had to go over the ground again under the same circumstances, I do\nnot think I could take a better path. Church teaching by itself, with\nall its legalities, is superior to a man's own inventions; and the form\nof godliness required by it, even without spiritual power, is better\nthan no form or profession of religion.\n\nTo say the least, Church teachings, when it is correctly followed,\ninstructs the conscience, restrains and guides the will, and imparts a\npractical morality which we do not find in any other system. I have more\nhope of people who rest in some distinctive and positive dogmas than of\nthose who merely deal with negations. The former may be reached by\nspiritual teaching; the latter are but shadowy adversaries with whom it\nis impossible to engage.\n\nTherefore, when I see a man, for conscience towards God, giving up the\nworld, and taking up with reverential worship, with even superstitious\nveneration for ecclesiastical things, because they are so--when I see a\nman, who was careless before, become conscientious and true in all his\noutward dealings, very particular in his observance of private and\npublic prayer, exercising self-denial, living for others rather than\nhimself, bearing and forbearing in all quietness and meekness--I cannot\ndo otherwise than admire him. This, surely, is far more lovely and\nadmirable than the opposite of these things.\n\nInstead of joining in the outcry against such persons, I feel rather in\nsympathy, and have a desire in my heart to win them to still better\nthings, and to show them \"the way of God more perfectly.\" I feel that\nthey are stirred as I was, and are struggling in self-righteousness, not\nbecause they wilfully prefer it to God's righteousness, but because they\nare yearning for true and spiritual reality. They are in a transition\nstate, and the more restless they are, the more assured I am that they\nwill never attain real rest and satisfaction to their souls till they\nhave found God, and are found of Him in Christ Jesus.\n\nBut the question may be asked, \"Is it possible for unsaved people\n(spiritually dead) to be so good and religious? Is not such a state an\nindication of spiritual vitality?\" I answer, without hesitation, that it\nis possible. Religion by itself, irrespective of the subject-matter of a\ncreed, may have a quieting and controlling effect upon the soul. The\nHindoo, the Moslem, the Jew, the Romanist, as well as the Protestant,\nmay each and all be wonderfully self-possessed, zealous, devout, or\nteachable, or even all these together, and yet remain dead souls.\n\nAs a boy in India, I remember being greatly struck with the calmness of\nthe Hindoos, as contrasted with the impatience and angry spirit of the\nEnglish. On one occasion I observed one of the former at his devotions.\nHe, with others, had been carrying me about in a palankeen all day in\nthe hot sun. In the evening, he most reverently took from his girdle a\npiece of mud of the sacred river Ganges, or Gunga, as they call it, and\ndissolving this in water, he washed a piece of ground, then, having\nwashed his feet and hands, he stepped on this sacred spot, and began to\ncook his food. While it was preparing, he was bowed to the ground, with\nhis face between his knees, worshipping towards the setting sun. A boy\nwho was standing by me said, \"If you touch that man he will not eat his\ndinner.\" In a thoughtless moment I did so with my hand, and immediately\nhe rose from his devotions; but, instead of threatening and swearing at\nme, as some might have done who belong to another religion, he only\nlooked reproachfully, and said, \"Ah, Master William!\" and then emptying\nout the rice which was on the fire, he began his ceremony all over\nagain. It was quite dark before he had finished his \"poojah,\" or\nworship, and his meal. This man's religious self-possession made a\ngreater impression on me than if he had abused or even struck me, for\nhindering his dinner. I thought to myself, \"I will be a Hindoo when I\ngrow up!\" And truly I kept my word, though not in the same form; for\nwhat else was I in my earnest, religious days!\n\nThis is an important question to settle, and, therefore, I will give\nthree examples from Scripture.\n\nNo one can doubt the zeal of Saul of Tarsus. This was no easy-going,\ncharitable creed, which supposes all good men are right. He was sure\nthat if he was right, as a natural consequence Stephen was wrong, even\nblasphemous, and as such worthy of death. Therefore, he had no scruples\nabout instigating the death of such a one. Notwithstanding all this\nuncompromising and straightforward religiousness, he needed to be\nbrought from death to life.\n\nAgain: look at Cornelius, who was \"a devout man that feared God with all\nhis house, which gave much alms to the people, and prayed to God alway\"\n(Acts 10:2). There can be no mistake about this man with such a\ntestimony; and yet he also needed to hear words whereby he and all his\nhouse should be saved (Acts 11:14). Next: Nicodemus, I suppose it will\nbe admitted, was an earnest and religious man. Evidently, he was one of\nthose who \"believed in the name of Jesus, because he saw the miracles\nwhich He did\" (John 2:23). This man, humble and teachable as he was,\ncame to Jesus, and said, \"Rabbi, we know that Thou art a teacher come\nfrom God, for no man can do these miracles that Thou doest, except God\nbe with him.\" Yet he was told, \"Except a man be born again, he cannot\nsee the kingdom of God.\" \"Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be\nborn again\" (John 3). As surely as all mankind are dead in Adam, so\nsurely every man needs spiritual life. In this respect it was no new\nthing which the Lord Jesus propounded to Nicodemus. The spiritual change\nof heart he referred to has always been the one condition of intercourse\nwith God. All God's saints, even in the Old Testament times, had\nexperienced 'this. Hence the Lord's exclamation, \"Art thou a master of\nIsrael, and knowest not these things?\"\n\nIt may be urged that these three men were not in the Christian\ndispensation. Let this be granted; but the point at hand is that they\nneeded spiritual life, though they were such good religious men. It will\nnot be very hard to prove that even baptized men in the Christian\ndispensation need to be raised from death unto life just as much as any\nother children of Adam. It is clear, both from Scripture and experience,\nthat baptism, whatever else it imparts, does not give spiritual\nvitality.\n\nSt. Peter's testimony is this, \"Of a truth I perceive that God is no\nrespecter of persons; but in every nation he that feareth Him and\nworketh righteousness is accepted with Him\" (Acts 10: 34, 35). Accepted\nto be saved, not because there is any merit in his works, but because\nGod sees that there is real sincerity in his living up to the light he\nhas. The heathen who know there is a God, and do not worship His as God,\nare given over to idolatry (Rom.1); but, on the other hand, those who do\nworship Him, and give Him thanks, are taken in hand to be guided into\nlife and truth. Therefore are we justified in hoping that earnest and\nreligious men, though they be dead, if their religion is really towards\nGod, will be brought to spiritual life.\n\nIt was a happy winter to me, however, notwithstanding my spiritual\ndeficiencies; and the recollection of it still abides in my memory. I\nhad now no desire for the world and its pleasures. My mind had quite\ngone from such empty amusements and frivolities; even the taste I used\nto have for these things was completely taken away.\n\nI was happier now than ever I had been before, so that I am convinced\nfrom personal experience that even a religious life may be one of joy,\nthough by no means so satisfying and abiding as a truly spiritual one. I\nwas happy, as I have already said, and longed for the time when I could\nbe ordained, and devote my energies to work for God in the ministry.\n\n\nCHAPTER 3\n\nOrdination and First Parish, 1842.\n\nOn the returning spring, as I was feeling so much stronger, and\naltogether better, I thought I would go and see the physician who had\nsounded me some months before. He, after a careful examination, still\nadhered to his previous opinion, and gave very little hope of my\nrecovery, but suggested that if I went to the north coast of Cornwall\nthere might be a chance for me.\n\nOn my return home, I took up an \"Ecclesiastical Gazette,\" though it was\nthree months old, and looked over the advertisements. There I observed\none which invited a curate for a church in that very neighbourhood. It\nwas a sole charge; but, strange to say, a title for holy orders was\noffered also. In reply to this I wrote a letter, asking for particulars,\nin which I stated my Church views, and that I was ordered to that part\nof the country for the benefit of my health.\n\nThe Vicar, who resided in another parish, thirty miles off, was so eager\nto get help for this one, that he wrote back to say he had sent my\nletter to the Bishop, with one from himself, and that I should hear from\nhis lordship in a few days.\n\nI was surprised at this precipitation of affairs, and all the more so\nwhen I received a note from the Bishop of Exeter (Phillpotts), bidding\nme come to him immediately, that I might be in time for the Lent\nordination.\n\nAccordingly, I started westward, and having passed my examination, I was\nsent with letters dimissory to the Bishop of Salisbury (Denison), to\nwhom I was also sent, a year afterwards, for priest's orders. I was very\nweak, and much exhausted with travelling, but still went on, though I\nknow not how.\n\nThe long-desired day at length arrived, and I was duly ordained; but\ninstead of being full of joy, I became much depressed in mind and body,\nand could not rouse myself from dwelling upon the Bishop's address,\nwhich was very solemn. He told us that we were going to take charge of\nthe souls of our parishioners, and that God would require them at our\nhands; we must take heed how we tended the Lord's flock. Altogether, it\nwas more than I had calculated upon; and feeling very ill that\nafternoon, I thought that I had undertaken a burden which would\ncertainly be my ruin. \"What could I do with souls?\" My idea of\nordination was to be a clergyman, read the prayers, preach sermons, and\ndo all I could to bring people to church; but how could I answer for\nsouls which had to live for ever? and what was I to do with them?\n\nIn the evening, I so far roused myself as to go amongst the other\ncandidates, to sound them, and ascertain what were their feelings with\nregard to the Bishop's solemn address! They merely thought that it was\nvery beautiful, and that he was a holy man; and then some of them\nproposed that we should all go in a riding party, to see Stonehenge, the\nnext day. It was especially thought that a drive on the Wiltshire plains\ncould do me a great deal of good, if I did not feel strong enough to\nride on horseback. I agreed to this, and went with them to see this\nfamous temple of Druidical worship; and after that set off for Plymouth,\non my way to the far west. But, alas! the charm of ordination had fled,\nand I was more than half sorry that I had undertaken so much. It had\nbeen done so precipitately too, for even now it was only ten days since\nI had seen the physician.\n\nAfter resting a day, I proceeded to Truro, and then took a post-chaise\nand drove out to my first parish, called Perranzabuloe, which was\nsituated about eight miles from Truro, on the north coast of Cornwall. I\nalighted at an old manor house, where I was to have apartments with a\nfarmer and his family. Being much fatigued, I soon retired to bed,\nanything but happy, or pleased with the bleak and' rough-looking place\nto which I had come.\n\nI slept well, however, and the next morning felt considerably better,\nand was revived in spirits. After making many inquiries about things in\ngeneral, I obtained the keys, and made my way to the parish church,\nwhich was about ten minutes' walk from the house. Here, again, I was\ngreatly grieved and disappointed to see such a neglected churchyard and\ndilapidated church; and when I went inside, my heart sank, for I had\nnever seen a place of worship in such a miserable condition. Moreover, I\nwas told that the parish was seven miles long, and that its large\npopulation of three thousand souls was scattered on all sides, excepting\nround the church.\n\nI had left my friends a long way off, and was alone in a strange place,\nwith an amount of work and responsibility for which I knew I was\nthoroughly unprepared and unfit. However, I sauntered back to my\nlodgings, and began to ruminate as to what was to be done.\n\nI had now sole charge of this extensive parish, for the duties of which\nI was to receive the very moderate stipend of forty pounds a year; but\nof this I did not complain, for my board and lodging, with washing, and\nthe keep of a horse included, was only twelve shillings a week, leaving\nme a margin of nearly ten pounds for my personal expenses. The questions\nthat troubled me were--what was I to do with three thousand people? And\nhow was I to reach them?\n\nIn due course Sunday morning arrived, and with the help of a\nneighbouring clergyman, who kindly came over, as he said, \"to put me in\nthe way,\" I got through the service (being the only one for the day at\nthat time), having about a score of listless people, lounging in\ndifferent parts of the church, for a congregation. This was my first\nSunday in my first parish.\n\nJust at this time a book was sent me by a kind friend, entitled \"The\nBishopric of Souls,\" which terrified me even more than the Bishop's\ncharge had done; for I felt that, notwithstanding my ardent desire to\nserve and glorify God, I had not the remotest conception how to do it,\nas regards winning souls. The author of this book took it for granted\nthat every one who had the office of a pastor, had also the spiritual\nqualification for it; but experience proves that this is by no means the\ncase. My ordination gave me an ecclesiastical position in the parish;\nthe law maintained me in it; and the people expected me to do the duties\nof it: but how to carry all this out, except in a dry and formal way, I\ndid not know.\n\nAs time went on, my parochial duties increased. I had to baptize the\nchildren, marry the young, visit the sick, and bury the dead; but I\ncould not help feeling how different was this in action, to what it was\nin theory. I had had a kind of dreamland parish in my head, with daily\nservice, beautiful music, and an assembly of worshipping people; but\ninstead of this, I found a small, unsympathizing congregation, who\nmerely looked upon these sacred things as duties to be done, and upon me\nas the proper person to do them. When I went to visit the sick I had\nnothing to say to them; so I read a few Collects, and sometimes gave\nthem a little temporal relief, for which they thanked me; but I came out\ndissatisfied with myself, and longed for something more, though I did\nnot know what.\n\nNotwithstanding all these trials and disappointments, my health was\ngradually improving. I found that the air of this place was like meat\nand drink, and gave me an appetite for something more substantial. I\nvery often frequented the beach, with its beautiful cliffs, and was much\nexhilarated by the bracing sea air; indeed, I had, and still retain,\nquite a love for the place. As my strength and energy increased, I rode\nabout the parish all day, making the acquaintance of the people, and\ninviting them to come to church.\n\nDuring my visits, I found out that the church warden was a good\nmusician, and that he knew others in the parish who were able to play on\nvarious instruments; so in order to improve the services, and make them\nmore attractive, I urged him to invite these musical people to his house\nto practise; and in due course we had a clarionet, two fiddles, and his\nbass viol, with a few singers to form a choir. We tried over some\nmetrical psalms (for there were no hymn-books in those days), and soon\nsucceeded in learning them. This musical performance drew many people to\nchurch. The singers were undeniably the great attraction, and they knew\nit; consequently I was somewhat in their power, and had to submit to\nvarious anthems and pieces, such as \"Vital Spark.\" \"Angels Ever Bright\nand Fair,\" and others, not altogether to my taste, but which they\nevidently performed to their own praise and satisfaction.\n\nFinding that the people were beginning to frequent the church, I thought\nit was time to consider what steps should be taken about its\nrestoration, and made it the subject of conversation with the farmers.\nIt awakened and alarmed many of them when I said that the church must be\nrestored, and that we must have a church rate. The chief farmer shook\nhis head, saying, \"You cannot carry that;\" but I replied, \"According to\nlaw, you are bound to keep up the fabric, and it ought to be done. I\nwill write to the Vicar at once about it.\" He was a non-resident\npluralist.\n\nThe farmer smiled at that, and said, laughing, \"I will pledge myself\nthat we will do as much as he does.\" It so happened that the Vicar,\nequally incredulous about the farmers doing anything, promised that he\nwould do one half, if they would do the other.\n\nHaving ascertained this to my satisfaction, I immediately sent for the\nmason of the village, who played the clarionet in the church, also his\nson, who was \"one of the of the fiddles,\" and consulted with them as to\nhow this matter was to be accomplished. They, being in want of work at\nthe time, readily advised me in favour of restoration. The churchwarden\n(the \"bass viol\") said \"that he had no objection to this proceeding, but\nthat he would not be responsible. In two months,\" he added, \"would be\nthe annual vestry meeting.\" \"That will do,\" I said, interrupting him;\nand I made up my mind that I would at once restore the church, and let\nthe parishioners come and see it at that time.\n\nHaving made all necessary preparations, we commenced one fine Monday\nmorning with repairing the roof and walls; and while the men were\nemployed outside, we took out the windows and opened all the doors, to\nlet the wind blow through, that the interior of the building might be\nthoroughly dried. This done, we next coloured the walls, also the stone\narches and pillars (they were far too much broken to display them); and\nhaving cleaned the seats and front of the gallery, we stained and\nvarnished them, matted the floor, carpeted the sacrarium, and procured a\nnew cloth for the Communion Table, and also for the 'pulpit and\nreading-desk.\n\nAll this being completed, I painted texts with my own hands on the\nwalls, in old English characters. I had great joy in writing these, for\nI felt as if it was to the Lord Himself, and for His name, and finished\nwith Nehemiah's prayer, \"Remember me, O my God, concerning this; and\nwipe not out my good deeds that I have done for the house of my God, and\nfor the offices thereof\" (Neh. 13:14).\n\nAltogether, it was a pretty church now, and a pretty sum was to be paid\nfor it. I told the vestry that I alone was responsible, but that the\nVicar had promised to pay one half if the vestry would pay the other. It\nseemed to be such a joy to them to get anything out of him, that they\nmade a rate at once; and upon the Vicar's letter, raised the money and\npaid off the debt.\n\nThe people were much pleased with their church in its new aspect, and\nbrought their friends and neighbours to see it. Besides this, I observed\nsomething which gratified me very much. It was that when they entered\nthe church they did so with reverence, taking off their hats and walking\nsoftly, in place of stamping with their heels and coming in with their\nhats on, as they too often had previously done, without any respect or\nconcern whatever. A neglected place of worship does not command\nreverence.\n\nMy church now began to be the talk of the neighbourhood. Numbers of\npeople came to see it, and among them several clergymen, who asked me to\ncome and restore their churches.\n\nThere were many places where the people could not afford to rebuild the\nstructure. In such, I was invited to exercise my skill in repairing, as\nI had done with my own; in others, I was asked to give designs for\nrestoring portions of the edifice; and in some, for rebuilding\naltogether. In this district, schools were not built nor\nparsonage-houses enlarged without sending for me.\n\nFor several years I was looked upon as an authority in architectural\nmatters. I rode about all over the county from north to west, restoring\nchurches and designing schools, and was accounted the busiest man alive;\nand my horse, my dog, and myself, the \"three leanest things in\ncreation,\" we were to be seen flying along the roads, day and night, in\none part or another.\n\nThe Bishop of Exeter, who at that time presided over Cornwall, appointed\nme to make new \"Peel\" districts.* I designed nineteen, and made all the\nmaps myself, calling on the Vicars and Rectors for their approbation. I\nwas at this time a very popular man, and it was said that \"the Bishop's\nbest living\" would be given to me in due time.\n\n_____________\n\n* The \"Peel\" districts were the new ecclesiastical districts\ncreated under the Church Extension Act, introduced by Sir Robert Peel.\n_____________\n\n\nCHAPTER 4\n\nAntiquarian Researches and Ministry, 1843-6.\n\nAnother thing which raised my name in and beyond the county was the\n\"Lost Church\" at Perranzabuloe. There was an old British church existing\nin some sand-hills in the parish, and it was said to be entire as far as\nthe four walls. The hill under which it was buried was easily known by\nthe bones and teeth which covered it. The legend said that the patron\nsaint, St. Piran, was buried under the altar, and that close by the\nlittle church was a cell in which he lived and died. This was enough. I\ngot men, and set to work to dig it up. After some days' labour we came\nto the floor, where we discovered the stone seats, and on the plaster of\nthe wall the greasy marks of the heads and shoulders of persons who had\nsat there many centuries ago. We found the chancel step, and also the\naltar tomb (which was built east and west, not north and south). It was\nfallen, but enough remained to show the original shape and height of it.\n\nI put a notice in the newspapers, inviting people to come and see the\nold church which had been buried for fifteen hundred years. In the\npresence of many visitors, clerical and lay, we removed the stones of\nthe altar, and found the skeleton of St. Piran, which was identified in\nthree ways. The legend said that he was a man seven feet high; the\nskeleton measured six feet from the shoulder-bones to the heel Again,\nanother legend said that his heart was enshrined in a church forty miles\naway; the skeleton corresponded with this, for it was headless.\nMoreover, it was said that his mother and a friend were buried on either\nside of him; we also found skeletons of a male and female in these\npositions. Being satisfied on this point, we set the masons to work to\nrebuild the altar tomb in its original shape and size, using the same\nstones as far as they would go. We made up the deficiency with a heavy\ngranite slab.\n\nOn this I traced with my finger, in rude Roman letters, \"SANCTUS\nPIRANUS.\" The mason would not cut those crooked letters unless I\nconsented for him to put his name in better ones in the corner. I could\nnot agree to this, so his apprentice and I, between us, picked out the\nrude letters, which have since (I have heard) been copied for a\nveritable Roman inscription.\n\nMy name was now up as an antiquary, and I was asked to be the secretary\n(for the West of England) to the Archaeological Society. I was supposed\nto be an old gentleman, and heard myself quoted as the \"venerable and\nrespected Haslam,\" whose word was considered enough to settle a knotty\npoint beyond doubt. I was invited to give a lecture on the old Perran\nChurch, at the Royal Institution, Truro, which I did; illustrating it\nwith sketches of the building, and exhibiting some rude remains of\ncarving, which are now preserved in the museum there.\n\nThe audience requested me (through their chairman) to print my lecture.\nThis I undertook also; but being very young in literary enterprises, I\nadded a great deal of other matter to the manuscript which I was\npreparing for the press. There was much in the book * about early\nChristianity and ecclesiastical antiquities. I imagined that this parish\nwas, in British and Druidic times, a populous place, and somewhat\nimportant. There was a \"Round,\" or amphitheatre, for public games, and\nfour British castles; also a great many sepulchral mounds on the hills,\nthe burial-place of chieftains. I supposed that St. Piran came here\namong these rude natives (perhaps painted savages) to preach the Gospel,\nand then built himself a cell by the sea-shore,+ near a spring or well,\nwhere he baptized his converts. Close by, he built this little church,\nin which he worshipped God and prayed for the people.\n\n________________________________\n\n* \"The Church of St. Piran.\" Published by Van Voorst.\n+ This little building still remains entire, under the sand. Some pieces\nof British pottery and limpet-shells were found outside the door.\n________________________________\n\nThe words of the poet Spenser do not inaptly describe this scene of\nother days:--\n\nA little, lowly hermitage it was,\nDowne in a dale--\nFar from resort of people, that did pas\nIn treveill to and fro: a litle wyde\nThere was a holy chappell edifyde,\nWherein the hermite dewly wont to say\nHis holy things each morn and eventyde;\nThereby a crystall streame did gently play,\nWhich, from a sacred fountaine welled forth away.\n\nHere then, more than fourteen centuries ago, people called upon God; and\nwhen their little sanctuary was overwhelmed with the sand, they removed\nto the other side of the river, and built themselves another church; but\nthey still continued to bury their dead around and above the oratory and\nresting-place of St. Piran.\n\nWhen my book was published, there ensued a hot controversy about the\nsubject of it; and some who came to see the \"Lost Church\" for\nthemselves, declared that it was nothing more than \"a modern cowshed;\"\nothers would not believe in the antiquity I claimed for it: one of these\neven ventured to assert his opinion in print, that \"it was at least\neight centuries later than the date I had fixed;\" another asked in a\nnewspaper letter, \"How is it, if this is a church, that there are no\nothers of the same period on record?\"\n\nThis roused me to make further research; and I was soon rewarded by\nfinding in the registry at Exeter a list of ninety-two churches existing\nin Cornwall alone in the time of Edward the Confessor, of which\nLam-piran was one. With the help of another antiquary, I discovered nine\nin one week, in the west part of the county, with foundation walls and\naltar tombs, of which I published an account in the \"Archaeological\nJournal.\" This paper set other persons to work, who discovered similar\nremains in various parts of the country; and thus it was proved to\ndemonstration that we had more ecclesiastical antiquities, and of\nearlier date, than we were aware of.\n\nNext, my attention was directed to Cornish crosses; about which I also\nsent a paper, with illustrations, as a good secretary and correspondent\nto the same Journal. My researches on this subject took me back to a\nvery remote time. I found crosses among Roman remains, with\ninscriptions, something like those in the Catacombs near Rome--these\nwere evidently Christian; but I found crosses also among Druidic\nantiquities. I could not help inquiring, \"Where did the Druids get this\nsign?\" From the Phoenicians. \"Where did they get it?\" From the\nEgyptians. \"Where did they get it?\" Then I discovered that the cross had\ncome to Egypt with traditions about a garden, a woman, a child, and a\nserpent, and that the cross was always represented in the hand of the\nsecond person of their trinity of gods. This personage had a human\nmother, and slew the serpent which had persecuted her.*\n\n_______________________\n\n* These traditions came to the Egyptians from an ancestor who had come\nover the flood with seven others.\n_______________________\n\nHere was a wonderful discovery! The mythology of Egypt was based on\noriginal tradition, handed down from Antediluvian times! From further\ninvestigation, it was evident that the substance of Hindoo mythology\ncame from the same source; as also that of the Greeks, Chinese,\nMexicans, and Scandinavians. This is how the Druids got the cross also:\nit was in the hand of their demi-god Thor, the second person of their\ntriad, who slew the great serpent with his famous hammer, which he\nbequeathed to his followers.\n\nI was beside myself with excitement, and walked bout the room in a most\nagitated state. I then made a table or harmony of these various\nmythologies, and when placed side by side, it was quite clear that they\nwere just one and the same story, though dressed up in a variety of\nmythological forms, and that the story was none other than that of the\nBible.\n\n\nIn my architectural journeys I used to entertain, people with these\nwondrous subjects; and one evening I had the honour of agitating even\nthe Bishop of Exeter himself, who, in his enthusiasm, bade me write a\nbook, and dedicate it to him. I did so. \"The Cross and the Serpent\" is\nthe title of it, and it was duly inscribed to his lordship.\n\nIt excites me even now to think about it, though it is thirty-five years\nsince I made these discoveries. The old librarian at Oxford declared\nthat I was mad, and yet he could not keep away from the subject, and he\nwas never weary of hearing something more about it. This reverend Doctor\nsaid, \"If you are right, then all the great antiquaries are wrong.\" I\nsuggested that they had not had the advantage I possessed of placing\ntheir various theories side by side, or of making their observations\nfrom my point of view.\n\nNotwithstanding all these external labours, which engrossed my earnest\nand deep attention, I did not neglect my parish. I felt, however, that\nmy parishioners did not know anything about ecclesiastical antiquities\nor architectural science; and that they knew nothing, and cared less,\nabout Church teaching. They did not believe, with me, that in order to\nbe saved hereafter, they ought to be in the Church, and receive the Holy\nCommunion--that there is no salvation out of the Church, and no Church\nwithout a Bishop. They were utterly careless about these things and from\nthe first had been an unsympathetic and unteachable people. I feel sure\nthat had it not been for other interesting occupations which engaged my\nmind, I should have been altogether discouraged with them.\n\nI tried to stir them up to a zeal worthy of their ancestors, who were\nsuch good and loyal Churchmen, that King Charles the First wrote them a\nletter of Commendation, and commanded that it should be put up in all\nthe churches. I had a copy of this letter well painted, framed, and\nplaced in a conspicuous part of my church. Then I prepared an original\nsermon, which I preached, or rather read, to inaugurate the royal\nletter.\n\nMy text was taken from Heb. 12:22-24, \"Ye are come unto Mount Sion, and\nunto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an\ninnumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the\nfirst-born, which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all,\nand to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the mediator\nof the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh\nbetter things than that of Abel.\" I applied these words to the Church of\nEngland, and rather reproached the Cornish people for not being more\nloyal and scriptural!\n\nI think I was more roused by my sermon than any one else; and no one\nasked me to print it, but I did for all that, with a copy of the king's\nletter. I am sorry to say that the public did not care sufficiently\nabout it to buy copies enough even to pay for printing.\n\nIt fell very flat, but I attributed that to the degeneracy of the times,\nand of Cornish people in particular. The fact was, they understood that\ntext far better than I did, and knew that \"the Church of the first-born\"\nwas something more spiritual than I had any conception of.\n\nFrom the commencement of my ministry I did not, as a general rule,\npreach my own sermons, but Newman's, which I abridged and simplified,\nfor in that day I thought them most sound in doctrine, practical and\nfull of good common sense. Indeed, as far as Church teaching went, they\nwere, to my mind, perfect. They stated doctrines and drew manifest\nconclusions; but my people were not satisfied with them then; and I can\nsee now, thank God! that, with all their excellences, they were utterly\ndeficient in spiritual vitality.\n\nTheir author was one whom I personally admired very much, but by his own\nshowing, in his \"Apologia.\" he was a man who was searching not for God,\nbut for a Church. At length, when he grasped the ideal of what a Church\nought to be, he tried by the Oxford Tracts, especially No. XC, to raise\nthe Church of England to his standard; and failing in that, he became\ndissatisfied, and went over to the Church of Rome.\n\nOnce, when I arrived at a friend's house in the Lake district, I was\ntold that there was a most beautiful view of distant mountains to be\nseen from my window. In the morning I lifted the blind to look, but only\nsaw an ordinary view of green fields, hedges, trees and a lake. There\nwas nothing else whatever to be seen. In the course of the day, a heavy\nmist which had been hanging over the lake was dispersed, and then I saw\nthe beautiful mountains which before had been so completely veiled that\nit was difficult to believe in their existence.\n\nSo it was with me. I could see ecclesiastical things, but the more\nglorious view of spiritual realities beyond them, in all their full and\nvast expanse, was as yet hidden.\n\nWhether my extracts from Newman's Sermons were more pointed, or whether\nI became more impatient with my congregation, I cannot tell, but it was\nvery evident that my words were beginning to take effect at last; for as\nI went on preaching and protesting against the people and against\nschism, my \"bass viol\" called on me one day, and said, \"If you go on\npreaching that doctrine, you will drive away the best part of your\ncongregation.\" \"Excuse me,\" I answered, \"not the best part; you mean the\nworse part.\" \"Well,\" ho said, \"you will see.\"\n\nOn the following Sunday, I gave out my text, and had scarcely read three\npages of my manuscript when I heard a voice say, \"Now we will go.\" With\nthis, the \"bass viol,\" the other fiddles, the clarionet, the ophicleide,\nand the choir, came stumping down the gallery stairs, and marched out.\nSome of the congregation followed their example, with the determination\nnever to come back to the Church again. I waited till the noise was\nover, and then went on with my sermon meekly, and thought myself a\nmartyr for Church principles.\n\nI little thought that the people were being martyred; yet they were\nright, and enlightened in the truth, while I was altogether in the dark,\nand knew nothing about it. From this time there was a constant feud\nbetween the parishioners and myself. I thought that they were\nschismatics; and they knew that I was unconverted, and did not preach\nthe Gospel.\n\nOne day, a Dissenter called to pay a burial fee for the funeral of his\nchild, which he had purposely omitted paying at the proper time because\nhe wished to tell me a piece of his mind. I was absent on the occasion\non some architectural or archaeological business, which was to me all\nimportant. \"I know,\" he said, \"why you went away and would not bury my\nchild.\" \"Do you?\" I asked. \"Yes; it was because I am a Dissenter.\" \"Oh!\"\nI said, \"I would bury you all to-morrow if I could; for you are no good,\nand can do none either.\"\n\nThis went round the parish like wildfire, and did not advance my\npopularity or do my cause any good.\n\nSeriously at this time I thought that separation from the Church of\nEngland was a most deadly sin--it was schism. Idolatry and murder were\nsins against the Mosaic law; but this was a sin against the Church. I\nlittle dreamt then that many of the people with whom I thus contended,\nand whom I grieved so much, were real spiritual members of Christ, and\nhad only ceased to be members of the Church of England because I did not\npreach the Gospel; that, in fact, I was the cause of their leaving the\nservices; that I was the schismatic, for I was separated from Christ:\nthey only, and that for a good reason, had separated from the communion\nof the Church of England, which I misrepresented.\n\nThe Church of England's teaching since the Reformation, like that of the\nprimitive Church, is based not on baptism, but conversion. Baptism was\nintended according to the Lord's commandment (Matt 28:19), for the\npurpose of making disciples*--that is, to graft members into the body of\nChrist's Church outwardly. Whatever special grace is given to infants\nand others at baptism, is given upon the condition of personal faith and\nrepentance. Until a baptized person has been enabled by the Holy Ghost\nto repent and believe the Gospel, he is not really a new-born child of\nGod, or raised from death into life, though nominally, in the words of\nthe Catechism, he has \"been made a child of God.\"\n\n__________________\n\n* See Greek\n___________________\n\nSince the feuds and dissensions in my parish, the church was almost\ndeserted, and left chiefly to myself, my clerk, and a few poor people,\nwho, for the most part, were in ill favour in the chapels.\n\nOne day I was absorbed in writing, or rather rewriting, a text over the\nporch door of the church. It was, \"This is none other but the house of\nGod, and this is the gate of heaven.\" A man who was standing at the foot\nof the ladder said, \"Heaven is a long way from that gate, I reckon.\" I\npretended not to hear him, but his speech stuck to me. I knew only too\nwell from this, and many other indications, that the people had no\nrespect for the church under my ministrations.\n\n\nCHAPTER 5\n\nThe New Parish, 1846.\n\nAbout this time the news reached us that the Vicar was dead; and thus\nended my connection with Perranzabuloe. As the Dean and Chapter would\nnot appoint me to succeed, I had no alternative but to make arrangements\nfor my departure.\n\nIn one sense I was not sorry to go; but for various other reasons I much\nregretted having to leave a place where my health had been so\nwonderfully restored and sustained, and in which I had received so many\ntokens of God's favour. It is true that my labours were of an external\ncharacter; but these I thought most important, and did them with all my\nmight as unto the Lord. I took the work as from Him, and did it all to\nHim, and for Him, thanking Him for any token of success or commendation\nwhich I received.\n\nI also regretted leaving the place before I had done any good to the\npeople; for, with all my endeavours, I had not succeeded in persuading\nthem to receive my idea of salvation by churchmanship.\n\nHowever, the door was shut behind me; and this crisis happened at the\nexact time of another important event in my life. I was just engaged to\nbe married, and therefore had an additional interest in looking for a\nsphere of labour which would suit me, and also the partner of my choice,\nwho was in every respect likely to be an effectual helpmeet This was\nsoon found and we agreed together to give ourselves to the Lord's work\n(as we thought) in it.\n\nOne of the \"Peel\" districts in the neighbourhood of Truro, which I had\ndesigned, called Baldhu, was on the Earl of Falmouth's estate: it came\nto his Lordship's mind to take an interest in this desolate spot; so he\nbought the patronage from the commissioners, and then offered it to me,\nto Be made into a new parish. This I accepted, with many thanks, and\nbegan immediately to dream about my plans for the future.\n\nIt was a time of great distress in that place amongst the tenants, on\naccount of the failure of the potato crop; so his lordship employed some\nhundreds of the men in breaking up the barren croft for planting trees;\nthere he gave me a good central site for a church.\n\nNow I made up my mind to have everything perfect, and with my own rules\nand regulations, my surpliced choir, churchwardens, and frequent\nservices, all after my own heart, it could scarcely fall to be\notherwise. I thought that having free scope, mine should be a model\nplace. The district was in a barren part of a large palish; three\nthousand souls had been assigned to me; and I was to go and civilize\nthem, build my church, school-house, and, indeed, establish everything\nthat was necessary.\n\nTo begin with, I took a room which was used for a village school in the\nweek, and for a service on Sunday. This succeeded so well, that in a few\nmonths I determined to enlarge the building in which we assembled, as\nspeedily as possible. Having made all necessary plans, and procured\nstones, timber, and slate, we commenced operations at five o'clock one\nMonday morning, and by Saturday night had a chancel (which I thought\nmost necessary) ready for Sunday use!\n\nAll the world came to see this sudden erection. This temporary church\nnow held three hundred people; and with the addition of a new choir and\nhearty service, it was a great success, or, at least, so I imagined, for\nin those days I did not look for more.\n\nI entered upon my work here with renewed energy and sanguine hope. I\nhad, of course, gained more experience in the various duties of my\nministry, and had, moreover, a clearer perception, as I thought, how\nsacramental teaching, under the authority of the Church, ought to work.\nI preached on holy living, not conversion, for as yet I knew nothing\nabout the latter.\n\nIn 1847, I went on a visit to a very remarkable man, who had a great\neffect upon me in many ways. He was the Rev. Robert Hawker, of\nMorwenstow, in the extreme north of Cornwall.*\n\n____________________\n\n* See his \"LIFE,\" by Rev. Baring Gould.\n____________________\n\n\nThis friend was a poet, and a High Churchman, from whom I learned many\npractical lessons. He was a man who prayed, and expected an answer; he\nhad a wonderful perception for realizing unseen things, and took\nScripture literally, with startling effect. He certainly was most\neccentric in many of his ways; but there was a reality and\nstraightforwardness about him which charmed me very much; and I was the\nmore drawn to him, from the interest he took in me and my work.\n\nHe knew many legends of holy men of old, and said that the patron saints\nof West Cornwall were in the calendar of the Eastern Church, and those\nin the north of Cornwall belonged to the Western. His own patron saint,\nMorwenna, was a Saxon, and his church a Saxon fane. He talked of these\nsaints as if he knew all about them, and wrote of them in a volume of\npoems thus:--\n\n\"They had their lodges in the wilderness,\nAnd built them cells along the shadowy sea;\nAnd there they dwelt with angels like a dream,\nAnd filled the field of the evangelists\nWith thoughts as sweet as flowers.\"\n\nHe used to give most thrilling and grand descriptions of the storms of\nthe Atlantic, which broke upon the rocky coast with gigantic force, and\ntell thrilling stories of shipwrecks; how he saved the lives of some of\nthe sailors, and how he recovered the bodies of others he could not\nsave. Then in the churchyard he would show you--there, a broken boat\nturned over the resting-place of some; here, two oars set up crosswise\nover several others; and in another part the figure-head of a ship, to\nmark the spot where the body of a captain was buried.\n\nThe Vicarage house was as original as himself. Over the door was\ninscribed--\n\n\"A house, a glebe, a pound a day;\nA pleasant place to watch and pray.\nBe true to Church, be kind to poor,\nO minister, for evermore!\"\n\nThe interior was furnished with old-fashioned heavy furniture and the\noutside was conspicuous for its remarkable chimneys, which were finished\noff as models of the towers of churches where he had served. The kitchen\nchimney, which was oblong, perplexed him very much, till (as he said) \"I\nbethought me of my mother's tomb; and there it is, in its exact shape\nand dimensions!\"\n\nHe had daily service in his church, generally by himself, when he prayed\nfor the people. \"I did not want them there.\" he said. \"God hears me; and\nthey know when I am praying for them, for I ring the bell.\"\n\nHe had much influence in his parish, chiefly amongst the poor, and\ndeclared that his people did whatever he told them. They used to bring a\nbunch of flowers or evergreens every Sunday morning, and set them up in\ntheir pew ends, where a proper place was made to hold them. The whole\nchurch was seated with carved oak benches, which he had bought from time\nto time from other churches, when they were re-pewed with \"deal boxes!\"\n\nOn the Sunday, I was asked to help him in the service, and for this\npurpose was arrayed in an alb, plain, which was just like a cassock in\nwhite linen. As I walked about in this garb, I asked a friend, \"How do\nyou like it?\" In an instant I was pounced upon, and grasped sternly on\nthe arm by the Vicar. \"'Like' has nothing to do with it; is it right?\"\nHe himself wore over his alb a chasuble, which was amber on one side and\ngreen on the other, and was turned to suit the Church seasons; also a\npair of crimson-colored gloves, which, he contended, were the proper\nsacrificial colour for a priest.\n\nI had very little to do in the service but to witness his proceedings,\nwhich I observed with great attention, and even admiration. His\npreaching struck me very much; he used to select the subject of his\nsermon from the Gospel of the day all through the year. This happened to\nbe \"Good Samaritan Sunday,\" so we had a discourse upon the \"certain man\nwho went down from Jerusalem to Jericho,\" in which he told us that \"the\npoor wounded man was Adam's race; the priest who went by was the\nPatriarchal dispensation; the Levite, the Mosaic; and the good Samaritan\nrepresented Christ; the inn was the Church; and the twopence, the\nSacraments.\"\n\nHe held his manuscript before his face, and read it out boldly, because\nhe \"hated,\" as he said, \"those fellows who read their sermons, and all\nthe time pretend to preach them;\" and he especially abhorred those who\nsecreted notes in their Bibles: \"Either have a book, sir, or none!\"\n\nHe had a great aversion to Low Church clergymen, and told me that his\nstag Robin, who ranged on the lawn, had the same; and that once he\npinned one of them to the ground between his horns. The poor man cried\nout in great fear; so he told Robin to let him go, which he did, but\nstood and looked at the obnoxious individual as if he would like to have\nhim down again and frighten him, though he would not hurt him--\"Robin\nwas kind-hearted.\"\n\n\"This Evangelical,\" he continued, \"had a tail coat; he was dressed like\nan undertaker, sir. Once upon a time there was one like him travelling\nin Egypt, with a similar coat and a tall hat; and the Arabs pursued him,\ncalling him the 'father of saucepans, with a slit tail.'\" This part of\nhis speech was evidently meant for me, for I wore a hat and coat of this\ndescription, finding it more convenient for the saddle, and for dining\nout when I alighted.\n\nHe persuaded me to wear a priestly garb like his, and gave me one of his\nold cassocks for a pattern; this I succeeded in getting made to my\nsatisfaction, after considerable difficulty.\n\nI came back to my work full of new thoughts and plans, determined to do\nwhat was \"right\" and this in spite of all fears, whether my own, or\nthose of others.\n\nI now began to think more of the reality of prayer, and of the meaning\nof the services of the Church; I emphasized my words, and insisted upon\nproper teaching. I also paid more attention to my sermons, having\nhitherto disregarded them; for, as I said, \"the Druids never preached;\nthey only worshipped.\"\n\nI help up my manuscript and read my sermon, like Mr. Hawker; and I wore\na square cap and cassock, instead of the \"saucepan\" and the \"tails.\"\nThis costume I continued to wear for several years, though I was\nfrequently laughed at, and often pursued by boys, which was not\nagreeable to flesh and blood; but it helped to separate me from the\nworld, and to make me feel that I was set apart as a priest to offer\nsacrifice for the people.\n\nIn course of time I began to make preparations for my permanent church.\nI drew the designs for it, passed them, and obtained money enough to\nbegin to build. There was a grand ceremony at the stone-laying, and a\nlong procession. We had banners, chanting, and a number of surpliced\nclergy, besides a large congregation.\n\nThe Earl of Falmouth, who laid the stone, contributed a thousand pounds\ntowards the edifice; his mother gave three hundred pounds for a peal of\nbells; and others of the gentry who were present contributed; so that\nupwards of eighteen hundred pounds was promised that day. Just twelve\nmonths after, July 20, 1848, the same company, with many others, and the\nBishop of Exeter (Phillpotts) came to consecrate the \"beautiful church.\"\n\nIn the meantime, between the stone-laying and the consecration, the\nParsonage house had been built, and, more than that, it was even\npapered, furnished, and inhabited! Besides all this, there was a garden\nmade, and a doorway, after an ecclesiastical mode, leading into the\nchurchyard, with this inscription over it:--\n\n\"Be true to Church,\nBe kind to poor,\nO minister, for evermore.\"\n\nIn this church there were super-altars, candles, triptych, and also a\npainted window; organ, choir, and six bells; so that for those days it\nwas considered a very complete thing. \"The priest of Baldhu,\" with his\ncassock and square cap, was quite a character in his small way. He\npreached in a surplice, of course, and propounded Church tactics, firmly\ncontending for the Church teaching. The Wesleyans and others had their\ndistinctive tenets, the Church must have hers: they had their members\nenrolled, the Church must have hers; therefore he would have a \"guild,\"\nwith the view of keeping his people together. Outwardly there was an\nesprit de corps, and the parishioners came to church, and took an\ninterest in the proceedings; but it was easy to see that their hearts\nwere elsewhere. Still I went on, hoping against hope, \"building from the\ntop\" without any foundation, teaching people to live before they were\nborn!\n\n\nCHAPTER 6\n\nThe Awakening, 1848-51.\n\nHe more earnestly I wrought among the people, and the better I knew\nthem, the more I saw that the mere attachment to the Church, and\npunctual attendance at the services or frequency of Communion, was not\nsufficient. I wanted something deeper. I wanted to reach their hearts in\norder to do them good.\n\nWhether this desire sprang up in the ordinary progress by which God was\nimperceptibly leading me, or from a story I heard at a clerical meeting,\nI know not--perhaps from both. My mind was evidently as ground prepared\nto receive the warning. The story was about a dream a clergyman had. He\nthought the Judgment day was come, and that there was, as it were, a\ngreat visitation--greater than the Bishop's. The clergy were mustering,\nand appeared in their gowns, but instead of being alone, they had part\nof their congregations with them. Some had a few followers, others had\nmore, and some a great many; and ail these received a gracious smile\nfrom the Judge when their names were called. The clergyman who dreamed\nwas waiting, as he supposed, with a large number of people at his back\nWhen his turn came he went forward; but, as he approached, he saw that\nthe Judge's countenance was sad and dark. In a sudden impulse of\nsuspicion he looked back; and lo! there was no one behind him. He\nstopped, not daring to go any further, and turning to look at the Judge,\nsaw that His countenance was full of wrath. This dream had such an\neffect upon him that he began to attend to his parish and care for the\nsouls of his people.\n\nI also was beginning to see that I ought to care for the souls of my\npeople-at least, as much as I did for the services Of the Church. As a\npriest, I had the power (so I thought) to give them absolution; and yet\nnone, alas! availed themselves of the opportunity. How could they have\nforgiveness if they did not come to me? This absolution I believed to be\nneedful before coming to Holy Communion, and that it was, indeed, the\ntrue preparation for that sacred ordinance. I used to speak privately to\nthe members of the Church Guild about this, and persuaded some of them\nto come to me for confession and absolution: but I was restless, and\nfelt that I was doing good by stealth. Besides this, those whom I thus\nabsolved were not satisfied, for they said they could not rejoice in the\nforgiveness of their sins as the Methodists did, or say that they were\npardoned. In this respect I was working upon most tender ground, but I\ndid not know what else to do.\n\nI used to spend hours and hours in my church alone in meditation and\nprayer; and, while thinking, employed my hands in writing texts over the\nwindows and on the walls, and in painting ornamental borders above the\narches. I remember writing over the chancel arch, with much interest and\nexultation, \"Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our\nGod, and the power of His Christ.\" (Rev. 12:10).\n\nI imagined, in my sanguine hope, that the kingdom of Christ was come,\nand that the \"accuser of the brethren\" was cast down. I thought I saw,\nin the power of Christ given to His priests, such victory that nothing\ncould stand against it. So much for dwelling on a theory, right or\nwrong, till it fills the mind. Yet I cannot say that all this was\nwithout prayer. I did wait upon God, and thought my answers were from\nHim; but I see now that I went to the Lord with an idol in my heart, and\nthat He answered me according to it (Ezek. 14:3).\n\nOne day I saw a picture in a friend's house which attracted me during\nthe time I was waiting for him. It was nothing artistic, nor was it over\nwell drawn, but still it engaged my attention in a way for which I could\nnot account. When my friend came down we talked about other things; but\neven after I left the house this picture haunted me. At night I lay\nawake thinking about it--so much so, that I rose early the next morning,\nand went to a bookseller's shop, where I bought a large sheet of\ntracing-paper and pencil, and sent them out by the postman, with a note\nto my friend, begging him to give me a tracing of the picture in\nquestion.\n\nI had to wait for more than a fortnight before it arrived, and then how\ngreat was my joy! I remember spreading a white cloth on my table, and\nopening out the tracing-paper upon it; and there was the veritable\npicture of the Good Shepherd! His countenance was loving and kind. With\none hand He was pushing aside the branch of a tree, though a great thorn\nwent right through it; and with the other He was extricating a sheep\nwhich was entangled in the thorns. The poor thing was looking up in\nhelplessness, all spotted over with marks of its own blood, for it was\nwounded in struggling to escape. Another thing which struck me in this\npicture was that the tree was growing on the edge of a precipice, and\nhad it not been for it (the tree), with all the cruel wounds it\ninflicted, the sheep would have gone over and perished.\n\nAfter considering this picture for a long time, I painted it in a larger\nsize on the wall of my church, just opposite the entrance door, so that\nevery one who came in might see it. I cannot describe the interest with\nwhich I employed myself about this work; and when it was done, finding\nthat it wanted a good bold foreground, I selected a short text-\"He came\nto seek and to save that which was lost.\"\n\nGod was speaking to me all this time about the Good Shepherd who gave\nHis life for me; but I did not hear Him, or suspect that I was lost, or\ncaught in any thorns, or hanging over a precipice; therefore, I did not\napply the subject to myself. Certainly, I remember that my thoughts\ndwelt very much on forgiveness and salvation, but I preached that these\nwere to be had in and by the Church, which was as the Ark in which Noah\nwas saved. Baptism was the door of this Ark, and Holy Communion the\ntoken of abiding in it; and all who were not inside were lost. What\nwould become of those outside the Church was a matter which greatly\nperplexed me. I could not dare to say they would be lost forever; but\nwhere could they be now? and what would become of them hereafter? I\nlonged to save John Bunyan; but he was such a determined schismatic that\nit was impossible to make out a hope for him! Sometimes I was cheered by\nthe thought that he had been duly baptized in infancy, and that his\nafter-life was one of ignorance; but this opened the door too wide, and\nmade my theory of salvation by the Church a very vague and uncertain\nthing. So deeply was the thought ingrained in my mind that one day I\nbaptized myself conditionally in the Church, for fear that I had not\nbeen properly baptized in infancy, and consequently should be lost\nhereafter. I had no idea that I was lost now; far from that, I thought I\nwas as safe as the Church herself, and that the gates of hell could not\nprevail against me.\n\nI had many conversations with the earnest people in my parish, but they\nwere evidently resting, not where I was, but on something I did not\nknow. One very happy woman told me, \"Ah! you went to college to larn the\nLatin; but though I don't know a letter in the Book, yet I can read my\ntitle clear to mansions in the skies.\" Another woman, whenever I went to\nsee her, made me read the story of her conversion, which was written out\nin a copy-book. Several other, men and women, talked to me continually\nabout their \"conversion.\" I often wondered what that was; but, as I did\nnot see much self-denial among these converted ones, and observed that\nthey did not attend God's House nor ever come to the Lord's table. I\nthought conversion could not be of much consequence, or anything to be\ndesired.\n\nI little knew that I was the cause of their remaining away from church,\nand from the Lord's table. One thoughtful man told me, \"Cornish people\nare too enlightened to go to church! A man must give up religion to go\nthere; only unconverted people and backsliders go to such a place!\" Yet\nthis was a prayerful man. What did he mean? At various clerical meetings\nI used to repeat these things, but still obtained no information or\nsatisfaction.\n\nI made it a rule to visit every house in my parish once a week, taking\nfrom twelve to twenty each day, when I sought to enlighten the people by\nleaving Church tracts, and even wrote some myself; but they would not\ndo. I found that the Religious Tract Society's publications were more\nacceptable. To my great disappointment, I discovered too, that\nEvangelical sermons drew the people, while sacramental topics did not\ninterest them. So, in my ardent desire to reach and do them good, I\nprocured several volumes of Evangelical sermons, and copied them,\nputting in sometimes a negative to their statements, to make them, as I\nthought, right.\n\nNow I began to see and feel that there was some good in preaching, and\nused the pulpit intentionally, in order to communicate with my people,\ncarefully writing or compiling my sermons. But I must confess that I was\nvery nervous in my delivery, and frequently lost my place--sometimes\neven myself; and this to the great confusion of the congregation.\n\nI will tell how it pleased the Lord to deliver me from this bondage of\nnervousness, and enable me to open my lips so as to plainly speak out my\nmeaning.\n\nOne day, a friend with whom I was staying was very late in coming down\nto breakfast; so, while I was waiting, I employed myself in reading the\n\"Life of Bishop Shirley,\" of Sodor and Man. My eyes happened to fall on\na passage, describing a difficulty into which he fell by losing his\nsermon on his way to a country church. When the prayers were over, and\nthe psalm was nearly sung, he put his hand into his pocket for his\nmanuscript, and, to his dismay, it was gone. There was no time to\ncontinue his search; so he gave out a text, and preached, as he said, in\ndependence upon God, and never wrote a sermon afterwards.\n\nWhen my friend came to breakfast, he asked me what I had been doing all\nthe morning. I told him. \"Ah!\" he said, quietly. \"Why do you not preach\nin dependence upon God and go without a book like that good man? .... I\npreach like that!\" I said in amazement, terrified at the very thought.\n\"Yes.\" he answered, mischievously, \"You. Who needs to depend upon God\nfor this more than you do?\" Seeing that I was perturbed at his\nsuggestion, he went on teasing me all breakfast time, and at last said,\n\"Well, what is your decision? Do you mean to preach in future in\ndependence upon God?\" I said, \"Yes; I have made up my mind to begin next\nSunday.\" Now it was his turn to be terrified, and he did all he could to\ndissuade me, saying, \"You will make a fool of yourself!\" \"No fear of\nthat,\" I replied; \"I do it already; I cannot be worse. No; I will begin\nnext Sunday!\"\n\nI came back with the determination to keep my promise, but must confess\nthat I grew more and more uneasy as the time approached. However, on\nSunday, I went up into the pulpit, and spoke as well as I could, without\nany notes, and found it far easier than I had feared. In the evening it\nwas still easier; and so I continued, week by week, gaining more\nconfidence, and have never written a sermon since that day--that is, to\npreach it. Once I was tempted to take a book up into the pulpit, feeling\nI had nothing to say, when something said to me, \"Is that the way you\ndepend upon God?\" Immediately I put the volume on the floor, and\nstanding on it, gave out my text, and preached without hesitation. This\ngoing forward in dependence upon God has been a deliverance to me from\nmany a difficulty besides this one, and that through many years.\n\nOne day I went, in my cassock and cap, to the shop of a man whom I\nregarded as a dreadful schismatic. He sold the publications of the\nReligious Tract Society. On entering, he appeared greatly pleased to see\nme, and took unusual interest and pains in selecting tracts, giving me a\ndouble portion for my money. His kindness was very embarrassing; and\nwhen, on leaving, he followed me to the door, and said \"God bless you!\"\nit gave me a great turn. A schismatic blessing a priest! This, indeed,\nwas an anomaly. I was ashamed to be seen coming out of the shop, and the\nmore so, because I had this large Evangelical parcel in my hand, I felt\nas though everybody was looking at me. However, the tracts were very\nacceptable at home, and in the parish. I even began to think there was\nsomething good in them. So I cent for more.\n\nThree men, one after another, told me that they had been converted\nthrough reading them. One of these said that \"the tract I had given him\nought to be written in letters of gold;\" and a few months after this\nsame man died most happily, rejoicing in the Lord, and leaving a bright\ntestimony behind. I mentioned the conversion of these three men to many\nof my friends, and asked them for some explanation, but got none. Still,\nthe thought continually haunted me---What can this \"conversion\" be?\n\nI had made it a custom to pray about what I had to do, and anything I\ncould not understand; therefore I prayed about this. Just then (I\nbelieve, in answer to prayer) a friend offered to lend me Southey's\n\"Life of Wesley,\" and said, \"You will find it all about conversion;\" and\na few days after came a tract, \"John Berridge's Great Error Detected.\"\nThis tract was carefully marked in pencil, and had several questions\nwritten in the margin. I found out that it came from a person to whom I\nhad given it, and who was anxious to know its meaning.\n\nI read it with much interest, for I saw that the first portion of the\nhistory of Berridge corresponded with mine; but as I went on reading, I\nwondered what he could mean by \"Justification.\" What was that wonderful\nthing which God did for him and for the souls of his people? What could\nhe mean by having his eyes opened to see himself a wretched, lost man?\nWhat was \"seeing the way of salvation\"? He said that he had preached for\nsix years, and never brought a single soul to Christ; and for two years\nmore in another place, and had no success; but now, when he preached\nChrist instead of the Church, people came from all parts, far and near,\nto hear the sound of the glorious Gospel; and believers were added to\nthe Church continually. I grappled with this subject; but I could not,\nby searching, find out anything, for I was in the dark, and knew not as\nyet that I was blind, and needed the power of the Holy Spirit to awaken\nand bring me to see myself a lost sinner. My soul was now all a stir on\nthis subject; but, as far as I can remember, I wanted the\ninformation-not for myself; but because I thought I should then get hold\nof the secret by which the Wesleyans and others caught and kept their\npeople, or rather my people.\n\nSoon after, my gardener, a good Churchman, and duly despised by his\nneighbours for attaching himself to me and my teaching, fell seriously\nill. I sent him at once to the doctor, who pronounced him to be in a\nminer's consumption, and gave no hope of his recovery. No sooner did he\nrealize his position, and see eternity before him, than all the Church\nteaching I had given him failed to console or satisfy, and his heart\nsank within him at the near prospect of death. In his distress of mind,\nhe did not send for me to come and pray with him, but actually sent for\na converted man, who lived in the next row of cottages. This man,\ninstead of building him up as I had done, went to work in the opposite\ndirection-to break him down; that was, to show my servant that he was a\nlost sinner, and needed to come to Jesus just as he was, for pardon and\nsalvation. He was brought under deep conviction of sin, and eventually\nfound peace through the precious blood of Jesus.\n\nImmediately it spread all over the parish that \"the parson's servant was\nconverted.\" The news soon reached me, but, instead of giving joy,\nbrought the most bitter disappointment and sorrow to my heart. Such was\nthe profound ignorance I was in!\n\nThe poor man sent for me several times, but I could not make up my mind\nto go near him. I felt far too much hurt to think that after all I had\ntaught him against schism, he should fall into so great an error.\nHowever, he sent again and again, till at last his entreaties prevailed,\nand I went. Instead of lying on his bed, a dying man, as I expected to\nfind him, he was walking about the room in a most joyful and ecstatic\nstate. \"Oh, dear master!\" he exclaimed, \"I am so glad you are come! I am\nso happy! My soul is saved, glory be to God!\" \"Come, John,\" I said, \"sit\ndown and be quiet, and I will have a talk with you, and tell you what I\nthink.\" But John knew my thoughts quite well enough, so he burst out,\n\"Oh master! I am sure you do not know about this, or you would have told\nme. I am quite sure you love me, and I love you--that I do! but, dear\nmaster, you do not know this--I am praying for the Lord to show it to\nyou. I mean to pray till I die, and after that if I can, till you are\nconverted.\" He looked at me so lovingly, and seemed so truly happy, that\nit was more than I could stand. Almost involuntarily, I made for the\ndoor, and escaped before he could stop me.\n\nI went home greatly disturbed in my mind--altogether disappointed and\ndisgusted with my work among these Cornish people. \"It is no use; they\nnever will be Churchmen!\" I was as hopeless and miserable as I could be.\nI felt that my superior teaching and practice had failed, and that the\ninferior and, as I believed, unscriptural dogmas had prevailed. My\nfavourite and most promising Churchman had fallen, and was happy in his\nfall; more than that, he was actually praying that I might fall too!\n\nI felt very jealous for the Church, and therefore felt deeply the\nconversion of my gardener. Like the elder brother of the Prodigal Son, I\nwas grieved, and even angry, because he was restored to favour and joy.\nThe remonstrance of the father prevailed nothing to mollify his\nfeelings; in like manner, nothing seemed to give me any rest in this\ncrisis of my parochial work. I thought I would give up my parish and\nchurch, and go and work in some more congenial soil; or else that I\nwould preach a set of sermons on the subject of schism, for perhaps I\nhad not sufficiently taught my people the danger of this great sin!\n\nEvery parishioner I passed seemed to look at me as if he said, \"So much\nfor your teaching! You will never convince us!\"\n\n\nCHAPTER 7\n\nConversion, 1851.\n\nThis was a time of great disappointment and discouragement. Everything\nhad turned out so different to the expectation I had formed and\ncherished on first coming to this place. I was then full of hope and\nintended to carry all before me with great success, and I thought I did;\nbut, alas! there was a mistake somewhere, something was wrong.\n\nIn those days, when I was building my new church, and talking about the\ntower and spire we were going to erect, an elderly Christian lady who\nwas sitting in her wheel-chair, calmly listening to our conversation,\nsaid, \"Will you begin to build your spire from the top?\"* It was a\nstrange question, but she evidently meant something, and looked for an\nanswer. I gave it, saying, \"No, madam, not from the top, but from the\nfoundation.\" She replied, \"That is right--that is right,\" and went on\nwith her knitting.\n\n_______________________\n\n  * See Tract, \"Building from the Top,\" by Rev. W. Haslam\n_______________________\n\nThis question was not asked in jest or in ignorance; it was like a\nriddle. What did she mean? In a few years this lady passed away, but her\nenigmatic words remained. No doubt she thought to herself that I was\nbeginning at the wrong end, while I went on talking of the choir, organ,\nhappy worship, and all the things that we were going to attempt in the\nnew church; that I was aiming at sanctification, without justification;\nintending to teach people to be holy before they were saved and\npardoned. This is exactly what I was doing. I had planted the boards of\nmy tabernacle of worship, not in silver sockets (the silver of which had\nbeen paid for redemption), but in the sand of the wilderness. In other\nwords, I was teaching people to worship God, who is a Spirit, not for\nlove of Him who gave His Son to die for them, but in the fervour and\nenthusiasm of human nature. My superstructure was built on sand; and\nhence the continual disappointment, and that last discouraging\noverthrow. No wonder that my life was a failure, and my labours\nineffectual, inasmuch as my efforts were not put forth in faith. My work\nwas not done as a thank-offering, but rather as a meritorious effort to\nobtain favour from God.\n\nRepentance towards God, however earnest and sincere, without faith\ntowards our Lord Jesus Christ, is not complete or satisfying. There may\nbe a change of mind and will, producing a change of actions, which are\ndone in order to pacify conscience, and to obtain God's favour in\nreturn; but this is not enough. It is like preparing the Found without\nsowing seed, and then being disappointed that there is no harvest. A\ngarden is not complete or successful unless the Found has been properly\nprepared, nor unless flourishing plants are growing in it.\n\nRepentance with Faith, the two together, constitute the fullness of\nGod's religion. We have to believe, not in the fact that we have given\nourselves--we know this in our own consciousness--but in the fact that\nGod, who is more willing to take than we to give, has accepted us. We\nrejoice and work, not as persons who have surrendered ourselves to God,\nbut out of loving gratitude, as those who have been changed by Him to\nthis end.\n\nI will go on now to tell how I was brought at this critical period of my\nlife to real faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ. This was done in a way\nI knew not, and moreover, in a way I little expected. I had promised a\nvisit to Mr. Aitken, of Pendeen, to advise him about his church, which\nwas then building; and now, in order to divert my thoughts, I made up my\nmind to go to him at once. Soon after my arrival, as we were seated\ncomfortably by the fire, he asked me (as he very commonly did) how the\nparish prospered. He said, \"I often take shame to myself when I think of\nall your work. But, my brother, are you satisfied?\"\n\nI said, \"No, I am not satisfied.\"*\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because I am making a rope of sand, which looks very well till I pull,\nand then, when I expect it to hold, it gives way.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Why,\" I replied, \"these Cornish people are ingrained schismatics.\"\n\nI then told him of my gardener's conversion, and my great\ndisappointment.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, \"if I were taken ill, I certainly would not send for\nyou. I am sure you could not do me any good, for you are not converted\nyourself.\"\n\n\"Not converted!\" I exclaimed. \"How can you tell?\"\n\nHe said, quietly, \"I am sure of it, or you would not have come here to\ncomplain of your gardener. If you had been converted, you would have\nremained at home to rejoice with him. It is very clear you are not\nconverted!\"\n\n____________________________\n\n* See Tract, \"Are You Satisfied?\" by Rev. W. Haslam.\n___________________________\n\nI was vexed with him for saying that, and attempted to dispute the\npoint; but he was calm and confident; while I, on the other hand, was\nuneasy, and trying to justify myself.\n\nIn the course of our conversation, he said, \"You do not seem to know the\ndifference between the natural conscience and the work of the Spirit.\"\nHere he had me, for I only knew of one thing, and he referred to two.\nHowever, we battled on till nearly two o'clock in the morning, and then\nhe showed me to my bed-room. Pointing to the bed, he said (in a voice\nfull of meaning), \"Ah! a very holy man of God died there a short time\nsince.\" This did not add to my comfort or induce sleep, for I was\nalready much disturbed by the conversation we had had, and did not enjoy\nthe idea of going to bed and sleeping where one had so lately died--even\nthough he was a holy man. Resolving to sit up, I looked round the room,\nand seeing some books on the table, took up one, which happened to be\nHare's \"Mission of the Comforter.\" Almost the first page I glanced at\ntold the difference between the natural conscience and the work of the\nSpirit. This I read and re-read till I understood its meaning.\n\nThe next morning as soon as breakfast was finished, I resumed the\nconversation of the previous night with the additional light I had\ngained on the subject. We had not talked long before Mr. Aitken said,\n\"Ah, my brother, you have changed your ground since last night!\"\n\nI at once confessed that I had been reading Hare's book, which he did\nnot know was in my room, nor even in the house. He was curious to see\nit.\n\nHe then challenged me on another point, and said, \"Have you peace with\nGod?\" I answered, without hesitation, \"Yes,\"---for, for eight years or\nmore I had regarded God as my Friend. Mr. A. went on to ask me, \"How did\nyou get peace?\" \"Oh,\" I said, \"I have it continually. I get it at the\nDaily Service, I get it through prayer and reading, and especially at\nthe Holy Communion. I have made it a rule to carry my sins there every\nSunday, and have often come away from that holy sacrament feeling as\nhappy and free as a bird.\" My friend looked surprised, but did not\ndispute this part of my experience. He contented himself by asking me\nquietly, \"And how long does your peace last?\" This question made me\nthink. I said, \"I suppose, not a week, for I have to do the same thing\nevery Sunday.\" He replied, \"I thought so.\" Opening the Bible, he found\nthe fourth chapter of St. John, and read, \"'Whosoever drinketh of this\nwater shall thirst again.' The woman of Samaria drew water for herself\nat Jacob's well, and quenched her thirst; but she had to come again and\nagain to the same well. She had no idea of getting water, except by\ndrawing, any more than you have of getting peace excepting through the\nmeans you use. The Lord said to her, 'If thou knewest the gift of God,\nand who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have\nasked of Him, and He would have given thee living water,' which would be\n'a well of water springing up into everlasting life'\" (John 4:10-14). My\nfriend pointed out the difference between getting water by drawing from\na well, and having a living well within you springing up.\n\nI said, \"I never heard of such a thing.\"\n\n\"I suppose not,\" he answered.\n\n\"Have you this living water?\" I continued.\n\n\"Yes, thank God, I have had it for the last thirty years.\"\n\n\"How did you get it?\"\n\n\"Look here,\" he said, pointing to the tenth verse: \"You wouldest have\nasked of Him, and He would have given thee living water.\" \"Shall we ask\nHim?\" I said.\n\nHe answered, \"With all my heart;\" and immediately pushing back his\nchair, knelt down at his round table, and I knelt on the opposite side.\nWhat he prayed for I do not know. I was completely overcome, and melted\nto tears. I sat down on the ground, sobbing, while he shouted aloud,\npraising God.\n\nAs soon as I could get up, I made for the door, and taking my hat, coat,\nand umbrella, said that \"I was really afraid to stay any longer.\" With\nthis I took my departure, leaving my carpet-bag behind. It was seven\nmiles to Penzance, but in my excitement I walked and ran all the way,\nand arrived there before the coach, which was to have called for me, but\nbrought my carpet-bag instead. In the meantime, while I was waiting for\nit, I saw a pamphlet, by Mr. Aitken, in a shop window, which I bought,\nand got into the train to return to Baldhu. My mind was in such a\ndistracted state, that I sought relief in reading. I had not long been\ndoing so, when I came to a paragraph in italics: \"Then shall He say unto\nthem, Depart from Me; I never knew you.\" The question arrested me, \"What\nif He says that to you? Ah, that is not likely. But, what if He does? It\ncannot be. I have given up the world; I love God; I visit the sick; I\nhave daily service and weekly communion. But, what if He does?--what if\nHe does? I could not bear the thought; it seemed to overwhelm me.\"\n\nAs I read the pamphlet, I saw that the words were spoken to persons who\nwere taken by surprise. So should I be. They were able to say, \"We have\neaten and drunk in Thy presence, and Thou has taught in our streets: in\nThy name we have cast out devils, and done many wonderful works.\" Yet,\nwith all this, He replied, \"Depart from Me, I never knew you.\" I did not\nsee how I could escape, if such men as these were to be rejected.\n\nConviction was laying hold upon me, and the circle was becoming\nnarrower. The thought pressed heavily upon me, \"What a dreadful thing,\nif I am wrong!\" Added to this, I trembled to think of those I had\nmisled. \"Can it be true? Is it so?\" I remembered some I had watched over\nmost zealously, lest the Dissenters should come and pray with them. I\nhad sent them out of the world resting upon a false hope, administering\nthe sacrament to them for want of knowing any other way of bringing them\ninto God's favour. I used to grieve over any parishioner who died\nwithout the last sacrament, and often wondered how it would fare with\nDissenters!\n\nMy mind was in a revolution. I do not remember how I got home. I felt as\nif I were out on the dark, boundless ocean, without light, or oar, or\nrudder. I endured the greatest agony of mind for the souls I had misled,\nthough I had done it ignorantly. \"They are gone, and lost forever!\" I\njustly deserved to go also. My distress seemed greater than I could\nbear. A tremendous storm of wind, rain and thunder, which was raining at\nthe time, was quite in sympathy with my feelings. I could not rest.\nLooking at the graves of some of my faithful Churchmen, I wondered, \"Is\nit really true that they are now cursing me for having misled them?\"\n\nThursday. Friday, and Saturday passed by, each day and night more dark\nand despairing than the preceding one. On the Sunday, I was so ill that\nI was quite unfit to take the service. Mr. Aitken had said to me, \"If I\nwere you, I would shut the church, and say to the congregation, 'I will\nnot preach again till I am converted. Pray for me!'\" Shall I do this?\n\nThe sun was shining brightly, and before I could make up my mind to put\noff the service, the bells struck out a merry peal, and sent their\nsummons far away over the hills. Now the thought came to me that I would\ngo to church and read the morning prayers and after that dismiss the\npeople. There was no preparation for the Holy Communion that day, and I\nhad deputed the clerk to select the hymns, for I was far too ill to\nattend to anything myself. The psalms and hymns were especially\napplicable to my case, and seemed to help me, so that I thought I would\ngo on and read the ante-communion service, and then dismiss the people.\nAnd while I was reading the Gospel, I thought, well, I will just say a\nfew words in explanation of this, and then I will dismiss them. So I\nwent up into the pulpit and gave out my text. I took it from the gospel\nof the day--\"What think ye of Christ?\" (Matt. 22:42).\n\nAs I went on to explain the passage, I saw that the Pharisees and\nscribes did not know that Christ was the Son of God, or that He was come\nto save them. They were looking for a king, the son of David, to reign\nover them as they were. Something was telling me, all the time, \"You are\nno better than the Pharisees yourself-you do not believe that He is the\nSon of God, and that He is come to save you, any more than they did.\" I\ndo not remember all I said, but I felt a wonderful light and joy coming\ninto my soul, and I was beginning to see what the Pharisees did not.\nWhether it was something in my words, or my manner, or my look, I know\nnot; but all of a sudden a local preacher, who happened to be in the\ncongregation, stood up, and putting up his arms, shouted out in a\nCornish manner, \"The parson is converted! The parson is converted!\nHallelujah!\" and in another moment his voice was lost in the shouts and\npraises of three or four hundred of the congregation. Instead of\nrebuking this extraordinary \"brawling,\" as I should have done in a\nformer time, I joined in the outburst of praise; and to make it more\norderly, I gave out the Doxology--\"Praise God, from whom all blessings\nflow\"--and the people sang it with heart and voice, over and over again.\nMy Churchmen were dismayed, and many of them fled precipitately from the\nplace. Still the voice of praise went on, and was swelled by numbers of\npassers-by, who came into the church, greatly surprised to hear and see\nwhat was going on.\n\nWhen this subsided, I found at least twenty people crying for mercy,\nwhose voices had not been heard in the excitement and noise of\nthanksgiving. They all professed to find peace and joy in believing.\nAmongst this number there were three from my own house; and we returned\nhome praising God.\n\nThe news spread in all directions that \"the parson was converted,\" and\nthat by his own sermon, in his own pulpit to. The church would not hold\nthe crowds who came in the evening. I cannot exactly remember what I\npreached about on that occasion; but one thing I said was, \"that if I\nhad died last week I should have been lost for ever.\" I felt it was\ntrue. So clear and vivid was the conviction through which I had passed,\nand so distinct was the light into which the Lord had brought me, that I\nknew and was sure that He had \"brought me up out of an horrible pit, out\nof the miry clay, and set my feet upon a Rock, and put a new song into\nmy mouth\" (Ps. 40). He had \"quickened\" me, who was before \"dead in\ntrespasses and sins,\" (Eph. 2:1).\n\nI felt sure, as I said, that if I had died last week I should have been\nlost for ever. This was a startling and an alarming word to many of my\nearnest people, who said, \"What then will become of us?\" I replied, \"You\nwill be lost for a certainty if you do not give your hearts to God.\"\n\nAt the end of this great and eventful day of my life--my spiritual\nbirthday, on which I passed from death to life by being \"born from\nabove\"--I could scarcely sleep for joy. I awoke early the next morning,\nwith the impression on my mind that I must get up and go to a village a\nmile off to tell James B---- of my conversion. He was a good and holy\nman, who had often spoken to me about my soul; and had been praying for\nthree years or more on my behalf.\n\nI had scarcely gone half-way before I met him coming towards me: he\nseemed as much surprised to see me as I was to meet him. He looked at me\nin a strange way, and then, leaning his back against a stone fence, he\nsaid, \"Are you converted?\"\n\n\"Why do you ask me?\" I replied. \"I am just on my way to your house, to\ntell you the good news--that I have found peace. My soul is saved.\"\n\nThe dear man said, \"Thank God!\" and it came from the very depths of his\nheart. Shedding tears of joy, he went on to say, 'This night I woke up\nthinking of you; you were so strongly in my mind, that I got up and\nbegan to pray for you; but I could not 'get hold;' I wrestled and cried\naloud, but it was all of no avail; I begged the Lord not to give you up;\nbut it seemed I could not pray. After trying for more than two hours, it\ncame to my mind that perhaps you were converted. This thought made me so\nhappy, that I began to praise the Lord; and then I had liberty, and\nshouted so loud that it roused up the whole house, and they came rushing\ninto my room to know what ever was the matter with me. 'I am praising\nGod,' I said; 'praising God--the parson is converted!--I feel sure he\nis. Glory be to God! Glory be to God!' They said, 'You must be dreaming;\nyou had better lie down again, and be quiet.' But it was of no use, I\ncould not sleep; and so soon as the light began to break, I dressed\nmyself, and have come out to see whether it is true,\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, \"it is true; the Lord has saved my soul; I am happy!\" I\nthanked him then and there for all the help he had been, and for the\npatience he had so long exercised towards me. We spent a happy time\ntogether, thanking and praising God, and then he returned home to tell\nhis friends and neighbours the news.\n\nAfter breakfast a visitor arrived, who was on an errand of quite another\nkind. The report had by this time spread far and wide, that I was\nconverted in my own pulpit, and by means of my own sermon; also, that I\nhad said, \"If I had died last week, I should have been lost for ever!\"\nMy friend having heard this, immediately mounted his horse and rode over\nto see me about it. He at once put the question, \"Did you say, last\nnight, in your pulpit, that you were saved; and that if you had died\nlast week you would have been lost for ever?\" I answered, \"Yes, indeed,\nI did; and I meant it.\" He looked quite bewildered, and stood for a long\ntime arguing with me; then taking a chair he sat down, and began to\nsympathize and pity me, saying how grieved he was, for he could see\nmadness in my eyes. He tried to divert my thoughts, and begged that I\nwould go out for a ride with him. Seeing that he made no impression by\nhis various arguments, and that he could not prevail upon me to recall\nmy words, he ordered his horse; but before mounting he said, \"I cannot\nagree with you, and will oppose you as hard as I can.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" I replied; \"but let us shake hands over it: there is no\nneed that we should be angry with one another.\"\n\nThen mounting, he started off, and had not gone more than a few yards,\nwhen, suddenly pulling up, he turned, and placing his hand on the back\nof his horse, called out, \"Haslam, God stop the man who is wrong!\" I\nanswered, \"Amen,\" and off he trotted.\n\nOn the Friday following he broke a blood-vessel in his throat or chest,\nand has never preached since. His life was in danger for Several weeks,\nthough in course of time he recovered, but I have heard that he has\nnever been able to speak above a whisper. God has most undoubtedly\nstopped him; while He has permitted me to preach for the last\nnine-and-twenty years, on the average more than six hundred times a\nyear.\n\nFrom that time I began to preach the Gospel, and was not ashamed to\ndeclare everywhere what the Lord had done for my soul. Thus from\npersonal experience I have been enabled to proclaim the Word, both as a\n\"witness\" and a \"minister.\"\n\nI, who before that time used to be so weak, that I could not preach for\nmore than fifteen or twenty minutes for three consecutive Sundays\nwithout breaking down, was now able to do so each day, often more than\nonce, and three times every Sunday.\n\n\nCHAPTER 8\n\nThe Revival, 1851-54.\n\nIn the providence of God, my conversion was the beginning of a great\nrevival work in my parish, which continued without much interruption for\nnearly three years. At some periods during that time there was a greater\npower of the divine presence, and consequently more manifest results,\nthan at others; but all along there were conversions of sinners or\nrestoration of backsliders every week--indeed, almost every day.\n\nI was carried along with the torrent of the work, far over and beyond\nseveral barriers of prejudice which had been in my mind. For instance, I\nmade a resolution that if I ever had a work of God in my parish, it\nshould be according to rule, and that the people should not be excited\ninto making a noise, as if God were deaf or afar off; also, that I would\nprevent their throwing themselves into extraordinary states of mind and\nbody, as though it were necessary that they should do so in order to\nobtain a blessing. I intended to have everything in most beautiful and\nexemplary order, and that all should be done as quietly and with as much\nprecision as the working of a machine. No shouting of praises, no loud\npraying, no hearty responding; and, above all, no extravagant crying for\nmercy, such as I had witnessed in Mr. Aitken's parish.\n\nBut notwithstanding my prudence and judicious resolutions, \"the wind\nblew as it listed; we heard the sound thereof, but could not tell whence\nit came, or whither it went\" (John 3: 8). In spite of all my prejudices,\nsouls were quickened and born of the Spirit. I was filled with\nrejoicing, and my heart overflowed with joy to see something doing for\nthe Lord.\n\nAnything is better than the stillness of death, however aesthetic and\nbeautiful, however reverential and devout a mere outward ceremonial may\nappear. Imposing pageants and religious displays may excite enthusiastic\nreligiosity or devotionism; but they do not, and never can, promote\nspiritual vitality. Far from this, they draw the heart and mind into a\nchannel of human religion, where it can sometimes over-flow to its own\nsatisfaction; but they never bring a sinner to see himself lost, or,\nunworthy by nature to be a worshipper, and consequently, as such,\nutterly unfit to take any part in religious ceremonies.\n\nOn the Monday after my conversion we had our first week-day revival\nservice in the church, which was filled to excess. In the sermon, I told\nthem once more that God had \"brought me up out of an horrible pit, out\nof the miry clay, and set my feet upon the Rock, and... put a new song\nin my mouth\" (Ps. 40:2-3). I had not spoken long, when some one in the\ncongregation gave a shriek, and then began to cry aloud for mercy. This\nwas quickly followed by cries from another and another, until preaching\nwas altogether hopeless. We then commenced praying for those who were in\ndistress, and some experienced men who were present dealt with the\nanxious.\n\nI cannot tell how many people cried for mercy, or how many found peace\nthat night; but there was great rejoicing. I, who was still in my\ngrave-clothes, though out of the grave, was sorely offended at people\npraying and praising God so heartily and so loudly in the church. I\nthought that if this was to become a regular thing, it would be akin to\n\"brawling,\" and quite out of order. Practising singing and rehearsing\nanthems in the church, I did not think much about; but somehow, for\npeople to cry out in distress of soul, and to praise God out of the\nabundance of their hearts, was too much for me. I was sadly perplexed!\n\nAt the close of the service, I told the people I would have a short one\nagain the next evening, in the church, and that after that we would go\ninto the schoolroom for the prayer-meeting. Thus ended the second day of\nmy spiritual life.\n\nOn Tuesday evening we assembled in the church, and then went to the\nschoolroom for the after-meeting. There the people had full liberty to\nsing, praise, and shout too, if they desired, to their hearts' content,\nand truly many availed themselves of the opportunity. In Cornwall, at\nthe time I speak of (now twenty-nine years ago), Cornish folk did not\nthink much of a meeting unless it was an exciting and noisy one.\n\nIn this schoolroom, evening by evening, the Lord wrought a great work,\nand showed forth His power in saving many souls. I have seldom read of\nany remarkable manifestations in revivals the counterpart of which I did\nnot witness in that room; and I saw some things there which I have never\nheard of as taking place anywhere else. I was by this time not afraid of\na little, or even much noise, so long as the power of the Lord's\npresence was evident. The shouts of the people did not hinder me, of\ntheir loud praying, or their hearty responses.\n\nThere were some subjects on which it was impossible to venture without\neliciting vehement demonstrations. A friend of mine, who had come from\nsome distance on a visit, went with me on one occasion to an afternoon\nBible class. I asked him to address the people, and in a quiet way he\nproceeded to talk about heaven. As he described the city of gold, with\nits pearly gates, its walls of jasper, its foundations of sapphire and\nprecious stones, and to tell them that \"the city had no need of the sun,\nneither of the moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten\nit, and the Lamb is the light thereof\" (Rev. 21:2-3), I began to feel\nsomewhat uneasy, and feared that he was venturing on tender ground, when\nall at once there was heard a shriek of joy, and in a moment almost the\nwhole class was in an ecstasy of praise. My friend was greatly dismayed,\nand also frightened at the noise, and seizing his hat, he made hastily\nfor the door. \"Stop! stop!\" I said; \"you must stand fire better than\nthat.\" I quietly gave out a hymn, and asked some of them to help me\nsing, and then we knelt down to pray. I prayed in a low voice, and soon\nall was still again, excepting the responsive \"Amens,\" and the gaspings\nof those who had been thus excited.\n\nIt may be asked, why did I permit such things? I lived amongst a people\nwho were accustomed to outward demonstrations; and by descending to them\nin their ways I was enabled to lead many of them to higher things, and\nto teach them to rest not so much on their feelings, as on the facts and\ntruth revealed in the Word of God. But theorize as we would, it was just\na question, in many cases, of no work, or of decided manifestation. We\ncould not help people being stricken down, neither could they help it\nthemselves; often the most unlikely persons were overcome and became\nexcited, and persons naturally quiet and retiring proved the most noisy\nand demonstrative. However, it was our joy to see permanent results\nafterwards, which more than reconciled us for any amount of\ninconvenience we had felt at the time.\n\nWhen the power of God is manifestly present, the persons who hear the\nnoise, as well as those who make it, are both under the same influence,\nand are in sympathy with one another. An outsider, who does not\nunderstand it, and is not in sympathy, might complain, and be greatly\nscandalized. For my own part, I was intensely happy in those meetings,\nand had become so accustomed to the loud \"Amens,\" that I found it very\ndull to preach when there was no response. Prayer meetings which were\ncarried on in a quiet and formal manner seemed to me cold and heartless.\n\"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great\nwaters; these see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep\"\n(Ps. 107:23, 24). Some spiritual mariners never venture out of a calm\nmillpond, and rejoice in very quiet proceedings; they do not look like\nrejoicing at all. They resemble the people who are going through a\nformal duty, and, \"like a painted ship upon a painted ocean,\" they are\nnever tossed. Most undeniable it is that many trying things happen in\nthe excitement of a storm.\n\nI was hardened against criticism, and only wished that my criticizing\nfriends could show me a more effectual way of working, and a way in\nwhich God's glory might be advanced, without giving offence.\n\nThe very remembrance of these times warms my heart as I write; and\nthough I do not know whether I am still young enough to enter into such\nthings in the same way, yet I am sure that the manifest presence of the\nLord, under any circumstances, would still stir and rejoice my spirit.\nMy friend Mr. Aitken used to rise above it all most majestically, and\nshout as loud as the loudest. It was grand to see his great soul at full\nliberty rejoicing in the Lord. He was quite at home in the noisiest and\nstormiest meetings, and no doubt he thought me a promising disciple, and\na very happy one, too.\n\nOh, what tremendous scenes we witnessed whenever Mr. Aitken came to\npreach at Baldhu. The church, which was built to hold six hundred, used\nto have as many as fifteen hundred packed into it. Not only were the\nwide passages crowded, and the chancel filled, even up to the communion\ntable, but there were two rows of occupants in every pew. The Feat man\nwas king over their souls, for at times he seemed as if he was endued\nwith power whereby he could make them shout for joy, or howl for misery,\nor cry aloud for mercy. He was by far the most effective preacher I ever\nheard, or ever expect to hear. Souls were awakened by scores whenever he\npreached, and sometimes the meetings continued far into the night, and\noccasionally even to the daylight of the next morning.\n\nTo the cool, dispassionate outside observers and the newspaper\nreporters, all this vehement stir was very extravagant and\nincomprehensible, and no doubt they thought it was done for excitement;\ncertainly they gave us credit for that, and a great deal more. They did\nnot esteem us better than themselves and consequently we had the full\nbenefit of their sarcasm and invective.\n\nCornish revivals were things by themselves. I have read of such stirring\nmovements occurring occasionally in different places elsewhere, but in\nCornwall they were frequent. Every year, in one part or another, a\nrevival would spring up, during which believers were refreshed and\nsinners awakened. It is sometimes suggested that there is a great deal\nof the flesh in these things--more of this than of the Spirit. I am sure\nthis is a mistake, for I am quite satisfied that neither Cornish nor any\nother people could produce revivals without the power of the Spirit, for\nthey would never be without them if they could raise them at pleasure.\nBut, as a fact, it is well known that revivals begin and continue for a\ntime, and that they cease as mysteriously as they began.\n\nSometimes I have known the children of the school commence crying for no\nostensible reason; when a few words about the love of God in giving His\nSon, or the love of Christ in laying down His life, would prove enough\nto kindle a flame, and they would begin to cry aloud for mercy\nforthwith. I have seen a whole school of more than a hundred children\nlike this at the same time. An awakening of such a character was\ngenerally a token of the beginning of a work of God, which would last in\npower for four or five weeks, if not more; then the quiet, ordinary work\nwould go on as before. Sometimes, for no accountable reason, we saw the\nchurch thronged with a multitude of people from various parts, having no\nconnection with one another, all equally surprised to see each other;\nand the regular congregation more surprised still to see the unexpected\nrush of strangers. After a time or two we began to know the cause, and\nunderstood that the coming together of the people was by the Spirit of\nthe Lord, and so we prepared accordingly, expecting a revival to follow.\n\nOn these occasions it was very easy to preach, or pray, or sing; we had\nonly to say, \"Stay here, or go to the schoolroom;\" \"Stand and sing;\" or,\n\"Kneel and pray;\" and it was done at once: such was the power of the\nSpirit in melting the hears of the people into entire submission for the\ntime.\n\n\nCHAPTER 9\n\nThe Visitor, 1851.\n\nIn the midst of these things, we had a scene quite characteristic of\nCornwall, which was the funeral of my late gardener and friend, John\nGill. This man's conversion, it will be remembered, was the event by\nwhich it pleased God to bring my religious state to a crisis. After my\nsudden exit from John's cottage, which I have already described, he\ncontinued to pray for me, as he said he would, until the following\nSunday, when he heard of my conversion. Then he praised God, and that\nwith amazing power of mind and body for a dying man. Day by day, as his\nlife was prolonged, he was eager to hear of the progress of the work.\n\nAt last the day of his departure arrived, and he was quite content and\nhappy to go. A large concourse of people assembled at the funeral,\ndressed in their Sunday best. They gathered by hundreds in front of\nJohn's cottage, several hours before the time fixed for the service.\nDuring this interval they sang hymns, which were given out two lines at\na time. Then they set out for the church, singing as they went along.\n\nIn the West it is not the custom to carry the coffin on the shoulders,\nbut by hand, which office is performed by friends, who continually\nrelieve one another, that all may take part in this last mark of respect\nto the deceased. At length, they arrived at the \"lych\" gate, and setting\nthe coffin upon the lych stone (a heavy slab of granite, put there for\nthe purpose), they sang their final hymn. At the conclusion of this, I\ncame out with my clerk to receive the funeral party and to conduct them\ninto the church. After the service I was about to give an address, when\nI was told that there were more people outside than within the church.\nIn order, therefore, not to disappoint them, we came to the grave-side\nin the churchyard, and from thence I addressed a great concourse of\npeople.\n\nI told them of dear John's conversion, and of my disappointment and\ndistress on account of it; then of my own conversion, and John's\nunbounded joy; taking the opportunity to enforce the absolute necessity\nof this spiritual change, and the certain damnation of those who die\nwithout it.\n\nThis funeral caused a solemn feeling, and as the people lingered about,\nwe re-entered the church, and further improved the occasion. Then we\nwent to the schoolroom for a prayer-meeting, and many souls were added\nto the number of the saved.\n\nAmong the strangers present was a gentleman who had come all the way\nfrom Plymouth, in order to witness for himself the wonderful work, of\nwhich he had read an account in the newspaper. After attending several\nof our services, he came up to speak to me, and said that he had seen an\naccount of \"the fall of a High Churchman into Dissent,\" which was\nregarded as a very extraordinary thing, for at that time some Dissenters\nwere becoming High Churchmen, or what used to be called then\n\"Puseyites.\" Having seen me, and heard for himself of my conversion, and\nmy adherence to the Church, he was satisfied, and asked me to spare time\nfor a little conversation with him.\n\nHe came to my house the next morning, and commenced by asking, \"Do you\nreally think you would have been lost for ever, if you had died before\nyou were converted?\" This he said looking me full in the face, as if to\nsee whether I flinched from my position. I answered, \"Most certainly;\nwithout a doubt.\"\n\n\"Remember,\" he said, calmly, \"you have been baptized and confirmed; you\nare a communicant, and have been ordained; do you really think that all\nthis goes for nothing?\"\n\n\"Most assuredly, all these things are good in their place, and fully\navail for their respective purposes, but they have nothing whatever to\ndo with a sinner's salvation.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say,\" he continued, \"that the Church is not the very ark\nof salvation?\"\n\n\"I used to think so,\" I replied, \"and to say that 'there was no Church\nwithout a Bishop, and no salvation out of the Church;' but now I am sure\nthat I was mistaken. The outward Church is a fold for protecting the\nsheep; but the Church is not the Shepherd who seeks and finds the lost\nsheep.\"\n\n\"Well,\" he said, \"but think of all the good men you condemn if you take\nthat position so absolutely.\"\n\nSeeing that I hesitated, he went on to say that he \"knew many very good\nmen, in and out of the Church of England, who did not think much of\nconversion, or believe in the necessity of it.\"\n\n\"I am very sorry for them,\" I replied; \"but I cannot go back from the\nposition into which, I thank God, He has brought me. It is burned into\nme that, except a man is converted, he will and must be lost for ever.\"\n\"Come, come, my young friend,\" he said, shifting his chair, and then\nsitting down to another onslaught, \"do you mean to say that a man will\ngo to hell if he is not converted, as you call it?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do; and I am quite sure that if I had died in an unconverted\nstate I should have gone there; and this compels me to believe, also,\nthat what the Scripture says about it is true for every one.\"\n\n\"But what does the Scripture say?\" he interposed. \"It says that 'he that\nbelieveth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed' (John\n3:18); and in another place, 'tie that believeth not shall be damned'\n(Mark 16:16). As surely as the believer is saved and goes to heaven, as\nsurely the unbeliever is lost and must So to hell.\"\n\n\"Do you mean Gehenna, the place of torment?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do.\"\n\n\"This is very dreadful.\"\n\n\"More dreadful still.\" I said, \"must be the solemn reality; and\ntherefore, instead of shrinking from the thought and putting it off, I\nrather let it stir and rouse me to warn unbelievers, so that I may, by\nany means, stop them on their dangerous path. I think this is the only\ntrue and faithful way of showing kindness; and that, on the other hand,\nit is the most selfish, heartless, and cruel unkindness to let sinners,\nwhether they are religious, moral, reformed, or otherwise, to go on in\nan unconverted state, and perish.\"\n\n\"Do you believe, then,\" said my visitor, \"in the fire of hell? Do you\nthink it is a material fire?\"\n\n\"I do not know; I do not wish to know anything about it. I suppose\nmaterial fire, like every other material thing, is but a shadow of\nsomething real. Is it not a fire which shall burn the soul--a fire that\nnever will be quenched--where the worm will never die?\"\n\n\"Do you really believe all this?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, \"and I have reason to do so.\" I remembered the anguish of\nsoul I passed through when I was under conviction, and the terrible\ndistress I felt for others whom I had misled. \"When our blessed Lord was\nspeaking to the Jews, and warning them against their unbelief and its\nfearful consequences, He did not allow any 'charitable hopes' to hinder\nHim from speaking the whole truth. He told them of Lazarus, who died,\nand went to Paradise, or Abraham's bosom; and of Dives, who died, and\nwent to Hell, the place of torment\" (Luke 16).\n\n\"But,\" he said, interrupting me, \"that is only a parable, or figure of\nspeech.\"\n\n\"Figure of speech!\" I repeated. \"Is it a figure of speech that the rich\nman fared sumptuously, that he died, that he was buried? Is not that\nliteral? Why, then, is it a figure of speech that he lifted up his eyes\nin torment, and said, 'I am tormented in this flame'(Luke 16:24). My\ndear friend, be sure that there is an awful reality in that story--a\nmost solemn reality in the fact of the impassable gulf. If here we do\nnot believe in this gulf, we shall have to know of it hereafter. I never\nsaw and felt,\" I continued, \"as I do now, that every man is lost, even\nwhile on earth, until he is saved, and that if he dies in that unsaved\nstate he will be lost for ever.\"\n\nMy unknown visitor remained silent for a little time, and I could see\nthat he was in tears. At last he burst out and said, \"I am sure you are\nright. I came to try you upon the three great \"R's\"--'Ruin,'\n'Redemption,' and 'Regeneration,' and to see if you really meant what\nyou preached. Now I feel more confirmed in the truth and reality of the\nScriptures.\" I thought I had been contending with an unbeliever all\nalong, but instead of this I found that he was a man who scarcely\nventured to think out what he believed to its ultimate result--he\nbelieved God's Word, but, like too many, alas! held it loosely.\n\nThis gentleman had experienced the truth of the three \"R's\"--that is to\nsay, he had been awakened to know himself to be lost and ruined by the\nfall, redeemed by the blood of Christ, and regenerated by the Holy\nGhost. In other words, he had been converted, and he knew it.\n\nI found out that at the time of his conversion he was a beneficed\nclergyman, and that, as such, not being responsible to any rector or\nvicar, he began to preach boldly the things he had seen. His changed\npreaching produced a manifest result, and the people were awakened, even\nstartled, and it would appear he was startled too. Instead of thanking\nGod and taking courage, he became alarmed at the disturbance amongst his\ncongregation, and finding that his preaching made him very unpopular, he\nwas weak enough to change his tone, and speak smooth things. Thus he\nmade peace with his congregation, and gained their treacherous good\nwill; but as a living soul he could not be satisfied with this state of\nthings. He knew that he was not faithful to God or to his people; so\nbeing a man of competent means, he resigned his living, and retired into\nprivate life--\"beloved and respected,\" as they said, for being a good\nand peaceable man.\n\nAt this distance of time I continue to thank God for his visit to me; it\nhelped to fix the truth more firmly in my own soul, and to confirm me in\nthe course in which I was working, and even contending, in the face of\nmuch opposition. I must say that I have had no reason to waver in my\nconviction, and still feel that I would not, for ten times that man's\nwealth, and twenty times the amount of good-will which he enjoyed (if he\ndid enjoy it), stand in his place.\n\nAfter long observation, I perceive that it is not the sword of the Word\nwhich offends congregations, for preachers are commended and promoted\nfor declaring the whole truth, so long as it is judiciously put, and\nwith \"much discretion,\" so as not to wound the prejudices of the people.\nThe majority of congregations rather like to see the sword drawn out to\nits full length and flashed with dexterity, and they do not always\nobject to being hit with it, and even hit hard, so long as it is done\nwith the flat of the sword; but they very quickly resent a touch with\nits edge, and more a thrust with its point. They admire sheet lightning,\nwhich is beautiful, as it is harmless; but forked lightning is something\nto be dreaded and avoided. For instance, a man may preach most\neloquently and acceptably on the three \"R's\" if he does not apply the\nsubject too pointedly, by telling the people, both in the pulpit and out\nof it, that they are now ruined and lost; and that, having been\nredeemed, they are responsible before God; and that, if they will not be\nregenerated by the Spirit, they will be damned. They do not object to\nyour laying, \"You hath He quickened,\" but to turn these same words into\na personal question is too often considered impertinent; though, indeed,\nit is the sincerest kindness and truest Christian love.\n\n\"This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ\nJesus came into the world to save sinners\" (1 Tim. 1:15). He came, and\nis spiritually present now, everywhere, for this purpose. His real\npresence with power is particularly promised to the preacher of the\nGospel (Matt. 28:20). The Lord Jesus is ever present to take especial\ninterest in the result of preaching. How disappointing then must it be\nto Him, to find His servants so often spending their time and energies\nupon other objects, however great or good they may be! When they do\npreach the Gospel, it must grieve Him to see that their object is too\noften not the same as His; and when He does apply the Word by the power\nof the Spirit, it must also grieve Him to see that they are afraid of\nthe result.\n\nGospel preaching should not be to entertain people, nor even to instruct\nthem; but first to awaken them to see their danger, and to bring them\nfrom death into life, which is manifestly the Lord's chief desire.\n\nThis was the definite object of my work: I preached for and aimed at it;\nand nothing short of this could or would satisfy my longings. In the\nchurch, in the school-room, or in the cottages, we prayed that the Holy\nSpirit would bring conviction upon sinners, and then we sought to lead\nthem to conversion with the clear ringing testimony, \"You must be born\nagain, or die to all eternity.\"\n\n\nCHAPTER 10\n\nThe First Christmas, 1851-52.\n\nThe first Christmas-day, during the revival, was a wonderful time. The\npeople had never realized before what this festival was, beyond\nregarding it as a season for domestic rejoicing. It surprised many to\nsee that their past Christmases were a true representation of their past\nlives that they had cheered and tried to make themselves happy without\nChrist, leaving Him out of their consideration in His own world, as they\nhad on His own birthday. What a Christless and hopeless life it had\nbeen! What a Christless religion! Now we praised the Lord together for\nHis marvellous goodness to us, and desired that we might henceforth live\nunto Him, singing in heart and life, \"Glory to God in the highest, and\non earth peace, good-will towards men.\"\n\nWhen New Year's eve arrived we had a midnight gathering, and dedicated\nourselves afresh to God's service. It was a blessed season, and several\nhundreds were there, who, together with myself, were the fruits of the\nrevival during the previous two months. The new year opened upon us with\nfresh manifestations of divine power and larger blessings. I endeavoured\nto show the people that the Lord was called Jesus, not that He might\nsave us from hell or death, but from our sins; and this while we lived\non earth--that our heart and all our members being mortified from all\ncarnal lusts, we might live to His glory; that Christ's religion was not\nintended for a death-bed, but for a happy and effectual Christian\nlife---a life showing forth the power of His grace.\n\nAfter the Christmas holidays, our schoolmaster and his wife returned.\nThey came back full of disdain and prejudice against the work, and even\nput themselves out of the way to go from house to house, in order to set\nthe people against me and my preaching. They said that they could bring\na hundred clergymen to prove that I was wrong; but their efforts had\njust the contrary effect to what they expected. It stirred the people to\ncome more frequently to hear, and contend more zealously for what they\nknew to be right. The master was particularly set against \"excitement\"\nand noise. He said, \"It was so very much more reverent to be still in\nprayer, and orderly in praise; it was not necessary to make such an\nunseemly uproar!\" I had, however, discovered, long before this time,\nthat the people who most objected to noise had nothing yet to make a\nnoise about; and that when they had, they generally made as much or more\nnoise than others.\n\nIf a house is seen to be on fire, people cannot hello making an outcry;\nwhich they do not, when they only read about it. Witnessing a danger\nstirs the heart; and when people's eyes are open to see souls in eternal\ndanger, they cannot help being stirred up, and crying out. I am\nsometimes asked, \"Is there not such a thing as a feeling which is too\ndeep for expression?\" It may be that at times people are so surprised\nand astonished at some sudden announcement of good or bad news, that\nthey are stunned, and for a time unable to give vent to their joy or\ngrief; but soon there is a reaction, and then expression is given.\nGenerally speaking, these so-called \"deep feelings\" are only deep in the\nway of being low down in the vessel--that is to say, very shallow, and\nby no means sufficient to overflow.\n\nWe read that \"the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice, and\npraise God with a loud voice, for all the mighty works that they had\nseen\" (Luke 19:37). And we are told, over and over again, in the Psalms,\nto \"praise God with a loud voice,\" and to \"shout.\" When we lift up our\nvoice, the Lord can stir our hearts; and surely the things of the Lord\nhave more right, and ought to have more power, to stir and arouse the\nsoul of man, than a boat-race, or a horserace, or a fictitious scene on\nthe stage. I think people would be all the better for letting out their\nhearts in praise to God. It may lie it is trying and exciting to some,\nbut perhaps they are the very ones who need such a stimulus, and this\nmay be the best way of bringing it out.\n\nNotwithstanding the schoolmaster's opposition, he still came to church,\nand was very attentive to the sermons, taking copious notes. One Sunday,\nwhen I had been preaching on the text, \"Cut it down; why cumbereth it\nthe ground?\" he was heard to say, \"Thank God, I am not cut done yet;\"\nand then he proceeded for the first time to the after-meeting in the\nschool-room.\n\nWhen I entered I saw him low down on his knees, and said how happy I was\nto see him there. \"Oh,\" he cried, \"I fear there is no mercy--the\nsentence is surely gone forth against me, 'Cut him down! cut him down!'\"\nAnd then the poor man howled aloud in his distress. The people prayed\nfor him with shouts of thanksgiving, while he threw himself about in\nagony of mind, and made a great noise, which only drew still louder\nacclamations from the people. In the midst of this tremendous din he\nfound peace, and rejoiced with the others in unmistakable accents, and\nas loud as the loudest. Evidently he was not ashamed or afraid of\nexcitement and noise now.\n\nWhile he was thus engaged I went round to his house to see his wife, and\ntell her the news. I found her sitting on the stairs in profound dismay,\nas if some dreadful calamity had happened. She was literally dumb with\nfear and astonishment. When she could speak, she said, \"What will happen\nto him now? Will he die? What will become of us?\" When I assured her\nthat her husband was only just beginning to live, she said, \"Must we be\nDissenters now? Oh, what will become of us?\" Her sister, who was staying\nwith her, became very angry at hearing of the master's conversion.\nFinding that I could not do much with these two, I left them, and\nreturned to the schoolroom, where the people were even more uproarious\nand happy than before; several others having also found pardon and\npeace.\n\nThe Sunday after, the master was seen moving out of church as quickly as\nhe could; and when he reached the churchyard he was observed to run, and\nthen leap over a wall, and next over a hedge into a field. They could\nnot hear him, but he was shouting all the time as well as running. He\nafterwards said that the Prayer-book was full of meaning; it was like a\nnew book to him; and that if he had stayed in church, he should have\ndisturbed the whole congregation. He became a very earnest Christian,\nand took much pains and interest in the religious instruction of the\nchildren. There were several revivals in the school while he was there,\nand many of the children were converted. It was not long before he was\nable to rejoice over the conversion of his wife, and her sister also.\n\nI had been anxious about my clerk for some time; he was a good man in\nhis way, and most attentive to his work in and out of church; he was\nalso a regular communicant, and exemplary in his life; but with all\nthis, he was unconverted. I often warned him of his danger; and one day\nit came to my mind to tell him of the man who went in to the marriage\nsupper without the wedding garment. I said, no doubt he thought himself\nas good as others, but when the King came in to see the guests, he was\nspeechless; and because he was so, and had not on the wedding garment,\nthe King commanded that he should be bound hand and foot, and put into\nouter darkness. Now, I continued, the King has often come in to see us,\nand we have rejoiced before Him; but you have never spoken to Him, or\nasked for mercy. It is a very hardening thing to hear so much as you do\nand remain unsaved; and a very deadening thing to come to the Lord's\ntable as you do, going through the form without any real meaning. You\nreceive the bread and wine in remembrance that Christ died for you, and\nyet you do not believe enough to thank Him. I was led to say, \"I must\nforbid your coming to the Lord's table till you have given your heart to\nGod. You know it is right to do it, and that you ought to be converted.\nI will not have you come here again till you are.\"\n\nThe man looked at me as if to see whether I meant it, and then appeared\nso sorrowful that I nearly relented. All through the service he was low\nand dejected, and went away at the time of the administration of the\nordinance, and sat at the other end of the church. My heart ached for\nhim, for I had never seen him so touched about anything. Afterwards,\nwhen he came into the vestry, I could see that he had been crying. \"Ah,\nfriend,\" I said, \"it is bad to be left out from the Lord's table here;\nwhat will it be to be left out of heaven?\"\n\nIn the evening he was more miserable than ever, and at the close of the\nservice came into the school-room, where he broke down, and asked the\npeople to pray for him, for he was a hard-hearted, miserable sinner.\n\"Pray the Lord to melt my heart.\" We did so: and soon the poor\nbroken-hearted man sobbed and cried aloud for mercy; and it was not long\nbefore, to our great joy, he found peace. He afterwards told us that he\nhad been getting hardened by forms ever since he had been clerk, reading\nsolemn words without any meaning, which at first he trembled at doing.\nHe was right; it is good to hear the Gospel, good to attend the means of\ngrace, good to assemble in the company of God's people; but to rest in\nthe habit of doing these good things, without conversion, is most\ndangerous, and calculated to deaden the heart. He said that he felt it\nvery much when 'master' was converted (meaning myself), and was also\ndreadfully condemned; for he had believed in the necessity of conversion\nall his life; and though he knew that I was unconverted, yet he never\ntold me, but rather encouraged me to go on as I was. He said that he had\nhad many sleepless nights about it; \"but now, thank God\" he added, \"it\nis all right; my feet are on the Rock, my soul is saved. I can praise\nthe Lord in the congregation.\"\n\nThe clerk's conversion did not stop with himself, for it was a call to\nsome of the ringers; they were still outside and unsaved, though they\nknew, as well as he did, that they ought to be otherwise. One of these\nmen began to attend the meetings regularly, but we could not get him to\npray, or speak a word. I said to him one evening, \"You will never have a\nsound from the bell till you move it or its tongue; in like manner, you\nmust move your tongue, for you will have nothing until you speak, nor\nget an answer until you pray.\" Still he remained silent, and shut up to\nhimself; till one night, as we were putting out the lights at ten\no'clock, the meeting being over, I said to him as he stood by, \"James, I\nwonder when you will ever give your heart to God?\" He looked at me and\nsaid, \"Now.\" \"That is right,\" I replied; \"thank God! let it be so.\" I at\nonce stopped the extinguishing of the lights, and invited him to pray\nwith me, but he took no heed. It was evident he had deliberately made up\nhis mind what he would do, for he took off his coat, undid his neck-tie,\nturned back his shirt-sleeves, and then, setting a form about nine or\nten feet long, square with the room, he knelt down and began to say,\n\"Lord, have mercy upon me!\" \"Lord, have mercy upon me!\" This he repeated\nwith every returning breath, faster and louder as he went on, till at\nlast he worked himself up into a condition of frenzy. He went on without\ncessation for two hours, and then stopped in an exhausted state, gasping\nfor breath. I pointed him to the cross, and told him of God's mercy in\ngiving His Son to die for sinners; but he was quite absent, and did not\nappear to hear me, or take the least notice. After a little rest, he\ncommenced again praying as before, and got into terrible distress. What\nwith his noise, and the energy he put forth, it was frightful to see the\nstruggle. He cried, and beat the form till I thought his arms would be\nblack and blue; then he took up the form and beat the floor with it,\ntill I expected every moment it would come to pieces. The noise he made\nbrought some of the neighbours out of their beds in a fright to see what\nwas the matter.\n\nAt two o'clock in the morning, four hours after he began, he laid\nhimself across the form, and begged with tears that the Lord would not\ncast him off. I told him that the Lord was actually waiting for him. At\nlast he found peace, or felt something, and, springing up, he began to\nshout and praise God; and we all joined with him. When this was done, he\nput on his coat and neck-tie, and saying \"Good night,\" went home. From\nthis time he became a changed man, and an earnest and steadfast\nbeliever.\n\n\nCHAPTER 11\n\nDreams and Visions, 1851-4.\n\nDuring the revival, the outpouring of the Spirit of God was very\nmanifest and unmistakable, and was seen in various ways. It was not, of\ncourse, by power or might of men, but by divine influence, that souls\nwere awakened to see themselves in their true condition. The candle of\nthe Lord was lighted, and there was a searching of and for immortal\nsouls, as typified by our blessed Lord in the parable of the lost piece\nof silver.\n\nWe read that the woman with her lighted candle discovered her treasure;\nso the Divine Spirit, by awakening and searching hearts, found souls,\nthough they had been buried under sins, worldliness, and neglect, and\nthat for many years. It was astonishing to hear persons who had been\ndull and silent before, break out into full and free expression of\nspiritual truth; and their liberty and power in prayer were not less\nremarkable. It was truly an opening of eyes to see, and ears to hear,\nand hearts to understand--a raising of the dead to spiritual life and\nanimation. It was as wonderful as the speaking of tongues on the day of\nPentecost, with this difference--that those people spoke what they knew,\nin tongues they had not known; and these, in their own speech, declared\nthings which they had never seen or known before.\n\nWe had another distinctive sign of Pentecost, which was, that while\nbelievers rejoiced with overflowing joy, and sinners were pricked to the\nheart, and cried out, \"What must I do to be saved?\" there were those who\nmocked, saying, \"These men are mad, or drunk.\" But, as St. Peter\ntestified long ago, these men, women, and children were not drunk, but\nunder the influence and power of the Holy Ghost.\n\nWe had yet another sign. The prophet Joel predicted, \"It shall come to\npass that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and\nyour daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your\nyoung men shall see visions; and also upon the servants and upon the\nhandmaids in those days will I pour out my Spirit\" (Joel 2:28, 29). And\nI think my narrative would be very incomplete, and I should be holding\nback the truth, if I did not tell of some of the dreams and visions\nwhich continually happened at this time amongst us.\n\nEvery week, almost every day, we heard of some remarkable dream or\nstriking vision. Such things may be called \"superstitious\" by\nincredulous people, but I merely state what actually took place without\nattempting to explain or account for it. My own feeling is that I would\nrather be among the superstitious than the incredulous; for I think that\nthe former lose nothing by believing, and the latter gain nothing by\ntheir unbelief.\n\nAmong the people who are alive to spiritual realities these remarkable\ntokens are not suspected or doubted. To believe nothing but what you can\nunderstand or account for, is to believe nothing at all. Cornish people\nat that time--and they may still be the same--lived in a spiritual\natmosphere, at least in their own county; so much so, that I have often\nheard them complain, when they returned from the \"shires,\" of the\ndryness and deadness they felt there. I can certainly set my seal to\nthis testimony, and declare that those of us who had visions in Cornwall\nhave not had them in the same way out of that district.\n\nI will give a few specimens, but only one of a kind, for it would fill\nthe volume if I told all; the reader can judge if there was meaning or\nimport in some of them or not.\n\nAt one time, when there was a depression or check in the congregation,\nand preaching was hard, praying formal, and singing flat, I invited the\npeople to join with me in prayer, that the Lord would show us what was\nthe hindrance in the way of the work. They prayed with one accord and\nwithout consulting one another, almost in the same words, whether in the\nschool-room or in the cottages; the substance of their petition was,\nthat we might know and put away the obstacle to spiritual blessing,\nwhatever that obstacle might be.\n\nOne night I dreamt that I was in the church, feeling very desolate and\nforsaken; there were very few people there, but soon my eyes lighted on\nan ugly-looking stranger, who tried to evade me. He was a very\ndisagreeable, sullen-looking man. When I spoke to him he gnashed his\nteeth, and as I approached he drew out a knife and held it out before\nme. I pursued him notwithstanding, when he backed towards the door and\nwent out. I followed him through the churchyard till he was outside the\nlych-gate. As soon as he was gone, I saw a troop of happy people, all\ndressed in white, come in at the same gate, leaping and running like so\nmany joyful children, and swinging their arms for gladness: they went\ninto the church and began to sing. The dream was as vivid to me as a\ndaylight scene.\n\nI went out the next evening, intending to tell it at the school-room\nmeeting; but before I began to do so, I observed that the people sang\nmore freely than usual, and I also noticed that two men who prayed\nomitted to offer the usual request for hindrances to be removed. When I\ntold my dream, a man arose and said, \"I know all about that; there has\nbeen one among us whom we thought was a good man, but instead of this we\nhave discovered that he was most immoral and deceitful, doing a deal of\nmischief, secretly undermining the faith of some, and misleading others;\nhe has been detected, and is gone.\" Sure enough our old happy freedom\nreturned, and there was liberty in preaching, praying and singing, and\nsouls were saved.\n\nAnother time, when I was getting a little impatient with the people, I\ntook a leaf out of my Scripture-reader's book, and preached a furious\nsermon about \"damnation,\" representing God as pursuing the sinner to cut\nhim down, if he did not repent there and then. I thought I had done it\nwell, and went home rather satisfied with myself, supposing that I now\nknew how to make the congregation feel. The next morning, a yeoman\ncalled to me as I was passing her cottage, and said, \"Master, what d'yer\nthink? I dreamt last night that the devil was a-preaching in your\npulpit, and that you were delighted at it!\" A sudden fear fell upon\nme--so much so, that I returned to the church, and shutting the door,\nbegged God's forgiveness; and thanking Him for this warning, asked that\nI might remember it, and never transgress again.\n\nAs my Scripture-reader continued to denounce wrath and vengeance,\ninstead of preaching the Gospel, I parted with him.\n\nNext, let me tell of a vision which refers to others. My sister came to\nme one morning, and said, \"William, I had a vision last night of a young\nman in a tall hat, with a green-and-red carpet-bag in his hand. I saw\nhim so plainly, that I should know him again anywhere. He was walking up\nthe road when you met him, shook hands, and returned with him to the\nhouse. Then you and F---- brought him in at the glass door. On the hall\ntable there stood a basket containing four beautiful and fragrant\nfruits. You took up the basket and offered it to the visitor, who,\nputting his hand upon one, said, 'Oh, thank you!' Then touching the\nthree others in order, said, 'That is for mother, and that for sister,\nand that for --.' I could not hear who. You may smile,\" she continued,\n\"but I heard that, and saw it all as plainly as I see you now.\"\n\nI was accustomed to hear such things, and consequently thought no more\nabout it, but went on to speak of other subjects. In the course of the\nafternoon, as I was going out, I met a relative coming along the road,\nand took him back with me to the house; there my wife came out to him,\nand we led him in through the glass door. When he had sat some time and\nhad had some luncheon, my wife said, \"I wonder whether this is the young\nman we heard about this morning? .... What young man?\" asked our\nvisitor, hastily; \"What young man do you mean? .... I should not wonder\nif it is,\" I replied; \"We will see presently.\" He seemed very\nsuspicious, having heard before he came that some mysterious change had\ntaken place in us, and so looked again and again to see if he could\ndetect anything different.\n\n\"Come and see my sister,\" I said; to which he assented, and we went\nacross to her house. As soon as we entered her room, she said, \"How do\nyou do? I saw you last night.\" \"What do you mean ?\" he replied,\nwithdrawing his hand. \"Why, I was on board the steamer last night.\"\n\"That may be,\" she said, \"but you are the gentleman I saw. Have you not\na green-and-red carpet-bag? and did not William meet you on the road?\"\nPoor young man! he looked dreadfully perplexed. \"Never mind her,\" I\nsaid; \"sit down and tell us about your journey.\"\n\nAfter we had talked of this and other subjects, we return home. I then\ntold him that we were converted and asked if he had given his heart to\nGod. He said he had. Not being satisfied, I put the question in another\nform, and yet remained unsatisfied with his answer. \"Do you doubt me?\"\nhe asked: \"I will prove it to you.\" He then went up to his room for a\nlittle while, and returned with a paper in his hand, in which was a\ndedication of himself to God, duly signed and sealed. I had never seen\nan instrument of this kind before, and asked if he really believed in\nit? \"Yes, certainly,\" he replied; \"and I mean it, too.\"\n\n\"But,\" I said, \"do you not see that faith does not consist in believing\nwhat you write, but in what God has written? The Word says that God is\nmore willing to take than you are to give: you believe you have given;\nbut do you believe that God has taken? He is far more ready to take your\nheart than you to give it; as surely as you have given, so surely He has\ntaken. Cannot you see that?\"\n\nHe replied, \"I knew that there was something wrong about this, but I did\nnot know what. Thank you! thank you!\" Then thoughtfully folding up the\npaper, he went out of the room.\n\nThe bell was rung for dinner, but he did not appear; and then for tea,\nbut he declined taking any. After we had gone to church, he found his\nway down and followed us there; and when the service was over he\nreturned again to his room. I was detained at the schoolroom that night,\nand until two o'clock in the morning, praying and talking with anxious\nsouls, and returned home very tired. Going up to bed I saw a light\nshining under my visitor's door, and hesitating there a few moments, I\nheard him pleading earnestly for mercy. I had a great mind to knock, but\nwas afraid of disturbing him; so I prayed for him, and went to bed.\n\nIn the morning he came down smiling. \"Thank God,\" he said, \"it is all\nright now; I am saved.\" In his hand he held three letters--one to his\nmother, one to his sister, and the other to a cousin, in which he\ninvited them earnestly to come to Jesus. Within the week all four were\nin our house, praising God for salvation.\n\nAs the vision indicated, we had nothing to do but hold the basket to\nhim. He accepted it, and the fruit for himself and his relatives.\n\nAmongst other people and characters I met with at this time was a good,\nrespectable man, who had a remarkable dream. He came to me one day,\nafter I had been speaking about Jacob's ladder, and said that my sermon\nhad reminded him of his dream. I begged him to sit down and tell it to\nme. He said, \"I dreamt that I and nineteen other young men were living\nin a beautiful house and place, where we had everything provided fer us,\nand were free to enjoy ourselves as much as we pleased. We all\nunderstood that the premises belonged to Satan and that we were his\nguests. As such, we were permitted to take our pleasure upon two\nconditions--one was, that we were not to pray; and the other that we\nwere not to go away. We smiled at this, and said it was not likely we\nshould do the former, for we were not the praying kind; and less likely\nthat we should do the latter, for why should we be such fools as to\nforego or give up our enjoyments?\"\n\nI thought to myself, What a wonderful dream that is and how true to\nreality! What numbers of young men there are, and young women too,\nbesides: many other people, who hold their worldly happiness on this\ntenure, and of course from the same master.\n\nWell, to continue the story of the dream, he said, \"In the course of\ntime we all became heartily tired of the place and its pleasures, and\nlonged to get away, but we could not. One of us made an attempt to do\nso, but he was captured and brought back, and made more of a slave than\never. At last, I and a few others agreed to pray at a stated time in\ndifferent places, in the hope that if one was caught, yet the rest might\nescape. Upon a set day and time we began praying, each in his appointed\nplace. I had fixed upon a dark corner in a large deserted room, where we\nhad stowed away bales and bales of goods we did not care to open.\nClimbing over the top of these stores, I landed on the other side, and\nwent to the spot I had chosen. I had not prayed long before I heard\nmaster coming, cracking his whip, and saying, 'I'll teach you to pray.'\nThis made me tremble exceedingly, and pray all the harder; but hearing\nthat he was very near and coming after me, I opened my eyes, and to my\nsurprise there was a beautiful silver ladder before me. As quick as\nthought, I sprang with hands and feet upon it, and began to climb for\ndear life. 'Ha!' said master, 'I'll teach you to climb.' Then I felt the\nladder shaking under me, and knew that he was coming up. I expected\nevery moment to be seized and dragged back, so I climbed all the faster,\nand looked up to see how much farther I had to go. Oh, it was such a\nlong way, and there was only a very small hole to get to at last. My\nheart began to fail me, so that I almost let go my hold, till I felt the\nmaster's sulphurous breath on the back of my neck, which made me rush\nforward more vehemently. At last I reached the top, and thrust my arm\nthrough the hole, then my head, and then my other arm; thus I got\nthrough altogether, leaving my old enemy blaspheming and cursing down\nbelow. It was a most beautiful place that I was now in, and angels were\nflying about, just as the birds do in this world. I saw the Lord\nHimself, and fell down before Him to give Him thanks. As I remained a\nlong time prostrate. He said to me. 'What is thy petition?' I answered,\n'Lord, grant that that hole may be made larger, for I have nineteen\nfriends down there in the power of the cruel master.' The Lord smiled,\nand said, 'That hole is quite large enough.' So I awoke.\"\n\nWhere there is a will, there is always a way of some kind; and if\nworldlings are really tired of Satan's service, they can easily call\nupon God to deliver them, and He will most surely do so when He sees\nthey are in earnest. This dream had the effect of spiritually awakening\nthe man who had it, and of bringing him to the foot of the cross for\nmercy and salvation.\n\nI noticed that in dreams and visions in Cornwall  the Lord Jesus very\noften appears, and the devil also; these are real persons to the Cornish\nmind, and their power is respectively acknowledged.\n\nDuring the summer, a young gentleman, whom we invited to our house in\nthe hope of reaching his soul, came to stay with us; and this in spite\nof his avowed prejudice against us and our proceedings. I took this as a\ntoken of encouragement, for I was sure that the devil would have\nhindered his coming, unless the young man had been constrained by a\nhigher power. He spent his time in riding about or smoking, and made\ngreat fun of our meetings and services, though I observed that he was\nvery attentive to hear the sermon whenever he did come.\n\nOne week-day evening, while we were sitting in the drawing room, and\nlittle expecting it, he burst into tears and cried out, \"I don't know\nwhat to do; I shall be lost for ever!\" We immediately sprang up to his\nhelp, always delighted at such opportunities of working for the Lord. We\nknelt down to pray, and as we continued to do so, he fell into great\ndistress, and even agony of soul; he literally writhed as if in\nexcessive pain, too great for utterance, and looked as if he was\nfainting with the struggle. We called all the servants into the room to\nhelp in prayer, and while I was praying by the side of my young friend,\nand pointing him to Christ, one of the servants rose up and walked\nstraight across the room, and, with a firm hand pushing me aside, said,\n\"The Lord is here Himself.\" I rose instantly and moved out of the way,\nwhile she stood with her hands together, adoring.\n\nShe afterwards told us that she saw the Lord stoop down to the low chair\nwhere my young friend was kneeling, and putting His hand on his head, He\nsaid something, and then stood up. Immediately upon this she saw the\nverandah crowded with ugly-looking devils, all with their eyes fixed on\nthe young man as he knelt. The Lord then waved His hand, and the ugly\ncompany vanished. At that instant the young man lifted up his head, and\nturning towards the side on which she had discerned the Lord as\nstanding, said, \"Lord, I thank Thee,\" and then fainted away.\n\nWhen the vision was over, the servant came, with tears in her eyes, to\nask pardon for so rudely pushing me aside, but said that while the Lord\nwas there she could not help herself: \"Oh, He is so beautiful, so\ngrand!\" The young man was soon restored to animation, and began to speak\nin a voice and tone very different to his former utterance. He was\naltogether a remarkable instance of a change of heart and life.\n\nA careless, worldly man in my parish dreamt one night that he was in the\nmarket hall of a certain town. He was surprised to see, in a wall, a\ndoorway, which he had never noticed before--so much so, that he went\nforward to examine it, and found that it really was a door, and that it\nopened to his touch. He went inside, and there he saw an impressive and\nstrange scene. There were a number of men and women walking about, who\nappeared to be very woeful, end in great agony of pain. They were too\ndistressed to speak, but he recognized most of them as persons who had\nbeen dead some time. They looked mournfully at him, as if sorry that he\nhad come there, but did not speak. He was much alarmed, and made his way\nback to the door to escape, but was stopped by a stern, sullen-looking'\nporter, who said, in a sepulchral voice, \"You cannot pass.\" He said, \"I\ncame in this way, and I want to go out.\" \"You cannot,\" said the solemn\nvoice. \"Look, the door opens only one way; you may come in by it, but\nyou cannot go out.\" It was so, and his heart sank within him as he\nlooked at that mysterious portal. At last the porter relented, and as a\nspecial favour let him go forth for eight days. He was so glad at his\nrelease that he awoke.\n\nWhen he told me the dream I warned him, and begged him to give his heart\nto God. \"You may die,\" I said, \"before the eighth day.\" He laughed at\nthe idea, and said he was \"not going to be frightened by a dream.\" \"When\nI am converted,\" he continued, \"I hope I shall be able to say that I was\ndrawn by love and not driven by fear.\" \"But what,\" I said, \"if you have\nbeen neglecting and slighting God's love for a long time, and He is now\nmoving you with fear to return to Him?\" Nothing would do; he turned a\ndeaf ear to every entreaty. When the eighth day arrived, being market\nday, he went to the hall as usual, and looked at the wall of which he\nhad dreamed with particular interest, but seeing no door there, he\nexclaimed, \"It's all right; now I will go and have a good dinner over\nit, with a bottle of wine!\"\n\nWhether he stopped at one bottle or not, I cannot tell; but late on\nSaturday night, as he was going home, he was thrown from his horse and\nkilled. That was at the end of the eighth day.\n\nWhether these dreams and visions were the cause or effect of the\npeople's sensitive state, I do not know; but certainly they were very\nimpressible, and even the cold and hardened amongst them were ready to\nhear about the mysteries of the unseen world. I attributed this to the\nspiritual atmosphere in which they were then living.\n\n\nCHAPTER 12\n\nBilly Bray, 1852.\n\nAfter the events narrated in Chapter 10, and when all the people who\ndwelt on the hill on which the church was built were converted, there\ncame upon the scene a very remarkable person, who had evidently been\nkept back for a purpose. This was none other than the veritable and well\nknown \"Billy Bray.\"* One morning, while we were sitting at breakfast, I\nheard some one walking about in the hall with a heavy step, saying,\n\"Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!\" On opening the door, I beheld a\nhappy-looking little man, in a black Quaker-cut coat, which it was very\nevident had not been made for him, but for some much larger body. \"Well,\nmy friend,\" I said, \"who are you?\"\n\n__________________________\n\n* See \"The King's Son; or, Life of Billy Bray,\" by F. W. Bourne.\n___________________________\n\n\"I am Billy Bray,\" he replied, looking steadily at me with his twinkling\neyes; \"and be you the parson?\"\n\n\"Yes, I am.\"\n\n\"Thank the Lord! Converted, are ye?\"\n\n\"Yes, thank God.\"\n\n\"And the missus inside\" (pointing to the dining-room), \"be she\nconverted?\"\n\n\"Yes, she is.\"\n\n\"Thank the dear Lord!\" he said, moving forward.\n\nI made way for him, and he came stepping into the room; then making a\nprofound bow to the said \"missus,\" he asked, \"Be there any maidens\n(servants)?\"\n\n\"Yes, there are three in the kitchen.\"\n\n\"Be they converted too?\"\n\nI was able to answer in the affirmative; and as I pointed towards the\nkitchen door when I mentioned it, he made off in that direction, and\nsoon we heard them all shouting and praising God together. When we went\nin, there was Billy Bray, very joyful, singing,\n\n\"Canaan is a happy place;\nI am bound for the land of Canaan.\"\n\nWe then returned to the dining-room with our strange guest, when he\nsuddenly caught me up in his arms and carried me around the room. I was\nso taken by surprise, that it was as much as I could do to keep myself\nin an upright position, till he had accomplished the circuit. Then he\nset me in my chair and rolling on the ground for joy, said that he \"was\nas happy as he could live.\" When this performance was at an end, he rose\nup with a face that denoted the fact, for it was beaming all over. I\ninvited him to take some breakfast with us, to which he assented with\nthanks. He chose bread and milk, for he said, \"I am only a child.\"\n\nI asked him to be seated, and gave him a chair; but he preferred walking\nabout, and went on talking all the time. He told us that twenty years\nago, as he was walking over this very hill on which my church and house\nwere built (it was a barren old place then), the Lord said to him, \"I\nwill give thee all that dwell in this mountain.\" Immediately he fell\ndown on his knees and thanked the Lord, and then ran to the nearest\ncottage. There he talked and prayed with the people, and was enabled to\nbring them to Christ; then he went to the next cottage, and got the same\nblessing; and then to a third, where he was equally successful. Then he\ntold \"Father\" that there were only three \"housen\" in this mountain, and\nprayed that more might be built. That prayer remained with him, and he\nnever ceased to make it for years. The neighbours, who heard his prayer\nfrom time to time, wondered why he should ask for \"housen\" to be built\nin such an \"ungain\" place.\n\nAt last, after sixteen years, he received a letter from his brother\nJames, to say that they were hacking up the \"croft\" to plant trees, and\nthat they were going to build a church on the hill. He was \"fine and\nglad,\" and praised the Lord. Again he did so, when his brother wrote to\nsay there was a vicarage to be built on the same hill, and a schoolroom\nalso. He was almost beside himself with joy and thankfulness for all\nthis.\n\nIn the year 1848, when the church was completed and opened, he came on a\nvisit to Baldhu, and was greatly surprised to see what a change had\ntaken place. There was a beautiful church, a parsonage, with a\nflourishing garden, and also a schoolroom, with a large plantation and\nfields round them. He was quite \"'mazed,\" for he never thought that the\nold hill could be made so grand as that! However, when he went to the\nservice in the church, his joy was over; he came out \"checkfallen,\" and\nquite disappointed. He told \"Father\" that that was nothing but an \"old\nPusey\" He had got there, and that he was no good. While he was praying\nthat afternoon, \"Father\" gave him to understand that he had no business\nthere yet, and that he had come too soon, and without permission. So he\nwent back to his place at once, near Bodmin, and continued to pray for\nthe hill.\n\nAfter three years his brother James wrote again; 'and this time it was\nto tell him that the parson and all his family were converted, and that\nthere was a great revival at the church. Now poor Billy was most eager\nto come and see this for himself, but he obtained no permission, though\nhe asked and looked for it every day for more than three months.\n\nAt last, one wintry and frosty night in January, about half-past eleven\no'clock, just as he was getting into bed, \"Father\" told him that he\nmight go to Baldhu. He was so overjoyed, that he did not wait till the\nmorning, but immediately \"put up\" his clothes again, \"hitched in\" the\ndonkey, and set out in his slow-going little cart. He came along singing\nall the way, nearly thirty miles and arrived early in the morning.\nHaving put up his donkey in my stable, he came into the house, and\npresented himself, as I have already stated, in the hall, praising God.\n\nWe were a long time over breakfast that morning, for the happy man went\non from one thing to another, \"telling of the Lord,\" as he called it,\nassuring us again and again that he was \"fine and glad, and very\nhappy\"--indeed, he looked so. He said there was one thing more he must\ntell us; it was this--that he had a \"preaching-house\" (what we should\nnow call a mission-room), which he had built years ago. He had often\nprayed there for \"this old mountain,\" and now he should dearly love to\nsee me in the pulpit of that place, and said that he would let me have\nit for my work. He went on to say that he had built it by prayer and\nfaith, as \"Father\" sent him help, and that he and another man had built\nit with their own hands. One day he was short of money to buy timber to\nfinish the roof; his mate said it would take two pounds' worth; so he\nasked the Lord for this sum, and wondered why the money did not come,\nfor he felt sure that he was to have it. A farmer happened to look in\nthe next morning, and Billy thought he had come with the money, but he\nmerely asked them what they were doing, and then took his departure,\nwithout giving them help. All that day they waited in expectation, and\nwent home in the evening without having done any work. The next morning\nthe same farmer appeared again, and said, \"What do you want two pounds\nfor?\" \"Oh,\" said Billy, \"you are come, are you? We want that money for\nthe roof yonder.\" The farmer then went on to say, \"Two days ago it came\nto my mind to give two pounds for the preaching house, but as I was\ncoming down the hill on yesterday morning, something said to me, 'if you\ngive one pound it will be handsome; then I thought I would give only\nhalf-a-sovereign; and then that I would give nothing. Why should I? But\nthe Lord laid it on my mind last night that I must give you two pounds.\nThere it is!\"\n\n\"Thank the Lord!\" said Billy, and proceeded immediately to get the\nrequired timber. In answer to prayer he also obtained \"reed\" for\nthatching the roof, and by the same means timber for the forms and\nseats.\n\nIt was all done in a humble manner, so that he did not dream of buying\nany pulpit; but one day, as he was passing along the road, he saw that\nthey were going to have a sale at the \"count-house\" of an old mine. He\nwent in, and the first thing which met his eye was a strong oak\ncupboard, with a cornice around the top. It struck him that it would\nmake a grand pulpit, if only it was-strong enough: on examination, he\nfound it all he could desire in this respect. He thought if he could\ntake off the top and make a \"plat\" to stand upon, it would do\n\"first-rate.\" He \"told Father\" so, and wondered how he could get it. He\nasked a stranger who was there, walking about, what he thought that old\ncupboard would go for? \"Oh, for about five or six shillings,\" was the\nreply. And while Billy was pondering how to \"rise\" six shillings, the\nsame man came up and said, \"What do you want that cupboard for, Billy?\"\nHe did not care to tell him, for he was thinking and praying about it.\nThe man said, \"There are six shillings for you; buy it if you will.\"\nBilly took the money, thanking the Lord. and impatiently waited for the\nsale. No sooner was the cupboard put up, than he called out, \"Here,\nmaister, here's six shillin's for un,\" and he put the money down on the\ntable. \"Six shillings bid,\" said the auctioneer--\"six shillings--thank\nyou; seven shillings; any more for that good old cupboard? Seven\nshillings. Going--going--gone!\" And it was knocked down to another man.\n\nPoor Billy was much disappointed and perplexed at this, and could not\nunderstand it at all. He looked about for the man who had given him the\nsix shillings, but in vain--he was not there. The auctioneer told him to\ntake up his money out of the way. He complied, but did not know what to\ndo with it. He went over a hedge into a field by himself, and told\n\"Father\" about it; but it was all clear--\"Father\" was not angry about\nanything. He remained there an hour, and then went homewards.\n\nAs he was going along, much troubled in his mind as to this experience\n(for he still felt so sure he was to have that cupboard for a pulpit),\nhe came upon a cart standing outside a public-house with the very\ncupboard upon it, and some men were measuring it with a foot rule. As he\ncame up, he heard them say, \"It is too large to go in at the door, or\nthe window either.\" The publican who had bought it said, \"I wish I had\nnot bid for the old thing at all; it is too good to 'scat' up for\nfirewood.\" At that instant it came to Billy's mind to say, \"Here, I'll\ngive you six shillings for un.\" \"Very well,\" said the man, taking the\nmoney; \"you can have him.\" Then Billy began to praise the Lord, and went\non to say, \"'Father' as good as told me that I was to have that\ncupboard, and He knew I could not carry him home on my back, so He found\na horse and cart for me. Bless the Lord!\" Promising to bring it back\nvery soon, he led the horse down the hill, and put the old cupboard into\nthe preaching-house. \"There it is!\" he exclaimed, \"and a fine pulpit he\ndoes make, sure enough! Now,\" said Billy, \"I want to see thee in it.\nWhen will you come?\" I could not fix for that day, or the next, trot\nmade arrangements to conduct a series of services the next week, and\npromised to have them in that place.\n\nBefore he left us, he made a particular inquiry about the two other\nhouses which had been built, who lived in them, and especially if all\nthe \"dwellers were converted.\" Then he declared his intention to go and\nsee the parties, and rejoice with them, and testify how fully the Lord\nhad accomplished the promise He gave him upon that very hill, twenty\nyears before.\n\nAccording to promise, I went to Billy Bray's preaching-house, or\nmission-hall. It was the first time that I had preached anywhere outside\nmy church and schoolroom since my conversion. There it pleased the Lord\nto give me much help, and a great work followed, such as Billy had never\nseen in that place before. Several times we were detained there all\nnight through, with penitents crying aloud for mercy, and believers\nrejoicing.\n\nAs a rule, the Cornish man would remain at a meeting for hours, and come\nagain the next day, and the day after, if needful, till he felt that he\ncould cry for mercy, and then he would begin and continue crying until\nhe felt he could believe.\n\nAt the conclusion of these services we returned to the schoolroom, where\nour meetings were continued.\n\nOur friend Billy remained with us at Baldhu, and was very useful. He\nspoke in the schoolroom with much acceptance and power in the simplicity\nof his faith, and souls were added to the Lord continually.\n\nAt this time he was very anxious for a cousin of his, a man somewhat\nolder than himself, of the same name. This Billy was as famous for his\ndrunkenness and dissolute habits, as the other Billy was for his faith\nand joy. The former used to go by the name of the \"lost soul.\" The very\nchildren in the lanes called after him, \"Ah, Billy, you are a lost\nsoul,\" and laughed at him. I was then in the freshness and power of my\nfirst love, and could not help regarding this pitiable object, and\nconsidering his case; for I could not imagine why any man should remain\nunsaved and without Christ.\n\nAccordingly, one wet morning, when I felt pretty sure that old Billy\nwould not be out working in the field, I made my way down to his house.\nAs I expected, he was at home in his chimney comer; so setting down my\ndripping umbrella, I told him how glad I was to find him there, for I\nwanted to have a talk with him.\n\n\"Ah, it's all very well for you gentlemen, who have none else to do but\nto go about and talk; but we poor men must work.\" So saying, he rose up\nfrom his \"settle\" and went to the door.\n\n\"But, Billy, it is raining quite hard; you cannot work in rain like\nthat.\"\n\n\"Can't help it; we must do our work,\" and so he slammed the door after\nhim and departed.\n\nHis wife made all kinds of apologies for him, because \"he was a very\nsingular kind of man; he did not mean bad--he was 'that curious,' that\nhe said and did curious things, and that I must not mind him.\"\n\nI confess I was much disappointed at his abrupt departure from the\nhouse, but I remained a little longer, till the worst of the storm was\nover.\n\nAfter the lapse of nearly a quarter of an hour, Billy crept back to the\ndoor, and lifting the latch quietly, whispered to his wife, \"Is the\npasson gone?\"\n\n\"No, Billy,\" I said, \"here I am. Come in out of the wet. I am so glad\nyou have come back.\"\n\n\"What d'yer want with me?\" he inquired. \"I want to talk to you about\nyour soul. I have been thinking much about you lately, Billy. They call\nyou a 'lost soul.'\"\n\n\"What's that to you?\"\n\n\"Ah, a great deal,\" I said, \"because I have a message for lost people. I\nam not a doctor for the body; my business is about the soul.\"\n\n\"I ain't so bad as all that yet,\" he replied.\n\n\"But you are bad enough, Billy--bad enough.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed,\" interposed his wife.\n\n\"You hold yer tongue; you're no better.\"\n\nI beckoned to her to be still, and went on to say, \"You are bad enough,\nBilly, for an old man. How old are you?\"\n\n\"Up seventy years.\"\n\n\"Seventy years!\" I repeated. \"Well, now, that's a great age--that's the\nage of man. Threescore years and ten! It is like giving you notice to\ngive up the keys of the old tabernacle. I wonder why God spares your\nlife? I am afraid you have been a cumberer of the ground all this time,\nBilly. Do you know why the good Lord has spared you for so long?\"\n\n\"I can't tell,\" he said, getting more and more impatient.\n\n\"Well, do you know, I think I can tell you. He is such a loving and\nmerciful God, He wants to have mercy on you. You could not have greater\nproof of it, could you? You set a horribly bad example; you do nothing\nbut drink, and smoke, and swear. You have asked God to damn your soul\nover and over again, and yet here you are still. Why is this?\"\n\nHe did not answer, but seemed interested; so I went on to speak of the\nforbearance of God towards him. I said, \"Billy, do you know that I think\nthe Lord wants to have mercy on you? He wants to save you!\" As he\nlistened, I went on to tell him that God loved him, and gave His Son to\ndie for him. Then I proceeded to speak of the wonderful patience and\nlong-suffering of God--a kind of crown upon His love; and what a shame\nit was to sin against such love as this.\n\nPoor Billy looked at me with tears in his eyes, and said, \"You are a\ndear man!\"\n\n\"Dear man!\" I answered. \"What, then, is God, if I am 'dear' only for\ntelling you of His love? Ah, Billy, take and give your heart to God at\nonce. He is waiting for you. It is a shame to refuse such a God.\"\n\nI knelt down and began to pray for him. He soon fell on his knees too,\nand sobbed aloud; then he commenced to pray in his own way. He needed\nmuch teaching, so when he rose from his knees I said to him, \"Now,\nBilly, I have been to see you; it is your turn to some and see me next.\nWhen will you come?\"\n\n\"This afternoon,\" he said. \"Very good; come this afternoon.\" And he did.\nMore than that, this poor \"lost soul\" found peace in my study, to his\ngreat joy; and he was not ashamed to acknowledge it openly, nor afraid\nto praise God for His great goodness.\n\nThe same evening he stood up in the schoolroom meeting, and told the\npeople what the Lord had done for his soul. There was great excitement\nthat night, and well there might be, for every one knew what a daring\nand wicked man he had been. One man said that \"if a corpse had come out\nof the churchyard and spoken, he could not have been more frightened\"\n(more surprised, he meant).\n\nOld Billy's conversion gave a new and fresh impetus to the work, and\nmany more souls were added to the Lord.\n\nThis dear man lived for three months after this, verifying the words I\nwas led to say to him at the beginning of our intercourse--that the Lord\nwas keeping him alive in order to have mercy upon him. At the end of\nthis time, his daughter came to me one morning in great haste, and said,\n\"Father is dying, and does so want to see you. Will you come?\" I went\nimmediately. On reaching his house and entering: his bedroom, his wife\nsaid, \"You are too late; he is dead!\" Softly I moved forward to the bed,\nand looking on that face once more, I thought that I could still see\nsigns of life. Pressing his cold hand, I spoke a few words about the\nloving kindness of the Lord. He knew me, and a smile brightened his face\nat the precious name of Jesus. While we stood silently round his dying\nbed, he said (evidently in reference to what he had heard), \"not dead;\njust beginning to live.\" Thus, with a sweet, triumphant smile, he\ndeparted.\n\n\nCHAPTER 13\n\nCottage Meetings, 1852.\n\nOur steps were now directed to another part of the parish, where we\ncommenced a series of cottage meetings in alternation with services in\nthe church. These meetings were inaugurated in a very remarkable manner,\nin the house of a man named \"Frank,\" who was well known as an\nexceedingly wicked and careless fellow. His wife was among the fruits of\nthe revival, and prayed much for him; but the more she did so, the worse\nhe became. I used to try and comfort her with the thought that if he did\nnot give himself to God to be made better, it was well that he got\nworse, for it was a proof that her prayers were telling; total\nindifference would have been a far more discouraging sign.\n\nThis was poor comfort to her, however, for he came home night after\nnight drunk; or if not so, swearing about the revival in the church, and\nher praying. He often declared that if he ever caught me in his house,\nhe would \"give me something for myself.\" He was at all times a very\nirascible man, and being troubled with a wooden leg, it made him worse.\nAs he was unable to work in the mine, he was dependent for his support\non the parish authorities, who employed him to break stones on the road.\n\nNotwithstanding his bad temper and ill-feeling towards me, I always\nstopped at his heap of stones when passing, and talked to him either\nabout the weather or some other trivial subject, being quite satisfied\nthat he knew the plan of salvation, as I had spoken to him about his\nsoul at the time of his wife's conversion.\n\nOne day, when coming along, I observed Frank before me in the road,\nbusy, as usual, breaking stones, and began to think what I would speak\nto him about, having no particular news to communicate. While I was thus\npondering, I came to his place, when, to my great astonishment, he was\nnot there. I looked around on all sides, and called, \"Frank--Frank!\" but\nin vain--no one answered. There was no hedge or tree within sight for\nhim to hide behind; where could he be? All at once, I remembered that\nthere was a small gravel-pit about twenty-five or thirty yards from the\nspot, but scarcely thought it possible he could be there. I went towards\nit, however, still calling, \"Frank--Frank!\" and yet received no answer.\nOn looking in, sure enough, there was my man, lying down in the pit,\nclose up to the side, with his face to the ground. I said, \"Frank, is\nthat you? What are you doing there? Are you ill?\"\n\n\"No,\" he replied, \"I'm not. What d'yer want with me?\"\n\n\"Nothing in particular,\" I said; \"but to tell the truth, I was so\nsurprised at your disappearance, that I could not pass on without\nlooking for you. I was so sure that I saw you in the distance, sitting\nin your place; and then, when I came up, you were not there. I wondered\nwhether I had seen your ghost instead of you, and whether you were dead\nor what. Are you hiding away from me?\"\n\nRising up, he said, \"I had a terrible dream last night which frightened\nme very much. A voice said, 'Go and see Mr. Haslam about your soul.' I\nsaid, 'I will, I will, the first thing in the morning.' When the morning\ncame, I thought the evening would do; and when I saw you coming, it made\nme tremble so, that I got up and hid myself here.\"\n\nI said, \"Frank, it is no use for you to fight against God, or to stand\nout against your wife's prayers. You had far better give in.\"\n\nHe then told me that his dream referred to something in his past life,\nand sitting down on the bank or side of the gravel pit, he said, 'When I\nwas ill with my leg (which was taken off), the doctor told me what I\nshould die. I then cried to the Lord to have mercy on me, and said that\nif He would raise me up, I would give my heart to Him. I began to\nrecover from that day, and kept on intending and intending to give my\nheart to God; but I never did it. I got quite well in health, but ever\nsince that time I have been getting worse and worse in mind. When my\nwife was converted, it seemed as if the devil took possession of me\naltogether, and the Lord warned me again last night.\"\n\n\"Come now,\" I said, \"you had better kneel down here and give up.\" It was\na lonely road on a bare common. \"Kneel down,\" I repeated, \"and let us\npray.\" He did so, and after prayer he said, \"By God's help. I will give\nup.\"\n\n\"No,\" I replied, \"that will not do. Say, 'Lord, take my heart. I\ndo'--not 'I will'--give up.'\"\n\nAfter a short pause, he solemnly said, \"I do; Lord, take my heart!\" and\nthen began to cry.\n\nI gave him the text, \"God so loved the world, that He gave His\nonly-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish,\nbut have everlasting life\" (John 3:16). \"Think over that,\" I said, \"and\ncome to the schoolroom to-night.\" He did so, and was saved, to the great\njoy of his soul. After the meeting was over, he remained behind a long\ntime, and gave vent to his feelings with tears, when he remembered the\ngoodness of God to him.\n\n\"This wooden leg of mine,\" he said, \"is a monument of God's mercy!\"\n\n\"How is that?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Several years ago,\" he said, \"I was playing cards for money in a\npublic-house, and was cheating in order to win, when the man I was\nplaying with said, 'You would not have won that money if you had not\ncheated.' I swore at him, and said, 'God strike my limbs if I did so!' I\nknew I had; and the man would not believe that I had not. So we parted.\"\n\n\"The next morning, I was working in the mine, close to a very large\npiece of rock, which had been loosened with the blasting, when it\nslipped from its place, and carried me along with it into the shaft. As\nthe heavy end was uppermost, it turned with its own weight, and fell\nacross the shaft, pinning me against the side. This rock was not less\nthan two or three tons weight. Notwithstanding the fearful shock, I\nretained my senses; but one leg was smashed, and the other severely\nwounded. 'God struck my limbs!' I cried for help; and when the men who\nwere attracted by my screams found me, they saw at once that it was\nimpossible to extricate me without moving the rock. There I remained for\nmore than two hours, till they had put a sling around my body. Having\ndone that, they adjusted a strong chain to the rock and lifted the end.\nAs soon as they succeeded in raising it, down it went, carrying plate,\nladders, and all before it, to the bottom of the shaft, which was many\nfathoms deep, whilst I was left hanging in the sling. They then drew me\nup, and took me to the hospital, where one leg was taken off and the\nother set; but I was very ill for a long time. Oh, just think, if that\nrock had not pinned my legs to the wall of the shaft, I should have been\nin hell now! The Lord saved my life then--and has saved my soul now!\"\n\nDear Frank became a very zealous Christian, and for many years preached\nthe Gospel with much power and acceptance. After his conversion, he came\none morning to beg my pardon for having forbidden me his house, and to\nask if I would come and hold a meeting there for his neighbours.\n\nI did; and there was such a crowd inside, and also outside the house,\nand so much blessing, that I was not satisfied with one visit, but went\nagain and again.\n\nThe place was most inconveniently full; they turned out the chairs and\ntables to make standing-room inside, and opened the windows and doors\nfor the people to hear outside; and sometimes, before the address was\nover, men and women cried aloud for mercy. We could not kneel down to\npray--praying, singing, and hearing was done standing, and, that very\nclose together. The house was so uncomfortably thronged, that a miller\nin the neighbourhood, who had a large room in the mill, begged me to\ncome and preach there instead. I accepted his invitation, and we went;\nbut, alas! there was no power there; it was hard to pray or preach; and\nthe people were not even attentive. Thus it was clearly seen that it is\nnot by might or by power of men, but by the Spirit of the Lord; and that\nif the Lord was not present to work, no work was done. We went back to\nFrank's cottage, and there again the manifest presence of God was\ndiscernible; and every time we did so souls were saved.\n\nNext door to Frank lived a tall, gaunt, gipsy kind of woman, whom they\ncalled \"the wise woman.\" She had a marvellous gift of healing, and other\nknowledge, which made people quite afraid of her. This woman took a\ngreat interest in me and my work, and often came to church, besides\nattending the meetings at Frank's house.\n\nOne day, during these services, she paid a visit to the Parsonage, and\nsaid, \"My dear, have you a lemon in the house?\" I went to inquire and\nfound that we had not. \"Well, then,\" she said, \"get one, and some honey\nand vinegar, and mix them all together. You will want it. Mind you do,\nnow,\" she said, drawing herself up to her full height; \"mind you do, you\nwill want it!\" Then she put the bowl of her pipe into the kitchen fire,\nand having ignited the tobacco, went away smoking.\n\nThe servants were very much frightened by her manner and her warning,\nand begged of me to get the lemon, saying, \"It was about you, master; it\nwas about you that she came.\"\n\nI did not know where to get a lemon within three miles, but it so\nhappened that a man came to the door with a net full, for sale, that\nsame afternoon. We bought two, just to pacify the servants, and let them\nmake the mixture, thinking nothing more about it.\n\nIn the course of the afternoon a very heavy thunder-storm fell upon us,\ndeluging the roads and lanes; and before it ceased I had to go to the\nmeeting. I took the precaution to put on thick shoes, and then set off\nand walked through the rain. When I arrived at the cottage, I thought my\nfeet felt wet; but they were not cold, so that I soon forgot all about\nthem, and went on with the meeting, which lasted till ten o'clock; then\nI returned home. On taking off my shoes, I was surprised to see how wet\nand muddy my socks were. I had been standing with wet feet all the\nevening. To guard against any ill effects, I put my feet in hot water\nbefore going to bed. However, at three o'clock in the morning I awoke,\nnearly choked with a severe fit of bronchitis; the thick, hard phlegm in\nmy throat almost suffocated me; I had to struggle for breath and life.\nAfter an hour or more of the most acute suffering, my dear wife\nremembered the lemon mixture, and called the servant to get up and bring\nit. It was just in time. I was black in the face with suffocation; but\nthis compound relieved, and, in fact, restored me. I was greatly\nexhausted with the effort and struggle for life, and after two hours I\nfell asleep. I was able to rise in the morning and breathe freely,\nthough my chest was very sore.\n\nAfter breakfast, the \"wise woman\" appeared, standing outside the window\nof the drawing-room, where I was lying on the sofa.\n\n\"Ah, my dear,\" she said, \"you were nearly gone at three o'clock this\nmorning. I had a hard wrestle for you, sure enough. If you had not had\nthat lemon, you know, you would have been a dead man by this time!\"\n\nThat mysterious creature, what with her healing art, together with the\nprayer of faith and the marvellous foresight she had, was quite a terror\nto the people. One day she came, and bade me go to a man who was very\nworldly and careless, and tell him that he would die before Sunday.\n\nI said, \"You go, if you have received the message.\"\n\nShe looked sternly at me, and said, \"You go! that's the message--you\ngo!\"\n\nI went. The man laughed at me, and said, \"That old hag ought to be\nhanged.\" I urged him to give his heart to God, and prayed with him, but\nto no effect. He was thrown from his cart, and killed the following\nSaturday, coming home from market.\n\nHer sayings and doings would fill a book; but who would believe the\nthings?\n\nShe was not always a bird of evil omen, for sometimes she brought me\ngood news as well as bad. One day she said, \"There is a clergyman coming\nto see you, who used to be a great friend of yours, but since your\nconversion he has been afraid of you. He is coming; you must allow him\nto preach; he will be converted before long!\" Sure enough, my old friend\nW.B.--, came as she predicted. He preached, and in due time was\nconverted, and his wife also; but his story shall come in its own place.\n\nThe work at Frank's cottage stopped as suddenly as it began. I cannot\ntheorize about the subject; I merely state that so it was. It began, it\ncontinued, and continued only in that house, and then it stopped.\n\nAnother remarkable thing may here be observed--that on visiting the\ncottages within a limited distance round Frank's house, people were\nsoftened, and it was easy to persuade them to yield themselves to\nChrist. They appeared to be quite ripe and ready. Just beyond this limit\nthe people were as hard and careless as ever. It seemed as if the power\nof God overshadowed only a certain spot, and that all within that were\nunder Divine influence for the time, though all were not converted. They\nacknowledged, however, that they felt the Spirit's power striving with\nthem, and they knew afterwards that it was withdrawn. \"The wind bloweth\nwhere it listeth.\"\n\n\nCHAPTER 14\n\nOpen-Air Services, 1852.\n\n1. PERRANZABULOE\n\nAS the summer advanced, it was laid on heart to go and preach in the\nparish of Perranzabuloe, where I had ministered in my unconverted days.\nThe vicar, would not consent to my having the church; but told me, in\nwriting, that he could not prevent my preaching on the common or the\nbeach. I thanked him for his suggestion as to the latter. As soon I was\nable I made arrangements, and giving due notice, went down to the old\nfamiliar place; but this time on a new errand, and it was to me a fresh\nstart in my work. I took my gown for this first open-air service; and on\narriving, found many hundreds of people already assembled at the\nappointed place, on Perran beach.\n\nAfter giving out a hymn, which was most heartily sung, I prayed,\nthanking God for the change He had wrought in my soul, and begging Him\nto show that He had forgiven the past, by bestowing a manifest blessing\nupon the present service. All this was loudly responded to, in Cornish\nfashion, with hearty \"Amens\" and various other ejaculations to which I\nwas well accustomed. Then I read the beginning of the fifth chapter of\nSt. Luke, taking for my text the words, \"Launch out into the deep, and\nlet down your nets for a draught.\"\n\nHaving reminded the people how hard I had worked amongst them for four\nyears without seeing any conversions, I went on to show them, by way of\nparallel, that Simon Peter had toiled all night and taken nothing, but\nthat when he went forth at the Lord's command, he enclosed a great\nmultitude of fishes. \"Here,\" I said, \"is encouragement for us to expect\na blessing now. Why did Simon Peter fail at first? and why did he\nsubsequently succeed? Why did he fail?--1. Because he went out in the\nnight. 2. At his own desire. 3. In the wisdom of men. Why did I fail?--1.\nBecause I preached and laboured in the night of my unconverted state. 2.\nI laboured at the bidding of the Church. And, 3. According to the wisdom\nand tradition of the fathers. Why did Peter succeed?--Because, 1. He\nwent out in the morning. 2. At the Lord's bidding. 3. With the Lord's\npresence.\n\n\"I am come (I was thankful to be able to say) in the bright sunshine of\nmy first love. Jesus, the Saviour, is the 'Sun of my soul, my Saviour\ndear.'\" The people cheered me so much with their responding, that I felt\nas happy as they. The opening heaven seemed to shine around us, indeed,\n\"with beams of sacred bliss.\" They shouted again and again, \"Glory to\nGod! Glory to God! Hallelujah! .... I am come now,\" I continued, \"to\ntell you from my own personal experience, about salvation and the\nforgiveness of sins.\" \"Yes, yes!\" \"Thank the Lord!\" \"Bless Him!\"\n\n\"I am come, dear friends, at the Lord's bidding. I feel sure that He put\nit into my heart to do so. Oh, how much I longed to do you good when I\nwas your minister; but I could not, for I knew nothing about the Way\nmyself. Now, that I do, I am constrained to tell you. The love of God\nwithin, and the Word of God without, compel me.\n\n\"I feel I have the Lord's presence, for He not only promised it where\ntwo or three are gathered together in His name; but also to those who\npreach the Gospel, He said, 'Lo, I am with you alway!' His presence is\npower. It is His word I bring you, not mine; I merely deliver it. He is\nhere. And be sure He loves you, and, what is more, takes a deeper\ninterest in this preaching than we can. He died for you, and shed His\nblood for your forgiveness; how, then, can He do otherwise than take an\ninterest in the delivery of His message, and, more, in the result which\nis to follow?\n\n\"When Simon Peter let down his net, he was astonished; mark, it was a\nnet he let down into the deep, something which enclosed the fish, in\norder that he might bring them out of their native element, the water.\nSo I preach the Gospel, not merely for the sake of preaching, but to\nbring you from the power of Satan, in which we all are by nature, to\nGod, that you may receive the forgiveness of your sins.\n\n\"We read that he enclosed a great multitude of fishes; I have faith to\nbelieve that the Lord will bring many to Himself to-night.\"\n\nWith shouting and praise the address was concluded and prayer was\noffered. At the close, we found at least fifty people in that great\nthrong on their knees, crying for mercy. It was a most triumphant and\njoyful time, and the people were loth to separate. We slept that night\nat Porth, as that part of the village is called.\n\nThe next morning two fishermen came to my lodging, bringing a large\nbasket of fish as a present. Their hearts had been cheered the preceding\nnight, and taking my word in a natural as well as a spiritual sense,\nthey went out once again and let down their nets. They had gone out many\nnights before and taken nothing; but this time their venture was crowned\nwith success, and they came back rejoicing ill the Lord, who had shown\nthem that temporal as well as spiritual blessings come from Him. The\nbasket of fish they brought me was an acknowledgment of their heartfelt\ngratitude.\n\nAfter breakfast, as we were walking on the seashore, under the majestic\ncliffs which have stood as a wall against the Atlantic waves for\ncenturies, we heard our good-natured Newfoundland dog barking at\nsomething on the rocks; we looked up, and behold! There was an\nexquisitely graceful fawn-coloured kid, with a scarlet collar and bells,\nbounding about playfully on the narrow ledges of the rocks. It seemed to\nus to be leaping about on the face of the cliff, for we could not see\nthe little ledges on which it picked its way. It was quite out of the\ndog's reach, and appeared to know it, judging from the coquettish and\ndefiant manner in which it was jumping about, in high glee at its\nindependence. While we were standing watching the pretty and graceful\ncreature, a young lady came out from behind other rocks, and called to\nher pet, which arched its little neck and looked at her, then at the\ndog, as if it would say, \"How can I come down?\" I walked towards her,\nand on speaking, found that she knew me, and that I had seen her when\nshe was a child. After a little talk about the playful kid, I asked her\nif she had been to the meeting; she said \"she had, and she had not!\"\n\nI waited silently for an explanation. Presently, she said that her mamma\nhad forbidden her to go to \"such wild meetings,\" but that her father had\nasked her to walk with him under a wall in the garden, there they could\nand did hear every word; and she added, \"I think papa has found\npeace--he is so very happy'.\"\n\n\"And have not you also?\" I asked.\n\n\"Ah,\" she replied, \"I wish I could.\"\n\nThe more I talked with her, the more convinced I felt she was in\nearnest, but that something stood in the way. She said she did not know\nwhat it was--that she really wished for salvation, and was willing to\ngive up everything. I said, \"Do you think your mother would let you\nreturn with us on a short visit? We are just going back to Baldhu.\"\n\nShe said, \"Mamma is not at home: she has gone away for three days; but I\nthink papa would let me go. Shall I ask him?\"\n\nShe did; and soon returned, saying that she might do so if we could\npromise to bring her back in two days. This being settled, she hastened\nto get her things ready, and sent her maid to fetch home the pet kid,\nwhich she bade her take great care of during her absence: then we set\noff.\n\nOn arriving at our house she went straight to her bedroom, and there on\nher knees implored God's mercy, and remained pleading and praying for\nfive hours, before she found peace. Then she came down among us,\nrejoicing in the Lord. That evening she spent at the meeting, and the\nnext day in visiting among the cottages. On the third day, after a happy\nvisit, we took her home to her father, rejoicing in the liberty of the\nchildren of God.\n\nHer mother returned the day after, and when she was told of the change\nin her husband and her daughter Lucy, she became exceedingly angry, and\nwrote, not to thank, but to forbid us the house; also prohibiting\nfurther intercourse. At the same time she declared her intention to get\nall that nonsense out of her daughter's head as soon as possible. She\ndragged this poor girl out to parties and amusements of every kind,\nagainst her will, which had the effect of making her dislike them the\nmore, and caused her to cleave steadfastly to the Lord in prayer.\n\nSix months later, she was taken ill, and after a few weeks' suffering\nshe died, rejoicing that her sins were pardoned, and that she was going\nhome. It was evident that God would not trust that mother with a\ndaughter whose soul she was determined to injure. He took His child away\nto Himself.\n\n2. ROSE-IN-VALE\n\nThe open-air preaching at Perran led to many similar services there, and\nat other places. I will tell of two only, to prevent sameness, and for\nfear of tiring the reader.\n\nThe former of these, was at a place called Rose-in-vale, in the same\nparish, on the lawn of the chief parishioner. He was an uneducated man,\nwho had risen from the rank of a common miner to that of a mine captain.\nBeing very shrewd and clever, he had succeeded in accumulating a\nconsiderable sum of money; and though he and his wife had a very large\nhouse, they chiefly occupied two of the smallest rooms. \"Them fine\nthings up in the parlours,\" he said, he \"made no 'count of;\" indeed he\nwas anything but comfortable or easy in his state apartments. Being the\nwealthy man of the parish, he sat on Sunday in the large square pew; but\nbeyond giving personal attendance, and that very regularly, I do not\nknow what other heed he gave, either to the service or the sermon.\n\nDuring this summer he invited me to give \"a preaching\" in his garden.\nAccordingly, on a fixed day, I went, and tried to speak, but found it\nmost difficult to do so. I know not why; but again and again I felt as\nthough I had lost the thread of my discourse and was rambling--that I\nwas at a loss for words, and could not hold the attention of the people.\nPerplexed, and greatly discouraged, I was not sorry when the time came\nto conclude; therefore I did not invite the people to remain for an\nafter-meeting for prayer. Several persons came up and asked me why I had\ndismissed the assembly. \"Ah!\" I replied, \"because there is no power. I\ncould not get on at all!\" They were surprised, and said they thought\nthat I had been helped more than usual, and were quite sure that the\nLord was working among the people. However, the congregation had gone\nnow, and could not be recalled. This only made me feel more distressed\nthan before.\n\nThe feeling was very strong with which I had been so burdened while\nspeaking; and, to add to my perplexity, I observed three coast-guard\nmen, who had come some five or six miles, behaving badly, and laughing\nall the time (as I thought) at my discourse, to the great discomfiture\nof my preaching. Open-air addresses were not common in those days, and\nfor a man to set up (as some said) and pretend to be a second Whitfield\nor Wesley, was bad enough, but to fail was most humiliating!\n\nThree years after this, I was travelling outside a coach, when a rough\nsailor-looking man came climbing up to the top, although he was told\nthat there was no room. \"Never mind,\" he said; \"I will sit on the boxes.\nI want to talk to this here gentleman.\" So saying, he perched himself on\nthe luggage, and offered to shake hands with me. \"Do you know me?\" I\nasked.\n\n\"Oh yes, bless you, of course I do! Don't you remember three coast-guard\nmen at Captain O--'s garden?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, \"indeed I do, and am not likely to forget them easily;\nthey behaved so badly, and disturbed me so much.\"\n\n\"Well,\" he continued, \"I'm one o' them. I don't know why we laughed and\nmade fun, for we all on us felt your words deeply, and went home to\npray; and a few days afterwards we were all three converted--that we\nwere. Praise the Lord! After that, we volunteered for the navy, to go to\nthe Crimea war. I've been in some hot scenes, sure enough. One day we\ngot a little too near the Russian battery, and they peppered us\nbrave--no mistake, I assure you; they cut our masts and rigging to\npieces, and ploughed up our deck with their shots. Men were being killed\non every side of me. I thought, now I shall see the King in His glory.\nMy soul was so happy, I expected every moment to be cut down and sent\ninto His presence; but not a shot touched me! I had not even a scratch;\nand here I be, safe and sound, all through mercy!\"\n\nThus, these three men, who made me at the time so unhappy, and disturbed\nme to such a degree, turned out well, after all.\n\nSince then, on several occasions, I have felt as discouraged in\npreaching as I was that day; and though again and again I have said that\nI will not heed it, I have nevertheless found it difficult to be unmoved\nunder this mysterious influence. I write this for the comfort and\nconsolation of others who are afflicted under similar circumstances,\nthat they may not be cast down by their feelings.\n\n3. Mount Hawke\n\nThe next occasion was very different, and quite a contrast in results. I\nwas invited to a neighbouring parish, which formerly used to be united\nwith Perran at the time when I had sole charge of it. Here, on the\nappointed Saturday afternoon, I found not fewer than three thousand\npeople assembled on the common. They had erected a kind of platform,\nwith a canvas awning, to shelter me from the wind, which always blows\nwith more or less violence in Cornwall, even when it is not raining.\n\nThere I stood and beheld this concourse of people, evidently full of\nlarge expectation. I gave out the hymn--\n\n\"Oh for a thousand tongues, to sing\nMy great Redeemer's praise!\"\n\nThis was heartily sung; and after prayer for a blessing, I announced my\ntext, and spoke from the fact, that Christ Jesus came into the world to\nsave sinners. Upon enforcing this as worthy of all acceptation, I\npressed the thought, that the Lord Jesus came more than eighteen hundred\nyears ago, and that is present still, and able to work greater than He\nwrought then; for indeed He only began then to do and to teach what He\nis doing and teaching continuously now.\n\nA mighty power of the Spirit of the Lord came on the people, and several\nhundreds fell upon their knees simultaneously, and many began to cry\naloud for mercy. The strange part was, that the power of the Lord\nappeared to pass diagonally through the crowd, so that there was a lane\nof people on their knees six or eight feet deep, banked up on either\nside by others standing. It extended from the left-hand corner near me,\nto the right-hand corner in the distance.\n\nIt was quite impossible to go on preaching, so I gave out a hymn, and\nthen went in among \"the slain of the Lord.\" After about an hour, some\none suggested that we should go to the school-room; as it was getting\ndark. The clergyman of the parish was on horseback in the lane close by,\nwatching proceedings. I asked him if we could have the use of the\nschool-room. \"Oh yes,\" he said; \"yes, certainly--certainly--anything.\"\nHe seemed very frightened. The men and women in distress of soul were\nled to the room, crying and praying as they went. When I reached the\nplace, I found it impossible to get in, far it was already full, besides\na throng standing at the door. I was taken to a window at last, and\ngetting in through that, I stood on the schoolmaster's table, which was\nnear.\n\nAgainst the wall the men had, in miners' fashion, set up with clay some\ncandles, which were beginning to bend over with the heat of the room.\nThe place was densely packed, and the noise of the people praying for\nmercy was excessive. I could do no more than speak to those who were\nnear me round the table. As they found peace one by one and were able to\npraise God, we asked them to go out and let others come. In this way the\nmeeting went on till ten o'clock, when I left; and it continued to go on\nall night and all the next day without cessation. It will scarcely be\ncredited, but that same meeting was prolonged by successive persons\nwithout any intermission, day and night, till the evening of Sunday, the\neighth day after it began. This kind of thing was not unusual in\nCornwall, for we had the same in our school-room at Baldhu for three\ndays and nights; but eight days is the longest period of which I have\nany personal knowledge.\n\nI went again and again to see how they were going on; but the people\nwere too absorbed to heed my presence; and those who were then seeking\nmercy were strangers to me, and had not been present at the service on\nthe previous Saturday.\n\n\nCHAPTER 15\n\nDrawing-Room Meetings, 1852-53.\n\nFrom that time I did not confine myself so much to my own church, but\nfrequently went out to preach in other places, as opportunities\noccurred; and these were, for the most part, brought about by remarkable\nand unsought-for incidents.\n\nOne Sunday a lady and gentleman came to my church from one of the\nneighbouring towns; they were professors of religion, and members of\nsome Dissenting body. My sermon that evening was upon wheat and\nchaff--the former was to be gathered into the garner, the latter burned\nwith fire unquenchable. I said that we were all either one or the\nother--to be gathered or burned. They went away very angry, and\ncomplained one to another of my want of charity; they also remarked that\nI took good care to let the people know that I was not amongst the chaff\nwhich was to be burned. The arrows of the Lord had evidently found them,\nand had pierced the joints in their harness. They could not sleep all\nnight for anger and distress. In the morning the gentleman rose early,\nand before breakfast had his horse out, and galloped over eight miles to\nsee me. He came with the intention of finding fault, but instead of this\nhe burst into tears, and told me that he was the greatest of sinners.\n\nHe was in sore distress, which increased all the more as he gave vent to\nhis feelings. I could not help rejoicing, and told him that God had\nwounded him, but that He only wounds to heal, and kills to make alive.\n\n\"Ah,\" he said, \"that is the first thought of comfort I have had; it is\nlike balm to my soul.\"\n\nWe knelt down and prayed; then I had the privilege of leading him to\nChrist, and we praised God together.\n\nI gave him some breakfast, and after that rode back with him to see his\nwife, whom he had left in the morning in great trouble of mind. We found\nher up, and rejoicing. It was most touching to witness the mutual\nsurprise and joy of these two loving ones, when they discovered that\nthey were now united in the Lord.\n\nShe told us, that after her husband's departure she was in such terrible\ntrouble that she got up to pray, and that while she was on her knees she\nsaw a vision on the bed-cover. Before her was printed, in large visible\nletters, \"Thy sins be forgiven thee;\" she could scarcely believe her\neyes, but with her own finger she traced the letters, and was sure they\nwere there. Taking them as a message from Christ, she rose and thanked\nHim, and now felt quite sure she was saved. I could not help telling her\nnot to believe in her eyes or her visions, but in Jesus, and the fact\nthat He had died for her. Having thanked God together, they next began\nto think of their servants; so we sent for them, and both master and\nmistress told them what the Lord had done for their souls; and while we\nwere praying, they all three cried aloud for mercy, and found peace.\n\nThis was the commencement of a good work in that town by drawing-room\nmeetings, and many were gathered to the Lord. Amongst the number was the\nmayor of the town, who in his turn wished to have a meeting at his\nhouse. As soon as I was able to fix the day, he invited his friends, but\non finding that so many more desired to come than he could accommodate,\nhe announced that the meeting would be held at the Town Hall. Great\ninterest was excited, and it was soon evident that even this building\nwould not be large enough, so it ended in the Temperance Hall being\nselected. The vicar hearing about it, wrote to protest, and asked me to\ncall on him before I went to the place of meeting. He said it was bad\nenough for me to come to his parish to private houses, but to come to a\npublic room, and that a large one, was quite out of the question.\n\nI endeavoured to show him that the lecture or address I had come to give\nwas not an official or ministerial act; but he would not see that. I\nalso suggested that there was no law against it. He, begging my pardon,\nsaid \"The 'Conventicle Act' had not been repealed yet, and that no one\ncould lawfully hold a meeting of more than twenty persons.\"\n\n\"But surely,\" I replied, \"that is virtually repealed by the 'Toleration\nAct.' A clergyman ought not to be in greater bondage in England than a\nlayman, or more restricted. Anybody else can come and preach the Gospel\nin your parish, and you cannot hinder it. Do not hinder me. It will do\nyou no harm.\"\n\nHe said, \"I cannot conscientiously allow it. It is against the Canons.\"\n\n\"Which Canon is it against?\" I asked.\n\nHe took down a book and showed it me, but casting my eyes on the one\nbefore, and another which followed, I found that we neither of us\nobserved the one or the other. Why, then, be so zealous about this?\n\"Besides,\" I said, \"you are not responsible; you have not asked me, nor\nhave I asked your consent. Your conscience need not be troubled about\nthe matter.\"\n\n\"But,\" he said, impatiently, \"I am determined that you shall not preach\nin this parish. I will inform the Bishop.\"\n\nI replied, that \"the Bishop had not any jurisdiction in this case; there\nis no law on the subject. The Conventicle Act only refers to worship,\nnot to service or preaching.\"\n\nHe said, that he \"could see no difference whatever between worship and\nservice.\"\n\n\"But,\" I said, \"I am sure the Bishop knows, and will acknowledge, the\ngreat difference between these two.\"\n\nThen, changing his tone, he said, \"Now, come, there's a good fellow,\ndon't preach at the Town Hall.\"\n\n\"My dear man,\" I answered, \"I am not a 'good fellow' at all I cannot\ngive it up.\"\n\n\"Then,\" he said, \"at least please to defer your address for a week, till\nwe can get the Bishop's decision.\"\n\nHe asked so kindly and earnestly, and made such a point of it, that I\nconsented to wait for the Bishop's answer, and defer the preaching for a\nweek. He was very pleased, and said that I was indeed a 'good fellow',\nbut the praise I got from him barely satisfied my conscience, and I was\nashamed to meet my friends. I had not gone far before my courage failed;\nso, going back, I said that \"I must withdraw my consent to defer the\nmeeting. I will take the consequences and responsibilities, and go on.\"\n\n\"No, no.\" cried the vicar, \"I will arrange for the Postponement of your\nmeeting. Look here, I have written out a notice for the crier; he shall\ngo round the town at once, and tell the people that the meeting is\nunavoidably deferred for a week.\"\n\nI was very reluctantly persuaded to yield, and then went to my friend\nand told him what I had done. He was very much vexed with me, and said,\n\"Then we must go at once and tell the mayor before he hears the crier.\"\nWe did so, and found that this personage was disappointed too, and\nadvised me to go away out of sight of the people. Accordingly, my friend\nand I went to a house which commanded a good view of the town and\nprincipal streets, from whence we could see the people assembling and\ndispersing. A large gang of them stood opposite my friend's house, and\nasked if I would not preach to them in the open air; and when they\nascertained that the vicar had hindered the preaching, they were much\nexasperated.\n\nIn the evening I went back to my own parish, and had the usual service,\nwhich I found very refreshing after so much bickering about\ntechnicalities.\n\nThe Bishop's letter arrived in due time. In it his lordship said, that\nhe \"always had entertained a great esteem for me and my obedience to\nauthority, and highly commended me for postponing or giving up my\nservice at the above town.\" As he did not say a single word of\nprohibition, I immediately wrote to the mayor to expect me on the\nfollowing Tuesday, \"For the Bishop had not forbidden me,\" and I also\nwrote to the vicar to the same effect. Large bills, with large letters\non them, announced that \"the Rev. William Haslam will positively preach\nin the Temperance Hall at three o'clock on Tuesday next.\"\n\nThe churchwardens of the parish were requested to attend the meeting,\nand protest, on behalf of the vicar, and also to present the\narchdeacon's monition. They stood beside me all the time, and after the\nservice was concluded they showed me the archidiaconal instrument, with\na great seal appended to it. They said that they \"dared not stop that\npreaching,\" and so they took their monition back.\n\nThis gave rise to a long correspondence in the newspapers, some taking\npart on my side, and some against me. Thus the question was ventilated,\nand finally concluded, by a letter from some one, who said, \"The Bishop\nof Exeter is one of the greatest ecclesiastical lawyers we have, and if\nhe cannot stop Mr. Haslam, the question is settled; for be sure his\nlordship has all the will to stop this preaching, and would do so if he\nhad the power.\"\n\nFrom that time I never hesitated to preach the Gospel in any parish or\ndiocese where I was invited. So few of the clergy asked me, that I was\nobliged to go out in spite of them, or, at any rate, without asking\ntheir consent, and in consequence of this, I am afraid I became\nobnoxious to many of my clerical brethren. Since then things are much\nchanged. The Earl of Shaftesbury has succeeded in getting an Act passed\nthrough both Houses of Parliament, to settle the question about such\nservices. Now any clergyman may preach in Exeter Hall, or any other\npublic non-ecclesiastical building, without consulting the vicar of the\nparish. Besides this, a general disposition has arisen amongst the\nclergy, from one end of the land to the other, to have \"missions,\" so\nthat there is no need to work independently of clergymen, but with them,\nand very cheering it is to be thus employed. It was not pleasant to\nwitness the scowl and the frown, nor to get the cold shoulder. Thank\nGod, times are changed now; but I must needs tell of some of the scenes\nI was in, and the opposition I had to encounter, during the years that\nare gone by.\n\n\nCHAPTER 16\n\nOpposition, 1853.\n\nI have been telling hitherto of blessing and prosperity in the Lord's\nwork. Many more cases might have been mentioned, and many other things\nof not less moment and interest; but enough has been said, I hope, to\nshow the character of the work, and give some idea of the amount of\nblessing which attended it. But it must not be supposed that the offence\nof the cross had ceased, or that the enmity of the carnal mind was never\nstirred; indeed, I always doubt the reality of a work which moves on\nwithout opposition. On the day of Pentecost, when the Holy Ghost was\nfirst given, while believers were rejoicing, and sinners were pricked to\nthe heart, and some mocked, there arose the opposition of others, who\nresisted the influence of the Spirit; and being \"cut to the heart,\" they\ngnashed with their teeth, and went forward in furious contention against\nthe Lord's work. So it was with us.\n\nThe opposition ran very high, but I do not think it was of malice or\nhatred, but rather \"righteous indignation.\" The instigators of it were\nserious and earnest persons, who verily thought they were doing right.\nThey tried first to save me from what they considered was my\ninfatuation; and failing that, did all they could to save others from my\nbad influence. \"I bear them record, that they had a zeal for God, but\nnot according to knowledge.\" It was just such a zeal as I had before I\nwas converted; therefore my heart's desire was drawn out towards them,\nand I made continual efforts to win them.\n\nOne dear friend of old time said he felt \"so hurt\" because I was\nchanged, and often wondered why \"God did not strike me dead for all the\nharm I had done to the Church.\" Another said that he \"should not be\nsurprised if the very ground opened and swallowed me up for my\nfraternizing with schismatics. The sin of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram was\nnothing to mine.\" At the Clerical Meeting, which I attended\nnotwithstanding all this stir against me, I was beset on every side with\nsomething more than loving reproaches; for evidently my old friends were\nvery much grieved, and could not forgive me for what they considered the\nbetrayal of Church principles.\n\nA special meeting or synod of the clergy was convened by the Rural Dean,\nto take into consideration among other things, my defection, and to\ndecide what public notice should be taken on the subject of this great\nscandal. I also attended this meeting, and found my brethren in a very\nangry and excited state. One after another got up and made grievous\ncharges against me, about the proceedings in my church and parish. The\nburden of their distress, however, seemed to be noise and excitement.\n\nThey said that \"There was brawling in my church, and howling in my\nschoolroom, women fainting and men shouting in a most fanatical manner.\nThey had not witnessed these scenes themselves, but they were credibly\ninformed of them. Moreover, they asserted, on good authority, that I\npreached a very different doctrine to that which was authorized by the\nChurch. I had declared that there was no salvation by the Church and\nSacraments, but by simple faith in Christ; that any man--it did not\nmatter what his previous life had been--if he only came to my preaching,\nand did as I told him, would be saved.\" These, and many other such\ncharges, were made and supported by shouts of \"Hear! hear!\" and cries of\n\"Shame!\" The Rural Dean said he was glad Mr. Haslam was present to\nanswer for himself; he had observed that I had sat very quietly to hear\nothers; and he now hoped that a patient hearing would be given to me.\n\nI rose, and said I was very thankful to be there, and to have this\nopportunity of testifying before them all that the Lord had converted my\nsoul!\n\nThere was a little interruption here, but after a time I was permitted\nto go on. I said that before I was converted, I was even more zealous\nthan any of them against this change, and greatly prejudiced against it.\nI actually flogged a big boy in my school for going to a chapel and\nprofessing to be converted; this I did before all the children, and he\npromised that he would \"never be converted any more.\" I could,\ntherefore, well understand their present feelings, and said that I was\nnot angry with them, but rather prayed that they might, in their turn,\nbe enabled to see these things as I now saw them, and be saved as I was.\n\nUpon this, there arose a great disturbance. The Rural Dean gave me\ncredit for candour, and said he thought I meant well, but that I implied\ntoo much against my brethren; however, he had said before, and would\nrepeat it, that I had listened quietly' to what others had said, and\nthat now I was entitled to a patient hearing a little longer.\n\nBut this could not be, for I was stopped at every Fresh statement I\nmade, and had so many questions put to me, that I begged for only one at\na time. I was enabled to stand my ground calmly, and endeavoured to\nanswer the charges in order as they were brought out. To all\nappearances, I had to stand quite alone in that tumultuous party. We had\nmet at twelve o'clock, and after four hours were still in the heat of\nconflict.\n\nAt last, to conclude this extraordinary meeting, one of the Clergy rose\nand said that he felt it was his painful yet necessary duty to propose\nthat \"a vote of censure be passed on Mr. Haslam.\" It was not seconded,\nand so fell to the ground. Whereupon, another rose '\"to record a protest\nagainst revival meetings, as contrary to the usage of the Church.\" This\nalso failed; and as no one else had anything to say, the conclave of\ndivines broke up. What they would have said or done, if I had not\nattended to be torn to pieces by them, I know not; all I can say is,\nthat they separated without eating me up. Some of them came to me\nafterwards and seemed pleased that I had stood my ground so\ngood-naturedly, and thought that I had had a great badgering.\n\nThe opposition did not stop there--sermons were preached in several of\nthe neighbouring churches, and people earnestly warned against attending\ncertain services, and told not to countenance them by their presence.\nThe newspapers also took up the matter, and public report was not behind\nin its usual exaggeration.\n\nI give here an extract from a Letter I thought it necessary to write at\nthis time, on \"RELIGIOUS EXCITEMENT\":\n\n\"My Dear Sir,--I have been seriously considering, for some time, the\nnecessity of making a public statement respecting the work of God in\nthis place; with a view partly of drawing attention to an all-important,\nthough very neglected subject; and partly with a view of giving some\ndefinite and authoritative form to the various and varied reports which\nare in circulation. It is vain to pretend to know nothing about them,\nand it is equally vain to suppose that reports about our proceedings are\nlikely to lose less by repetition, than those on other subjects of less\nmoment.\n\n\"I embrace, therefore, the opportunity which your Sermon on RELIGIOUS\nEXCITEMENT offers, to make a statement.\n\n\"I do remonstrate against your publishing to the world a sermon avowedly\nagainst 'proceedings connected with a neighbouring church;' and that\ninstead of encouragement, counsel, and cooperation in what I know is the\nwork of God, I receive this public rebuke. I make this remonstrance the\nmore earnestly, because several of the opinions you have expressed, are\nnot, as I believe, consistent with the teaching of our Church; and\nlastly, I venture to be the remonstrant, because I am the person, and\nmine the church, which are the objects of your animadversions.\n\n\"You hold deservedly a high position among us in respect of rank and\nesteem for your piety and learning; but at the hazard of incurring the\nimputation of arrogance, I cannot, I must not, and I will not be\nunfaithful to the light in which I walk, by the grace of God; and\ntherefore I do simply and plainly protest, in the first place, against\nthe supposition that Excitement is a means which I am using, or an end I\nhave in view; secondly, against the supposition that conversion is a\ngradual work, which is to be worked out by Sacraments and Means of\nGrace; and thirdly, against a teaching which supposes and actually\ndeclares that a Person may believe, may be pardoned, may be cleansed\nfrom sin, yet not know it.\"\n\n\"In the sense in which you censure Religious Excitement, namely, as a\nmeans to 'force, as it were, the Spirit of the Lord,' and 'for the\npurpose of strongly working on the animal feelings, etc.,' it may be\njustly censurable. Those who make excitement the end and object of their\nendeavours in a religious movement, must soon find the emptiness of it;\nthey throw dust into their own eyes, and will ever verify your words\nthat 'excitement lifts up for a moment and then lets fall again,' and\nthat 'like dram-drinking, it leaves those that indulge in it weaker than\nbefore.'\n\n\"Those who really are engaged in the work of God, and especially\nconversion work, must meet with 'excitement.' It is impossible for a\nsinner, under connection of sin, to remain in a calm imperturbable\nstate: or when the despairing sinner comes to a knowledge of that\nSaviour who made Atonement for him, to help being excited with joy.\nNoble or peasant, gentle or uneducated, I am sure there will be\nexcitement, and overflowing joy and gladness.\n\n\"A man who never felt himself a lost sinner, and never knew his need of\nthe Saviour, may reason gravely of the impropriety of 'excitement,' and\nthe man who has never experienced the liberty of deliverance from the\n'horrible pit, and the mire and clay,' may seem to be wise on the\nsubject of Christian joy; but he knows it not. The outburst of joy in\nthe newly born child of God, is as undiscriminating as the joyous mirth\nof children. But it becomes more subdued as the child grows on to 'the\nconquering young man,' and more chastened still when the 'young man'\nattains to that state which St. John terms 'father.' This I have no\ndoubt is the kind of Christian joy you expect to see, and without which\nyou are not satisfied.* But, dear friend, remember the perfect Temple\nwas not built in one, but three days.\n\n____________________________________________\n\n* \"I write unto you, little children, because your sins are forgiven you\nfor His name's sake. I write unto you, fathers, because ye have known\nHim that is from the beginning. I write unto you, young men, because ye\nhave overcome the Wicked One.\"--1 John 2:12, 13.\n________________________________________\n\n\"We are at foundation work; and you rebuke us for an unfinished temple!\nYour rebuke is not undeserved in one sense: we ought to have attained to\ngreat advancements, and to have begun long ago; but God has had patience\nwith us. In this beginning' there seems to be confusion to superficial\nobservers, and there must be 'excitement;' but this, as I said, is not\nthe end in view, or the means we use. It is not long since I could\nreason a against 'excitement,' and thought as many do now, that in\nconnection With religion it is irreverent, and unbecoming.\n\n\"Oh, what a snare is this unfeeling 'propriety!' It is really a dislike\nof being aroused from sleep; a fearful hugging of oneself into apathetic\nsecurity, and lying down in the arms of the Wicked One for a fatal\nslumber. Oh that I could 'excite' such persons! that I could arouse\nthem! that by any means I could awaken these souls from the sleep of\ndeath! I would glory in the censure and rejoice in the blame. Would that\nI could reach your heart and the hearts of many of my other brethren;\nthat we might unite together and raise a louder call! There should be a\nmore excited blast, as from a trumpet, to stir the masses of those who\ncome duly and regularly 'to hear us every Sunday,' a louder, stronger,\nand more urgent and thrilling cry, Repent! Repent! We want more fearless\nplain speaking, more personal appeal. It is not refined to preach of the\ngrave and death, judgment and hell,--it is 'ranting:' but nevertheless\nlet us 'rant;' let us be faithful; let us tell the sinner that he must\ndie; and that he will die in his sins and perish for ever, except he\nrepent and be converted that his sins may be blotted out. Let us tell\nhim that he 'is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the\nName of the only-begotten Son of God' (John 3:18): that 'the wrath of\nGod abideth on him' (verse 35). Instead of arguments against\n'excitement,' let us have a united cry against sin and frivolity\nwherever it is. There is excitement against 'excitement' now; let there\nbe excitement, if you will, against indifference, and neglect of\nreligion.\"\n\nMany of the proceedings in our parish were, I confess, more tumultuous\nthan I could justify, more noisy and exciting than I thought needful;\nbut I could not control the people. If they had been educated to ideas\nof propriety and self-control, the impulse of Divine power, which really\nthen filled them, might have found expression in a more quiet and\norderly manner. To hinder their rejoicings therefore, though they were\nconsidered so obnoxious, would have been to withstand the Spirit of God.\nAs the people had not been taught better, I could not interfere with\nthem; I would rather bear the obloquy of men.\n\nFor instance, one day, by way of change, I had a meeting for the Bible\nSociety, and invited some of the clergy who sympathized with its object.\nThey attended, and others came out of curiosity \"to see these revival\npeople.\" We had a large gathering, and everything began smoothly. 'My\nScripture-reader, who was naturally a most excitable and noisy man,\ntried to do his best before the clergy; he spoke of the sweet words\nwhich they had heard from the reverend speakers; it was charming, he\nsaid, to hear of a good cause supported in such \"mellifluous accents,\"\nand so forth. He got a little wild towards the end, but on the whole he\nwas to be praised for his kind efforts to give a quiet tone to the\nmeeting'. By this time, our friend \"Billy Bray\" had appeared on the\nscene, and gave us chapter and verse from one end of the Bible to the\nother, on the subject of \"dancing for joy.\" He propounded his theory,\nthat if a man did not praise God, he would not rise in the resurrection;\nif he only praised God with his mouth, he would rise like those things\ncarved on the tombstones, with swelling cheeks and wings; if he clapped\nhis hands (suiting his actions to the words) he would have a pair of\nhands as well at the resurrection; and if he danced with his feet, he\nwould rise complete. He hoped to rise like that, to sing, to clap his\nhands, dance, and jump too. The worst of jumping in this world, he said,\nwas that he had to come down again, but even in heaven he supposed the\nhigher he danced and jumped, the higher he would be; walking in heaven,\nto his mind, was praising God, one foot said \"Glory,\" and the other\n\"Hallelujah.\"\n\nUnder Billy's original theories the people were warming up, and becoming\na little responsive, and \"Billy\" himself was getting excited. In\nreference to some remarks which had been made by a previous speaker\nabout Samson, he said that he felt as happy and strong as Samson; then\nsuddenly he put his arms round me, as I was standing gesticulating and\nmaking signs to the people to be still, and taking me up as he had done\nonce before, he carried me down the schoolroom, crying out, \"Here go the\npostes! Glory! hallelujah!\" It was useless to resist, for he held me\nwith an iron grasp; so I remained still, hoping at every step that he\nwould put me down. I suppose he imagined himself to be Samson carrying\noff the gates of Gaza. 'The people got what they called \"happy,\" and\nshouted and praised God most vociferously. I gave out a hymn, but the\njoy of the Cornish people could not be restrained within the bounds of a\ntune, or form of words. Some of them became very excited and\nunmanageable; only those who have witnessed such scenes can understand\nwhat I mean. The power of God was great, though the demonstrations were\nvery human. My visitors trembled with fear, and made their escape as\nprecipitately as they possibly could. To those who are not in the power\nof the Spirit such rejoicings are unintelligible; lookers-on are\nstumbled or offended because they only see and feel the human\nmanifestation, and not the Divine power; they are like people who get\nall the smoke, and none of the warmth of the fire.\n\nI made up my mind for the worst, for we had a reporter there, and some\nothers who were only too ready to make the most of such a scene.\nNevertheless I would rather have the same thing over and over again,\nthan have the most stately and orderly ceremonials conjoined with\nspiritual death. These things, with all their proprieties, are very\nchilling to living souls, and all the more hurtful because dead souls\nare satisfied by them instead of being disturbed.\n\nDear Mr. Aitken was very angry with us, when he heard the things which\nwere reported; and, like a good spiritual father, he came over to teach\nus better. He preached one of his own strong sermons, on the difference\nbetween emotion and principle, and after beating us down very hard, his\ndear heart relented, and he tried to cheer and lift us up. This last is\nalways an easy thing to do in Cornwall. The people soon responded to his\nefforts, and began to praise God; and then he took fire, and praised\ntoo. Mutually exciting and being excited, his powerful voice could be\nheard above the din of hundreds of shouting voices. The dear man was\nhappy in his soul, and so was I, and we did not care a halfpenny for the\noutside world, newspapers, or anything else.\n\nWe had obloquy with opposition; and even to my personal friends I could\nnot give satisfactory explanations of these things. One suggested that I\nshould read a paper at the next Clerical Meeting, and give a statement\nin exposition of my views and practices. This I consented to do, and Mr.\nAitken kindly helped me to write it. On the appointed day I undertook to\nread it, on condition that no one interrupted me till I had finished. It\nwas a hard task for them to sit still, but they managed to do so; and at\nthe end, burst out upon me in a volley of censure and disapprobation. I\nwas obliged to tell them that they were not converted, and therefore\ncould not understand these things.\n\nI wrote a pamphlet to show that the Church of England's teaching was\nbased on conversion, and not on baptism; and that the Reformation was to\nthe Church of England what Conversion was to the individual reformers.\nTaking my own change as an illustration, I said, that I used to rest on\nBaptism and the Church, and that now I was standing on the Rock, Christ\nJesus. Once I worked for life, and now I worked from life; that is,\nbecause I possessed it. I declared that this was the characteristic\ndifference between the Church of England as it is, and as it was when\nconnected with the Church of Rome. This pamphlet would not satisfy them.\nI then wrote and published a letter to the Archdeacon, in which, in my\nyoung zeal, I charged the clergy with being unconverted, and doing the\ndevil's work of hindering the salvation of souls, and that they seemed\nto stand on their parish boundaries and say, \"This is my parish, and you\nshall not come here to disturb the sleep of death which now reigns.\"\nThis poured no oil upon the waters.\n\nI then wrote another pamphlet upon which I spent much time, thought, and\nprayer. I took the manuscript and read it to Mr. Aitken. He walked up\nand down in his large room, while I was reading, and ejaculated, as only\nhe could, \"Bless God! Glory be to God!\" When I finished, I said, \"Shall\nI print it?\"\n\nHe said, \"It is worth printing, but it will do no good. It is like a\nlittle doggie barking at a dead elephant. We shall never convert the.\nChurch as a body: we must try and get at individuals. I am quite\nconvinced we shall not succeed unless we work in this, way.\"\n\n\nCHAPTER 17\n\nIndividual Cases, 1853.\n\nAn Archbishop of Canterbury, in old times, contrasted public preaching\nwith personal dealing in this way: When we preach, it is like dashing\nwater from a bucket upon so many vessels which are arranged before\nus-some drops fall into one, and some into another, while others remain\nempty; but when we speak to individuals, it is like pouring water into\nthe neck of a vessel.\n\nI gave up writing and printing pamphlets, and went on as quietly as I\ncould with my own work, looking out for individual cases as they\npresented themselves in the providence of God. In this way, without\nfermenting controversy or keeping up public excitement, I was able more\neffectually to impart my meaning, than by printed statements, which I\nfound were misunderstood or distorted; and what is more, I was able to\napply the truth with an individual \"Have you?\" It would take more space\nthan I can afford to tell of the souls which were gained in this way. I\nwill give here only a few instances, which are interesting, and which\nwill sustain the thread of my narrative. The first was in the case of\none who began an argument on Baptismal Grace. I asked him what it was.\n\"I know what converting or saving' grace is; but what is this?\" He did\nnot say more, than that in Baptism he was made a member of Christ, a\nchild of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven.\n\n\"But,\" I asked, \"suppose you have not repented and believed, what then?\"\nReceiving no answer, I continued, \"Then, nothing; but the responsibility\nand the name.\"\n\nA few days afterwards he came to me, saying that I had made him quite\nmiserable, and asked me whether I meant to deny the necessity of\nbaptism. I said, \"Certainly not, but the condition of faith and\nrepentance must be fulfilled. Whatever Baptismal Regeneration may be,\nSpiritual Regeneration is the work of the Spirit in those who believe in\nChrist Jesus.\" After a long talk and prayer, he appeared to understand\nthat a conscious change should be wrought in him, and a spiritual\nfaculty imparted, by which he could \"see the kingdom of God.\" He\nremained for the evening service and meeting in the schoolroom and was\nmuch impressed with what he witnessed. Instead of going away, he stayed\nwith me till after midnight, when he found peace with God (as he said)\nin the church where we had been praying. Then he ordered his horse and\nrode home; but before he set out, he exacted a promise from me that I\nwould not mention his conversion to any one. I consented to this, on the\ncondition that he announce the change which had been wrought in him,\nfrom his pulpit on the following Sunday.\n\nA few days afterwards my friend came to me in a great rage, and charged\nme with announcing his conversion all over the town. I told him that I\nwas not sure enough of it myself to say anything about it, and that I\nhad not spoken to a single person on the subject. Still he seemed to\ndoubt me, for he said his brother had been with him, and had told him\nthat it was known all over the town that he had been to Baldhu, and that\nhe was converted. Upon inquiry, I found out that my servant, who sat up\ntill after mid-night to get his horse, had overheard our conversation,\nand was the offending party.\n\nI am always afraid of persons who are ashamed to acknowledge their\nconversion. My friend, I am sorry to say, made no announcement, but went\non preaching as if he had always been the same, and consequently never\ncame out to be of any use or help in the work. His testimony was\nindistinct also, and without any power. He became a very popular\npreacher afterwards, which was his great ambition, for he cared more for\na large congregation than for Wining Souls.\n\nSoon after this, I fell across another of my old friends in the street.\nHe tried to avoid me, but I went up and shook hands with him. At first\nhe would not look at me, and said he was afraid of me because I had\nchanged my views. I assured him that I had not changed anything, but\nthat I had myself been changed. As he was listening, I went on to tell\nhim that I had long tried to make myself good enough for God's\nacceptance, but finding that Christ would not receive reformed\ncharacters, I came to Him as a poor lost sinner, and He saved me. Seeing\nthat he continued attentive, I was proceeding to make my meaning\nplainer, when he turned round, and looking sternly at me, said, \"If I\nunderstand you, I am to cry for mercy as 'a common sinner.'\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I replied, being very pleased to find that he had understood me\nso well.\n\n\"Then.\" he said, \"I will do no such thing.\" With this, he turned away\nand departed. When he saw that I was following him, he said, \"I desire\nyou will not speak to me any more. I do not agree with you.\"\n\nOne morning, a short time after, I was praying and meditating in the\nchurch, when it came to my mind forcibly that I must go to this man's\nparish. I rose from my knees forthwith, saying to myself that I would\ngo; but immediately the thought came to me, \"This suggestion is not from\nGod, for He must know that my horse has lost two shoes, and could not go\nall that distance.\" However, I returned home, and went to the stable to\ninquire, when, to my surprise, I found that my man had taken the horse\nout very early in the morning, and had got him properly shod. \"He is all\nright for a long journey, master,\" he said, \"if you want to go.\"\n\n\"Well,\" I said, \"put on the saddle, and be ready in half-an-hour.\" I\nwent in to prepare, and started in due time. On the way I was thinking\nwhat I would say, and how I would begin the conversation, for as yet I\ndid not know the particular message I was to take.\n\nWhen I arrived at my friend's gate, I saw the marks of his horse's feet,\nas if he had just gone out. However, I rode up to the front door, and\nrang the bell. His wife appeared, and said that her husband had gone\nout, and would not be back before six o'clock; she added, \"You look\ndisappointed\"; and so I was, for I thought the Lord had sent me with\nsome message to him. The lady kindly asked me to put up my horse,\nsaying, \"Perhaps he may return sooner; you had better rest a little.\" I\nthanked her, and doing so, went in.\n\nAs soon as we were seated, the lady said, \"I have been wishing to see\nyou for a long time; we have started more than once to visit you, when\nmy husband's courage has failed him, and we have returned. He says that\nhe loves you still; but, somehow, he is very much afraid of you.\"\n\nThen she went on to tell me that when they were removing from their late\nparish to where they now were, having sent all their furniture on, they\nwere driving in their own carriage; and that coming along ever a bleak\nand desolate moor, the horse took fright at something, they knew not\nwhat, and ran away. Because it could not get along fast enough from its\nimaginary object of fear, it began to kick, and breaking the carriage in\npieces, made its escape, leaving her and her husband on the ground. He\nwas not much hurt, and soon rose, and came to help her. She was severely\nbruised, and her leg was broken besides. He managed to drag her gently\nto the side of the road, where there was a little bank, and, colleting\nsome of the broken pieces of the carriage, he placed them round her for\nprotection, and hurried off in order to get assistance. He had to go two\nmiles and was absent nearly three hours. During that time she suffered\ngreat pain, but it came to her mind all at once that her sins were\npardoned; she was exceedingly happy, and could not help thanking and\npraising God. In this state her husband found her when he returned, and\non hearing her talk, became very unhappy, because he thought that\nbesides her leg, her head was broken too; and that she was going out of\nher mind. She assured him over and over again that she was wonderfully\nwell, and really happy; but he could not bear to hear her talk like\nthat, and said that he should go mad also, if she did not stop.\n\nDuring the six weeks she was laid up, he continually brought doctors and\nclergymen to talk her out of her delusion as he thought it, but without\navail. Her happiness continued for several months, and then gradually\ndied away. She asked me, \"Can you tell me the meaning of this?\" I was\ndeeply interested with her experience, and told her that I had read of a\nsimilar one only a few days before. My heart now began to cheer up, for\nI saw why I had been sent to this place. I at once pointed her to\npassages of Scripture, where we are told that we have forgiveness of\nsins through the blood of Jesus, and I put Christ crucified before her\nas the object of faith. I told her, that as certainly as the blood Jesus\nhad been shed, there was mercy and forgiveness for her. I said, \"I\nbelieve it, and have forgiveness: and you may have it too; not because\nyou feel happy, but because Jesus died.\" She did believe, and we\nrejoiced together.\n\nShe exclaimed, \"Oh that the Lord would change my husband's heart, and\nbring you here for a revival!\"\n\n\"Very well,\" I said, \"let us ask Him,\" and we did so. I then rode home\nraising God.\n\nBefore leaving, I promised to come again on the following Wednesday. I\nkept my word, and had an interview with her husband; but it was not\nencouraging. He said he could not agree to ask for mercy as a sinner,\nbecause he had been baptized. Some months afterwards his manservant came\nto me on horseback at three o'clock in the morning, to say that his\nmaster was very bad, and would I come as soon as possible and see him. I\nasked, \"What is the matter?\" \"Oh, bless the Lord,\" said the man, \"it'll\nall about his soul! ....That is right\" I replied, thanking God; \"I will\ngo with you at once,\" and immediately I saddled my horse, and rode back\nwith him.\n\nI found my friend was under deep conviction, and in the greatest misery;\nhe now thought that he was a most \"uncommon sinner,\" and that there was\nno mercy for him, there could not be any! After a time he acknowledged\nthe power of God to forgive sin, and declared that he believed in\nChrist, and I was led to say \"he that believeth hath everlasting life.\"\nUpon this text he found peace, and we all praised God together.\n\nThe Sunday following, he asked the congregation to thank God with him\nfor having saved his soul; and in his sermon told them something of his\nexperience. Subsequently his church became the centre of a work of God,\nas Mr. Aitken's church and mine were in our respective neighbourhoods.\n\nThe power of the Lord overshadowed the place, and there was as usual a\nsimultaneous melting of hearts all over the parish, and a running\ntogether of the people to hear the Word, and what is better to obey it.\nThen followed a true Cornish revival with full manifestations, and Mr.\nAitken came to preach. The fire was burning and shining before; but when\nthis mighty man stirred it, it rose to a tremendous height. The\nexcitement of the parson and people was intense, and hundreds of souls\nwere added to the Church, who had been brought from the death of sin\ninto the life of righteousness which all the previous preaching on\nBaptism and the Lord's Supper had failed to produce.\n\n\nCHAPTER 18\n\nA Visit to Veryan, 1853.\n\nNext, I will tell of a clergyman who was altogether different to the\nothers I have mentioned. He was one to whom I was much attached,\nalthough we were diametrically opposed to one another, especially in my\nPuseyite days. He was Evangelical; I was High Church; consequently, we\nfell out more or less, at every meeting, though we never really\nquarrelled. After my conversion I made sure this friend would sympathize\nwith me; but I found to my disappointment he was in reality more opposed\nnow than before, because I had become, as he called it, \"a dissenter.\"\nHe would scarcely speak to me, and said, he was not so sure of my\nconversion as I was, that he would give me seven years to prove it, and\nthen pronounce.\n\nI said, \"You are an old bachelor, and know nothing about the treatment\nof babies; we do not put our babies out on the lawn for seven days\nbefore we decide whether they are born or not!\"\n\nHe could not resist joining in the laugh against his inexperience in\nthis respect, although he was not over-pleased. With all his\nhead-knowledge of Gospel truth, he had not seen anything of the work of\nthe Spirit, and moreover, like too many others, could not distinguish\nbetween death and grave-clothes. Because I announced some sacramental\nviews after my conversion, he fancied that I must be dead still; whereas\nthese were only the grave-clothes in which I used to be wrapped. We\nshall speak more of this hereafter.\n\nOne day, he came to me and said, \"I have been thinking for some time\nthat I should like to come to your church one Sunday, and see your\nwork.\"\n\nI agreed to this with thanks, as the first sign of sympathy I had found\nin him, and said, \"Shall I go and take your services in exchange?\"\n\n\"Oh no, certainly not; I wish you to be present in your own church. I\nwill preach in the morning; and in the evening I will be there to see\nand hear you.\" We soon fixed upon the day. He came to dinner with us the\nprevious Saturday, but before he would sit down he must needs go into\nthe Church, and adjust the height of the pulpit, and see that all other\nthings were to his taste. He asked me if I would remove the candlesticks\nfrom the communion table, and let him preach in a black gown. These were\nall matters of indifference to me now, so I readily acceded to his\nwishes. Having completed his arrangements, we spent a very pleasant\nevening together, talking over the work in the place, and then went to\nthe weekly prayer-meeting; but he took no part. On Sunday morning the\nservice was conducted at his request, in the usual manner, excepting\nthat he stood away in the eastern corner of the north side of the table,\n\"scrootching\" away like a Papist, as the people described it. They had\nbeen accustomed to see me stand at the western or outside corner of the\nnorth side. He was much amused at this criticism.\n\nThen he went into the vestry, having asked for an interlude on the organ\nbefore the last verse of the Psalms (for we sang the metrical version in\nthose days), and while this was being played he came sailing out again,\nand swept up the steps into the pulpit. He gave us an excellent\nsermon--preached, as the Cornish people say, \"to a form,\" that is with a\nmanuscript before him; though he did not look at it much. He showed it\nto me afterwards; it certainly was a curious thing, done in cyphers and\nhieroglyphics of his own; again and again there appeared a figure with\ntwo horns and a tail; this, he told me, stood for Satan; there were also\nmany other striking signs. He preached with far more animation than was\nhis wont, and towards the end of his sermon seemed to forget his\nmanuscript altogether, and leaned over the front of the pulpit,\ngesticulating with his hands, and looking at the people. They got very\nexcited, and followed every sentence with some response, till he became\nexcited also. When he came down from the pulpit, he said that he had\nnever preached with such help before; he had quite enjoyed his own\nsermon, and that now he thought he understood the secret of what I\ncalled being \"converted.\"\n\nHe came in the afternoon to the catechising of the children, and\nexpressed himself very pleased with their behaviour, and readiness in\nanswering questions. In the evening, he sat in a part of the church\nwhere he could see the congregation, and the preacher, and so make his\ndesired observations. The service was, perhaps, a little more animated\nthan usual, and the sermon may have been the same. After this was over,\nhe went with me into the school-room, where he heard the people pray,\nand also thank God for the morning sermon. Several souls were brought in\nthat evening.\n\nAbout ten o'clock at night we returned home, when my friend declared he\nhad never known a day like this in all his ministry, and never heard of\nsuch things as he had seen. \"Your congregation,\" he said, \"is like the\nwaves of the sea, and mine like a glassy mill-pond. Now I must have you\ncome and preach in my church. I wonder what the effect will be.\"\n\nI agreed, and we fixed upon the second Sunday, as he wanted a week to\nannounce my coming.\n\nI was quite eager for the time, and when Saturday arrived, I set off,\nintending to stay for several days. On Sunday morning the church was\nfilled from end to end, the people being on the tip-toe of expectation.\nMany anxious ones remained after the sermon to be spoken with, about\ntheir souls. The church was scarcely cleared, before the men came to\nring the bells for the afternoon service. This time, the passages,\nchancel, pulpit-stairs, and every available corner were crowded, and the\ncongregation certainly did not look like a \"mill-pond,\" but more like\n\"the waves of the sea.\"\n\nAt the close of this service, the people begged for another in the\nevening. The vicar said, \"Oh, that is impossible, for I dine at six\no'clock.\"\n\n\"But,\" I involuntarily added, \"do not mind the dinner; I can come, if\nyou like.\"\n\nHe gave me such a look! I continued, \"I have had dinner enough for\nto-day. I can take the service alone, if you are agreeable.\"\n\n\"But we have no lamps for the church. It cannot be.\"\n\nI was silenced now, and gave up the point; when the churchwarden came\nforward and said he would be responsible for lighting the church.\n\nThe vicar at last consented, on condition that he was allowed to have\nhis dinner in peace. As the time approached, however, he put off that\nimportant meal, and joined me in a cup of tea, after which we went\ntogether to the third service.\n\nThis time it was as much as we could do to get it, and when we did\nsucceed a most striking sight presented itself. The whole church was\nlighted from the pews. Some of the wealthier people had lamps, but the\nothers had candles, one, two, or more in their respective compartments.\nFrom the pulpit it looked more like a market scene than a church\ncongregation. I had liberty in preaching, and the people were greatly\nmoved, some of them greatly agitated-indeed, so much so, that the vicar\nthought he would not have another service in the church, and accordingly\nannounced that the Monday evening meeting would be held in a building\nwhich he named, in a village about two miles off. This was a large\nbarn-like structure, where they cured fish in the season, but at other\ntimes it was unoccupied.\n\nThe next day happened to be very wet, and, added to this, in the evening\nit began to blow as well. Notwithstanding this inclemency, when we\narrived at the \"fish-cellar,\" as it was called, we found it crammed with\npeople, the women and children occupying the ground, and sitting there\non straw, which had been provided for the occasion, the men and boys\nwere sitting on the cross-beams of the roof. The heat in the place was\nstifling beyond all description, for besides being densely crowded below\nand above, the wooden shutters were shut, on account of the wind and\nrain, the people's wet clothes were steaming, and there was a strong\nsmell of stale fish. At first we felt as if it would be impossible to\nbear it, but after a little time we became used to the disagreeables,\nand had other things to think about.\n\nI gave out a hymn, and after a short prayer commenced the address,\nspeaking as loud as I could, that all the congregation might hear me.\nDuring the sermon, the responses were most vociferous and hearty, and\nthe attention very encouraging. After speaking for about thirty minutes,\nI observed a tall, fine-looking fisherman, in large high boots, who had\ncome in late. He was standing in the little vacant space before the\ntable, on which were placed two candles and a glass of water. I saw, as\nthe address went on, that though he was very quiet, his breast was\nheaving with emotion, as if something was passing in his mind. All at\nonce, without a moment's notice, he fell on the ground, and bellowed out\na loud prayer for \"God's mercy--I want God's mercy!\" Besides upsetting\nthe table--candles, water, and all--which went down with a great crash,\nhe fell on one or two women, who screamed, in their fright and\nconsternation, as only women can.\n\nIf this had been a preconcerted signal, it could not have been more\neffectual, for there was instantly a simultaneous as well as an\nuniversal outcry. The whole place was filled with a confused din of\nvoices; some were praying, some singing, some shouting, and others\nexhorting, and that at the top of their voices, in order to be heard. In\nthe midst of this I began to sing a hymn, hoping to restore order, and\nmany joined me; but it only added more sound to the uproar.\n\nThe good vicar was overwhelmed with fear and dismay, as well he might\nbe, at this tumultuous scene. It was bad enough to stand and look at the\nwaves of the sea; but when they rose and broke, as it were, on the shore\nwhere he was standing, and surrounded him, it was altogether too much.\nHe made for the door, and, waiting there, beckoned me to him. When I\ncame he suddenly opened it, and drew me out, saying, \"There will be no\npeace till you are out of this place.\" The extreme change from the hot\ncellar into the cold and pitiless wind and rain was so great, that we\nfled precipitately to the cottage which stood opposite. Happily, the\ndoor was on the latch, and we went in. I felt about in the dark for a\nchair, but not finding one, sat on the table, listening to the noise and\ndin of the meeting.\n\nThe vicar vainly thought that the tumult would subside as soon as I was\ngone, for he said that I \"made as much noise, if not more, than any of\nthem!\" He went back into the storm to get my hat and coat, and also the\ninevitable umbrella, without which no one can get on in Cornwall. He was\na long time absent, during which a man with heavy boots came into the\ndark cottage where I was sitting, and tumbling down on a seat somewhere,\nheaved a heavy sigh. He evidently did not suspect that any one was\nthere. After sighing and groaning several times, he said to himself,\n\"What shall I do?--what shall I do? The man is right, sure enough; he is\nright, I'm sure on it--that he is.\"\n\nI disguised my voice, and asked, \"What man?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" he said, \"are you there, neighbour? Couldn't yer get in? Why, I\nmean the man what's been speaking inside.\"\n\n\"What did he say?\"\n\n\"Why, said he, 'the devil's no fool!' and of course he ain't. He has\nhooks in all his baits, and I have swallowed lots o' them. Oh, what\nshall I do? What shall I do?\"\n\nThen I heard him shuffling to his knees, groaning and praying. I sat\nstill on the table, saying, \"Amen! amen!\" every now and then, to his\nprayer, till he became terribly in earnest, and at last got into a which\nthe Cornish call \"wrastling in prayer.\" In this condition he was quite\npast heeding any one's presence. I helped and guided him to the\nCrucified and then he found peace, and began to praise. On coming to\nhimself, he recognized my voice. \"You are the very man,\" he cried, and\nputting great heavy arms round my neck, he nearly strangled me! The\nvicar (who I did not know was in the room), here interposed, and got my\nrelease.\n\n\"Here you are,\" he said, \"at it again, and they are getting worse and\nworse in the barn--what ever is to be done? We cannot go home through\nthis rain, and the carriage will not be here for at least an hour. What\nam I to do?\"\n\nI said, \"Let us go then to the barn for a short time, just to see how\nthey are getting on.\"\n\nAfter some hesitation, he went in with me, and found the people praying\nand rejoicing; but, as I expected, far too much absorbed to observe our\npresence.\n\nAfter a time, some of the lads noticed me and cried out lustily, \"The\nparson is here! The parson is here!\" and in a moment we were surrounded\nby a number of happy people, who were so demonstrative that they made\nthe poor vicar tremble (as he told me afterwards) with a strange fear.\n\nThey said, \"You will come again to-morrow?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" I replied.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" rejoined the vicar; \"on no account. One night of this work is\nquite enough--more than enough.\"\n\nI was very loth to give up; but a man said, \"Never mind, we will carry\nit on. This revival will not stop for a week or fortnight, for certain.\"\n\nThis was terrifying news for the vicar, who turned, and looking at me\nwith astonishment, said, reproachfully, \"How did you do it?\"\n\nI replied, \"This is not my work. I did not begin it, neither can I stop\nit; nor would I, even if I could. I dare not. I have known persons\nbrought under heavy judgment for hindering a revival. Take my advice,\nand do not hinder this. Let these men go on; they know what they are\nabout.\"\n\nSoon the carriage came, and we returned to the vicarage; but the dear\nman was much put out, and evidently very sorry that he had asked me to\ncome and disturb his mill-pond. Indeed, he said as much; so I concluded\nmy visit the next morning.\n\nGoing through the village, I heard that the meeting on the previous\nevening was continued until two o'clock in the morning, and that it was\nannounced there would be one in the chapel that evening. As the Church\nrefused the blessing, there were others who were happy to receive it.\n\nI returned home sooner than I was expected, and told my people, at the\nevening meeting, the things I had seen and heard; and they \"glorified\nGod.\"\n\n\nCHAPTER 19\n\nA Mission in the \"Shires.\" 1853.\n\nAt the time of which I am writing, twenty-six or twenty-seven years ago,\nspecial services for preaching were not called by the name of\n\"Missions.\" I think that word has been derived from some Roman Catholic\nperverts, who made aggressive efforts in London, which they called\n\"Catholic Missions.\" From them it has been adopted by some who love to\ncopy Rome and Romish phrases. Strange infatuation, by which these\nRomanizers in vain court a Church which despises them, and gives them\nneither place nor quarter! However, the word is now well understood, and\nits meaning is plainer than any definitions of mine could make it.\n\nMy first journey to \"foreign parts\" (as the Cornish call it) was to a\ntown in Devonshire, where I stopped three or four days. The day I\narrived I preached in the church, because it was the regular evening\nservice; special services were not then known, unless it was for some\nMissionary Society, or other such advocacy. The idea of preaching to\nawaken souls, was considered very strange and fanatical. The church I\npreached in had high pews, which prevented my seeing the occupants. I\nwas told that it was full, and certainly there were faces visible here\nand there; but the whole congregation was so still, that the dropping of\nthe proverbial \"pin\" might have been heard. It was all very chilling and\ndead, no \"Amens!\" or \"Glory!\" as in Cornwall; indeed, the stillness had\nsuch an effect upon me, that I found it difficult to get on. After\nmaking two or three hard appeals, and meeting with nothing but silence\nfor a response, I concluded, and came away much disappointed and\ndisheartened. However, the next morning, the vicar showed me some beads,\nleathers, and flowers which had been left in the pews of the church. So\nI found that the shots had hit somewhere, or something.\n\nWalking through the town in the course of the day, a tall mason, with a\nlarge whitewash brush in his hand, came running after me (not to\nwhitewash me) but to ask the question, which he did most eagerly, \"Are\nyou the man that preached last night?\"\n\nI said, \"Yes, I am.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" he replied, \"will you preach tonight?\"\n\nI answered him somewhat doubtfully, \"I suppose not,\" for the vicar did\nnot know what excuse there could be for my preaching a second time.\n\nHe continued, \"Will you come to my house and preach this evening? I have\na good large room at your service, and can promise you a congregation.\"\n\nI assented; so we fixed the time, and made all other necessary\narrangements. On coming down in the evening, I found my mason friend had\ninvited his neighbours, and finding more had promised to come than his\nroom would hold, he had opened the folding doors between two rooms\nupstairs, taken down three large bedsteads, and having borrowed forms\nand chairs, he was able to accommodate seventy people. As many as this\ncame, and more, for men and women stood on the stairs and landing\nbesides.\n\nWe sang heartily, and after prayer, I felt a little more at home than I\nhad done on the previous evening'; but it was not up to Cornwall yet! In\nmy address I had liberty and power to hold the people, and we had some\nconversions that evening, and the following one also. My mason friend\nwas greatly cheered and revived, and from this time began reaching\nhimself, carrying on meetings in various cottages and farm places.\n\nFrom there I went on into Dorsetshire, and arrived at the vicarage to\nwhich I was going, rather late on Saturday night, very tired; so much\nso, that I was glad to go to bed as soon as possible. On Sunday morning\nI went to church and preached to a large congregation, the words which\nGod gave me. On coming out, the vicar's wife said, \"If I had sat up all\nnight telling you about the people, you could not have preached more\nappropriately; indeed, I am sure that some of them will think that I\ntold you what to say.\"\n\nIt was so, for this same lady was charged with telling me to put before\nsome of the congregation things which her husband dared not! In the\nevening the church was crammed to excess, and the people were most\nattentive and eager. Some of them could scarcely restrain their\nfeelings, so powerfully did the Word come home to them. At the\nconclusion of the service, I announced that I had come there to preach\nevery night for the week, and would visit them during the day.\nAccordingly in the morning I called at several cottages, in one of which\nKing George the Third used to attend a prayer-meeting with the country\npeople.\n\nIn the afternoon I went to the convict prison at Portland. It was sad to\nlook upon the prisoners clanking about in their chains, many of whom\nwere employed in making a road to the sea. I could not help saying to\nthe chaplain, who was walking with me, \"What a picture is that! It is\nexactly how Satan employs unbelievers to make their own road to hell. As\nsuch, they are condemned already, because they do not believe in Christ;\nand for the same reason, their sins not being pardoned, they are bound\nin chains.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the chaplain drily, \"that seems all clear and scriptural.\nWould you like to speak to them?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, \"I should.\"\n\nHe then made a sign to the warder, who commanded that the convicts\nshould give attention, and the order was at once obeyed.\n\nStanding on the bank, I spoke to them as they were assembled before me;\nbut instead of telling them of the devil and chains, as the chaplain\nexpected, I spoke of God's love to sinners, and said that \"chastisement\nand sorrows were not sent in anger, but in kindness. God is angry when\nthe wicked are allowed to go on unpunished; but when punished in this\nworld, it is not for expiation of sin (for only the blood of Jesus can\ndo that), but for the purpose of awakening and humbling the\ntransgressor, that he may with contrite heart return to the Lord, who\nalone is able to deliver us from sin and from Satan's power. 'It is\ngood,' said the Psalmist, 'that I have been afflicted: before I was\nafflicted I went astray, but now have I kept Thy word.'\"\n\nMany of the men were so affected, that they sobbed aloud, and I could\nscarcely refrain from doing the same thing myself. After this I prayed\nthat the word spoken might be blessed to those who had heard it, and\nthen took my leave. It was not easy to dismiss this sad scene from my\nmind, nor have I ever lost the impression it made upon me.\n\nWe had a very good time that evening in the church, and there was much\npower and blessing. At the close of the service, I gave out that I would\npreach again the following evening, and having no opportunity for an\nafter-meeting, the word preached was left with prayer for a blessing on\nit.\n\nThe next morning there came an unexpected, as well as a most abrupt,\nopposition to the work; and no wonder, for it was not likely that Satan\nwould permit it to go on smoothly. A vicar from the neighbourhood, who\nhad formerly been a military man, and had still the commanding manner of\nsuch, presented himself, and tried to terrify my good and kind friend,\nthe vicar. He told him that he had heard a great deal about me; that I\nwas just like Starkie,* and preached the same doctrines; and that he was\ndeputed by other clergymen to come and ask that my preaching be stopped.\nThen he went on to say that I was nothing less than a Jesuit in\ndisguise; and turning; to me, he said, \"Sir, you know you are!\" I\nreplied, begging his pardon, \"I can assure you I am not. You must be\naltogether misinformed.\" But he said, again turning round, and sternly\nlooking at me, \"You know I am not mistaken or misinformed; your\ncountenance betrays you!\" I smiled at this, not knowing how my\ncountenance looked. He was quite satisfied with himself, and rather more\nso because he thought he had succeeded in extracting a promise from the\nvicar that the services in question should be stopped.\n\n__________________________\n\n* A clergyman who had associated himself with H. J. Prince and some\nothers, and founded the \"Agapemone\" at Spaxton, near Bridgewater.\n_________________________\n\nThis officer-clergyman then went away, saying that he was quite\nconvinced in his mind that I was a Jesuit, and nothing should ever\ndissuade him; this interview had confirmed his thoughts on the subject.\nMy dear good friend was so afraid of that loud, overbearing man, that he\nconsented to give up the services after that night.\n\nPresently another clergyman, evidently in concert with the former,\ncalled on the same errand. His more gentle manner and plausible words\nhad greater effect, so that the vicar more than half decided to have no\nservice, even on that evening.\n\nBefore he had fully made up his mind, it so happened that there came on\na tremendous thunderstorm, accompanied with hail and vivid flashes of\nlightning. This was considered by him quite providential, and an\nindication that God wished the services stopped. When the sexton came\nover to the vicarage, a little before the service time, the vicar said,\n\"Don't ring the bell for church tonight; it is of no use: no one can\npossibly come out this weather!\"\n\n\"Why, sir,\" said the sexton, \"the church have been crammed full this\nhalf-hour. It's no use ringing the bell, sure, for we ain't got no room\nfor no more people.\"\n\n\"Now, that is remarkable,\" said the vicar. \"I do think, after all, the\nLord would have us go on. What do you think?\" he said, turning to me.\n\nI replied, \"Without doubt I think so. I cannot suppose that the Lord\nwould send such men, in such a tone, to stop His work.\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" said the vicar, \"we will go on till the end of the week.\"\n\nBut this could not be; for in the morning, as soon as he had decided to\nstop the services, I sat down and wrote to a cousin of mine, in the\nneighbourhood (and the letter had gone), to get me the parish church for\nthe next evening, and said, \"I would come to her on a visit for a few\ndays, as my preaching in this place was brought to an end.\"\n\nI spoke that evening, and announced that I would do so again on\nThursday. On the following day I went on this promised visit to another\npart of the county, and was not long in the company of my cousin, before\nI found out that she had been brought up in Evangelical doctrines, and\nhated Puseyism; but that she had never been converted. In the evening,\nwe went to the Minster Church, the use of which she had obtained for me.\nThere, I preached from the words, \"Behold, I stand at the door and\nknock.\" (I did not know then, as I old now, that this is a text for\nbelievers.) Accommodating it for my purpose, I made out that many people\nassented to evangelical doctrines, without yielding to them: that is,\nthey heard the knocking, but did not open the door and receive the\nSaviour; therefore, they remained unsaved; and if they died like that,\nwould be lost for ever!\n\nWhen I first ascended the pulpit, which stood outside of a high chancel\nscreen, I looked towards the nave, and saw it filled with high pews,\nwhich, as I thought, were for the most part empty; whereas, I could see\nthat the choir and chancel, which was brightly lighted, was full of\nchoir-men and boys, besides many people; so instead of turning my back\nupon the many in the lighted chancel, and addressing myself to the\nunseen few in the large dark nave, I turned round in the pulpit, and,\nlooking through the screen, I preached to those I could see. The people\nin the nave, however, were most attentive to hear; and after the sermon\ncame up and asked me why I had turned my back on them, for they could\nnot hear all I said. Evidently they had heard something which had\ninterested them. Seeing so many were anxious, we invited those who\nwished for further help, or instruction, to come home with us. Many did\nso, and we held a kind of after-meeting, in which my cousin and several\nothers found peace.\n\nI could not promise to stay there any longer, having settled to return\non Thursday to resume services in the church previously referred to.\nAccordingly I went back to a neighbouring town, where my good vicar had\nappointed to meet me. He did so, and, without delay, commenced telling\nme, that he had had a long talk with some of his brother clergymen, and\nhad given his word that the services were positively to be discontinued\nafter that night; he also told me he had taken my place by the coach,\nand that I was to start for Exeter the next morning, on my way home.\nThen he went on to say that he found it would be dangerous to keep me\nany longer, for he should have the whole neighbourhood up about it. In\nhis timidity, he would rather let the work stop, than be embroiled with\nthe neighbourhood!\n\nThe evening service was crowded, and the people were very disappointed\nthat I was not allowed to remain. However, I told them it could not be,\nand that I must go--so took leave of them.\n\nThe next morning we rose early, and breakfasted at six o'clock, then\ndrove out to the turnpike road, to meet the coach at an appointed\ncorner, at seven. It arrived in due time, piled up high into the air\nwith passengers and luggage; but having an inside place secured for me,\nwe were not dismayed at the outside appearance. The coachman got off the\nbox, and, instead of opening the coach door as we expected, put some\nmoney into my hand, and, with a grinning countenance, said, \"There's\nyour money, sir. Sorry to say can't take you today; hain't got a crevice\nof room anywhere. Good morning, sir.\" In a moment more he was up on his\nbox, with reins in hand. \"Take you tomorrow, sir, same time. Good\nmorning.\" And off he went'. Imagine our surprise at being left on the\nroadside in this unceremonious way. My good little vicar was most\nindignant at being thus treated. \"I'll make him pay for that,\" he said.\n\"I'll punish him--it's against the law.\" And then, as if a new thought\nhad suddenly come to him, he said, \"Ah, I know what we will do! Jump\ninto the carriage again\"; and putting my luggage in, he got up, and\ndrove me to the next town. He said, \"We will take a post-chaise, and\nmake the coach people pay for it; that's it--that's what we will do.\"\n\nI suggested that I did not think we could do that, having received the\nmoney back.\n\n\"Ah, that's nothing,\" he said; \"that's nothing. We will take a\npost-chaise.\"\n\nThis scheme was prevented; for on arriving at the hotel, there was not a\ncarriage of any kind to be had. \"Are you sure of that?\" said the vicar\n(as if all the world was in league with the coach proprietor). \"Are you\nquite sure?\"\n\n\"You had better come and see for yourself,\" said the ostler, in a surly\ntone.\n\nWe went into the yard, and found the coach houses quite empty.\n\n\"That's very remarkable,\" said the vicar; \"but these people are\nconnected with that coach--it changes horses here. We will go to the\nnext inn.\"\n\nThere they did not let out carriages at all!\n\n\"Well now,\" said the vicar, \"this is very remarkable,\" and was silent.\n\n\"Perhaps the Lord does not mean me to go today,\" I said meekly.\n\n\"It seems so, certainly. I must say it is very remarkable.\"\n\nI suggested that I would stay at the inn till the next morning, as there\nwas no means of getting on. \"Shall I do so?\"\n\n\"Oh, no; certainly not--certainly not,\" said the kind man. \"Not at\nall--not at all. We will go back again.\"\n\n\"But,\" I said, \"what will they think when they see me?\"\n\nPoor dear man, like many others he was dreadfully frightened at the\nthought of \"what will they think?\" As if \"they\" did not go on thinking\nwhether one gives them occasion or not.\n\nIn due course, we arrived again in sight of the vicarage gate, and there\nwe saw the vicar's wife, with her hands up in astonishment. She\nexclaimed, \"What! are you come back?\"\n\n\"Yes, we are indeed!\" said the vicar, and he was going to tell her how\nit was, but she was too impatient to listen, having, as she thought,\nsomething more important to communicate. She said, \"After you went away\nthis morning, the weather being so fine, I thought that I would go into\nthe village, and see some of the people who were at church last evening.\nIn passing by widow S.'s cottage, on my way to another, I saw her door\nand window open, and heard her praying very earnestly, 'Lord, bring him\nback! bring him back!' I thought she was praying about her husband, who\nhad recently died; and that I would go in and try to comfort her. So I\nknelt down by her side, and repeated the words, 'I shall go to him, but\nhe shall not return to me,' when she turned round' and said, 'Oh, I\ndon't mean that!' and then, as if she grudged every breath which was\nspent in other words, she went on repeating, 'Lord, bring him back!\nLord, bring him back!'\n\n\"'Who do you mean?' I said, 'what can you mean?'\n\n\"She went on, 'O Lord, I saw him go away. I saw them take him away.\nLord, bring him back! bring him back!'\n\n\"I again said, 'Who do you mean?'\n\n\"She took no heed, but went on, 'O Lord, when I opened the window I saw\nhim coming out of the vicarage gate. Lord, bring him back! do bring him\nback!'\n\n\"At last I understood that she was praying for you to be brought back.\nThen I said to her, 'Dear woman, do get from your knees, and let me talk\nto you.' No, she would not get up.\n\n\"No, I can't get up. Lord, bring him back! bring him back!'\n\n\"It cannot be,' I said; 'he is on the coach by this time--a long way\noff.' The woman became frantic at the thought. 'Oh, what shall I do?\nwhat shall I do? Lord, bring him back!'\n\n\"Seeing that I could do nothing in the matter, I went to call on some\nother people, and coming back found the widow still on her knees, urging\nthe same petition without stopping.\" \"Well, that is remarkable,\"\ninterposed the vicar. Without a moment's pause, I set off to show myself\nto the widow.\n\n\"Now! there you are,\" she said; \"the Lord has sent you back. I laid\nawake best part of the night, thinking of some questions I wished to ask\nyou; and when I saw you go away like that, so early in the morning, it\ngave me quite a turn. I thought I should be lost for ever!\"\n\nHer questions concerned her soul's condition. On my putting Christ and\nHis salvation before her for her acceptance, she found peace; and\nafterwards became a good helper in the parish. There were some other\nanxious ones she urged me to visit, which I did. On referring to my\nletters, written at the time, I find a record of five persons who\nprofessed to find peace that morning.\n\nIn the evening, we had a kind of service in the school-room, with as\nmany as we could get together, and spent a very happy time in prayer and\npraise.\n\nThe next morning I started for home, which I reached late on Saturday\nnight, or rather early on Sunday morning, and appeared quite\nunexpectedly among my people again. I gave them an account of the state\nof things in the \"shires.\" This, my first experience of \"foreign\nmissions,\" was not encouraging.\n\nEver since my conversion, I had been over head and ears in conversion\nwork, and, as a loyal young convert, thought at that time there was\nnothing else in the world to live, or work for! How surprised I was when\nI found that this was not by any means the first thing in the minds of\nmy Evangelical brethren; and more so still when I saw that even\npreaching for the salvation of souls was put aside altogether, if 'it\ndid not fit in with the stated service-day of the week, or public\nopinion. If people came to church, or better still, to the communion\ntable, they were considered quite satisfactory enough, even though they\nwere dead in trespasses and sins. I did not, of course, expect anything\nfrom my own neighbours, for I knew them of old; but from accredited\n\"standard bearers,\" I did expect something and got nothing.\n\nWhile I was still feeling sore and disappointed, intending not to go out\non such errands any more, I found myself promised to another mission in\na most unexpected manner; but this did not happen to be out of Cornwall,\nand therefore prospered better, as we shall see.\n\n\nCHAPTER 20\n\nA Stranger from London, 1853.\n\nA lady in London, reading in the Cornish newspapers about our revivals,\nbecame much interested, and having a strong desire to witness such a\nmovement personally, proposed a visit to her uncle in Truro, who had\nsent her those papers. Being accepted, she came down a long way in those\ndays, when railway communication was not so complete as it is now.\n\nThis same lady was present at my church on Sunday morning; and\nexpressing a wish to attend the afternoon service, we gladly welcomed\nher to the parsonage. In course of conversation, she spoke of churches\nin London where the Gospel was preached in its fullness; and I naturally\nasked her whether they had \"after-meetings.\" She said, she did not know\nwhat I meant. \"Prayer meetings, for conversion work, I mean.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" she inquired. \"Is not conversion God's work?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I answered, \"indeed it is; but so is the harvest yonder in the\ncorn-fields: it is all God's work, but men have to plough the ground and\nsow the seed.\"\n\n\"Oh, is that what you call revival work? I have read of it; and, to tell\nthe truth, I have come all the way from London to see it.\"\n\nShe evidently had an idea that revivals were something like\nthunder-storms, which come of themselves, no one knows how or why; or\nsomething that is vented, like an occasional eruption of Mount Vesuvius.\n\nI said, \"Revivals--that is, the refreshening of believers and the\nawakening of sinners--ought to take place wherever the Gospel is\npreached in faith and power.\"\n\nShe could not understand it, and said, \"It is not so in churches, is\nit?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I replied, \"in churches as well as in cottages, halls and chapels\ntoo.\"\n\n\"I am sure Mr. ---- in London preaches a full Gospel, but I have never\nheard of a revival there; indeed, I feel convinced they would not allow\nit.\"\n\n\"Is he converted?\" I asked.\n\nShe smiled at the question, and said, \"I suppose he is.\"\n\n\"I mean, does he preach about the forgiveness of sins? and, more than\nthis, does he expect people to have forgiveness?\"\n\nShe said she could not understand my Cornish way of talking--\"They do\nnot speak like that in London.\"\n\n\"Your sins are pardoned,\" I said, by way of explanation, in order to get\nher to comprehend my meaning from her own experience. \"Your sins are\npardoned.\" She got very confused. \"You know,\" I continued, \"that it is a\nhappy day when Jesus takes our sins away.\" This only made matters worse.\nShe became greatly embarrassed. While we spoke of London and Gospel\npreaching she was free enough; but the moment I made a personal\napplication of the subject, she was altogether bewildered.\n\nAt last, with a kind of forced effort, she said, \"I have been a child of\nGod for eleven years.\"\n\n\"Thank God!\" I said, much relieved; \"that is what I mean. You have been\nconverted and pardoned for eleven years. It is all right, then. I did\nnot intend to perplex you, and am sorry I did not convey ray meaning in\na better manner.\"\n\nBut I could not smooth down her ruffled feathers so easily, and was glad\nwhen the five minutes' bell began ringing to summon us to church. We got\nready, and went. It happened to be a children's service, and our subject\nthat afternoon was Joseph's reconciliation with his brethren. Three\nquestions, among others, were asked and dwelt upon.\n\nFirst, \"Was Joseph reconciled with his brethren while they were\nself-convicted before him, and condemned themselves as verily guilty\nconcerning their brother?\"--\"No.\"\n\nSecond, \"Was he reconciled when he feasted with them, and made\nmerry?\"--\"No.\"\n\nThird, \"When, then, was he reconciled?\"--\"When they surrendered\nthemselves, and all the eleven were prostrate at his feet, like the\neleven sheaves which bowed to Joseph's sheaf in the harvest field; then\nhe made himself known to them, and forgave them. It is not when a soul\nis under condemnation, nor yet when it is happy, that it is saved; but\nwhen it is actually, once for all, surrendered to Christ for salvation,\nthen it is He makes himself known to them, even as Joseph did to his\nbrethren.\"\n\nThe lady went away. I did not ascertain who she was, nor where she came\nfrom; I was not much taken with her, nor was she with me. Hers was\nevidently a kind of religion which I had not met with before, and did\nnot care to meet with again.\n\nThe next day I went for a few hours' rest and change to the sea-side at\nPerran, but there was a burden of prayer on my soul. I could not thank\nGod for that unknown lady, but I could pray for mercy for her. The\nimpression on my mind was very clear: I felt that she was not saved. The\nday following the burden was heavier still, and I was on my knees\npraying for her for several hours in the day. In the evening I was quite\nin distress. The next day I was most anxious for her, and could do\nnothing but pray, even with tears. This lasted till the following day\n(Thursday), when I happened to go into the drawing-room for something,\nand there I observed a strange Bible lying on the table. I remembered\nthat I had seen that same book in the lady's hand on Sunday. I took it\nup, and saw a name, and on making inquiry of the servants I found out\nthat she came in Mr. --'s carriage on Sunday.\n\nThis was enough. I wrote a note immediately, and sent the Bible, saying\nthat I was greatly burdened for her soul, and should much like to see\nher. She sent me a kind letter in reply, appointing the following Monday\nfor my visit.\n\nOn that day I called, and found her very kind, and seemingly thankful\nfor the interest I expressed in her welfare. I said that she had nothing\nreally to thank me for, for I could not help myself; the burden had been\nlaid upon me. Then I asked her if she would tell me how she became a\nchild of God.\n\nShe did so readily, and told me that once she was in the world, and as\nfond of dancing and pleasure as others with whom she associated; that in\nthe midst of her gaiety she was called to the death-bed of a cousin, who\nwas just such a lover of pleasure as herself. Her cousin said, \"Oh,\nMary, give up the world for my sake. I am lost! Oh, Mary, give it up!\"\nSoon she died, poor girl, just awakened enough to see and feel herself\nhopelessly lost--a dying worldling. No one was near to point her to the\nSaviour, so she departed as she had liked to live, without salvation.\nMary wept at the remembrance of that solemn scene, and said she could\nnever forget it. \"Well,\" I said, \"and what did you do then?\"\n\nShe answered firmly, \"I knelt down then and there, by the side of the\nbed where my poor cousin had just died, and I called God to witness that\nI would give up the world. I did so; and have never had any inclination\nto go back into its gaieties and pleasures since. I began from that time\nto pray, and read my Bible, and go to church; and I love these things\nnow better than I did the things of the world before.\"\n\nAt the time of this change, she was led to a church where Evangelical\ntruth was preached simply and plainly; and thus became distinctly\nenlightened as to the way of salvation. She fully assented and consented\nto what she heard, and therefore became a very earnest disciple,\nenthusiastic about the sovereignty of God and the doctrines of grace,\nand all such matters. She understood the meaning of the Levitical types\nand offerings; could speak of dispensational truth and prophecy; was\nvery zealous about missions to the heathen, and was also earnestly\ndevoted to many charitable works at home.\n\nThere was, however, one little suspicious thing in the midst of all this\nmanifest goodness. She had not much patience with elementary Gospel\nsermons, or much interest in, or sympathy with, efforts made to bring in\nperishing souls; she loved rather to be fed with high doctrines, and the\nmysteries of grace with its deeper teachings. There are some men who\nlove to preach exclusively about these things, even before mixed\ncongregations, addressing them as if they were all real Christians.\n\nIt is surprising how many people there are just like Mary, who seem to\ncare more for doctrines than for Cod Himself--more for favourite truths\nthan for souls. A simple, elementary Gospel address, with some clear\nillustrations, was just the very thing Mary wanted for her own soul's\ngood, more than anything; but, unfortunately, this was the thing against\nwhich she was prejudiced, for she abhorred \"anecdotal sermons.\"\n\nAfter hearing her story, I said, \"It is very interesting; but there is\none great deficiency in it. You have not told me anything' about Christ;\nhave you nothing to say about the blood of Jesus, and about your sins?\nHave you had no real transaction with 'God about them?\"\n\nShe said she \"did not know what I meant.\"\n\n\"Did you never come as a sinner, and obtain the forgiveness of your sins?\"\n\n\"No,\" she replied; \"that is what I do not understand about your\nteaching.\"\n\nI showed her, as plainly as I could, that she had not told me about\nconversion, but reformation. \"You have only turned over a new leaf, and\nkept your resolutions prayerfully and well for eleven years; but this is\nnot turning back the old leaves of your past life, and getting them\nwashed in the blood of the Lamb. 'He that covers his sins' in this way,\n'can never prosper.' If a man owes a debt for which he is very sorry,\nand determines that in future he will pay for everything he gets--this\nwill not pay his past debts.\"\n\nShe went on to justify herself, and said, \"that she knew a great many\ngood Christian people, and that none of them had ever suspected her as I\ndid.\"\n\nI endeavoured to assure her that I was dreadfully alarmed about her\ncondition, and was certain that if she died like that, there would be no\nmore hope for her salvation than for her cousin's. This seemed to rouse\nher hostility, and I saw that I had lost influence. However, I could not\nblame myself, for I had only said what I felt to be true. I returned\nhome and prayed for more wisdom. All that night I could not sleep, and\nmost of it was spent in pleading with God. I felt as if a restless bird\nwas flying about the room, and something was saying, \"She will be lost\nforever.\" I urged my petition again and again.\n\nThe next day I called, and found this lady quite broken down, and ready\nto pray and listen to my teaching. I was most thankful, and greatly\nrelieved after the night's restlessness. I had much happiness in\npointing out the way of salvation as an experimental thing. She knew,\nbefore I did, the doctrine of the A tenement, but she had had no\nexperience of its real efficacy. Now that her eyes were opened, she was\nin right earnest to know the reality of sins forgiven. Soon she found\nthis, though not yet the joy of deliverance; she knew the peace and\nshelter of the sprinkled blood (Exod. 12:13), but not yet the joy and\nliberty of being on the rock on the other side of the Red Sea (Exod. 15:\n2). I was sure that it would all come in due time, and therefore was\nable to take comfort, and also to comfort her.\n\nI saw a good deal of her at that time, and one day she told me that a\nrelation of hers, a clergyman, was coming to have it out with me for\nsaying that she was not converted before.\n\n\"Certainly,\" I replied, \"I shall be happy to meet him, and hope you will\nbe in the room.\"\n\nWhen the dreaded man arrived, we were introduced to one another.\n\n\"Well,\" he said, \"you are a very different-looking than to what I\nimagined. I have heard a deal about you. So you are a Puseyite turned\nEvangelical, eh? I have often heard of people going the other way, but I\nmust say I have never met a man who had come in this direction.\" He then\nasked about the results of my industry.\n\nI told him what was the effect in my church and parish, and that the\nsame signs followed the preaching of the Gospel wherever I went. \"I\nwish,\" he said, \"you would come and preach in my parish. You know a\ngreat friend of mine at Veryam and have preached in his pulpit. Will you\ndo the same for me?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" I said, \"certainly, with pleasure.\"\n\n\"Now, look at me, for I am a man of business: when will you come? Name\nyour day.\"\n\nI looked at my pocket-book, and fixed upon a certain Monday.\n\nThen he arranged that we should have a kind of missionary meeting, \"In\nthe course of which,\" he said, \"you can preach as much Gospel as you\nlike. If it goes well, we will have a lecture the next evening on 'Heart\nConversion,' and another the evening following, on something else.\" He\nwas \"quite sure noone would come to hear a sermon only. It must be a\nmissionary meeting, or something of the kind, to bring the people out.\"\n\nOn the day appointed, the barn where we were assembled was well filled,\nand seeing that the people were interested, the vicar gave out, \"Mr\nHaslam will lecture tomorrow evening on Heart Conversion.\"\n\nThe next evening, when we arrived, we found the barn quite full, and\nnumbers standing outside; besides, there were many more whom we passed\non the road. So it was determined that we should go into the church and\nhave a short service. The edifice was soon lighted, and filled, and\nafter a few collects and hymns (for they had a hymn-book in that\nchurch), I went up into the pulpit, and preached upon the absolute\nnecessity of conversion--no salvation without it. As to \"heart\nconversion,\" what is conversion at all if the heart is not touched? Then\nI treated my subject from another point of view. \"Every converted person\nhere knows what heart conversion is; and if any one does not, it is\nclear he is not converted. If he dies in that state, he wilt be lost for\never!\" I concluded the sermon with prayer; and while I was praying in\nthe pulpit, one after another of the people in the pews began to cry\naloud for mercy. My friend Mary likened it to a battle-field, and me to\na surgeon going from one wounded one to another to help them. At eleven\no'clock we closed the service, promising to hold another the next day.\n\nOn Wednesday morning Mary awoke from her sleep with a voice saying to\nher, \"Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.\"\n\n\"Then all my sins are gone. He has borne them. He 'Himself bore our sins\nin His own body on the tree.'\"\n\nShe was filled with joy unspeakable, and came to breakfast rejoicing.\nThe lady of the house was in tears, the servants were troubled, and the\nvicar alternately glad and sorry, for he was not sure whether it was\nexcitement or the work of God, and did not know what to make of it.\nHowever, in the evening he broke down in his reading-desk in the middle\nof the sermon, and burst out, \"Lord, save me!\" In an instant the whole\ncongregation was up, and the people everywhere either crying for mercy,\nor rejoicing. The power of the Lord was present to heal them, and many\nsouls were saved that night; and besides these, there were others who\nwere troubled.\n\nAmongst this number was the young squire of the parish. He was\nafterwards decidedly converted to God, and took great interest in the\nwork. When twitted on the bench by his brother magistrates about the\nrevival, he stood his ground manfully, and gave good testimony. He\ncontinues to this day a bold champion for the truth as it is in Jesus.\n\n\nCHAPTER 21\n\nGolant Mission, 1854.\n\nIt is a good plan to strike while the iron is hot;' and as the people at\nColant were in an interested and receptive state, I put off other things\nwhich had been appointed, and made arrangements to return to the\nbattle-field as soon as possible. My people were much excited to hear\nwhat I was able to tell them of my three days' visit, and they wished me\n\"God speed\" for my next venture, praying most heartily for great\nblessing.\n\nAccordingly, on the following Monday I went back to Colant, and found\nthe place (an unusually quiet country village), together with the whole\nneighbourhood round, including two or three small towns all astir. As a\nrule, in order to insure success in a mission, there needs preparation,\nvisitation, and prayer; and I have observed that when there has been no\npreparation in the way of public announcements of services, the people\nhave not come out, and the mission has been a failure. Where there has\nbeen a regular system of visitation, without prayer, the congregations\nhave been abundant, but the services have been dry and hard; but in\nplaces where preparation and visitation have been made with much prayer,\nthere has ever been a most unmistakable blessing. So much for human\nagencies, which are necessary to us, though God is not bound to them.\n\nThere had been no preparation for the mission I am about to tell of, no\nvisitation, nor any special prayer; and yet it pleased the Lord to give\nin this little village such an outpouring of His Spirit and\ndemonstration of His Power as is rarely known. There was a great running\ntogether of the people, notwithstanding the difficulties of access to\nthe church. Some had to come several miles from the towns by road, some\nby sea, and others across a tidal river where mud abounded; and after\nlanding, they had to climb a steep hill. None of these things, however,\ndeterred or discouraged them; they came, and they would come, in spite\nof everything which was urged at other times as an excuse for staying\naway, even on dark nights. It was the day of the Lord's power, and He\nmade them willing; so much so, that in some places work was suspended,\nand people came even three times a day.\n\nOn the Monday evening, when I arrived, I found that the church would\nscarcely hold the people who bad gathered to hear the Word of God. It\nwas a time of much blessing, and we remained there hard at work till\neleven o'clock, when, having four miles to go in order to get home, I\nclosed the service, offering to meet any anxious souls there at\nhalf-past ten the next morning. This I did, and was surprised to find a\nnumber of persons waiting, even at this early hour.\n\nThere were too many to speak to individually, so I addressed them\ncollectively, giving the ordinary instruction to seeking souls. In the\nafternoon we had a still larger number, and in the evening a crowded\ncongregation; in this way the work continued, with three services a day\nthroughout the week, accompanied with remarkable conversions every day.\nAmong the number of those who attended was a surgeon, his wife and\nbrother, and the wife of a respectable yeoman. These, together with\nseveral more from the village on the other side of the river, were\nconverted to God. Their rector was amazed to see them so changed, and\nwondered by what process this was accomplished. He attended an afternoon\nservice, and was astonished to see so many people present on a week-day.\nAfterwards introducing himself, he asked me very politely, \"What is the\nsecret of all this?\" He stud, \"I have heard you preach, and certainly do\nnot agree with most part of what you said, nor do I see anything either\nin your manner or matter which can account for this effect and work\namongst the people. I must say, I cannot ask you to my pulpit, but I\nshould much like a talk with you. Will you come over to luncheon with\nme?\"\n\nI liked the candour and gentlemanly bearing of the man, and wished to\ngo, but could not fix a time while I was so much occupied; so I promised\nI would write, and offer him a visit when I had more leisure.\n\nIn addition to the three services in church, we had another in the\nmorning at seven o'clock, in the town where I slept. There we gathered\nthe anxious ones who had been at the church the night before, and had\ncome away early on account of the distance. The little town was all in a\ncommotion, and the vicar in this place was beginning to get furious\nabout my holding this meeting in his parish; his daughter, in\nparticular, went about warning the people against attending it. Some\nyoung men hired a four-oared boat to come to the evening service,\nintending to disturb the congregation. They arrived in good time, but,\nfor all that, they were too late to get a seat. One young man, the\nringleader of the party, instead of causing a disturbance, stood still\nand listened most attentively. I preached that evening from the words,\n\"And the door was shut,\" referring to the ark, and the awful desolation\nand doom of those who were shut out. All the time I was preaching, I\ncould see this same man standing before the pulpit, with his elbow\nleaning on the end of a high pew. He maintained this position throughout\nthe service, and at the end of the sermon was still there, rigid and\nstiff, looking at the pulpit as if in a trance. He would not move or\nspeak; there he stood, till we feared he had gone out of his mind. His\ncompanions were awed and took him away as well as they could, but did\nnot embark on their return journey till after midnight, and then the\ntide was against them.\n\nSoon after they had started, the wind rose, and there came on a great\nstorm; the thunder was loud, and the flashes of lightning awful. The\nwind became so strong and violent, that, in spite of all their efforts,\nthe boat was stranded; they managed, however, to get out and pull it out\nof the water, and took refuge for a time under overhanging rocks on the\nshore. The young man continued as one stunned, and said nothing. There\nthey remained till between four and five o'clock in the morning, when\nthe storm abated, and they were able to set out again. At last they\nsucceeded in reaching home.\n\nWhile these unfortunate young men were battling with the elements, we\nwent home by land and had a night's rest, though it was but a short one.\nI rose and went to my meeting at seven o'clock, and on arriving found\nthe room quite full, there being only one chair unoccupied. As I stood\nto 'speak, this seat remained vacant, so I beckoned a young man who was\nstanding at the door to come and take it. He looked worn and sad, and I\nthought I recognized in him the same young man I had noticed the\nprevious night, and who, I was told, was the ringleader of the party who\ncame in the boat with the purpose of disturbing the meeting. He sat\ndown, sighing heavily several times.\n\nAlmost directly a man came forward and whispered to me, \"You have a wolf\nnear you--take care!\"\n\n\"All, right,\" I said, \"he is tame enough now; there is no more bite in\nhim.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" said the young man, overhearing us, \"no more wolf. O God,\nchange me to a lamb!\"\n\nPoor fellow! he was in great trouble all day, and fainted away several\ntimes before he found peace, which he did very dearly. He came to the\nevening meeting, shouting \"Hallelujah!\" and stirred us all greatly.\nSeveral others of the same party were also converted.\n\nThe news of this made some of the town's people furious; and, being the\nfifth of November, they consoled themselves by making a straw effigy to\nrepresent me. They put on it a sheet in place of a surplice, with a\npaper mitre on its head, and, setting it on a donkey, carried it through\nthe town, accompanied by a crowd of men and boys, who shouted at the top\nof their voices, \"Here goes the Puseyite revivalist! Here goes the\nPuseyite revivalist! Hurrah! Hurrah!\" In this complimentary sport the\ncurate and one of the churchwardens took part.\n\nThat same night this churchwarden (who, I should say, had been one of\nthe boating party two nights before) had a dream. He dreamt that his\nhouse was full of people, just like the church he had been in; all the\nrooms, the staircase, and even his own bedroom, were filled with people\nstanding. There was a tremendous storm of wind and rain; the thunder\nrolled, and the lightning flashed. In the midst of this a voice said to\nhim, \"This is all about you, you sinner!\" He awoke up out of his sleep\nin a terrible fright, and began to cry to the Lord to have mercy on his\nsoul.\n\nI was sent for before five o'clock in the morning to come and see him,\nfor his friends said that they thought he would go out of his mind.\nInstead of this, he came to his right mind, for the Lord heard and\nanswered his prayer, and brought him from darkness into light, and from\nthe power of sin and Satan unto God. He went with me to the early\nmorning meeting; there we had the two chief leaders of the riotous party\nin a changed condition, for which we heartily thanked God.\n\nTheir friend, the curate, was very excited and angry about this, and did\nnot quite know who to blame. He said that he would write to the Bishop\nand tell him what was going on; and I believe he did not fail to carry\nout his intention. As there were many who, from various causes, were\nunable to go four miles to an evening service, I managed to secure the\nTown Hall for a course of lectures on the \"Pilgrim's Progress.\" The\ncurate came to the first, and, after hearing the lecture, stood up to\nspeak, and gave went to his feelings by saying a great many very angry\nthings. The people were so indignant, that I could scarcely restrain\nthem from laying hands on him to turn him out.\n\nSome of the old forms and seats in the Town Hall (which was not\naccustomed to be so crowded) broke down with the weight of people. The\nvicar's daughter suggested that most likely they should hear next that\n\"the forms and seats were converted, for she had been told already that\nthey were broken down.\" This little straw will show which way the wind\nblew in that quarter, and what was the drift of this lady's mind.\n\nMy friend with whom I was staying was evidently much perplexed, and\nfound himself let in for far more than he had calculated when he invited\nme. He certainly would never have asked me had he foreseen such an upset\nas there was everywhere, especially in the town in which he lived, and\nthe country parish of which he was vicar.\n\nAt last he made up his mind to take me with him to consult a clerical\nneighbour, upon whose judgment he greatly relied. On our way a sudden\nthought of misgiving came over him; he all at once turned to me and\nsaid. \"I say, my friend, I'll be done with you altogether if you say Mr.\n---- is not converted!\"\n\n\"Then,\" I replied, \"you may be sure I will not say it.\"\n\n\"But suppose you think so?\"\n\n\"Well, I must confess I think so already, and not without good reason\n(at least, to my mind), for he has taken no interest whatever in this\nremarkable work of God, nor has he shown the least sympathy in the\nspiritual welfare of many of his parishioners, who have received\nblessing at the meetings. His High Church neighbour, who does not\nprofess to be converted, could not help coming over to ask about it,\nwhile your friend has never been near, nor even sent to make inquiry.\nBesides this, one of his own people told me that he was much put out,\nand very angry with you for asking me.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said my friend, \"we are not all revivalists like you, remember.\"\n\n\"Well,\" I said, \"let me hope you are a deal better than I am.\"\n\nHe seemed very uneasy at taking me on after this conversation; but as he\nhad written to say we were coming, he thought we must go forward. In\norder to ease his mind, I made an agreement with him that during\nluncheon I would tell about the conversion of one of Mr. --'s\nparishioners, and said, \"While I do so, you watch his face. If he is at\nall interested, I will conclude that I am wrong, and that he is\nconverted; but if he is not, I will leave you to judge for yourself. I\nmust say, I cannot understand a converted man not interested in the\nconversion of others, even if it does nothing more than remind him of\nhis own.\"\n\nMy friend agreed to this, and seemed somewhat relieved in his mind.\n\nOn our arrival, Mr. -- received us courteously, and asked after the\nfamily--indeed, about everything he could think of but the work.\n\nMy friend, after a little pause, said, \"Have you not heard of the\nrevival?\"\n\n\"Revival!\" he said, calmly. \"What is that?\"\n\n\"The special services in my church.\"\n\n\"What services?\"\n\nThis evidently was enough. He went out of the room to try and hurry the\nluncheon. My friend looked very thoughtful, and said nothing, but was\nclearly beginning to suspect that the judgment I had formed was not far\nwrong.\n\nIn course of the luncheon I told my story, but not without being\ninterrupted over and over again by the host's attentions, and\nimportunities to \"take more vegetables.\" \"Have you any salt? .... Will\nyou take some bread? .... Will you not take a glass of wine?\" It was\nquite evident he wished the story at an end.\n\nMy friend said, \"That is one of your parishioners he is talking about.\"\n\n\"I suspected so,\" he replied. \"All I can say is, that if Mr. Haslam had\nonly known that man as long as I have, he would never speak of him as he\ndoes. This is not the first profession he has made. He has been reformed\nand changed several times before this, and has always become worse\nafterwards.\"\n\n\"That is just the very thing Haslam says,\" said my friend--\"that some\nreformations are all flesh, and not the work of God; and, as such, can\nnever stand. I believe the man to be converted by God this time.\"\n\n\"We will see--we will see,\" said our host, quietly helping himself to a\nglass of wine. \"For my own part, I don't believe in these things.\"\n\nMy friend and I exchanged looks. I was silent, but he continued, \"I am\nbound to say that I was never converted before, nor yet my wife, my\ndaughter, or my sister.\"\n\n\"What!\" said the vicar, starting, \"you mean your sister Mary? Well, that\nis enough! I don't wish to hear another word about your conversions\nafter that! I can only say that if I were half as good as Mrs. S---, I\nshould be well satisfied.\"\n\n\"Well, now,\" replied my friend, \"do come over and see her, and hear what\nshe has to say about it herself.\"\n\n\"No, thank you,\" he replied; \"I have no desire to interfere in such\nmatters.\"\n\nThere the conversation stopped, leaving a wall of separation between the\ntwo clerical brothers, who had together professed to be Evangelical, and\ncordially hated sacramental religion. They had also professed to believe\nin salvation by faith only; but for all this they never urged upon their\npeople to perform any acts of faith--they only expected them to receive\nthe doctrine. I found that such people opposed me and my work a great\ndeal more than even High Church men.\n\nMy friend and I returned home, and he told his wife and sister the\nresult of our visit. They said that they were not surprised, for they\nhad made up their minds on the subject, and were quite sure that Mr. --\nhad no personal experience, though he was so intelligent about the\ndoctrine of salvation by faith.\n\nThe work, in the meantime, went on and spread. Some of the people came\nover from Mr. --'s parish to ask me to come and preach to them in a\nlarge sail-loft, which they had prepared for the purpose. My friend\nwould not consent to my going, and I was obliged to give them a refusal.\nThe next day they sent again, not to ask me to preach, but if I would\njust come over to visit a sick man who was anxious about his soul. My\nfriend hesitated at this also. I said, \"Why do you object to my going to\nsee the poor fellow? You took me to the vicarage to talk to the vicar\nhimself; surely you can let me go and do the same thing to one of his\nparishioners.\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, \"I cannot; that is quite a different thing.\"\n\nSeeing that he was unwilling, and that it would displease him, I gave it\nup, and went to the messengers and said, \"I cannot go.\"\n\nThey were not satisfied, and asked \"if the ladies would please to go;\"\nmeaning my late dear wife and Mrs. S. (Mary), whom they had seen working\nin the after-meetings.\n\nMy friend did not see any objection to the ladies going, and the men\nseemed better pleased than if I had gone. They visited the sick man the\nnext day, and after that were asked \"just to come and speak to a few\npeople up here\" that was, in the adjoining sail-loft. On entering the\nplace, to their astonishment, they saw about three hundred people\nsitting quietly waiting.\n\n\"What is this?\" asked my wife.\n\nThe man said, \"I only asked a few, but all those people are come. Do\ngive them just a word.\" She had never yet ventured on addressing a large\ncompany like that, and Mary was shocked at the idea; but still, they\nwere afraid to refuse; so they mounted the carpenter's bench, which was\nplaced there with two chairs on it; and after a hymn and prayer, Mrs. H.\ngave an address, which Mary told me afterwards \"was far better than\nanything I ever preached.\" They had an after-meeting, and some\nconversions, and promised to come over again. Thus the work spread to\nanother part, and I had to go there also.\n\nPoor Mr. -- was very excited about this, and said that he \"thought it\nmost ungentlemanly.\" I dare say it was, and that I was somewhat uncouth;\nbut I never stop to consider prejudices and fancies when the Lord's work\nis in the way.\n\nIt was a widespread and remarkable awakening, and one not without much\nopposition and jealousy. I happened to say from the pulpit, that at one\ntime before I knew the truth I used to be quite a popular man: people\nliked me, and clergymen let me preach in their pulpits; but now that I\nhad something to tell for the good of souls, they seemed to agree to\nkeep me out. Very few were so bold as the vicar of this parish, who had\nnot only invited me, but stood by me also.\n\nA neighbouring clergyman, who was an important man--a prebendary, and\nwhat not--wrote to the vicar to ask if it was true that I had said in\nthe pulpit that my clerical brethren scouted me, and would not let me\npreach for them.\n\nThe vicar very wisely handed the indignant prebendary's letter over to\nme to answer, which I did. In my reply, I took the opportunity to put in\nsome Gospel teaching, which was supposed to be very irrelevant matter,\nand counted evasive. I did not deny that I had said something to the\neffect of which he complained, but I pleaded in extenuation that I was\njustified in doing so. He was more enraged by my letter than by the\nreport he had heard, and threatened to publish the correspondence. This\nhe did, with a letter to his parishioners, in which he warned them\nagainst revivals in general, and me in particular. He told them that I\nwas \"infatuated;\" that I had \"usurped the judgment seat of Christ;\" that\nI was \"the accuser of the brethren;\" that I \"acted the devil's part now,\nand was to be his companion hereafter.\" I thought of giving more choice\nextracts from this publication, but on second thoughts I consider it\nbetter to pass it over.\n\n\nCHAPTER 22\n\nThe High Church Rector, 1854\n\nLet bygones be bygones. I am thankful to say times are changed, but the\nletter referred to in the last chapter, though expressing the sentiments\nof one man, yet showed the feeling of many others. I do not complain of\nit, for I must say I rather like the outspoken opposition of the natural\nheart; it is far better, and much less trying, than smiling indifference\nor hollow assent.\n\nThe work which began in this part went on and spread. The refusal of the\nclergy to take it up sent it to the chapels, where it was continued for\nmiles round. For this reason I was charged then, and have been since,\nwith encouraging Dissent, but the accusation sits very lightly on me,\nfor I know what I would rather have. Nothing would please me so well as\nto have the clergy converted, and taking up the work; but if they will\nnot, then I would rather that the Dissenters had the benefit, than that\nit should die out and be lost. Dissent makes division, but it is\nnecessary for vitality, under present circumstances, and counteracts the\ngreat evil of spiritual death. The light of God ought to be in the\nChurch of England, for it is the Lord's candlestick in this land; but\nwhen the truth is not represented, and the Church is dark, it is a mercy\nthat God has been pleased to raise up witnesses for Himself in other\nbodies.\n\nThe Calvinist, with a needless bitterness, holds up God's sovereignty,\nas if man's will were not free; the Arminian is equally energetic for\nman's responsibility, as if God were not sovereign; and the Quaker is a\nwitness for the work of the Spirit. These, and several others, each\nmaintain their particular doctrine. They are raised up to show\nrespectively their own portion of the light, because the Church, which\nhas in her formularies all these great truths, is remiss in her duty.\nThe full blaze of light which ought to be emitted from her to all sides,\nis shed upon her in detail from others; and her members are too often\nlighted from without, and not from within.\n\nIn many parishes there was no light, and no life or testimony in the\nChurch; and had it not been for the chapels, men and women might have\nperished in ignorance and error.\n\nImperfect and erroneous as is some of the Gospel which is preached in\nchapels and rooms, there was more vitality in it, and also more saving\npower, than in the refined and critical teaching which emanated from\nmany of the accredited and accepted preachers of the land. Where the\nChurch was rising up into energetic action, in too many cases it had a\nsectarian, and not a catholic object--that is to say, it was aiming to\nmake Churchmen and communicants, or members of guilds, instead of\nproclaiming the Gospel for the salvation of souls.\n\nThe sovereignty of God, the responsibility of man, and the work of the\nHoly Ghost, were frequently altogether overlooked, although this is the\ntrue catholic teaching. In this I comprehend not only the bringing of\nsouls from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive the\nforgiveness of sins, but also that believers might go on to have \"an\ninheritance among them that are sanctified by faith in Christ Jesus.\"\nChurchism, with its sacramentalism, is as sectarian as any form of\nDissent, Romanism included; for it falls short of God's object, as\ndeclared in the Word.\n\nWhen the work at Golant church abated, I had more time for looking\nabout; so I proffered a visit to the High Church rector, who had asked\nme to come over and tell him the secret of my success. He readily fixed\nupon a day, so I went over to luncheon; after which we began to talk.\nThe curate, who was present, and who had heard some ranters shouting and\nscreaming in the \"shires,\" kept on every now and then putting in a word\nof caution to restrain the rector from admitting too much; for little by\nlittle he was yielding to me. I spoke of letting down the nets for a\ndraught, and catching men, not to smother and kill them in some Church\nsystem, or by some erroneous teaching, but to keep them alive. \"This,\" I\nsaid, \"is the meaning of the word in the original;\" and we looked it out\nin the Greek. It was very interesting. We then talked over the\ndifference between the Church system and that of the Bible. The one, I\nsaid, makes apostolic succession and the sacraments the channel of\nsalvation; the other the Word of God, as applied by the Holy Ghost.\n\nWe had a great battle on this point, two against one; but having the\nWord of God on my side, I stood by my experience. I had myself been on\nthe other side, and was then ten times more zealous and earnest than\nthese two were. I said, \"I used to preach salvation by Church and\nsacraments once, but I was not saved that way. I used also to teach that\nthe new birth was by Baptism; but I was not born again when I was\nbaptized. Were you? Are you quite sure that, with all your faith in\nBaptismal Regeneration, you are born again of the Spirit? Are you\nsatisfied that you are now saved because you are in the Church?\"\n\nThey were dumb. So I went on to say, \"I have no party or sectarian\nobject in my work; my only desire is to bring souls to Christ Himself\nfor salvation. I used, as a priest, to think I was mediator between\nChrist and the sinner, and that I had received by delegation some power\nfor this purpose; but now that I have been over the ground\nexperimentally, I would as soon blaspheme God in your presence, as dare\nto absolve a sinner, or come between Christ and him. My orders are to\nbring them from the power of Satan to God, and to Christ crucified, for\nforgiveness of sins.\"\n\nAt this point the rector brought out a printed sermon by Dr. Pusey, on\nJustification by Faith, which he had been carefully reading. I asked him\nto read it to me. The first few pages contained statements of the\ndoctrine in New Testament words, with a fair exposition of them; but\nwhen the author same to his own thoughts about the subject, he said that\nBaptism was the cause of justification. Here I challenged the statement,\nand said, \"Have you any references there--any 'stars' or 'daggers' to\nthat?\" \"Yes,\" he answered, \"references to the Fathers.\" I replied, that\n\"the Fathers were not inspired, There is no such thing as 'Justification\nby Baptism' in the Scriptures; it is by faith only, as you will see in\nthe fifth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"that is just what Dr. Pusey means--Faith, as shown in\nBaptism.\"\n\n\"Then,\" I said, \"according to that, in your Baptism you were justified\nby Faith; and as a consequence you have peace with God, and have access\ninto grace, and rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. You will see\nthat St. Paul connects this experience with what he calls Justification\nby Faith. Evidently he did not expect so much from Baptism as you do, or\nfor a certainty he would have baptized every one he could reach; but,\ninstead of this, he thanked God that he had only baptized a few persons\nwhom he named (1 Cor. 1: 14-17). He had gone about for three years,\nteaching the Ephesian Christians, even with tears, and he called them to\nwitness, not that he had administered the sacraments, and done priestly\nwork among them, but that he had ceased not to teach, and to preach,\n'repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ'\" (Acts\n20:21).\n\nMy two High Church friends were not convinced, though they could not\nanswer me. It was a question in their minds who was right, Dr. Pusey, or\nthis \"Fanatical Revivalist.\"\n\n\"Come,\" I said, \"there is your man-servant outside in the garden; he was\nconverted two weeks ago; and though he cannot read, I feel sure he knows\nmore about this than the author of that learned sermon. Let us call him\nin and read a few pages.\"\n\nWe did, and told him to sit down while we read a little while.\n\nThe rector began, and, as he went on, Sam's face lit up with joy, until\nthe rector came to the sacramental passages; than any one could see\nSam's interest was gone. He became very restless, and at last\ninterrupting, said, respectfully, \"If you please, sir, is there much\nmore of that?\"\n\n\"Why, Sam,\" said his master, \"don't you like it?\"\n\n\"No, sir,\" he said; \"that man ain't converted at all!\"\n\n\"Well, that is strange,\" said the rector; \"I saw his interest went off\njust at the very point where you took exception to the sermon. You and\nSam under stand something that I do not know.\" Thus our sermon-reading\nconcluded, and, besides this, my witness had given his testimony.\n\nI had stayed already two hours longer than I intended, and was tired of\ntalking. The rector asked me to remain, and dine with him, and promised\nthat he would send me to church in the evening in time for the service.\nI agreed to this; so he kindly took me upstairs to wash and rest. Coming\ninto the room with me, he shut the door, and said in confidence,\n\n\"I know you are right; my mother taught me all this when I was young!\"\n\n\"Then,\" I said, \"we had better kneel down and pray about it.\"\n\nWe did so. In his prayer he entreated very earnestly that the scales\nmight fall from his eyes, and that these truths which he loved when he\nwas young might be brought to him again.\n\nHe was only praying for truth, and not for pardon and salvation; so I\npointed this out to him.\n\n\"Yes--yes,\" he said; \"Lord, save me! Lord, save me! Pardon me!\"\n\nI believe he found peace before he came down; but it is more difficult\nto pronounce in the case of educated, than in that of uneducated people.\nIn the latter, the transition from darkness to light and life is often\nvery manifest; whereas in the case of the educated, the effect is not so\nclear.\n\nHowever, he came down to dinner, and it was not long before he roused\nthe anger and contempt of his wife and curate, by saying, \"I am\nconverted.\" They tried hard to laugh him out of it, and asked him which\nof the chapels he would join? They suggested he had better be a\nBryanite; Mr. Haslam is king of the Bryanires; and so on!\n\nI was happy to hear all this, and could not help telling them so: first,\nbecause the rector was counted worthy of such taunts; and, secondly,\nbecause their natural enmity was raised. I said that I hoped they would\nboth be converted also, and that very soon.\n\nWhen I was leaving for my service, the rector, in bidding me good-bye,\nsaid, that he \"was sorry he could not go with me; but would I come and\npreach in his pulpit on Sunday?\" I promised that I would.\n\nOn the way, Sam, who was driving me to church, became much excited, and\nseemed beside himself for joy. Putting up his arms all of a sudden, with\nreins and whip in either hand, in the act of praising God, he frightened\nthe horse, so that it ran away at full speed.\n\n\"Oh, never mind---never mind!\" he said, \"don't be frightened! No doubt\nthe old devil 'ud like to upset both on us; but I am sure the dear Lord\nwill take care of us, don't fear.\"\n\nCertainly there was need, for the horse went headlong down a long narrow\nhill, and if anything else had been on the road, we must have come into\ndisastrous collision. We were, however, carried safely down, and reached\nthe church in good time.\n\nSam's joy, I need scarcely say, was all about the master's conversion,\nand the fact that I was to preach in their church on Sunday--two\ncircumstances he did not fail to announce to every one he met.\n\nHe put up his horse, and stayed for the service. In the after-meeting,\nwhen he prayed, he sent up his prayer with a thanksgiving for these two\nthings, which set the congregation praising God also.\n\nThus the revival, which began on one side of the river, passed over to\nthe other, and brought out people from another town, and also villages\nbeyond. There was a great awakening in that part of the country. The\ncurate found peace on the Sunday, and many more; but not the rector's\nwife. She continued her opposition most vigorously.\n\nThe wisdom of the serpent is seen in capturing the wife first; but still\nI am sure in this case that the serpent's wisdom was outwisdomed, for\nher persecution made her husband pray and work all the more earnestly.\n\nPeople in these days did not regard \"missions\" so complacently as they\ndo now. The very idea of preaching night after night, not for some\nMissionary Society, or for collections, but simply for the conversion of\nsouls and the salvation of sinners, seemed to cast a slur upon ordinary\npreachers, as if they did not aim at such a thing; and upon people\ngenerally, as if we meant to imply that they needed it. Most certainly\nthey did.\n\nI believe ordinary preachers in the churches of that neighbourhood did\nnot expect conversions; and most of the people were unconverted. I could\nnot help telling them so, which only roused their wrath so much the\nmore.\n\nFrom this place I returned home; for my prolonged absence, I found, was\nlikely to bring me into trouble. Other clergymen might go away for\nmonths, travelling or salmon fishing; but if I was absent for a few\nweeks, I was supposed to be neglecting my parish. On my return, I had\nmuch to tell, and did not expect to be invited out again in a hurry; for\nvery few clergymen would willingly desire to be drawn into such a\nwhirlwind of storm and trouble, as my visits usually involved.\n\n\nCHAPTER 23\n\nA Mission in Staffordshire, 1854.\n\nTHE work at Baldhu, which had been going on almost incessantly for three\nyears, was now beginning to flag; that is to say, there was not that\nardent and eager attendance at the services and meetings, to which we\nhad been accustomed in the revival time. We had had occasional lulls\nlike this before, but they did not last more than a few weeks; and then\nthe \"swallows\" returned, and the bright hot summer of work came again\nwith its loud songs and pleasant fruits. This dullness was continuing\nlonger than usual; the crowded congregations were falling off; strangers\ndid not come from a distance; the people at home were not so lively.\nHowever, the classes were continued, as also the services at the church,\nand the number of communicants did not decrease. Still any one could see\nthat the revival was over. It was rather discouraging to me, and a cause\nof triumph to some outsiders; but we were occasionally cheered by work\namongst visitors, and with sick-bed cases.\n\nThe majority of the people were complacently waiting for another tide of\nrevival; this was their custom, but it sat very uneasily upon me. I did\nnot like it, nor agree to it; but at that time I knew not what else to\ndo, but wait as others did. I said that we looked like vessels which had\ncome so far up the river with the tide; and now that it had turned we\nwere stranded and fast in the  mud. Sometimes I changed the figure to\none not so ignoble, and likened ourselves to the stately vessels\nanchored in Falmouth harbour, which were there because the wind was\ncontrary. We were wind-bound too, and dependent on circumstances; but my\nidea of true religion was that we ought not to be like this. I rather\ntook for our type the great steamers which are propelled by powerful\nengines, and come in and go out, and proceed on their voyage without\nregard to wind or tide. We ought to be constrained I said, from within\nby the love of God and thus be enabled to show the power of grace by\nriding over all obstacles and triumphing in the midst of\ndiscouragements. \"He giveth songs in the night.\" Any bird can sing in\nthe sunshine.\n\nThe self-restraint and self-control I had exercised in my churchy days,\nand which I supposed was derived from sacraments, I found wanting in my\nnew work. We required something with authority, such as church and\npriest supply. I could not, however, conscientiously go back to that\nlegal system, nor did I think there was any need, for I was sure there\nwas something somewhere, to be had, which should and would supply our\nwant, if I could but discover it. It appeared to me that my people,\nwithout this, were subject to impulse, and consequently in bondage to\ntheir feelings.\n\nIn this time of lull I found that the steadfastness of some was shaken;\nbut I had known others, who had gone further back than these, return at\na revival time with new vigour. In this way, some of the Cornish people\nprofessed to be converted scores of times. While ruminating on these\nthings and praying over them, I was surprised by receiving a letter\npressing me very much to come at once and preach in a parish in\nStaffordshire, near Birmingham. Mr. Aitken had been on a mission in the\nnorth, and on his return had stopped a night at this place, and preached\none of his alarming and awakening sermons. The effect was so great that\nthe people, together with their clergyman (a curate in sole charge) were\nin much trouble and anxiety about their souls; there was a gloom hanging\nover them, as if they had been sentenced to some dreadful doom, and did\nnot know what to do, or how to avert it.\n\nIt is a good thing to wound, but it should be with the object of making\nwhole; it is a blessed thing to show sinners their lost condition, but\nonly for the purpose of getting them to lay hold of the great salvation\nwhich is provided for such.\n\nIn his perplexity the curate went to see the Bishop (Lonsdale) of\nLichfield. When his lordship had ascertained the cause of the trouble,\nhe took up a pamphlet which was lying on the table, and said, \"If you\ncannot get Mr. Aitken back, send for this gentleman, and pay his\nexpenses.\" \"This gentleman,\" meant the author of the pamphlet, which his\nlordship held in his hand, namely, myself; \"his name and address are\nhere.\" said the Bishop; \"take the book and read it carefully; he seems\nto have both knowledge and experience in such matters.\"\n\nI was written to forthwith, and the letter urged me to \"come at once.\"\nIn compliance, I started off that night, and reaching the place on\nSaturday afternoon, opened a mission the same evening without further\nnotice. On Sunday I preached three times, and went to the school-room\nfor the after-meeting. There we had a scene which, for noise and\nconfusion was quite Cornish. Men and women cried aloud for mercy, while\nsome believers who were there shouted for joy. The curate in charge was\ncompletely bewildered, but felt he could do nothing; and seeing, as he\nremarked, that I appeared to understand it and know what I was about, he\nthought he had better remain still, till the noisy meeting was over.\nThat same night, before he retired, he gave his heart to God.\n\nThe work went on in this place with the force as of an explosion; just\nas if hungry desires had been pent up a long time, and now they had vent\nand opportunity to be satisfied. The church was crowded: every day, even\nin the week; and we were kept in the schoolroom night after night till\ntwelve and one o'clock.\n\nThe town was a dark, smoky, sulphury place, and the air filled with\nexhalations and iron filings from the various works. It was a dreadful\natmosphere, and everything was black and dirty; the red fires from the\nfurnaces around glared all night long and presented an awful appearance.\nTo come from the pure air and beautiful scenery of Cornwall into such a\nplace as this, was most trying and uncomfortable; but the reward was\ngreat. The work was deeply interesting, and scores of men and women of\nall classes, besides five clergymen, professed to be converted that\nweek.\n\nThe devil did not leave us alone; he was very angry, and raised up a\ngreat opposition. The rector of the old church, who used to be most\nbenevolent and smiling, suddenly changed, and made it his business to\ncall on the curate in charge of the church, to tell him that he was\nquite sure that his friend the vicar (who was away at the time in ill\nhealth) would never have sanctioned this excitement. The curate said\nthat the Bishop had bid him invite Mr. Haslam, and that he had done so,\nnot knowing anything further about me or my work. The rector went off to\nwrite to the Bishop forthwith, and in the meantime ordered bills to be\nposted all over the town, warning people against \"the Cornish fanaticism\nat St. James's,\" which, of course, had the effect of drawing out a\ngreater concourse of people.\n\nWhat with excessive work and bad air, by Friday evening I was quite\nexhausted. I came out of the pulpit to the vestry, and remembering that\nCornish miners, in order to recover themselves after climbing ladders,\noften found it necessary to lie down flat on the ground, I thought I\nwould try the same plan for a few moments while the people were going\nout to the schoolroom. I did so; and while I was in this position a\nclergyman came in and asked me if I was ill. \"No,\" I said, \"I am only\nresting for a short time.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" he said, \"rest on; but listen to me. The Bishop has sent me\nhere to see and hear you, and this is my report to his lordship.\"\nOpening out a paper he held in his hand, he read: \"St. James's crammed\nto excess with a most orderly and devotional congregation; their\nattention to the sermon marked and riveted; sermon from St. Luke xv,\nverse 2, 'This Man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them.' The\nexposition of chapter most vivid and instructive; never heard better, or\nso good; the application fervent and pointed; altogether, most edifying\nservice.\"\n\n\"There, that is my report, so you need not be afraid of anything you\nhear. I will tell the Bishop all about it. Thank you very much for what\nI have heard. God bless you. Good-night!\"\n\n\"Oh,\" I said, springing up from the ground, \"do not go yet! the best\npart is to come. You have only seen me let down the nets; come now and\nsee them pulled up.\" \"What is that?\" he said, \"Where am I to come?\" \"To\nthe schoolroom,\" I replied, divesting myself of my gown and bands, and\nputting on my coat with all haste. \"Come with me!\"\n\nHe seemed a little afraid, and asked many questions. When we reached the\nplace we could scarcely get in, and the noise certainly was tremendous.\n\n\"What is all this confusion about?\" he asked. \"I think I had better not\ngo in to-night.\"\n\n\"Oh, come in, come in!\" I said; \"do not fear.\" But somehow he slipped\noff in the dark, and I did not see him again. When I entered, almost the\nfirst thing I noticed was the two curates of the parish church, taking\nnotes. However, I did not heed them, or ask to see what they had\nwritten; for I would always rather have real work, though with a noise,\nthan orderly, respectable stillness, and spiritual death.\n\nOn Saturday I rested, but was very unwell all day, and did not know how\nI should be able to work on Sunday. When the morning arrived, my\nstrength and voice were gone; it was impossible to preach. The people\nmet together and had a prayer meeting before the service, asking the\nLord to restore me. The curate was so much cheered, that he came to me\nand said, \"If you only get up and try, we feel sure you will be able to\npreach.\" I got up, but had to go to bed again, for I was very ill.\n\nJust before eleven o'clock a visitor arrived, a very queer-looking\nlittle man, in a black suit of Quaker cut, and a college cap without a\ntassel, with the corners of the square board rounded off. Standing by my\nbed-side in this costume, he said that he was a convert of Mr. Aitken's,\nand had come all the way from Birmingham to hear me. \"Moreover,\" he\nsaid, \"I am a herbal doctor. Please let me feel your pulse.\"\n\nHe did so, and looking grave, sounded my lungs, put his ear to my chest\nand then asked, \"What is the matter with your left lung?\"\n\nI replied, \"I don't know. Three doctors told me, more than fourteen\nyears ago, that it was all gone.\" \"Well,\" he said, \"you stay quietly in\nbed till I come again at half-past eleven.\"\n\nWhen he returned, he bade me get up and dress, and then gave me a cupful\nof something very hot with cayenne, at the same time telling me that I\nshould be quite strong enough to preach by twelve o'clock.\n\nSo I was. I preached that morning, and again in the afternoon; after\nthat I went to bed till six o'clock, when I took another dose, and in\nthe strength of it preached a long, loud sermon to a crowded\ncongregation; after which I attended the after-meeting, and was there\ntill twelve o'clock at night. I then set off to the station, accompanied\nby at least two hundred people, and left by the one o'clock train for\nBirmingham, to the house of my new friend the herbal doctor. He nursed\nme like a mother, and let me go on my way home to Cornwall the next day.\n\nI never heard any more of the rector of the parish, or of the Bishop,\nbut was frequently cheered by letters saying that the work thus begun\nwas going on week after week in the same place. Some years after, when I\nwas passing, I stopped there for a few days, and gave them \"a lift,\" as\nthey called it; and I then saw with half a glance that they had become\npractised workers--that both clergymen and people were fitted to\nmissionize the whole country side.\n\nOne's great object in this mission work is not only to save souls, but\nto encourage believers to do their part; that so the effect of a mission\nmay be continued and extended. God has a twofold blessing for us. He\nsays \"I will bless thee and make thee a blessing;\" and it is well to\nremember that the benefits we receive are not so much to be kept for\nself, as to be imparted and transmitted to others, even as they were\ntransmitted to us.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 24\n\nSanctification.\n\nThen I returned from the far-off mission in Staffordshire, whether from\nover fatigue or other causes, I was much depressed in mind as well as\nbody, and quite out of heart with the Church of England. It is true I\nfound the converted people in Staffordshire were not so leavened with\nDissent as in Cornwall, and that there was some attachment to the\nChurch; but still I could see that Churchmen there, as elsewhere,\ndistrusted spirituality, and preferred to work on their own\necclesiastical or sacramental lines; they chose to draw water to quench\ntheir thirst, rather than to ask, and receive (directly from Christ) the\nliving water.\n\nIf a bishop accidentally invited me, of if a clergyman cordially did so,\nthey were marked exceptions. I felt myself to be obnoxious to the\nmajority of my clerical brethren who professed to represent the Church;\nbut somehow, I was convinced that, as a converted clergyman, I\nrepresented the Church of England more truly than they, and that the\nprinciples of the Reformation were the principles I was working upon.\nThis was trial from outside, which, however trying to flesh and blood,\nis by no means so bad as misgiving from within.\n\nI was discouraged also about the work in which I had been engaged; for\nthere was evidently an imperfection about it. I observed that some\npeople over whom I rejoiced as converted, went back to their former\nworldliness, which perplexed and troubled me more than I can describe. I\nknew from my own experience that conversion was necessary to salvation\nand a new life; but when people professed to be saved, and did not live\na new life, I was sure there was something wrong. My dear friend, Mr.\nAitken, said, \"My brother, this work is the Lord's; you must go to Him\nand ask what is wrong. Lie on your face before Him till He shows you His\nwill about the matter!\"\n\nThis I did; for, shutting myself up in the church, I cried to the Lord\ntill I felt that an answer would come in due time. Soon after, I was led\nto preach from the text, \"Through this Man is preached unto you the\nforgiveness of sins; and by Him all that believe are justified from all\nthings\" (Acts 13:38, 39). This opened my eyes to see that the\nproclamation was twofold-that through Christ Jesus, pardon was offered\nto any and every sinner as such, and moreover, that by the same Christ\nJesus, every believer--that is, every one who had received the\nforgiveness of his sins--was justified from all things.\n\nThose who know how old familiar texts flash upon the mind with new\nmeaning, will understand my surprise. God was speaking to me in answer\nto my inquiry. I had been preaching forgiveness and salvation through\nthe blood-shedding and death of Christ; and confining myself to this, as\nif salvation were all. I now saw that I had not preached about\nJustification to believers, as fully as I had dwelt on the subject of\npardon to sinners; indeed, that I had preached to believers the same\nGospel which I preached to them before they were converted; that is,\nthat Christ died for their sins, but not the \"yea rather, that is risen\nagain.\" No wonder they did not stand, if their standing-place before God\ntheir Father was not simply and plainly put before them. Believers\nhaving been brought from death unto life, from the cross to the\nresurrection-side of Christ's grave, should be led to the Throne of\nGrace, where Christ sits at the right hand of God, making intercession\nfor them. Once enlightened on the subject, it was easy to see that this\ntruth was set forth all through the Bible.\n\nFor instance, when the prodigal son received pardon, immediately his\nfather called the servants and said unto them, \"Bring forth the best\nrobe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and shoes on his\nfeet.\" Here, besides pardon, is standing--union--strength; and over and\nbeyond these, the feast of rejoicing.\n\nWhen the children of Israel were brought out of Egypt, it was not that\nthey should escape from bondage only, but that they should be led, and\neven carried, by God through the wilderness. Moses illustrated this in a\nsimple yet comprehensive figure, when he wrote, \"As an eagle stirreth up\nher nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh\nthem, beareth them on her wings: so the Lord alone did lead him, and\nthere was no strange god with him\" (Deut. 32:11, 12).\n\nThe thousands who perished in the wilderness were persons of whom it may\nbe said that they professed to come up out of Egypt, and did so in act;\nbut God, who looks upon the heart, saw that they were still lingering in\nthat place; for when they were in trouble, they said, \"Would God that we\nhad died in the land of Egypt! or would God we had died in the\nwilderness! Let us make a captain, and let us return into Egypt\" (Num.\n14:2-4).\n\nThis is one secret of the \"going back\" which I have noticed. People came\nout as converted, whose hearts were still entangled in the things of\nthis world, or in some besetments with which they were fettered. Those\nwho are really converted should come out, as Caleb and Joshua did. They\nleft Egypt behind them altogether, and finally, in their trials and\ntroubles in the wilderness, they looked for deliverance, not in going\nback, but in going forward, assured that if lions were before, there\nwere dragons behind.\n\nAnother lesson which we may learn from these two, is, that they compared\ndifficulties and giants, not with themselves, but with the Lord. It was\ntrue that they were not able to conquer their enemies or take their\ncities, but, as they said, \"the Lord is able to give us the victory.\" In\nthis I saw how Joshua trusted God, also how God wrought a great\ndeliverance.\n\nI urged the people to consider that we were not created and redeemed to\nbe saved, but saved to glorify God in our lives; but I grieve to say,\nthis teaching did not meet with the acceptance I hoped for. I wondered\nat their slowness of heart to believe in the \"risen\" Christ, and was\nsure that this was reason enough for their instability; and I felt that\nthere would be nothing else while they continued to receive only a part\nof the Gospel instead of the whole.\n\nOne thing leads to another. While I was thus making discoveries, my\nattention was drawn to a hymn which spoke of \"Jordan's stream,\" and\n\"death's cold flood,\" as if they were the same thing. Now, I had always\nregarded Jordan as death; but the question in my mind was--What is all\nthat fighting and conquering in the land of Canaan, if Canaan represents\nheaven? I observed, moreover, that the Israelites were on the defensive\nin the wilderness, and on the aggressive on the other side of Jordan;\nthat they were led by the cloud on the one, and by a living Person on\nthe other; that they were daily sustained with manna, as children, on\nthe one side, and ate the old corn of the land, as men of Israel, on the\nother, besides sowing and reaping for themselves. These striking' marks\nof contrast excited much inquiry, and not obtaining, with sufficient\ndefiniteness, the satisfaction I sought, I went to the Lord about this,\nas before. I confessed my shortcomings, and the defectiveness of my\nteaching, and pleaded earnestly, \"Lord, what wouldst Thou have me to do?\nWhat I know not, teach Thou me!\"\n\nThen I was brought into the deepest distress and perplexity of soul, to\nthink that after my experience of conversion, and all I had done for the\nconversion of others, I was still such a vile, self-condemned sinner. I\neven began to think that I had never been converted; it appeared to me\nthat my whole life was nothing but intense selfishness; that I availed\nmyself of the blood of Christ for my salvation and happiness, and led\nothers to do the same, rejoicing with them in thus making use of God for\nthe purpose of getting quit of hell and gaining heaven. It was a clear\ncase of making God serve me, instead of my serving Him. Many other\nthings came to my mind, by which I knew there was an immense gap between\nmy experience and the Word of God. I can see it all now; but at the time\nit was very dark and grievous.\n\nWhen I had been under conviction before, at the time of my conversion,\nit was, as it were, with my eyes shut; but now they were open: then I\nsaw my sins, and the penalty which was due to them; now I saw my\nunrighteousness, and the corruption of my nature. I felt as if I were\ntwo persons, and that there was a law in my members warring against the\nlaw of my mind, the flesh contending against the Spirit. \"O wretched man\nthat I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?\" For a\nwhole week I was in great distress of mind, especially during the last\nthree days.\n\nOn Sunday morning, as I was going to the early Communion, my soul was\nset at liberty. I felt as if a great cloud was lifted up; the light\nshone into my soul; and I had deliverance. I was exceedingly happy in\nthe knowledge that the risen Christ Himself was my help---that He who\nhad hidden His presence in a pillar of cloud and fire, now was Himself\npresent in person, my omnipotent Friend and leader!\n\nThis was quite a new experience, and one I had not known before. I\nthought that I had not even heard or read of it, and therefore began to\nsuspect whether it was a temptation. I determined to be wise, and not\ncommit myself too soon, so made up my mind that I would not refer to it\nin the pulpit. But at the close of the service a stranger came into the\nvestry to thank me for my sermon; and when we were alone he put the\nquestion to me, \"How long have you known Sanctification?\"\n\nI replied, \"Do I know it now?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"you preached it experimentally this morning; and I\nshall be very much surprised if you have not some inquiries on the\nsubject before the day is out.\"\n\nI felt reproved before this stranger's steady gaze, and confessed that I\nhad received the blessing that very morning; but thinking that it might\nbe a temptation, I had determined to say nothing about it.\n\nHe said, \"That was a temptation from the devil, sure enough, to hinder\nyou; for the Lord spoke on this subject through your sermon as dearly as\never I have heard. Do not be afraid, but go on and tell others.\"\n\nSo in the evening I preached on Sanctification, and we had an\nafter-meeting in the schoolroom. Many believers stayed behind to ask\nquestions upon the subject of my sermon. I do not remember how I replied\nto them; but imperfect as my statements must have been, it nevertheless\nled others to desire to enter into the experience of this same blessing.\n\nThe following morning, I happened to take up a tract by John Fletcher,\nof Madeley, in which I read, that at a breakfast party on the occasion\nof a wedding, to which he was invited, just in the middle of idle and\nfrivolous conversation which was going on, he was constrained to rise up\nand say, \"I have three times had an experience of joy and liberty, which\nI believe to be Sanctification, and it has passed away; now that it has\nreturned again, I take this opportunity to testify.\" The company were\nall struck with amazement; the power of God was present; and the festive\ngathering was turned into a meeting for prayer and praise. I took\nwarning from this tract never to withhold my testimony on this subject.\n\nSoon after this, I was holding an afternoon Bible class in another part\nof the parish; we were going through St. Luke's gospel, and had come to\nthe fifth chapter; I said with reference to the miraculous draught of\nfishes, that the fish had been swimming about in their native element in\nall quietness and freedom, till they came in contact with a net, and it\ncame in contact with thorn. Observe, I said, three things: 1. They are\ncaught in the net. 2. They are drawn out of their native element. 3.\nThey are laid in the boat at the feet of Christ. So it is, where people\nare caught in' the Gospel net--this is conviction; they are drawn out of\nthe state in which they were--this is conversion; but they are not yet\nin the state in which they should be, this is why it is so hard to hold\nthem: they ought to be drawn to Christ Himself, for this is the ultimate\nobject of catching souls; the one thing needful is to be brought to the\nfeet of Christ.\n\nI intentionally abstained from using the word \"Sanctification,\" though I\nwas endeavouring to typify the experience of it, and to contrast it with\nconversion. As I went on speaking, a woman in the small assemble put up\nher hands and began to shout and praise God, \"That is Sanctification!\"\nshe cried; \"I have it! I know it! Praise the Lord!\" There was a great\nstir the class; some cried, and some asked questions. One woman, who was\nmore advanced in general knowledge and experience than most of the\nothers declared, that she did not believe in Sanctification, for she had\nknown so many who professed to have it, and had lost it. \"Lost what?\" I\nsaid, \"you cannot lose an experience; the joy of it may depart, and\ncertainly does where people rest on their feelings instead of the fact,\non the effect, instead of the cause.\" She confused the sanctification of\nthe believer, with the effect it produced on him. The Spirit which works\nsanctification in our souls can keep us in it, if we continue to look to\nHim, instead of looking at His work, I said to her, what I have said\never since to all who are inclined to argue on the subject: Believers\ntoo often dispute about Sanctification, in the same manner as the\nunconverted do on the subject of Justification. It is not worth while\nfor those who know, to contend with those who only think. I told her to\ngo home and pray about it and ask the Lord if He had anything more to\ngive, to let her have it.\n\nShe was sullen, and hard to persuade; but after a little more\nconversation and prayer, she consented to lay aside her prejudice and do\nas I had told her. She did so, and came again the next morning to see\nme. Fortunately, I was not in my house, but shut up, as my custom was in\nthe church for meditation and prayer. She followed me thither, but being\nengaged with my Master, I answered no knocks or taps, whether at the\ndoors or windows; even on this occasion I did not respond, although I\nheard some one walking round and round the church and knocking\nimpatiently for admittance. When I came out, I heard that Hannah--had\ncalled and wished very much to see me; for she wanted (to use her own\nexpression) \"to hug the dear head of him, if she could catch him.\" She\nwas happy beyond expression, for she had had a dream; and what is more\nshe said that she had entered into the \"second blessing.\"\n\nIn her dream she saw a well of water as clear as crystal; it was\nbeautiful, and the clean pebbles at the bottom quite glistened with\nbrightness, so that she could count them. \"There, there,\" she said,\n\"What does any one want clearer and cleaner than that?\" As she looked\ninto this clear well, my voice said to her, \"Throw a pebble into it,\"\nwhen she did so; in an instant the water became thick and dirty. \"Ah,\"\nsaid my voice again, \"The water of grace is always clear as crystal, but\nthe well in which it is--that is your heart is most unclean. The Lord\ncan give you a clean heart, and renew a right spirit within you\" (Ps.\n51:10). She woke up from her sleep, and immediately began to pray,\nasking the Lord for a clean heart, until she obtained it.\n\nSome may say, \"But what did she obtain?\" This question is seldom if ever\nasked by persons who know the experience of this blessing; but to those\nwho do not, it is very difficult to convey an idea of what it is by\ndefinitions. Let it be enough to understand that there is something\ndesirable to be had, which may be obtained by doing as the woman did.\n\"As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man\" (Prov.\n27:19). Those who know it, understand one another and rejoice together.\nThere is no such mutual sympathy and joy as that which brethren have who\nare partakers of this higher blessing.\n\nAfter this, Hannah became a restful, peaceful soul; and many others,\nwith her, found that quiet confidence which can only belong to those who\ncan and do trust a risen and living Christ.\n\nIt was quite a new era in the work, and called out fresh energies; but\nlike every new thing, it absorbed too much attention, to the exclusion\nof the simple Gospel for the unsaved. \"Christ died for our sins,\" is\nonly part of the Gospel, though a very important part. \"Christ rose\nagain the third day according to the Scriptures\" (1 Cor. 15:3, 4), is\nalso a part, which should not be omitted in its due time and place.\nThese two important truths, I am sure, are needful for scriptural work,\nand they should both be systematically preached.\n\n\nCHAPTER 25\n\nThe Removal, 1855.\n\nWhen I was on the eve of leaving Perranzabuloe, and before I knew that I\nwas to go, I felt there was a gulf between the people and myself.\nWhatever else they held they were quite ignorant of ecclesiastical\nantiquities, Church history, and Catholic truth; what is more, they were\nunwilling to learn about such matters.\n\nNow I began to feel that another gulf was opening between my present\npeople and myself. It was not as before, about ecclesiastical things;\nbut on another score altogether. I wanted them to believe in a living\nSaviour: they were trying to content themselves with salvation instead.\nI wanted them to trust the Giver: they preferred to rejoice in the gift.\nI longed to lead them on to trust Christ as the object of faith, and\nfrom this to go on to devote themselves to His service, for very love of\nHim--to be loosed from the present world, by the hope of the Lord's\ncoming. I could not get the people to receive this teaching, though it\nwas God's truth, and could be verified by the Word.\n\nI confess that this threefold truth was not so satisfying to my own soul\nas I expected it would be. I remembered that I had not learned it from\nmen or books, but experimentally, by God's teaching, in answer to\nprayer. I could not imagine what was wanting, and did not discover, for\nseveral years after, that the mere knowledge of a truth by itself, even\nthough it is about Christ, cannot deliver. It is not the truth of Christ\nthat delivers, but the Christ of the truth. In itself, it is but an\ninstrument in the hand of the Spirit; and our expectation should be not\nfrom it, but from the Divine Person, whose it is.\n\nI have found that the power is Christ Himself; that where He is really\nthe object of faith, He keeps the believer in peace; and that if there\nis no peace, it is only because there is a deficiency of trust: that He,\nas the object of love, constrains us to work for His Father's glory; and\nthat He, as the object of hope, can and does separate us from the world\nand its entanglements, by drawing our affections to things above and\nbeyond the present. Not having discovered this simple yet important\ntruth, I was restless; and from God's Word came down to read the words'\nand thoughts of men. I fell in with the \"Life of Madame Guyon.\" Here I\nfound much sympathy, but somehow not that peace I was looking for. Then\nI read the writings of the Port Royal school, the Jansenists, Butler's\n\"Lives of the Saints,\" and other such books. These diverted my mind,\nemployed and interested it; but I cannot say they satisfied me. I was\ncraving for something which I had not found yet, and had to wait three\nyears or more before I did so.\n\nAbout this time I was invited to go to a parish in Plymouth, to a church\nwhere sacramental teaching was the rule. The incumbent was evidently as\nmuch dissatisfied with the state of his congregation as I was with mine.\nHe wanted something new, and I thought I did likewise. Accordingly I\nwent and preached in his pulpit, and the word spoken produced a marked\nsensation. My sermon brought to the vicar's mind many truths he had\nheard and loved in early days, and for this reason he urged me to stay\nand preach again. Then, to my surprise. He invited me to leave Cornwall\nand come to Plymouth. in order to take a district in his parish, that I\nmight help him occasionally in his church. This was altogether such an\nunsought-for thing, and so unexpected, that I took time to consider. The\nnext day I told him that I could not entertain his proposition, and that\nfor three reasons:--\n\n\n          1. I said, \"I am sure that the Bishop would not consent.\"\n          2. \"I have a debt laid on me by my patron for nearly 3,000 l.,\n             which I spent in building the church for him.\"\n          3. \"I am responsible for a debt of 300 l. as security.\"\n\nHe still urged it, and said he would go and see the Bishop, and speak\nwith him on the subject. In his zeal he set off that very morning. The\nBishop at first said flatly, \"No;\" and then, upon further inquiry,\nrecalled the word, and said, \"You may try it if you will.\" He returned\nin the evening with this information, which surprised me greatly. But\nwhat made me wonder still more, was the receipt of two letters the next\nmorning by the same post--one from London and the other from Paris,\nreleasing me from the responsibility of the two debts; and this without\nany request on my part. The three difficulties, which were like\nmountains before me only three days before, were now removed. I did not\nknow what to say, and therefore determined, in all haste, to go home and\nconsider the step.\n\nWhen I had related these astonishing circumstances to my dear wife, we\nagreed to go together to consult with Mr. Aitken. On arriving I said to\nhim, \"You must please to sit still and hear all before you speak.\" Then\nI told him of the invitation to go to Plymouth, the result of the\npreaching, the unexpected proposal to remove thither, the Bishop's\nanswer, and the remission of the 3,300 l.\n\n\"Now,\" I continued, \"what do you say?\"\n\n\"You must go, my brother,\" he replied; \"for you will never make\nCatholics of the Cornish people: the Methodist mind is far too deeply\nrooted in them.\"\n\nOur friend's decision was firm; and so there remained nothing for us to\ndo but to follow it. The novelty of the proposition, and the surprising\ncircumstances connected with it were exciting, and took away our\nthoughts for the time from the place which was to be left. When the\ndecision was given and accepted, then Baldhu seemed to lift up its\nvoice, and urge its claims. Certainly it was a strong tie which bound us\nto this place; but nevertheless, on our return home, I wrote to the\nBishop, and' proposed to resign my present incumbency, in order that I\nmight take a district in Plymouth. He replied in due course, that he\nwould accept my resignation. After I was thus pledged, my wife's mind\nveered from her consent to go; and Mr. Aitken changed his tone also, and\nsaid that the text had come to him, \"Cast thyself down,\" and that I was\ntempting God. Yet all the steps I had taken had been in prayer, and had\nbeen taken very reluctantly, for I was much attached to Baldhu.\n\nFor nearly three months I was torn with distractions; sometimes hope\nlifted up the mist from the horizon, and then let it down again. I did\nnot know what to do; the work at home had come to a stand; but there was\none thing, my successor was not yet appointed, nor had I signed my\nresignation; therefore every now and then the thought came over me, that\nI would stay. Then a letter came from Plymouth, urging me to come away\nat once, \"for the iron was hot for striking.\" Sometimes people came in\nand said, \"You had better go;\" then others would come in and say, \"You\nwill do no good if you do go.\" It was desolating, as well as distracting\nbeyond description.\n\nI had a family of six children and three servants; it was a great\nexpense to move there; and yet, if God was calling, it was quite as easy\nfor Him to move eleven people as one; and I had ten claims upon Him. At\nlast, suspense was over; my successor was appointed, and the day fixed\nfor our going. I signed my resignation, having to pay four pounds ten\nshillings for it; then, suspense was changed into unmitigated sorrow.\n\nI had designed and built that church and house, and had seen them rise;\nhad made the garden, and had had many happy and wonderful days in this\nplace. I found it had taken a deep root in my heart, and therefore it\nwas like tearing one up altogether to go away. But it was done now, and\nthe friends who had advised me not to resign, seemed to have their\ntriumph; and those who advised to go, were discouraged and grieved at my\nsorrowful state. My dear wife cheered up when she saw me down, and rose\nto the occasion; she began to pack up as if delighted at going, and went\nabout everything most cheerfully.\n\nI told the people that I could not bear a leave-taking, but there would\nbe a service in the church, and Holy Communion, at seven o'clock on the\nmorning we were to leave. Many came, but the majority could not sum up\nthe courage to do so. I put my resignation on the offertory plate, and\ngave it to God with many tears. A kind neighbour came to officiate for\nme, so that I did not take any part in the service, being exceedingly\ndejected and overwhelmed with sorrow. It was chiefly for fear, lest I\nwas doing that which God would not have me do, and taking my family out\nfrom a comfortable home, I knew not whither, or to what discomforts.\n\nOne thing I certainly saw plainly enough, that my affections were too\ndeeply rooted in earthly things. I had no idea till then, that that\nplace of my own creation had taken such a hold upon me. It was well to\nbe loose from that, and free for my Master's service.\n\nAfter breakfast we left the old place; many people stood weeping by the\nroadsides; some ventured to speak, and others only thrust their hands\ninto the carriage windows for a hearty grasp, without saying a word. It\nwas indeed a sorrowful day, the remembrance of which even now makes my\nheart sink, though it is more than twenty-five years since.\n\nIn the evening we arrived at the house of some friends, who had kindly\ninvited us to break our journey, and remain the night with them; and in\nthe morning we proceeded on our way to Plymouth. When we reached the\nhouse, we found our furniture unpacked, and distributed in the various\nrooms, and the table spread ready for us to take some refreshment. The\nword \"Welcome\" was done in flowers over the door, besides many other\ndemonstrations of kindness; but I am afraid we were all too sorrowful at\nthe time to show our appreciation of, or to enjoy them.\n\nWe never settled in that house, and did not care to unpack anything more\nthan necessary, or hang up the pictures or texts.\n\nMy work did not prosper here, for I found I was unequally yoked with\nstrangers, and accordingly felt dry and wretched. I sent my resignation\nof Baldhu to Bishop Phillpotts, and with it my nomination and other\nnecessary papers, saying that I would wait on his lordship for\ninstitution on a certain day.\n\nAt the appointed time I went to him, when to my great surprise, he very\ncalmly said he could not appoint me to that district. I could not\nunderstand this, for as I had told him, I had only resigned\nconditionally, and reminded him that I had asked his permission to\nresign, for the purpose of taking this district.\n\n\"How can I consciously appoint or license you to anything in my\ndiocese?\" he said, looking me full in the face, and then in his\ncourteous way he laid his commands on me to stay to luncheon, saying he\nwould be obliged \"if I would do him this honour;\" he bade me walk in the\ngarden, as he was busy, and would be occupied till luncheon.\n\nI felt that I needed a little quiet and fresh air to get over this\nclimax of my troubles--out of one living, and not into another; and that\nwith a wife, six children, and three servants, with very little to live\non. Here was a state of things! I had plenty to occupy my thoughts and\nprayers. I feared and mourned, above everything, lest God should be\nangry with me. \"Oh, if I could only know this is the will of God, then I\nshould not care a fig for all the bishops on the bench, and would not\nask one of them for anything!\"\n\nI was soon roused from my reverie, by the presence of Miss C. P., the\nBishop's daughter, who had come out at her father's request to show me\nthe garden and the view. I had known this lady slightly for several\nyears, and so she was not altogether a stranger to me, or I to her. She\ntalked so cheerfully and pleasantly, that it came to my mind, \"Perhaps\nafter all, the Bishop is only trying me. He will not appoint me to this\nbare district, because he has something better with which he means to\nsurprise me.\" This sanguine thought cheered me up greatly. At luncheon\nhe was as kind and happy as if he had neither done anything\ndishonourable, or had any intention of doing so; so that I felt quite\nsure something good was coming. I began to wonder at intervals, \"What\npart of the diocese I was to be sent to?--Where is there a vacancy?\" and\nso on.\n\nThe Bishop was as friendly to me as he used to be in other days. After\nthe repast, he summoned me to his study again. \"Now,\" I thought, \"I\nshall hear where I am to go;\" but instead of this, he said that he was\n\"much engaged, and must take leave of me.\"\n\nI was more than astonished at this, and said, \"I can scarcely believe\nthat you refuse to appoint me!\"\n\n\"I do then, most positively.\"\n\n\"But I have a copy of my letter to your lordship, and your answer.\"\n\n\"Then you may urge your claim by law, if you please.\"\n\n\"No, indeed, my lord, I do not think I will do that.\" And then, after a\nshort pause, I said, \"You have done for me what I could not dare do for\nmyself, though I have often been tempted to do it.\"\n\n\"And pray, what is that?\" he inquired.\n\n\"To give up parochial ministration, that I may be free to preach\nwherever I am led.\"\n\n\"Could you do that?\"\n\n\"I could not do it conscientiously myself; but now that you have\nstripped me of harness, I will put on no more.\"\n\nThe Bishop made his bow, and I made mine; and that was the end of our\ninterview. In my unconverted days I used to be an ardent and\nenthusiastic admirer of this man; his charges, his speeches, and\nespecially his withering, sarcastic letters to Lord John Russell and\nothers, who came under his tremendous lash, to my mind made him a great\nhero. His straight forward manner also commanded my respect, for,\ngenerally speaking, I had found bishops very smooth and two-sided, or\nrather both-sided; but in his ease there was no mistake.\n\nIt used to be a proud time for me when this Bishop came into Cornwall,\nand I was permitted to accompany him, and to act as his chaplain at the\nconsecration of a church or burial ground, or to attend him when he went\nto a Confirmation. Sometimes I had the happy privilege of rowing him in\na boat on the sea. He seemed to take such an affectionate and\nintelligent interest in my parish and my church work. He asked various\nquestions about my neighbours, just as if he lived among them and knew\nall their circumstances. He struck me as a wonderful man, and I was his\nchampion upon all occasions in my unconverted days. Notwithstanding\nthis, he was too honest to his own views to favour me after my\nconversion.\n\nOn my return home without a license, I had but a poor account to give,\nand the future prospect looked very gloomy.\n\n\nCHAPTER 26\n\nPlymouth, 1855.\n\nI occasionally preached in the parish church, and went to the daily\nCommunion and the daily service. My spare time I occupied (it was like\ngoing back to brick-making in Egypt) in painting the church. I laboured\nfor hours and hours to try and make this great chalk-pit of a place look\nsomewhat ecclesiastical. All round the church I painted a diaper\npattern, surmounted with a border, which went over the doors and under\nthe windows. Then on the bare wall at the end I painted a life-sized\nfigure of our Lord, as a Shepherd leading His sheep, taken from\nOverbeck's picture. This, together with a few other pictures of Christ,\nwarmed up the building very well. Then for the chancel I had a most\nelaborate design.\n\nFirst, there was a beautiful gilded pattern over the very lofty chancel\narch, which I managed to reach by means of a ladder. Professional people\nneed scaffolding and platforms, which I dispensed with, and accomplished\nthe whole space in less time than it would take to put up all their\nneedful erections. Inside the chancel I had twelve niches, with\ntabernacle work above them, for the twelve apostles; and these were all\nduly represented after a true mediaeval pattern.\n\nThe local newspaper made great fun of these paintings; and the reporter\nwould have it, that \"these lively saints looked very conscious of being\nput up there, and that they were constantly 'craning' their necks to\nlook at one another--as if they would inquire, 'I say, how do you like\nbeing there?'\" My favourite figure, St. John, upon which I bestowed\nextra pains, the provoking man would have it, was St. Mary Magdalene,\nleering at the apostle next to her, or at the one opposite--it did not\nseem quite clear to him which; but her head was down on one side in a\nbewitching attitude.\n\nIn the middle of the great undertaking I was called away for a few\nweeks. During this time the reporter came again and again, but saw no\nprogress; he therefore put an advertisement into his paper to this\neffect:--\n\n\"Stolen or strayed, a monkish priest, who paints apostles. He is not to\nbe found. Any person or persons who can give information concerning this\nabsent personage, will greatly oblige.\"\n\nMy preaching was not acceptable in this church, neither was my\nconnection with it; and my apostles were no better appreciated, for they\nwere soon after whitewashed over, and disappeared like a dream.\nSometimes, in damp weather, they were still to be seen \"craning\" their\nnecks as heretofore (much to the amusement of the chorister boys) though\nwith a kind of veil upon them. Doubtless, in a future generation, when\nthe plaster begins to blister, some antiquarian will discover this\n\"wonderful mediaeval fresco,\" and call the attention of the public to\nit.\n\nMy ideas and dreams about catholic advancement were thus brought to a\ncalamitous end. This church to which I had come was one in high credit\nfor much private and public devotion; but, alas! I found what I might\neasily have expected, that without spiritual vitality everything must be\ndry and dead! Dry and dead indeed it was. The conversation of these\nsupposed ascetics was for the most part secular, and at the highest only\necclesiastical. Their worship, on which a great amount of pains and cost\nwas bestowed, was but a form carefully prepared and carefully executed,\nas if critics were present; yet it did not, and could not, rise to\nspirituality. A lady presided at the organ, and had the teaching and\ntraining of the choir. Much of her own personal and religious character\nwere imparted to the performances, which in tone and manner were\nadmirable and precise. She made the boys understand the sense of the\nwords they sang, till I have seen them even in tears during the singing.\nThe \"chaste old verger\" (as our reporter called him), who headed the\nprocession at least four times a day, up and down the church, was a very\nimportant and successful part of the machinery, and from him, up to the\nhighest official, everything was carried out with exact precision.\n\nBut oh, how unsatisfying and disappointing it was!--to a degree which I\nwas ashamed to own! How could I be so foolish, to give up a living,\nwhere there was vitality, though it was rough, for a superficial and\nartificial semblance of religion? In the book of Ecclesiastes we read,\nthat \"a living dog is better than a dead lion;\" and though I had often\nquoted this saying, I never felt the truth of it so deeply as now. The\ndead lion and the dead elephant are quite immovable things for a live\ndog to bark at or fret about. It was a hard and trying time to me in\nthat place. I could not see my way, or understand at all what was the\nLord's will towards me. While in this state of mind I had a vivid dream.\nI thought that the ornamental iron grating, which was for ventilating\nthe space under the floor of the church, was all glowing with fire, as\nif a great furnace were raging there. I tried to cry \"Fire!\" but could\nnot. Then I ran into the church, and saw it full of people reverently\nabsorbed in their devotions. I tried again to give the alarm, and cry\n\"Fire! fire!\" but I could not utter a sound. When I looked up, I saw\nthin, long, waving strings of fire coming up among the people through\nthe joints of the floor. I called attention to this, but no one else\ncould see it. Then I became frantic in my gesticulation, and at last was\nable to tell some of the congregation of the great fire which was under\nthem; but they looked at one another, smiling, and told me to go about\nmy business--that I was mad! I woke out of my troubled sleep in a very\nagitated and perturbed state. Since that, whenever I have seen or heard\nof churches, where Church and Sacraments are preached, instead of\nChrist, as the one way of salvation, I long to warn the people of the\nfire raging underneath, and to show them the way of the Lord more\nperfectly.\n\nOne day, when I was feeling more desponding and wretched than before, a\nlady called, and said she wanted to speak to me--would I come to her\nhouse for this purpose? I went, and she was not long before she opened\nthe conversation by charging me with being uncharitable. \"You say we are\nall unconverted.\"\n\nI replied, \"Of course, as children of Adam we are, till conversion takes\nplace; there can be no mistake about that! But when did I say that you\nwere unconverted? Is it not your own conscience that tells you that?\nWhen we preach to people as unconverted, those who are changed, and\nbrought from death into life, know as well as possible that we do not\nmean them; and they pray for a blessing on the Word, that it may reach\nothers, as it once reached them. They do not sit there and resent the\ncharge, for they know what has passed between God and their souls, and\nare anxious for others to share the same blessing.\" She was silent; so I\ncontinued, \"May I ask you the question. Are you converted? Can you tell\nme that you are?\"\n\nShe replied, \"I do not know what you mean.\"\n\n\"Well, then, why do you suppose that I mean something uncharitable or\nbad?\"\n\n\"Because I know very well it is not a good thing to be unconverted.\nBut,\" she added, \"it seems such an unkind thing to put us all down for\n'lost,' while you suppose yourself to be saved.\"\n\n\"You may know more about this some day, perhaps; but in the meantime\nwill you allow me to ask you one thing: Do you believe in the Lord Jesus\nChrist?\"\n\nShe replied indignantly, \"Of course I do. Now, this is the very want of\ncharity I complain of-the idea of asking me such a question!\"\n\nShe was one of the Rev. --'s, (the confessor's) favourite devotees, and\nhad been absolved by him for several years; the very idea of asking her\nif she believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, made her quite impatient, as\nwell as indignant.'\n\nI said, \"Do not be angry with me, but what do you believe about Him?\"\n\n\"Believe everything, of course! I believe the creed.\"\n\n\"Yes, I do not doubt that, for a moment. But do you believe that Jesus\ndied for you?\"\n\n\"Why, yes, certainly: how could I do otherwise; He died for us all.\"\n\n\"That is not the point. I mean, do you believe that He died; and that\nyou have a personal interest in His death?\"\n\nShe hesitated, and then looking at me said, \"Do you mean objectively, or\nsubjectively?\"\n\n\"May I ask what I am to understand by these words?\"\n\n\"Dr. -- taught me that, 'Christ died.' is objective, and that 'Christ\ndied for me.' is subjective.\"\n\n\"Very good indeed,\" I answered, \"I like that very much; it is quite\ntrue. But it is one thing to know about subjective faith, and quite\nanother thing to have it. Now I will come back to my question. Do you\nbelieve that Christ died for you?\"\n\n\"You evidently mean something that I do not understand,\" she said, in a\nperplexed manner. Then looking at the crucifix on her table, I said,\n\"What does that remind you of?\"\n\n\"Oh, I pray before that every day, and ask the Lord to take my sins\naway.\"\n\n\"Then you do not think your sins are forgiven yet. How can you ask for\nforgiveness, and have it at the same time?\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say then,\" she replied, with surprise, \"that you have no\nsins?\"\n\n\"Yes, I mean to say that my sins were atoned for, once for all, on the\ncross; and that, believing this, I have peace and remission of sins. My\npast sins are cast like a stone into the deep; and as to my daily sins\nof omission and commission, I do not take them to the cross like a\nRomanist, but to the throne of grace, where the risen and living Christ\nis now making intercession for me.\"\n\nShe was silent; and so was I, inwardly praying for her. Presently she\nlooked up and said, \"I do thank Him for dying for me. Is that what you\nwant me to say?\"\n\n\"Thanksgiving is an indication of living faith. How can I believe that\nJesus died for me, and not thank Him?\"\n\n\"But I do thank Him, and it is very uncharitable of you to say, we do\nnot thank Him; we all thank Him!\"\n\nShe was gone again, and I wondered whether I should ever bring her back!\n\n\"You remind me,\" I said, \"of three ladies of good position, whom I met\nlast year. They all professed to thank God for Christ's death; but yet\nthey had no peace, and were not satisfied. Seeing they were in real\nearnest, I proposed to go over the General Thanksgiving in the\nPrayer-book with them. They did so, and thanked God for creation,\npreservation, and all the blessings of this life, but above all--then as\nI emphasized this 'above all,' they said, almost together, 'That is where\nwe are wrong. We have not 'put the redeeming love of God as shown in\nChrist's death, above all.' These three ladies found peace and pardon\nthat same evening.\"\n\n\"That has been my mistake too,\" said the lady, interrupting me. \"I have\nnever put Jesus above all; but I do desire to do so, and that with all\nmy heart.\"\n\n\"Then do so,\" I said, \"and thank Him for His love in dying in your\nstead, and shedding His blood to wash your sins away.\"\n\n\"He shall have all my heart!\" she exclaimed.\n\nSo saying, she knelt before the crucifix, and bowing gracefully and most\nreverently, she reproached herself for not putting Jesus first, and\nsaid, \"Thou art worthy! Glory be to Thee, for Thy great love to me.\"\nThen she rose from her knees, and once more tuning to me, said, \"Thank\nyou so much! God bless you for your kindness and patience with me! I\ncannot tell you how much I thank you. Do you remember once preaching\nabout Abraham offering up his son Isaac? You said, 'God the Father has\ndone more than this for us; and yet how few cry to Him and say, \"By this\nI know that Thou lovest me!\"' I thought, and felt then, that you knew\nsomething which I should like to know; and I have been longing to speak\nto you ever since. Oh, I do thank you so much!\"\n\n\"Dear friend, I cannot refuse your thanks, but I should like to see you\nthanking God more than you thank me.\"\n\nI knew that she could sing and play, so, pointing to the piano, I asked\nher if she would sing a hymn. \"Yes,\" she said, \"I will. What shall I\nsing?\"\n\n\"Find 'When I survey the wondrous cross,'\" I said.\n\nShe did not need to find the music, for she knew it without; so, sitting\ndown, she began to sing, till the tears came into her eyes, and her\nvoice broke down. \"I never knew the meaning of these words before,\" she\nsaid; \"'Sorrow and love flow mingled down.' How could I be so blind and\nignorant? 'Love so amazing, so divine,' does 'demand my life, my soul,\nmy all!' O Lord, take it!\"\n\nAfter this, I had a few parting words with her, and pointing to the\ncrucifix I said, \"Remember Christ is not on the cross now. He died; that\nis past. He is risen, and has ascended up on high. The throne of grace\nis not the crucifix or the confessional, but where Christ sits--at the\nright hand of God; and we, as believers, may in heart and mind thither\nascend, and with Him continually dwell. Have done, then, with this dead\nPopery; you know better now. Testify for the glory of God.\"\n\nThis lady's conversion vexed her husband greatly, and brought down the\nfrowns and disapprobation of the reverend doctor; altogether, it did a\ndeal of mischief in the camp. The \"Sisters of Mercy\" with whom she was\nconnected were kept aloof from her contaminating influence, and soon\nafterwards were altogether removed from the place. There was one,\nhowever, a particularly hard-headed looking individual, who used to\nstare at me through her round spectacles whenever I met her, as if I\nwere an ogre. I heard that she was a great mathematician. She looked\nlike it; and evidently there was no fear entertained of her being\nconverted. She and one other were left behind; but otherwise the house,\nwhich had been built at great cost, was empty. The lady was not allowed\nto speak to me any more; but I hope she continued to go to the true\nthrone of grace, and not to the crucifix to a living, not a dead Christ.\n\nAll this, doubtless, was intended to sicken me of my reverence for the\nCatholic theory. I was evidently under an infatuation on the subject,\nwhich, for the time, nothing could dispel. I had some poetic or\nimaginary fancy of spiritual catholicity before my mind, which I\nsupposed was something better than the fleshy spirituality of Methodism,\nto which I had taken a great dislike; but where to find this Utopia, or\nhow to embody it, I knew not. These specimens of catholic people I\ncertainly had no sympathy with; nor had I any patience with their hollow\ndevotion and their studied imitation of Popery. I plainly saw that light\ncould have no fellowship with darkness, or life with death. I was more\nand more convinced that when a man has more sympathy with dead Catholics\nthan with living Dissenters, he is not a living soul at all. There is no\nnecessity to go to one extreme or the other. I believe the reformed\nChurch of England (in her principles, at least) occupies the middle path\nbetween these two extremes, with the excellences of both, and the faults\nof neither. I think I was permitted to be thus unsettled in my mind,\nbecause I did not keep to my work with a single eye to God's glory.\n\n\nCHAPTER 27\n\nDevonport, 1855.\n\nI was at this time invited to preach in a church in Devonport, where it\npleased the Lord to give blessing to His word. With this exception, my\nwork was, generally speaking confined to individual cases. I will give\nan account of a few which present the most instruction and interest.\n\nThe first I will mention is that of one of the curates of the church in\nwhich I was asked to preach. At this time he was preparing for\nconfession, and his self-examination had brought him to see and feel\nthat he was a sinner. Under this course of preparation, the preaching of\nthe Gospel had much effect upon him, and he came to tell me of his\nstate. I was able to show him from the Word of God that he was in a\nworse condition than he supposed--that actually, by nature, we are lost\nsinners now. Under the operation of the Holy Spirit he was brought to\nfeel this also, and was very miserable.\n\nOne day, while officiating at a funeral, the Lord spoke peace to his\nsoul; so great was his joy, that, he said, he could scarcely refrain\nfrom shouting aloud in the middle of the service. After it was over he\nwent about everywhere, telling of his conversion, and the Lord's\ndealings with his soul.\n\nThe result of this was that his fellow-curate (who was also preparing\nfor confession) was awakened, and came to me in great distress of mind,\ndeclaring he \"could not say he was converted,\" and that he was very\nunhappy. He acknowledged that he should not like to die as he was, and\ntherefore knew he ought not to be satisfied to live in that state.\nHowever, when I got to close dealing with him about his soul, he said\nthat though he could not say he was saved, he certainly thought that he\nwas being saved by continual absolution and the sacrament. Upon this, I\nwas enabled to show him that he did not go to the means of grace, or\neven to the Lord's table, because he was saved, but in order to be\nsaved; and that he was working for life, and not from life. He gave up\ndisputing, and was not long before he too found peace in believing.\n\nThe time was approaching for these two curates to go, as usual, to\nconfession. They came together to ask me about it. I counselled them to\ngo, by all means, to the reverend doctor, who usually received their\nconfession, and to tell him in their own words how the Lord had\nconvicted and converted them. I said that Bilney, one of the first\nmartyrs of the Reformation, when he was converted, went immediately to\nmake confession to Latimer, and by doing so he became the means of his\nconversion. \"Go, by all means; you do not know what use the Lord may\nmake of your testimony.\"\n\nThey went accordingly, but did not meet with the happy success of\nBilney, for they were sent indignantly away one after the other for\nsaying their sins were pardoned and their souls save, and that by direct\nand personal faith in Christ, without the intervention of a priest. The\nreverend confessor, unlike the honest Latimer, said these young men had\ncome to mock him.\n\nNotwithstanding these instances of usefulness and encouragement, I\ncontinued to be very unhappy, for want of more general work, and felt as\nif God had cast me off. I can now see that this testing and perplexing\ndispensation through which I was passing, was not altogether such a\nbarren desert as I felt it to be at the time. It was fraught with many\nlessons, which have stood by me ever since, though I must confess I\nnever revert to this period without many unhappy memories.\n\nI will record one more lesson which I was taught in this place, and then\ngo on to other subjects.\n\nOne warm spring day, while I was sitting in my house with the doors and\nwindows open, a gentleman came running into it in great haste, somewhat\nto my surprise, he being a perfect stranger to me, and I to him.\nStanding in the passage, and looking into the room where I was seated,\nhe said, \"Sir, are you a clergyman?\"\n\nI replied, \"Yes, I am.\"\n\n\"For God's sake, come; follow me!\"\n\nSo saying, he went away. I immediately took up my hat, and ran after him\ndown the side of the square, and noticing the gate where he turned in, I\nwalked leisurely to the same place, and found him in the passage of his\nhouse panting for breath. He had run so fast that he could not speak,\nbut made a sign to me to go upstairs; then pointing to a door, he bade\nme go in. On doing so, I saw at once it was a sick-chamber, and found\nmyself alone in the presence of a lady, who was sitting up in the bed. I\nbowed to her, and said, \"Can I help you?\"\n\nShe said, \"Oh, no! it is too late!\"\n\n\"Too late for what?\"\n\n\"I am dying; I am lost! I am lost! It is too late--too late!\"\n\n\"But Christ came, and is present, to-save the lost.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! I know all that. I taught it to others, but I never believed\nit myself. And now it is too late: I am lost!\"\n\n\"Then believe it now! Why not 'now'?\"\n\n\"Because it is too late!\"\n\n\"While there is life there is hope! Lose no more time. 'God so loved the\nworld, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on\nHim should not perish'\" (John 3:16).\n\n\"That is not for me. I know that text very well, but it will not do for\nme. I am lost! I am lost! It is too late!\"\n\nWhile I was speaking I saw her falling over the side of the bed.\nSpringing forward, I put out my arm, and, with her head resting on it,\nand her despairing eyes looking into my face, she expired. I could\nscarcely believe it, when I saw that flush on her face fade away unto\nthe pallor of death. She was gone! I placed her poor head on the pillow,\nand rang the bell for assistance. Her mother and sister came in, saying,\n\"Is it not dreadful?\"\n\nI said, \"Look at her. She is gone. She said it was too late, and that\nshe was lost for ever.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" exclaimed the mother, \"it is most dreadful!--most dreadful!\" This\npoor young lady used to be a Sunday-school teacher and district visitor;\nbut she was never converted, and she knew it. She had full\nhead-knowledge, but no heart experience, and thus she died in unforgiven\nsins. Lost---for ever lost!\n\nNotwithstanding this, and other solemn lessons which the Lord was\nteaching me at this time, I was still restless and unhappy. I felt as if\nmy life, with its work, was cut off in the very beginning of its\nusefulness, and that there was no more for me to do. As the weather\nbecame hot with the advancing summer, I was more and more dejected in\nmind and body. I lived now among strangers, and had no settled\noccupation, nor could I apply myself to study.\n\nOne very hot and dusty afternoon, as I was slowly toiling up a steep\nhill, two women overtook me; and as they were passing, I heard one say\nto the other, in a very sad and disheartened tone, \"I wish I had never\nbeen born;\" and the other responded much in the same spirit, though I\ncould not hear what she said. A fellow-reeling makes us wondrous kind,\nand has the effect of drawing out our sympathies. I followed these poor\nwomen, and when we were on the top of the hill, I spoke to them, and\nthen added, \"You seem very weary. Will you come in and take a cup of tea\nand rest a little?\" They thanked me, and consented. So I took them into\nthe house, and asked for some tea. While it was being prepared, I said\nto them, \"I overheard you talking on the road as you passed me. Do you\nreally wish you had never been born?\" The poor woman who had uttered\nthese words burst into tears; and as soon as she could command her\nfeelings sufficiently, she told me her sad tale of sorrow and trouble.\nShe was a soldier's wife, as was also the other, and they were both in\nthe same distress. \"Well,\" I said, \"trouble does not spring out of the\nground; and we may be equally sure that God, who sends, or at least\npermits it, does so for our good. One thing is certain, that if we\nhumble ourselves under the mighty hand of God, He can and will lift us\nup, for He has promised to do so. He will make all things work together\nfor our good, if we trust Him.\" I then asked them if they had given\ntheir hearts to God.\n\nOne of them said, \"Ah, that is what I ought to have done long ago; I\nknow a deal better than I do. I was brought up well, no mistake; but I\nwas giddy, and went after the red-coats, and married an ungodly man, and\nnow I am suffering for it.\"\n\n\"Dear woman,\" I said, \"you may thank God for hedging up your path. He\nmight have given you over to prosperity and a false happiness, or left\nyou altogether. Thank God that it is not worse with you; and give Him\nyour heart. Do you believe that the Lord Jesus died for you?\" She would\nnot speak. Then I turned to the other, who was also crying, and said,\n\"Do you believe?\"\n\n\"I did once,\" she said, in a dejected tone; \"but I have gone back from\neverything.\"\n\nBy this time their tea was ready, so I refreshed them with it; and after\nthat we resumed our conversation and united in prayer. They both gave\ntheir hearts to God. I found that they lived not far off, so I had the\nopportunity of seeing them from time to time, and was able to instruct\nand cheer them on their way. I can see now how God was speaking to me\nthrough these women; but somehow I did not hear or recognize His voice\nthen.\n\nAbout this time, my dear wife became very prostrate in health and\nspirits--so much so, that we felt anxious about her. I went to a famous\nphysician, who was in the neighbourhood, and asked him to come and see\nher. He did so, and after careful examination, said that there was\nreally nothing the matter more than that she was one of those persons\nwho could not live in that limestone town in the summer. He said, \"She\nwill be perfectly well if you take her away into the country. You must\ndo this at once, for the longer she remains here, the weaker she will\nbe.\" He refused to take any fee, and said he would send a carriage at\ntwo o'clock, and that we must be ready to start by that time. This was\nmore easily said than done; for where could I take the children, or how\ncould I leave them at home? However, as the doctor was very peremptory,\nwe prayed about it, and considered how we were to accomplish the task.\n\nAt this critical moment a friend arrived in his carriage, and said he\nhad driven in from the country to bring some relatives of his to the\ntrain, and did not care to go back alone. \"Would one of us, or both,\ntake pity on him, and give him our company?\" As soon as he heard of our\nposition he greatly rejoiced, and said, \"Come, all of you; I have plenty\nof room!\" He took the invalid, with some of the children. I shut up the\nhouse, and followed with the others and the nurse, in the fly, which\nduly arrived at two o'clock. By five o'clock we were all out in the\ngreen fresh country, and our patient was already revived, and walking\nabout the garden.\n\nThere happened to be a farm-house vacant, which we took, and removing\nsome of the furniture, made it comfortable for the present. This we\ncalled \"home\" for a little time during my unsettled state.\n\n\nCHAPTER 28\n\nA Mission to the North, 1855.\n\nWhen my family were all comfortably settled and surrounded by kind\nfriends, I went off to the north of England, on a visit to a clergyman,\nwho had invited me. He had already suffered for doing this on a previous\noccasion, in the diocese of Oxford; where the bishop took away his\nlicence, because he had me to preach for him. The real cause of offence\nwas, that there was a revival in the parish; and complaint was made to\nthe bishop, that people were kept up till \"all hours of the night,\nhowling and praying.\" His lordship sent forthwith for my friend's\nlicence; I advised him to send it, saying, \"He will be sure to return it\nto you; but perhaps with a reprimand.\" Instead of this, the bishop kept\nit, and said that he would countersign his testimonials to go to another\ndiocese. My friend was at first disgusted and disposed to rebel; but\ninstead of this, he bore the treatment patiently; and went to another\nposition and charge at G--, in the north of England.\n\nThither, nothing afraid, he invited me to come. In this part of the\ncountry I found a hearty lively people, something like the Cornish. Here\nI soon regained my spirits, and got to work in right earnest.\n\nIn this place a revival began at once; and every day we had people\ncrying for mercy, very much in the way they did in Cornwall. Among\nothers, there came to the church on Sunday afternoon, a tall\nYorkshireman, in his working clothes. He stood under the gallery, in his\nshirt sleeves, with a clay pipe sticking out of his waistcoat pocket,\nand a little cap on his head. I fancy I can see him now, standing erect,\nlooking earnestly at me while I was preaching, with his hand on one of\nthe iron supports of the gallery. As the sermon proceeded he became\ndeeply interested, and step by step drew nearer to the pulpit. He seemed\nto be altogether unconscious that he was not dressed for a Sunday\ncongregation, or that he was the object of any special notice. After the\nsermon he knelt down in the aisle, and there he remained. I was called\nout of the vestry to go to him, but could not get him to say a word. I\nprayed by his side, and after some time he groaned out an \"Amen,\" then\nhe got up, and went towards the door. I followed him, and saw that\ninstead of going along the path, he made across the graves in the\nchurchyard, to a particular one; and then he threw himself on the\nground, in vehement and convulsive emotion. He said something about\n\"Edward,\" but we could not distinguish what it was. The sexton said that\nthis was his son Edward's grave. Poor man! he was in great sorrow; but\nhe kept it all to himself. He then went home, and shut himself up in his\nown room. His daughter could do nothing with him in his distress. We\ncalled several times to see him in the course of the evening, but in\nvain.\n\nThe next morning I called again, when his daughter told me that he had\ngone out early, and had not returned to breakfast. She appeared to be in\na good deal of trouble, and said she had been to his mine to inquire for\nhim, but that he was not there. All day long we searched for him. Some\nlooked in the woods, half-expecting they might find his body on the\nground, or hanging from a tree; while others inquired in every\ndirection, with increasing anxiety, till the evening. Then, as we were\nreturning home in despair and disappointment, whom should we see in the\ngreen lane between the vicarage and the church, but our friend. He was\nlooking into the shrubs as if watching something; and when we came up to\nhim, he turned to us with a radiant smile, and said, \"The Lord is\n'gude.'\"\n\nI said, \"You are right, He is so.\"\n\n\"Yes, I am right, all right! thank God! Think of that! He saved me this\nday!\"\n\n\"Are you coming to church to-night?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, certainly I will be there.\"\n\n\"But,\" I said, \"have you been home yet?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, sir, thank you; my girl knows all about me.\"\n\nThat man was so manifestly changed, and so filled with the Spirit, that\nhis old worldly companions were afraid of him. The publican of the inn\nhe used to frequent was particularly so, and said he was frightened to\nbe in the same room with him.\n\nThere was a great stir among the people in this place; for the fear of\nthe Lord had fallen on them, so that they were solemnized exceedingly,\nand many were converted.\n\nThe vicar being somewhat timid, began to be afraid of what was going on;\nand wrote to ask counsel of a clerical neighbour at C--, who answered\nhis letter by inviting him to come over, and bring me with him. He said\nthat he wanted me to preach in his church on the following Friday\nevening, adding, \"I have already given notice, and also read parts of\nyour letter in church. I am sure the people will come and hear this man;\nI expect a large congregation. Be sure and bring him over; do not\ndisappoint me on any account!\"\n\nAccordingly, on the Friday we appeared there, and in the evening I\npreached to a large and attentive assembly. Many were awakened, and some\nremained behind to be spoken with; others, who were too shy to do so,\nwent home; and we heard the next morning that several had had no sleep\nor rest all night. Three men, whom we saw in the morning, had found\npeace. After this, we drove slowly back to G--, but a messenger had\narrived before us, and said that I must come back again with him, for\nthe bills were already out that I would preach on Sunday and following\ndays at C----. The vicar was most reluctant to let me go, but under\nthese circumstances, he at last consented; so I went back in the\ncarriage the messenger had brought for that purpose.\n\nAt the Sunday morning service, the manner and tone of the people, and\ntheir eager attention, implied that something was going to happen. There\nwas a deeply solemn feeling in the church, both morning and evening,\nwhich made it very easy to preach. In the course of my sermon, I know\nnot why, I was led to Speak about the endless misery of hell; and some\nwho were present said I asserted, \"That there was a great clock in hell,\nwith a large dial, but no hands to mark the progress of time: it had a\npendulum which swung sullenly and slowly from side to side, continually\nsaying, 'Ever! never!' 'Ever! never!'\" *\n\n______________________\n\n* Both Bridaine and Krummacher have expressed somewhat the same idea.\n________________________\n\nThis seemed to make a profound sensation among the people: many stayed\nto the after-meeting-they would not go away until they had been spoken\nwith. Among others, the churchwarden came to me in a very excited state,\nand said, \"What ever made you say, 'Now or never!--now or never!'?\" He\nwas like one beside himself with emotion when he thought of the pendulum\nwhich I had described. \"Now or never!--now or never!\" he kept on\nrepeating to himself, till at last he went away. He was far too excited\nto talk of anything else, or to listen either.\n\nLater on in the evening, we were sent for to come in all haste to his\nhouse. There we found him in great trouble of mind, and afraid to go to\nbed. After talking to him for a short time, he went on to say that he\nhad a strange thing to tell us--that that very morning he was lying in\nbed (he thought he was quite awake), and looking at a little picture of\nthe crucifixion which was hanging over the fireplace. While doing so he\nsaw as plainly as possible some black figures of imps and devils walking\nalong the mantelpiece with a ladder, which they placed against the wall,\nevidently for the purpose of removing this picture from its place. He\nwatched them intently, and noticed that they seemed much troubled and\nperplexed as to how they were to accomplish their task: Some of the imps\nput their shoulders to the under side of the frame, while others went up\nthe ladder; one, in particular, mounted to the top with great dexterity,\nto get the cord off the nail, but without success. Enraged at this, they\nmade various other attempts, but all in vain, and at last they gave up\nin despair, if not something worse; for by this time they appeared\nfurious, and dashed the ladder down to the ground, as if it were the\nfault of it, and not of themselves. In rage and disappointment, they\npassed off the scene.\n\nPresently the bedroom door opened, as he thought, and who should present\nhimself but \"Paul Pry\" (that was the name he had given to a Dissenting\npreacher in the village, who was a portly man, and always went about\nwith a thick umbrella under his arm)--the veritable Paul Pry, umbrella\nand all, standing at the door. He said to his visitor, \"What do you want\nhere?\" The phantom pointed to the picture over the mantelpiece, and\nsaid, in a quiet, confiding way, \"Now or never! Do you hear, man? Now or\nnever!\" The man was indignant at this untimely intrusion, and bade his\nvisitor begone; but, for all that, he still stood at the door, and said,\n\"Now or never!--now or never!\" He got out of bed, and went towards the\ndoor, but the figure disappeared, saying, \"Now or never!--now or never!\"\n\nThen he got into bed again, and all was still for a little while, when\nsuddenly the door opened a second time, and the vicar appeared, just as\nPaul Pry had done, and came towards the bed, as if with a friendly and\naffectionate concern for his welfare, and said, \"My dear fellow, be\npersuaded it is 'now or never!'\" Then, taking a seat at the corner of\nthe bed, with his back leaning against the post, he went on talking, and\nsaying, again and again, \"Now or never!\"\n\nThe poor churchwarden remonstrated in vain against being visited in this\nmanner, and thought it very hard; but the vicar sat there, and\npersistently, said, \"Now or never!\" He became very angry, and bade him\ngo out of the room immediately; but the vicar said, \"Now or never!\"\n\n\"I will 'now' you,\" he said, \"if you do not be off;\" and so saying he\nrose up in his bed; while the vicar glided to the door, repeating, \"Now\nor never!\" and went away. The poor man, in great distress of mind,\nturned to his wife, and asked her what could be the meaning of all this;\nbut she only cried, and said nothing.\n\nThen, who should come next but Mr. F----, a quiet man of few words. He\nhad thoughts, no doubt, but kept them all to himself. He came gliding\ninto the room, as the vicar had done, sat on the same corner of the bed,\nleant against the same post, and in 'the quietest way possible repeated\nthe same words, \"Now or never!\"\n\n\"Do you hear him?\" said the poor distracted man to his wife--\"do you\nhear him?\"\n\n\"Hear him? Hear what? No! nonsense! What does he say?\"\n\n\"My dear, there! listen!\"\n\n\"Now or never!\" said the quiet man.\n\n\"There, did you not hear that?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"I can hear nothing,\" and began to cry more copiously.\nHe got up, and said he would take the poker and punish every one of\nthem--that he would. The strange visitor made for the door, and, like\nall the rest, said, as he disappeared, \"Now or never!\"\n\nThe poor churchwarden continued in a most distracted state, and during\nthe day met all his three visitors who had caused him so much\nanxiety--\"Paul Pry,\" the vicar, and the quiet gentleman, none of whom\nlooked at him or spoke to him as if anything had happened; but when he\nheard me say over and over again in the pulpit, \"Now or never!\"\npointing, as it were, to the ghostly pendulum swinging there saying,\n\"Ever!--never!\" and inquiring of the people \"Do you see it? do you hear\nit?\" it seemed to bring matters to a climax. He said he turned and\nlooked at the wall to which I pointed, and almost expected to see that\nsolemn clock.\n\nI did not wait to hear more, but kneeling down, I begged him to close\nwith the offer of salvation \"now.\" \"No,\" he said, with a sigh, \"I am\nafraid I have refused too long!\"\n\n\"Don't say so! take it at once, 'now;' or perhaps it will be 'never'\nwith you. A man does not often get such a plain warning as you have had.\nYou had better take care what you are doing. 'Now!' why not 'now'?\" He\ndid accept salvation, and yielding himself to God, received forgiveness\nof his sins; and after that became a very different man.\n\nHe had, as may have been suspected from the above narrative, the\nbesetment of drink, before his conversion, and it remained a trouble to\nhim after. Conversion and forgiveness of sins do not put away present\nbad habits. Such a master habit as this requires a direct dealing with.\n\nZaccheus was a man who had been led astray by the love of money; when he\nwas saved, he put his idol away from him at a stroke. This is the first\nthing to be done; and if it is done in the power of one's first love, it\nis a more easy task than afterwards. But it must be done with a firm and\nwhole heart; not \"Lord, shall I give the half of my goods to feed the\npoor?\" but, \"Lord. behold, the half of my goods I do give.\" \"Behold,\nLord, I do give up the world here, now.\" \"Behold, Lord, I do here, and\nnow, give up drink, anti will totally abstain from it henceforth.\" This\nis the first step; and the next is not less important, and that is to\ncarry out the determination in the Lord's power, and not in our own. The\nresolution and determination once made, must be given over to the Lord\nto be kept by Him; not by our own effort and energy, but with perfect\ndistrust of self and in dependence upon Him to enable us to keep it.\nWithout this, there is no security whatever for anything more than\ntemporary success, too often succeeded by a sorrowful fall. The flesh is\ntoo strong for us, and even if it were not so, the devil is; these two\ntogether, besides the lax example of the world, are sure to overpower\nthe weak one. Young Christians need to put away at once the sin,\nwhatever it is, that \"so easily besets\" them, or they will be entangled\nby it. There is no real and thorough deliverance, except by renouncing\nsin, and self too, giving up and yielding to the Lord.\n\nThat soul was saved; but it was a miserable bondage of fear in which he\nlived and died. He was brought home at last, like a wrecked ship into\nharbour, who might have come in with a good freight, a happy welcome,\nand an \"abundant entrance.\"\n\nThe next day, Monday, we heard of other cases which were ordinary in\ntheir character, and therefore need not be detailed; but in the evening\nthere was one which it will be instructive to mention.\n\nIt was that of a clergyman of private means who came to this parish as a\ncurate; but he had given up \"taking duty,\" because, he said, \"it was all\nhumbug reading prayers, and all that.\" He drove a tandem,' and smoked\nall day instead; nevertheless, he was the object of much and earnest\nprayer. He also happened to be at church the day I preached about the\nclock; and declared likewise that I said there was a clock in hell. The\nsermon had evidently made a great impression upon him. He came to church\nagain the next day, and heard something else that he was unable to\nforget. After the service, as soon as I was free, he asked me to walk\nwith him, to which I assented, though I was feeling very tired. We\nrambled on the beach, and talked about many things. I tried in vain to\nbring up the subject of my discourse. When I spoke about it he was\nsilent; and when I was silent, he went off into other matters. He talked\nabout Jerusalem and the sands of the desert, and the partridges, which,\nhe said, were of the same colour as the sand. Was it from looking at\nsand always that they became that colour? Do people become alike who\nlook much at one another? Is that why husbands and wives so often\nresemble each other? and so on. These questions made an impression on\nme, so that they always come up to my memory in connection with that\nevening's walk. Certainly, the apostle says that, \"Beholding the glory\nof the Lord, we are changed into the same image from...glory to glory;\"\ntherefore there may be something in my companion's idea. But, however\ninteresting the subject might be to consider. I was far too tired for\nanything else but real soul-to-soil! work, and therefore proposed that\nwe should return home. We did so; and when my friend left me at the\nvicarage door, he said abruptly, \"Will you let me write to you?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" I replied. \"I will write to-night; but do not trouble to\nanswer in person; send me a written reply. \"I said I would. In a few\nminutes after I received a short note, the purport of which was, \"How\ncan I be saved?\" It is a very simple question, yet one not so easily\nanswered to a person who already knew the scriptural answer. However, I\nhad a letter by me which Mr. Aitken had written to some one under\nsimilar circumstances; so, taking that for a model, I wrote according to\npromise, adapting and altering sentences to meet the present case. I\nsent the note, with a message that I would call in the morning. I did\nso, but found my friend was not at home. The landlady said, \"Mr. F---\nwent out last night soon after he received a letter, and has not been\nhome since.\" She became alarmed when she heard that we had not seen him.\nWe too were taken by surprise, and did not know which way to go in\nsearch of him, or what to do. Presently we met the clerk of the church,\nwho inquired if we had seen anything of Mr. F--; he had called the night\nbefore for the keys of the church, and had not returned them; so he (the\nclerk) could not get into the church to ring the bell or admit the\ncongregation.\n\nThis threw some light on the matter; so we went immediately to the\nchurch, and with the vicar's keys entered by the vestry door. Looking\nabout in all directions, we found our friend on his knees in the nave,\nwhere he had been all night. I went up to him; and, as he did not speak,\nI asked if I might pray with him.\n\nHe said, \"Yes.\"\n\n\"What shall I pray for?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Shall I ask the Lord to come down from heaven again and die on the\ncross for you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Do you believe that He has done that?'\n\n\"Yes, I do.\"\n\n\"You do believe that He has died for you-for you?\" I inquired, laying\nthe emphasis on you--\"for you, as if you were the only person for whom\nHe died?\"\n\n\"Yes; I believe He died for me.\"\n\n\"Do you thank Him for it?\"\n\n\"No, I do not; I do not feel anything.\"\n\n\"That may be; but do you not think you ought to thank Him for what He\ndid for you?\" He did not reply.\n\n\"How can you feel anything till you have it? Or how can He give you any\nfeelings till you thank Him for what He has already done for you? Make\nsome acknowledgment.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" he replied; and without another word he rose from his knees\nand went away. The bell was rung, the people assembled, and we had the\nservice; but he did not remain.\n\nAgain he disappeared for the whole day, until the evening, when he came\ninto the vestry, and said, \"Will you let me read prayers this evening?\"\nTo this the vicar gladly assented; so he put on the surplice for the\nfirst time after several months, and went into church with us.\n\nThe fact of his reading prayers again, and more especially the manner in\nwhich he did it, attracted attention. The earnest tone and meaning he\nthrew into the words of the prayers, and more particularly into the\npsalm, penetrated much deeper. One lady knelt down and began to pray for\nherself in the pew; others were riveted as by the power of the Spirit.\nAll through the sermon, I felt that the Lord was working among the\npeople, and at the close they were loth to go. Many more remained in the\nafter-meeting than we could speak to; manifest was the power of the\nSpirit, and much good was done.\n\nThere was great joy in the little village that night, and for several\ndays following the Lord wrought among the people. Many lasting mementos\nremain of this week's ministry, and of the weeks which followed.\n\nOur reticent friend was changed indeed, and immediately gave up the\ntandem and the pipes. I do not think he has ever smoked since; he has\nhad something better to do.\n\nSmoking is an idle custom, and too often enslaves its votaries; and even\nif it does not become a dominant habit, it certainly teaches no lesson\nof self-denial. A Christian man needs not to seek relief in any such\nway. It is said to be very soothing when a man is in any trouble or\nanxiety; if so, in this respect it may be said to be next door to the\nbeer-barrel, or to the use of spirits. If one man may soothe his\nfeelings with this narcotic, another may stimulate them, when he is low\nand cheerless, with alcohol. The Apostle James says, \"Is any merry, let\nhim sing psalms.\" He does not say, Is any afflicted or low, let him\nsmoke and drink! No; \"let him pray,\" and depend upon God. Many a lesson\nwhich might be learned from God on our knees, is let slip altogether\nbecause we think there is no ham in relieving ourselves by\nself-indulgence. The flesh is a monster which is never appeased, much\nless subdued, by gratification.\n\nOur friend put away the smoking, and sold his pipes of various kinds,\nwhich must have cost a considerable sum, for he realized eighty pounds\nby them. With this amount, and some addition, he was able to put stained\nglass windows into the already beautiful church in which he received his\nblessing. This suitable thank-offering was a lasting memorial of his\ngratitude, besides being an example to others, not only to give their\nhearts to God, but also to give up their besetments, whatever they might\nbe, and in doing so be free for God's service.\n\nThis young man soon after was removed to a more arduous sphere, and\ncarried great blessing thither; as he did also when he went from thence\nto a yet more influential and important place. Though now laid aside by\nill health, he sends tracts and writes letters to many, and so continues\nto be, in the hand of the Lord, the means of winning souls; and in\naddition to this, sets an example of a holy and godly life.\n\nAnother little incident I must notice here. While I was still working in\nthis place, I received a letter from home, telling me that they were all\nwell, and very happy in the country, but that they wanted me back again,\nand thought I had been away quite long enough. Besides this, it was time\nto be getting summer things, for which they would want at least ten\npounds. I had no money to send; and though I might have asked many kind\nfriends, I felt a difficulty about it. I do not think it was pride. I\nhad put myself and all my affairs into God's hands; and though I was not\nashamed to tell our circumstances to any one who asked me, I made it a\nrule not to mention my troubles or wants to any but the Lord. I read the\ncheerful parts of my letter at breakfast, and kept the other till I went\nupstairs. There I spread the letter on the bed at which I knelt, and\nread to the Lord the part that troubled me. I was praying about it, when\nthere came a knock at the door, and before I had time to say \"Come in,\"\nmy friend F--- entered. Seeing me on my knees, he apologized for\nintruding, and in his shy way put a ten-pound note into my hand, saying,\n\"I am ashamed it is not more; but will you accept that?\" With this, he\nmade for the door; but I detained him, in order to show him the part of\nmy letter I had not read in the morning. I said, \"I was just reading it\nto the Lord; and look, while I was still on my knees, He has sent you\nwith the answer. It is the exact sum I want, so do not apologize for it.\nI thank God and thank you. I will send this off at once.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 29\n\nTregoney, 1855.\n\nIt was time now to be returning southward and homeward; which I did by\nseveral stages, stopping to preach in various places on the way. At\nlength I reached the village in Cornwall, where my family were lodging\nin the farmhouse I have already mentioned.\n\nHere, the two clergymen were rather afraid of me, and avoided asking me\nto preach in the church. They had both been converted (or, at least, so\nthey said) more than a year; but instead of working for God, they were\nbent on Romanizing. One of them said that there was no salvation in the\nChurch of England; and the other showed me a sealed letter he had in his\ndesk, which, he said, he \"dared not open.\" It was from a brother of his,\nwho went to Rome, and contained his reasons for so doing. \"Ah,\" he said,\n\"if I open that letter, I feel sure that I shall have to go too.\" This\nfascinating dread was upon him till he really did go, six months\nafterwards. I tried to deter these men from the erroneous step they were\ncontemplating, by getting them into active work for the Lord. Sometimes\nI preached in this church, but more often in the open air. I am sorry to\nsay my friends were but half-hearted in their cooperation, so that after\na few weeks I left, and went to the west.\n\nOn my way thither, a clergyman, who happened to be inside the coach,\ngave me his card, and then came outside for the purpose of talking with\nme. He asked me if I would take charge of his church and parish for six\nweeks. I said I would, but could not go for a week or two. We agreed as\nto time, and on the promised Saturday I arrived at the place.\n\nI walked there from a neighbouring town, having several calls to make on\nthe way, and left my luggage to follow by the van. In the evening, about\neight o'clock, I went down to meet this conveyance, and tell the man\nwhere to deliver my bag. I found a crowd of people in front of the inn\nwhere the van stopped, and heard the driver say, in reply to some\nquestion, \"I've not got him, but I've got his bag.\"\n\n\"Where is he?\" said a voice. \"I don't know,\" one said, \"but I saw a\nqueer little chap go into Mrs. M--'s house.\"\n\n\"That's the place,\" said the driver; \"that's where I'm a-going to take\nhis bag. Come on, and let's see if he'll have it.\"\n\nI went in and out among the crowd, as it was dark, asking questions, and\nfound out that they \"would like to duck the fellow if they could catch\nhim;\" they \"did not want any such Revivalist chap as that amongst them,\"\nand so forth. They were greatly excited, and wondered which road he was\nlikely to come, for they would go to meet him. Some one asked, \"what is\nhe like ?\" One answered, \"Oh, he is a rum-looking little fellow that\nstoops. I should know him again anywhere.\" Hearing this, I held up my\nhead like a soldier, in order to look as large as possible, and waited\nabout till they dispersed.\n\nThen I joined a young man, and, talking with him, ascertained what it\nwas all about. I passed the house where I was to lodge, for I saw that\nthe people were watching the door. I came back among them, and, pointing\nto the door, said, \"Is that where he stops?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" one replied, \"he is there. The man brought his bag and left it;\nhe is there, sure enough.\"\n\nI said, \"Let us go in and see him; come along--come!\"\n\nSo saying, I made for the door and knocked, beckoning to the others to\nfollow me; but they would not do so. As soon as the door was opened I\nwent in, and the landlady speedily closed it after me, saying, \"I am\nglad you are come. How did you manage to get here? I have sent word to\nthe constable to look out for you, and he is still watching somewhere.\"\n\n\"Why,\" I asked, \"what is it all about? What is the matter?\"\n\n\"Why, some of the lads here say, that if they could catch you, they\nwould give you a good ducking in the pond.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" I said. \"Then I don't think I will give them that pleasure\ntonight.\" So, sitting down by the fire, I made myself comfortable, and\nafter supper went to bed.\n\nIn the morning, while at breakfast, I saw a number of men playing in the\nopen space in front of the house. Some were tossing pence, some playing\nat ball and other games, while many were standing about smoking, with\ntheir hands in their pockets.\n\n\"There, that's the way they spend their Sundays in this place,\" said the\nlandlady.\n\nAfter watching them from the window for a little time, I put on my hat\nand went out, and told them \"it was time to go home and get ready for\nchurch; that would be far better,\" I said, \"than playing like this on\nSunday. It is a disgrace to men like you--married men, too, with\nfamilies! It would be bad enough if you were a parcel of boys. I am\nquite ashamed of you!\"\n\nThey slunk away one by one, and I walked down the street to look about\nme, and to see the school-room where there was no school; but I intended\nto have a prayer-meeting there in the evening, after the service. I put\nup a notice to this effect, and then came back to my lodgings, till it\nwas near church-time, when I set out, arrayed in my gown and bands, for\nthe sacred edifice.\n\nOn the way there I observed stones flying past me in every direction;\nbut I walked on, till at last I was struck on the cheek with a patch of\nmuddy clay which was thrown at me. There was a universal shout of\nlaughter when the men and boys saw that I had been hit. I put my hand to\nthe place, and found that the pat of clay was sticking to my cheek, so I\npressed it there, hoping, by the help of my whiskers, that it would\nremain. I said to the crowd, who were laughing at me, \"That was not a\nbad shot. Now, if you come to church you shall see it there; I will keep\nit on as long as I can.\" So saying, I walked on amidst the jeers of the\npeople.\n\nWhen I arrived at the vestry, the clerk was in great trouble when he\nknew what had happened. He said, \"Do let me wash the mud off, sir.\"\n\n\"Oh, no,\" I replied, \"I mean to show that all day, if I can.\"\n\nDuring the morning service, at which there were about fifty present, I\nsucceeded in keeping on my mud-patch, and returned to dinner with the\nsame.\n\nIn the afternoon I said that I would have a service for children, as\nthere was no Sunday school, to which about twenty came. Before\naddressing them, seeing that they were intently looking at the patch on\nmy cheek, I told them how it came there, and that I intended to keep it\non all through the evening service.\n\nThis news spread all over the whole place, and the consequence was that\nsuch numbers of people came out of curiosity, that the church was filled\nto over-flowing. I preached without any reference to what had taken\nplace, and succeeded in gaining the attention of the people; so that\nafter the service I said I would have a prayer-meeting in the\nschoolroom. We had the place crammed, and not a few found peace. I\nannounced that I would preach again the next evening.\n\nA revival soon broke out in that place, and the crowds who came to the\nmeetings were so great, that we had as many people outside the large\nschool-room as there were in.\n\nAt the end of the six weeks the new vicar returned, and I was able to\nhand over the parish to him, with a full church, three Bible-classes,\nand a large Sunday-school. This I did, thanking God for the measure of\nsuccess and blessing He had given to my efforts in that populous and\nwicked place.\n\nAfter I had left I received a letter from some of the parishioners,\nasking me what I should like to have as a testimonial of their gratitude\nand regard; hat they had had a penny collection amongst themselves,\nwhich amounted to several pounds, and now they were waiting to know what\nI should like!\n\nI wrote to tell them that nothing would please me better than a service\nof plate for communion with the sick. They bought this, and had a\nsuitable inscription engraved, and then placed it under a glass shade in\nthe Town Hall, on a certain day for inspection. Hundreds of people came\nto see the result of their penny contribution. After this public\nexhibition, the communion service was sent to me with a letter, written\nby a leading man in the place, saying, \"I was one of the instigators of\nthe opposition to your work here; but the very first evening you spoke\nin the school-room I was outside listening,' and was shot through the\nwindow. The word hit my heart like a hammer, without breaking a pane of\nglass. Scores and scores of people will bless God to all eternity that\nyou ever came amongst us.\"\n\nThe revival in this proverbially wicked place, created such a stir that\nthe newspapers took it up, and thought for once that I \"was in the right\nplace, and doing a good work!\" The member for the borough sent me\ntwenty-five pounds, \"begging my acceptance of the trifle.\" Who asked\nhim, or why he sent it, I do not know; but the Lord knew that we needed\nhelp. More than this, the vicar of the adjoining parish, who used to be\nvery friendly with me in my unconverted days, but who had declared his\nopposition pretty freely since that time, sent me a letter one Sunday\nmorning by private hand, to be delivered to me personally. This I duly\nreceived, but expecting that it was one of his usual letters, and\nknowing that I had visited some persons in his parish who were anxious,\nI thought I would not open it until Monday, and so placed it on the\nmantelpiece. A friend who happened to come in, noticing it there, said,\n\"I see you have a letter from the Prebendary; I dare say he is angry\nwith you.\"\n\n\"I suppose he is,\" I said; \"but it will keep till tomorrow; and I do not\ncare to be troubled with his thoughts to-day.\"\n\n\"Oh, do let me open it,\" said my visitor; \"I shall not be here\nto-morrow, and I should like to hear what he has to say.\"\n\nWith my consent he opened it and read, \"Dear old Haslam, you have done\nmore good in that part of my parish where you are working, in a few\nweeks, than I have done for years. I enclose you a cheque for the amount\nof tithes coming from there. The Lord bless you more and more! Pray for\nme!\"\n\nIt was a cheque for thirty-seven pounds. The next morning I went over to\nsee my old friend newly-found, and to thank him in person for his\ngenerous gift. Poor man, I found him very low and depressed, and quite\nready and willing that I should talk and pray with him. I sincerely hope\nthat he became changed before I left the neighbourhood, but I never\nheard that he declared himself.\n\nBy this time, while I was still in Tregoney, Mr. Aitken had found his\nway to the village where my family were lodging, and he was preaching at\nthe church with his usual power and effect. Night after night souls were\nawakened and saved. The vicar's wife was in a towering rage of\nopposition. Poor woman! she declared that she \"would rather go to Rome\nthan be converted ;\" and to Rome she went, but remained as worldly as\never.\n\nIt matters very little whether unconverted people join the Church of\nRome or not; they are sure to be lost for ever if they die in their\nunconverted state: for nothing avails for eternal salvation but faith in\nthe Lord Jesus Christ.\n\n\nCHAPTER 30\n\nSecessions, 1856.\n\nAfter mission which Mr. Aitken had held, people came out so decidedly,\nthat the vicar and curate, who had all along kept aloof, doubting, fell\nback into a kind of revulsion, and began to read and lend Romish books.\nEventually, they themselves decided to join the Church of Rome. Whether\nthey were ever really converted or not, I cannot tell. I thought and\nhoped they were, but they seldom stood out on the Lord's side. They\ncertainly had light, and may have had some experience. At any rate, they\nchose such a harlot as the Church of Rome for the object of their love,\ninstead of Christ Himself.\n\nI loved the curate. He was the man who had the unopened letter in his\ndesk,* of which he harboured such a dread. Sad to say, he ended by\nfalling away at last. Poor man! he went over to Rome, and never held up\nhis head any more. Evidently disappointed, and ashamed to come back, he\nlingered on for some months, and then died.\n\n____________________\n\n* See page 256.\n_________________\n\nNot long after his secession, we accidentally met in a quiet lane, in\nanother part of the county, where I was walking for meditation. Perhaps\nhe was led there for the same purpose. Meeting so unexpectedly, there\nwas no opportunity to evade one another. I felt a trembling come over me\nat seeing him, and he was none the less moved. We held each other's\nhands in silence, till at last I said, \"How are you? I love you still.\"\n\n\"I cannot stand it!\" he said; and snatching his hand out of mine, he ran\naway.\n\nI never saw him again, but mourned for him till he died. I cannot help\nthinking that he is safe, and that he died in a faith more scriptural\nthan that of the Church of Rome.\n\nWhy do men secede; and break their own hearts, and the hearts of those\nwho love them? Rome seems to cast a kind of spell upon the conscience,\nfascinating its victims much as the gaze of the serpent is said to hold\na bird, till it falls into its power; or as a light attracts a moth,\ntill it flies into it, to its own destruction. Such seceders mourn and\ndread the step; pray about it, think and think, till they are bewildered\nand harassed; and then, in a fit of desperation, go off to some Romish\npriest to be received. A man who had an honourable position, a work and\nresponsibility, suddenly becomes a nonentity, barely welcomed, and\ncertainly suspected.\n\nRomish people compass sea and land to make proselytes; and after they\nhave gained them, they are afraid of them, for their respective\nantecedents are so different, that it is impossible for them to think\ntogether. They get the submission of a poor deluded pervert, but he gets\nnothing in return from them but a fictitious salvation. They gain him;\nbut he was lost the kind regard and sympathy of friends he had before,\nand with it all that once was dear to him; and he voluntarily forfeits\nall this upon the bare self-assertion of a system which claims his\nimplicit obedience. The poor pervert is required to give over his will,\nhis conscience, and his deepest feelings to the keeping of his so-called\n\"priest\" or to the Church, and is expected to go away unburdened and at\npeace. Some there are, it is true, who actually declare that they have\npeace by this means; but what peace it is, and of what kind, I know not.\n\nSupposing that I was in debt and anxiety, and a man who had no money,\nbut plenty of assurance and brass, came to me and sympathized in my\ntrouble, saying, \"Do not fear---trust me; I will bear your burden, and\npay off your debt\"--if the manner of the man was sufficiently assuring,\nit would lift up the cloud of anxiety and distress; but, for all that,\nthe penniless man would net, and could not, pay my debt. I might fancy\nhe had done so or would do so; and then, when it was too late, the debt,\nwith accumulated interest, would fall on me, to my over-whelming ruin,\neven though I had been ever so free from anxiety before. So it is with\nthese deluded ones, who go to the priest instead of to Christ, and take\nhis absolution instead of Christ's forgiveness.\n\nAny one who carefully reads the Word of God may see that the Church of\nRome has no such priesthood as she claims, nor power to forgive sins, as\nshe professes to do. The whole supposition is based on a\nmisunderstanding of the text, \"Whose soever sins ye remit, they are\nremitted unto them; and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are retained\"\n(John 20:23).\n\nThe disciples (some of them not apostles) who received this commission\nor privilege, never understood that they were by these words (men and\nwomen together) empowered to be absolving priests. Even the very\napostles never knew that they had any such power; and it is certain they\nnever exercised it. They were perfectly innocent of being priests after\nthe Romish type, and never dreamed of offering a propitiatory sacrifice.\nThey simply believed that Christ had completed the work of propitiation\nonce for all; and that there is now no more sacrifice for sin--that\nChrist only can forgive sins. Therefore in the words of St. John we are\ntold, that \"if any man sin (apostles and people alike), we have an\nadvocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and He is the\npropitiation for our sins\" (1 John 2:1, 2).\n\nThe apostles and early Christians never understood that the power of the\nkeys meant the exercise of mere priestly authority, neither was the\ndoctrine known for several centuries after their time; therefore we may\nbe sure that the peace which perverts have, if it professes to come from\nthat source, is a delusion. No true remission or peace is, or can be\ngiven, but by direct and personal transaction with Christ Himself.\n\nI am perfectly convinced that the Epistles to the Romans and the\nGalatians are the answer to all the pretences of the Church of Rome, and\nthat a man who will not read and follow them deserves to be misled. God\nis perfectly justified and clear on this point.\n\nDuring that winter six of my friends joined the Church of Rome. One I\nhave already told about, who died, I am sure, from grief and\ndisappointment.* Another became bigoted, and with a sullen, dogged\npertinacity, set himself to work for Rome, looking very miserable all\nthe time, although he used once to be happy in the Lord's work. The\nothers, without exception, went back into the world, and made no secret\nof their conformity with it, its ways, and fashions.\n\n______________________\n\n* See page 263.\n________________________\n\nThis was a time of trouble in more respects than one. These secessions\nto Rome brought great discredit upon the work, and especially on the\neffort to promote Catholic truth, and higher Church life. I found my own\nrefuge and comfort was in working for God, and therefore went out on\nmission work whenever and wherever I could.\n\nEarly in the spring of this year I went on a mission to Worcestershire,\nand there the Lord vouchsafed a great blessing, which has more or less\ncontinued to this day; though I grieve to say the present vicar has no\nsympathy with it. The work is still carried on in an Iron Room, out of\nchurch hours, by people who continue to go to church.\n\nThe vicar of that time asked me to go and visit a farmer's wife, who was\nunder deep conviction, and wished to see me. I did so, and as we\napproached the door (which was open) the first thing we heard was this\nindividual saying, in a very high-pitched: voice, \"Confound...\"\n\nSeeing us, she suddenly stopped. \"Go on with your text,\" said the vicar,\nquietly, \"'Confounded be all they that serve graven images;' is that\nwhat you mean?\"\n\n\"No,\" she replied; \"come in, I am so wretched that I don't know what to\ndo with myself; it has made me cross. Do come in and pray with me.\"\n\nWe at once consented; and on pointing her to Jesus, she found peace. Not\ncontent with praising God alone, she opened her house for a meeting for\nthe people in the neighbourhood. This being situated on the confines of\nthe parish, brought us into collision with the rector of the next\nparish. He was most indignant at our coming (as he said), \"to entice his\npeople away.\"\n\nI tried my best to conciliate this gentleman, but nothing would do,\nparticularly when he heard that I was thinking of settling down in the\ndistrict. This plan was however frustrated in an unexpected manner, and\nI was not permitted to remain there.\n\nOne day, when I was praying about the matter, a letter was put into my\nhand from a lady who had been asking the Lord for nearly six months that\nI might be appointed to her late husband's church. She had applied to\nLord Palmerston, who was the patron, and though she had received no\nanswer, yet she had continued to pray.\n\nAt last there came a courteous letter from his: lordship, apologizing\nfor having delayed his reply, adding that he \"had mislaid the\napplication of her, nominee; if she would oblige him with the name and\naddress of this person, the appointment should be made out immediately.\"\nShe gave my name and address, and sent his letter on to me. I\nimmediately wrote to his lordship, saying that I had not applied for the\nliving, nor did I want it; but, for all that, I received by return post\nthe nomination; and actually, it was to go back to the diocese of\nExeter! I did not think the Bishop would institute me, as I had\ncommitted a great many irregularities since his lordship had taken off\nmy harness. But he did.\n\nSomehow I was unwilling to go to this living, but was put into it in\nspite of myself. Here I had a good house, garden, and church, provided\nfor me, with so much a year. I wondered whether God was tired of me! He\nhad provided for me and my family during the past year wondrously, and I\nbegan to like \"living by faith,\" and trusting in Him only. I have great\ndoubts whether this appointment was altogether in accordance with God's\nwill. Anyway, I had very little success or liberty in preaching, and\ncould not settle down to work with any energy.\n\nIn the beginning of the summer, as usual, I had my attack of hay fever,\nwhich completely incapacitated me, in this place of much grass. If I\nwent to a town or the sea-side, it was well; but the moment I returned\nto the country I was ill again. Altogether, it was a dull and\ndistressing time; but God was preparing me for a special work.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 31\n\nHayle, 1857-58.\n\nWhile meditating upon my present position, and wondering what I was to\ndo next, I received an invitation to take charge of a district in\nanother part of the county, near the sea, which suited my health. Here\nthere was a large population, which gave scope for energetic action;\nand, moreover, the people were careless and Godless, and, as such, were\nnot preoccupied with other systems. So I thought it was the very place\nin which I could begin to preach, and go on to prove the power of the\nGospel.\n\nWith the invitation, I received an exaggerated account of the wickedness\nof the people, and was told that the thinking part of them leant towards\ninfidelity, and that some of them were actually banded together in an\ninfidel club. All this, however, did not deter me from going, but rather\nstirred me up so much the more to try my lance against this gigantic\nfoe. I had learned before now to regard all difficulties in my work as\nthe Lord's, and not mine; and that, though they might be greater than I\ncould surmount, they were not too great for Him.\n\nThere were two large iron factories here, besides shipping. Many of the\npeople employed were drawn from other parts of England, and were what\nthe Cornish call \"foreigners.\" They had no love for chapel services, or\nrevivals, and no sympathy with Cornish views and customs; so not having\na church to go to, they were left pretty much to themselves.\n\nWith this attractive sphere before me, I gave up my living and work in\nthe country, and accepted the curacy at l. 120 a year, with a house\nrent-free. My rector was a dry Churchman, who had no sympathy with me;\nbut he seemed glad to get any one to come and work amongst such a rough,\nand in some respects unmanageable, set. He had bought a chapel from the\nPrimitive Methodists for Divine service, and had erected schools for\nupwards of three hundred children. These he offered me as my ground of\noperation, promising, with a written guarantee, that if I succeeded, he\nwould build me a church, and endow it with all the tithes of that\nportion of the parish.\n\nHere was a field of labour which required much prayer and tact, as well\nas energetic action. In accordance with Scriptural teaching, \"I\ndetermined to know nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified.\" I made\nup my mind that I would not begin by having temperance addresses for\ndrunkards, or lectures on the Evidences of Christianity for the infidel,\nbut simply with preaching the Gospel.\n\nOne thing that simplified my work very much was the fact, that the\npeople were spiritually dead. I used to tell them, that in this free\ncountry every man is accounted innocent till he is proved to be guilty,\nbut that in the Bible every man is guilty before God till he is\npardoned, and dead till he is brought to life. In one sense it does not\nmatter very much whether a man is an infidel, a drunkard, or anything\nelse, if he is dead in trespasses and sins.\n\nIt is of very little consequence in what coloured raiment a corpse is\nshrouded; it remains a corpse still.\n\nTaking this position positively, I avoided much religious controversy,\nto the disappointment of many eager disputants, who longed to ventilate\ntheir views. 'I told them plainly, that whether they were, right or\nwrong, my business was with the salvation: of souls, and my one desire\nwas to rescue the lost: by bringing' them to Christ.\n\nHitherto I had been to places where the Lord had previously prepared the\nhearts of the people, and therefore it had been my joy to see a revival\nspring up, as if spontaneously; that is, without the ordinary\npreparation by the people of the place. These extraordinary\nmanifestations of God's power and love; and they showed me what He could\nand do. Now that I was somewhat more intelligent on the subject, He sent\nme forth to prepare and work for similar results.\n\nHayle was to all appearances a very barren soil, and the people I had to\nlabour amongst were greater and mightier than myself. They already had\npossession of the ground, and were perfectly content with their own way.\nMoreover, they did not desire any change, and were ready even to resist\nand oppose every effort which was designed to ameliorate their\ncondition, or to change their lives. In this undertaking I knew and\nunderstood that without prayer and dependence upon God to work in me and\nby me, my mission would be altogether unavailing, I therefore looked\nabout, and found some Christians who consented to unite in pleading for\nan outpouring of the Holy Spirit. We agreed to pray in private, and also\nmet together frequently during the week for united prayer. Finding that\nmany of the petitions offered were vague and diffuse, I endeavoured to\nset before those assembled a definite object of prayer. I told them that\nthe work was not ours but the Lord's, and that He was willing and ready\nto accomplish it, but that He must be inquired of concerning the work of\nHis hands. Also, in order that our prayers should be intelligent and\nunited, I put before them the fact, that the people we had to work\namongst were lost; not that they would be lost by-and-by if they died in\ntheir sins; but that they were actually lost now. It is true that many\nwere quite ignorant of the way of salvation, and were also unconscious\nof the power of the enemy who held them captive; and besides, they loved\ntheir captivity too well; but all this would be overcome in a moment,\nwhen they were once enlightened by the Spirit (in answer to prayer) to\nsee and feel themselves lost. No one could be more ignorant than the\njailor at Philippi, but as soon as he was awakened he cried out, \"What\nmust I do to be saved?\" (Acts 16:30).\n\nI showed them that the work we had to do was clearly set forth in\nScripture (Acts 26:18), and that the order in which it was to be done\nwas also made manifest. We must not begin with giving instruction as if\nthe people were merely ignorant; but rather by awakening or opening\ntheir eyes to see that they were in a lost and ruined condition. Then\nthey would appreciate being turned \"from darkness to light, and from the\npower of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins\"\n(Acts 26:18). I strove earnestly to show them that until people had\nreceived forgiveness of sins, our work was not complete. We made this\nour definite aim, and prayed about it with clear expectation. Under the\nshadow and influence of this prayer, I began to preach to the people;\nnot to believe, but to awake and see their lost condition; that is, to\nrepent, that they might believe the Gospel.\n\nAt first there were very few people in my congregation, but by degrees\nmore came, and listened attentively to the Word. After preaching for\nfour or five Sundays, I asked the people during my sermon, what in the\nworld they were made of; for I was surprised at them! They came and\nlistened to God's truth, and yet did not yield themselves to Him. \"Are\nyou wood, or leather, or stone? What are your hearts made of, that God's\nlove cannot touch or His Word break them?\" I then invited the anxious to\nremain for an after-meeting, when I said that I would converse with them\nmore familiarly; but they every one went away.\n\nI returned to the vestry,' feeling somewhat dejected, but still hoping\nfor better days. As I opened the door to go home, two men ran away like\nfrightened boys, but it was too dark for me to distinguish who they\nwere.\n\nThat next morning it came to my mind that I must go round to the people\nand ask them what they were thinking about? I had done so from the\npulpit; now I would go from house to house and do the same. I went first\nto the school, and finding that several children were absent, I took\ntheir names and determined to go after them, in the hope of reaching\ntheir parents.\n\nThe first house I called at was a mistake, and yet it was not. I knocked\nat the door, and said, \"Does Mrs. W-- live here?\"\n\nThe woman who opened it said, \"No, she lives next door.\"\n\nI apologized for disturbing her, and was going away, when she said,\n\"Will you not come in for a few minutes?\" I assented, and going in, took\na seat. Then I asked her name, and whether she went to church.\n\nShe replied, \"To be sure I do. Don't you see me there every Sunday?\"\n\n\"Then,\" I said, \"did you hear my question last evening.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, \"but I was afraid, and ashamed to stay behind. But I do\nwish to be saved; I have been wretched for more than a week.\"\n\nIt was very easy to lead to the Saviour of sinners one whose heart was\nso prepared. She soon found peace, and became one of my most useful and\nsteadiest helpers.\n\nHer neighbour next door, was by no means so ready to receive the truth,\nand I had to supply another argument altogether. Eventually, she also\nfound peace in believing; though not for some weeks.\n\nFrom this house, I visited several others, and in all of them had\nserious dealing with individuals about their 'souls' salvation. Then I\nset off to see a man I had often observed in church; having noticed the\nanxious look with which he always regarded me during the sermon. I found\nhim at home, and, on entering his house, he said, at once, \"I know what\nyou are come for. Wait a little, sir, please to sit down;\" and before I\nhad time to say a word, he went upstairs. In a few minutes he returned,\nwith a shilling in his hand. \"There,\" he said, \"there it is; that is my\ncontribution for the Indian Mutiny Fund.\"\n\nI thanked him for his offering, and promised that it should be given to\nthe treasurer. \"But,\" I added, \"to tell the truth, I have not come about\nthat, but to see you. I want to speak to you about your soul.\"\n\nHe sat down, looking, as I thought, most unhappy. Then he said,--\"Last\nnight my mate and I made up our minds to speak to you in the vestry;\nbut, just as we were coming to the door, you opened it, and we ran\naway.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, \"I heard you.\"\n\n\"Well, after that, we came home, and prayed the Lord to send you to us:\nand here you are!\"\n\n\"Thank God for the answer to prayer. Now then, what can I do for you?\"\n\nHe told me that he was born of respectable parents in Germany; but that,\nfor his bad ways and bad habits, they had sent him to this country to\nwork for his bread; that he had taken the pledge several times, and\nbroken it again and again, though he had prayed and done all he could\nthink of; but it was to no propose.\n\n\"If you had stayed last night,\" I said, \"I might have helped you. How\ndid you come to break your pledge?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" he said, \"it came to my mind that when I signed, I was only\nthinking of beer and spirits, not wine; so I took some, and it flew to\nmy head; and soon I was as bad as ever.\"\n\n\"Now,\" I said, \"you have renounced wine and all; have you?\"\n\n\"Yes, I have.\"\n\n\"Well then, will you give your heart to God also?\"\n\nIn course of conversation it came out, that this man's first impressions\nwere effected some years before, by a dream, or vision of Christ on the\ncross. He was passing by, but, somehow, turned to look at it; when, to\nhis surprise, he saw that the eyes of the figure were looking at him. As\nhe approached, the figure appeared to be standing on the ground, and\nbeckoning, when a sudden fear came over him; he stopped, and the vision\nfaded away. Ever since that time, he had felt that Jesus was the Friend\nhe needed; and that nothing less would satisfy him.\n\nUnfortunately, too many, like this man, stop at a critical point of\ntheir history; and, often, the crisis is not prolonged for them, as it\nwas for him.\n\nA long time ago there was a sinner arrested by a similar vision. He\nsays, in a hymn which he wrote, giving a description of it:--\n\n\"I saw One hanging on a tree,\nIn agony and blood,\nWho fixed His languid eyes on me\nAs near the cross I stood.\"\n\nHe continues,\n\n\"My conscience felt and owned its guilt;\" and when he did so, he\nreceived a second look, which spoke forgiveness to him, as distinctly as\nthe first look brought him under conviction.\n\nI charged this man to make his surrender, and to own or acknowledge\nhimself the sinner for whom Jesus died. On doing so, he obtained\nforgiveness and peace, and has since, by grace, been enabled to live a\nhappy, consistent, and devoted life, and has been a blessing to many\nsouls. No sooner had he found the Saviour, than immediately he began to\nplead for and with his friend James. I know not what passed between\nthem; but that same evening he brought him to me with a heart prepared\nto receive Christ. We had only to point him to Jesus, and encourage him\nto thank God, when he realized the truth in his own experience.\n\nSo that Monday I rejoiced over five people brought to the Lord; and then\nthe work began in real earnest. Every week after that, remarkable\nconversions took place, besides many ordinary ones. Some of these,\nincluding the one just mentioned, are described at length in tracts, and\nare also published in a volume entitled \"Building from the Top, and\nother Stories;\" but, notwithstanding this, a brief allusion to them in\nthis narrative may not be out of place, being so particularly connected\nwith the work here.\n\nA woman called me into her cottage one morning as I was passing by, and\ntold me of her son, a steady young man, though still unconverted, for\nwhom she had prayed continually ever since his birth. She said, when he\nwas a very little child, she heard him one night sobbing and praying in\nhis room--\"O Lord, save me up for a good boy!\" She thought this was in\nanswer to her supplication; but as he grew up he became thoughtless and\ncareless, like too many others of his age.\n\n\"Some five or six months ago,\" she said, \"he had a dream or vision, and\nsaw you so plainly that he pointed you out to me, among other clergymen,\nand said, 'Mother, that man is to be our minister one I saw him a little\ntime ago, in a dream, as plainly as I see him now; I know that is the\nman.' We did not know who you were then, or where you came from, and\nnever saw you again till you came lately to this parish to be our\nminister.\n\n\"Last night,\" continued the mother, \"after he returned from church, my\nWilliam was very unhappy and restless; and in the night I heard him\ncrying and praying aloud for mercy, in great distress. He told me this\nmorning, when I asked him about it, that he dreamt that the last day was\ncome, and that the world was on fire: and he began immediately to try to\npray, but could not; yet he went on trying till he heard some one laugh\nout at him, and say, 'Ho! ho! my boy, you are too late!--ho! ho!--too\nlate! I have got you now---you are too late!' This frightened him so\nmuch that he woke up, and getting out of bed, began on his knees to pray\nin earnest for the Lord to have mercy on his soul.\"\n\nBeing much interested in the young man, I begged her to send him to me\nin the evening. She did so; and when he arrived I frankly told him what\nI had heard about him, and particularly about his distress and prayer\nthe night before.\n\n\"Your mother has prayed for you for years; and when you were a little\nboy you prayed the Lord to save you: last night, again, you were\nconstrained to cry for mercy. These are all tokens of God's good\nintentions and purposes towards you. Can you trust Him?\" As he hesitated\n(for so many like to feel something before they make the venture of\nfaith), I continued, \"These tokens are better than feelings, for they\nare facts and sure signs by which you may know that the Lord is calling\nyou.\"\n\nWe may well understand that it was not long before the Lord, who had so\nmarvellously opened his eyes to see his sins, enabled him by the same\nSpirit to see Jesus as His Saviour, and to rejoice in the forgiveness of\nhis sins. Then I asked him to sit down again, for I was curious to hear\nabout the dream or vision which he had had some months before he ever\nsaw me.\n\n\"William,\" I said, \"did you ever see me before I came to this parish?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he replied, \"I saw you once in a vision, more than six months\nago!\"\n\n\"Do you mind telling me about it?\"\n\nAfter a little hesitation, he answered, \"I often dream things. One night\nI dreamt that I was walking on a wild barren common; there were many\nbare places where people had cut turf, and there were prickly\nfurze-bushes about. I knew there were some did open mine-shafts there,\nfor people sometimes fell into them at night; but I was walking along\nwithout thinking of danger, and was not afraid, though it was dark, and\nI was alone. I don't know how long I went on like this, but next I found\nI was walking with you. I could see you very plainly, just as if it had\nnot been dark, and you were talking about Jesus and His love to sinners.\nI liked your words very much, and was so taken up with them that I do\nnot know when it became light; for now I could see the rough common, and\na path, and we were walking in it. Going along this path, we came to a\nwall, and I could not go any further; but you walked on as if there were\nno wall. Presently you stopped, and, turning to me, said, 'Why don't you\ncome on?'\n\n\"I answered, 'I cannot.'\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because there is a wall here.\"\n\n\"No,\" you said, \"there is no wall--it is an open door.\"\n\n\"I was surprised at you saying that, for I feel the wall and see it.\"\n\n\"What would you do if there was no wall? Do that. It is not a wall, but\na door,\" you said; \"walk forward!\"\n\n\"When I ventured forward I found your were true. It was, indeed, an open\nway, leading into a beautiful garden. I was very happy, and said, 'Whose\ngarden is this?'\n\n\"You answered, 'It is the Lord's, and you are to dress it and work in\nit.\"\n\n\"Then I saw the Lord Himself. He came forward, and bidding me welcome,\nsaid that you should teach me for three years. Then I awoke.\"\n\nFrom this extraordinary narration I gathered three things for myself.\n\nFirst, that God intended me to come to this place.\nSecondly, that I was to labour here for three years.\nThirdly, that I was to teach the people not to wait for feelings, but to\nact upon the Word of God.\n\nThis last intimation was so clearly signified by William's dream, that\nit came upon me with striking force. I had been speaking on this very\nsubject more than once, and had ventured so far as to say that I thought\nthis delusion about waiting for feelings was from the devil, to hinder\nthe work of God in the soul. It certainly did hinder us, very much; and,\nmoreover, it was most distressing to see people, who were manifestly\nimpressed under the power of a present God, waiting for Him; because\nthey did not feel some token, which they had set their minds upon. Day\nby day souls were being given in the Church, and also in the cottage\nmeetings; so that I could not help seeing that the Lord had begun to use\nme again. Some came to the meetings who had been awakened under the\nordinary preaching of the Gospel; some because others brought them; and\nsome out of curiosity. One of the latter cases I will mention.\n\nA married woman, N. R--, heard people talking of the work which was\ngoing on. It seemed to her to be such a strange thing in connection with\na Church minister, that she came to a cottage meeting to judge for\nherself, without the remotest idea of being converted. God's ways are\nnot as ours; while she was listening, the word reached her with power,\nso that she was convicted and converted, and came out of that cottage a\nrejoicing believer, lost in wonder, love and praise. She was indeed\nstrikingly and manifestly changed, and did not hide it. It was such a\njoy and surprise to her that she could not help telling every one. Out\nof the abundance of her heart her lips spoke to tell of the loving\nkindness of the Lord.\n\n\nCHAPTER 32\n\nBible Readings, 1858-59.\n\nThe church (so-called) in which I now ministered had been built by\npersons who intended to accommodate the largest number of people for the\nsmallest amount of money. It was scantily built, and almost square, with\ngalleries on three sides. On the remaining one there used to be a\npulpit, conspicuously placed in the middle of the wall. This important\nportion of the edifice was now removed to one side, to make room for a\nCommunion table, the seats in front being arranged chancel-wise, facing\none another, for the choir. This was quite a damper to my ecclesiastical\ntastes; besides being ugly in the extreme.\n\nI tried by putting ornamental scrolls over the windows, and by staining\nthe glass in them, to make some improvement. I also painted a diaper\npattern round the side walls; and upon the high blank wall behind the\nCommunion table exercised all the skill I possessed, but fear it was\nsomewhat in vain, though I laboured hard. The designs looked very well\non paper, but when displayed on the wall gave no satisfaction; so one\nafter another they disappeared, till my dissolving views, as they were\ncalled, ended in a large floriated cross of gold, with a monogram\ninter-twined in it, on a dark background.\n\nWhen once, however, the Lord began to bless the Word, and souls were\nawakened, despite all anti-ecclesiastical appearances, my heart was\ndrawn towards the ugly place, and I loved it greatly. I could never have\nbelieved that my former tastes and tendencies could have been so\ncompletely changed as they were.\n\nIn those days it was a strange thing to hold an after-meeting in a\nchurch; it was never done, even by the few who had such meetings.\nTherefore, I took the anxious ones and others to my own house for the\ninquiry meeting, after the evening service. Having taken up the carpet\nin the drawing-room, we fitted it up with chairs and forms to\naccommodate ninety people, while half as many more occupied the hall,\nand often numbers stood outside the windows. In this house it pleased\nGod to give us very many souls, who were brought in week by week for\nseveral months. I believe every room in that house, like the rooms at\nBaldhu Parsonage, was consecrated as the birth-place of one or more of\nGod's children.\n\nThe number of those who attended the after-meeting became so great, that\nwe found it necessary to go to the large schoolroom. This place will\nalso be remembered in eternity, and many a soul will say of it, \"I was\nborn there!\"\n\nOne night, when I returned home from a distant meeting, I was called to\nsee a person in Feat distress of soul. As I went down the street at\neleven o'clock, I was surprised to see lights in almost all the houses,\nand what was more, to hear voices in urgent and importunate prayer, as\nalso the voice of thanks-giving. The whole street was alive, and indeed\nthere was a most \"joyful noise\" on every side. I was praying or\nrejoicing in one house or another all through the night, which was one\nnever to be forgotten.\n\nA glorious work of salvation was going on without the extravagant noise\nand excitement we used to have in former years. I was exceedingly\nthankful for this also, and began next to consider what was to be done\nwith these new converts. Besides inviting them to the church services,\nfor which they needed no pressing, I urged them to read their Bibles at\nhome, bidding them to mark any passages where they wished for\nexplanation, that I might have something good and profitable to speak\nabout when I visited them. Then I invited them to Bible-classes; instead\nof to experience meetings, which Cornish people rely upon so much. On\nthese occasions I endeavoured to instruct the people from God's Word,\nand put Christ before them as the object of faith, hope, and love. After\nprayer I encouraged them to ask questions, which made these gatherings\ninteresting and also instructive on the very points upon which they\nrequired information.\n\nI found that these Bible-classes were a great blessing to those who\nattended them, but more than all, perhaps, to myself; watering other\nsouls with the water of life I was more abundantly watered. The\nquestions of the people drew my attention to distinctions and\ndifferences I had not noticed before, and helped to take off the\ncoloured glasses through which I had hitherto read the Word.\n\nI observed that the third, sixth, and twentieth chapters of St. John's\nGospel had been held and interpreted by me in a way that I now saw to be\naltogether wrong. I had taken the first of these as bearing on Baptism,\nthe second on the Holy Communion, and the third on Priestly Absolution.\n\nI pondered much over these chapters, and marvelled how they could have\nbeen so diverted from their original and obvious meaning; and, more\nwonderful still, that countless millions in Christendom had so received\nthem for many generations. It was a bold thing, and seemingly\npresumptuous to suppose that I was right and all Christendom wrong; but\nI soon found that mine was no new discovery, and that if millions who\nfollowed traditions without comparing them with the Bible, thought on\none side, there were also millions who did read their Bibles, and\nthought on the other.\n\nIt was perfectly clear, moreover, that one obvious motive or policy had\ndictated the false application of the three chapters. It will be\nobserved that priest rule is established in them; for, according to this\nteaching, no one can enter the kingdom of God 'without priestly\noperation in baptism; no one abide or be fed in it without the same in\nHoly Communion; nor any one receive absolution from sin, and final\nrelease from hell to heaven, apart from sacerdotal action.\n\nOn the other hand, I saw spiritual men, as sure as they were of their\nown existence that their new birth took place, not at baptism, but at\ntheir conversion. Therefore they were convinced that the third chapter\nof St. John, in which our Lord's conversation with Nicodemus is\nrecorded, refers to that spiritual change which takes place at\nconversion, and not to baptism, which was not even instituted for two or\nthree years afterwards (Matt. 28:19).\n\nAgain, as to the sixth chapter. A spiritual man knows that he feeds\ncontinually on the body and blood of Christ, it is the \"Bread which came\ndown from heaven\" for him. The Lord said, \"He that eateth Me, even he\nshall live by Me\" (John 6:57). They know how they received spiritual\nlife, and also how it is continually maintained; therefore they could\nnot allow themselves to be carried away with such a palpable fiction as\ntransubstantiation, or any other doctrine kindred to it. The sixth\nchapter does not refer to the Lord's supper, but the Lord's Supper\nrefers to the reality which is mentioned in it.\n\nLastly, as to the twentieth chapter of St. John, on the authority of\nwhich it is supposed and asserted that Christ left power with His Church\nand priests to forgive sins. Of this we may say, He has not delegated\nany such powers at all. When He gave commissions to His disciples (not\nexclusively to the apostles), He said, \"Lo, I am with you.\" Our power is\nnot imparted to us from Him, but is in Him. We have no power at all, but\nin Him, and no grace but 'that which is in Christ Jesus (2 Tim. 2:1). It\nis His presence, His real, promised presence by the Holy Ghost, which is\nspiritual power; and this is given directly to individuals by God\nHimself, and is not transmitted through other channels.\n\nThe Lord Jesus, on His resurrection day, said to His disciples, in the\nupper room--and, be it remembered, that all the eleven were not there\n(and some women may have been)--\"Peace be unto you. Receive ye the Holy\nGhost: Whose soever sins ye remit, 'they are remitted unto them; and\nwhose soever sins ye retain, they are retained\" (John 20:23).\n\nIs it possible or reasonable to suppose that our Lord intended by these\nwords to constitute all that assembly absolving priests? The apostles\nand early Christians (both men and women) never thought so, either\nbefore or even after the day of Pentecost, when they were taught and led\nby the Holy Ghost. The apostles did not exercise any so-called priestly\nfunctions; they all preached the Gospel, and as ministers and witnesses,\ndeclared, through Jesus Christ, the forgiveness of sins. Their testimony\nwas then, as such testimony will ever be, the savour of life or the\nsavour of death. It was thus they remitted and retained sins; and yet\nnot they, but God by them.\n\nWhile I was thus ruminating, a book came into my hands which interested\nme greatly. This I read and re-read, and made an abstract of it. It was\nthe \"Life of Adelaide Newton.\" What struck me in it so much was, to find\nthat this lady was able to hold spiritual communion with God by means of\na Bible only. Is it possible, I thought, to have such close communion\nwith God, apart from the Church and her ministrations? I do not hesitate\nto say that this was the means, under God, of stripping off some remains\nof my grave-clothes, and enabling me to walk in spiritual liberty,\ninstead of legal and sacramental bond age.\n\nHuman reasoning would say, \"What, then, is the use of ministry and\nsacraments? Let us dispense with them, and be independent of them\naltogether.\" This is no better than saying that we will continue in sin\nthat grace may abound; and the same answer which the apostle gives will\ndo for this also: \"God forbid!\"\n\nIt does not follow, because some people make too much of ministry and\nsacraments, making them absolutely necessary to salvation, that we\nshould, on the other hand, disregard them. There is another and happier\nalternative, and that is, to realize they were made for us, not we for\nthem; therefore we should not be subject to them, but rather they should\nbe subject to us, and be used by us, not in order to obtain God's grace\nand salvation, but to show that we have already done so. In our\nobedience to God's ordinances, we acknowledge our allegiance to Him, and\nour submission to His will.\n\nFor fear that my people should go off, as too many do, into disregard of\nthe \"means of grace,\" because sacramental people make too much of them,\nI began a class for exposition and explanation of the Prayer-book. I\ncommenced by showing them that the Church of England is the Lord's\ncandlestick in this country, not the candle, and certainly not the\nlight, but the candlestick which the Lord set up here, possibly even as\n'early as the days of the apostles, to show the true light, which is\nChrist. And though, Romish corruptions supervened, it pleased God, at;\nthe time of the Reformation, to raise up men to deliver us from them,\nand to restore true Bible teaching.\n\nThus I endeavoured to show them, that the system of the Church of\nEngland was one which should commend itself to their regard, as quite\nagreeable to Scripture; and if it is not carried out according to its\nintention, that is not the fault of the system, but rather of those who\nadminister it. Next, as to worship.\n\nThe object of our assembling in the house of God is not, I said, so much\nto hear sermons, or get instruction, as in Bible, or other classes, but\nrather \"to render thanks for the great benefits we have received at\nGod's hands, to set forth His most worthy praise, to hear His most holy\nword, and to ask those things which are requisite and necessary as well\nfor the body as the soul.\" That worship is devotion towards God; it\nconsists more in giving than in getting. Some of the people were greatly\ninterested when I pointed out to them, that the order of our Service was\nexactly the same as the order of theft spiritual experience, in\nconviction, conversion, and Christian life.\n\nFor example, the Morning Service begins with a sentence such as, \"To the\nLord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have rebelled\nagainst Him;\" then comes the exhortation, which moves us to surrender\nourselves; then the confession, which is the act of surrender.\nImmediately after this is declared the absolution and forgiveness of\nsins, \"to all who truly repent, and unfeignedly believe the Gospel.\"\n\nThen comes the Lord's Prayer, which leads us, at once, into the place of\nchildren, accepted in the Beloved: then follow acts of thanksgiving\":--\n\n\"Open Thou my lips, and my mouth shall show forth Thy praise.\"\n\n\"Oh, come let us sing unto the Lord, let us heartily rejoice in the\nstrength of our salvation.\"\n\nThese, and such-like explanations, helped to enlist the interest of the\npeople; and when, as before, they only used to endure the prayers, while\nwaiting for the sermon, now they engaged in them intelligently, and even\nwith more delight than in extempore prayer.\n\nAs to the Communion Service I bade them notice that it begins with the\nLord's Prayer, in which we draw near to our Father, not as sinners, but\nas His children; asking for a clean heart and for grace to live\naccording to His will; then, we approach the table, unworthy, indeed, to\ntake even the crumbs under it, but trusting in His mercy. We do not go\nthere to offer a sacrifice of Christ's body, but of our own as a\nthanksgiving to God, offering and presenting ourselves--spirit, soul,\nand body--a living sacrifice to His service.\n\nEvery week we took some subject from the Prayer-book, noticing the\nspecial seasons in their order, such as Advent, Christmas, Epiphany,\nLent, Easter, Ascension, and Whitsuntide, each with their respective\nteaching.\n\nI was now happy in my work; but it did not, of course, go on as sweetly\nas the theory sets it forth. We made, however, as straight a course as\nwe could, under contending winds and currents. The intelligent part of\nmy congregation, however interested they were in the work outside the\nchurch and the worship within, nevertheless, had their misgivings and\ndoubts which they did not hide. They said, \"This teaching seems all true\nand scriptural; but what will become of us if you go away, and another\nman comes who thinks otherwise? We have no security as in the chapels,\nthat conversion work will go on, and living souls be fed and encouraged.\nVery few churches have such a work as the Lord is doing here!\"\n\nThis, indeed, was the sad part of working in the Church of England then.\nEven still, there is much discouragement on this head; and too many\nliving souls, who would not willingly go, are driven away from their own\nChurch, to seek teaching in other communions; but they cannot take their\nchildren and servants to witness priestly ceremonials, or to hear\nsacramental, as opposed to spiritual teaching; neither can they\nconscientiously give countenance to these things, by going themselves.\n\nHowever, I endeavoured to pacify the people by begging them to be\nthankful for present privileges, and to trust God to lead them for the\nfuture.\n\nIt is an awful thing to see and know that people come for bread, and get\na stone; for fish, and they get a serpent; and for an egg, they are\noffered a scorpion (Luke 11:11, 12). Exceedingly trying it is to be\nfrowned upon by clerical brethren in the presence of Dissenters, who, to\nsay the least, do know the difference between life and death. In one\nchurch we have the service elaborately rendered, and the sermon is\nnothing; in another the sermon is everything, and the service most\nslovenly; and, too often, souls remain unawakened, and perishing on all\nsides.\n\n\nCHAPTER 33\n\nThe Work Continued, 1859.\n\nWhile I was at Hayle, I had so much to do among the people, and so many\nmeetings, that I seldom had leisure to go out for preaching elsewhere;\nnor do I remember that I had many invitations to do so. Occasionally I\nwent to preach at Penzance, where a good work was steadily progressing\nat St. Paul's Church; but otherwise. I seldom left my pulpit.\n\nEverything was now going on in a way which satisfied me, after all my\ntossings to and fro. I was surrounded with a happy people, who were\nliving and working for the Lord. All the week they were busy, and also\non the watch for souls. On Sunday they came regularly to church, with an\nintelligent idea of worship, and joined heartily in the services of the\nday. At eight o'clock in the morning they assembled in large numbers for\nthe Holy Communion; then we had the usual morning and evening services\nin the church, concluding with a prayer meeting. In the afternoon we had\nsomething else. There was the Sunday school for some of our workers;\ntract distribution for others: many went out to preach in the villages;\nand others went with me either to the sands, the common, or on board\nsome ship, for an evangelistic service. The day of rest was not one of\ninactivity, but of useful and happy occupation for the Lord. Many a\nformer Sabbath-breaker, now changed and rejoicing in God, was amongst\nus, delighting in the Christian privilege of working for the Master. It\nwas a day that many of them looked forward to and spent with intense\ndelight; and on Monday evening we met to tell what we had seen and heard\nof the Lord's goodness to ourselves and others.\n\nWhenever the good ship \"Cornwall\" was in harbour, it was expected there\nwould be a preaching on \"board of her,\" under the well-known Bethel\nflag. The mate of this vessel had been a terribly wicked man, and a most\ndaring blasphemer. It pleased God to convert his soul in a remarkable\nmanner; and now nothing would do but he must work for God.\n\nOne Sunday, when he was at Cardiff, he heard that a vessel which had\nleft that port on the previous Friday morning had gone down with all\nhands. He was greatly grieved about this; for one of the seamen of the\nvessel was in former times a friend and companion of his. He had prayed\nfor his soul, but hitherto without any success, and this added to his\ngrief. To his amazement, he saw his friend standing on the quay.\n\"Hallo!\" he said, \"I am glad to see you. How is it you are here? Have\nyou heard that your vessel has gone down with all hands?\"\n\n\"Has she, indeed!\" he exclaimed, bursting out into tears; \"then it is\nall my fault, for I let her go short-handed. After we set sail I had\nwords with the captain, so he dismissed me, and I came back in the pilot\nboat. It is all my fault!\"\n\n\"This is the third time, then, that the Lord has given you your life,\"\nsaid Sam.\n\n\"You had better call on Him to have mercy on your soul.\" So saying, he\nfell on his knees, and began to pray for him. His companion soon\nfollowed, crying aloud for mercy. Though a crowd of people quickly\nassembled and stood round, he took no heed, but continued his\nsupplication until he obtained mercy, and could praise God.\n\nSeeing that some of the by-standers were looking anxious, Sam invited\nthem on board his ship and had a meeting, at which he told them how the\nLord had saved his soul. Having received much encouragement that day, he\ndetermined, if possible, that he would get a Bethel flag, and hold\nservices whenever and wherever he could.\n\nOn his arrival at Hayle from Cardiff, he went at once to see the wife of\nthe owner of the ship, knowing that she took a great interest in the\nwelfare of sailors. He told her his plans, and made his request for a\nBethel flag, which this lady kindly and generously gave him permission\nto get.\n\nOn obtaining it, Sam came and asked me if I would preach at the first\nhoisting of it. This I consented to do, and on the following Sunday\nafternoon we had a large concourse of people on board, and also on the\nquay alongside. I gave out the hymn:--\n\n\"O God of Bethel, by whose hand\nThy people still are fed.\"\n\nWhile I was giving it out, Sam ran his flag up to the masthead in the\nshape of a ball. So it remained while we were singing; and during the\nprayer which followed; and when I gave out my text (Gen. 28:19), \"He\ncalled the name of that place Bethel,\" Sam pulled the halyard, and the\nflag, some eighteen or twenty feet long, 'flew out in all its grandeur.\nBefore the sermon was finished, some of the people began to cry for\nmercy, and dear Sam was in an ecstasy of delight, and rejoiced aloud.\n'Thus his flag was inaugurated with blessing from on high, and \"Many is\nthe time since,\" said 3am, \"when souls have been blessed under it, both\nat Cardiff and at Hayle.\"\n\nI have said nothing about the infidels I had to work amongst when I\nfirst came to this place. Some of them raged and opposed themselves\nagainst us for a time, but one by one the ringleaders of this party were\nbrought to God, and eventually their club dwindled away. The history\nconcerning some I have already published in tracts; but there is one\ncase I feel I must insert here, for besides being a remarkable history,\nthere is much teaching in it.\n\nIt is the story of a man who professed to be an infidel, and used to\nspeak very freely of things which he said he did not believe. For\ninstance, he boasted that he did not believe in God or the Bible, Christ\nor devil, heaven or hell; though I must say he seemed to believe in\nhimself very considerably. It was very difficult to deal with a man who\ntook his stand upon nothing but negatives. He was well known among his\nneighbours, dreaded by some and quite a mystery to others. He was\ncontinually to be seen about with a gun, especially on Sundays, when he\nwas not ashamed to be thus desecrating God's holy day; on the contrary,\nhe rather prided himself on not \"shifting\" his working-day clothes, when\nother people were dressed in their best.\n\nIt was sad to see a man of such intelligence and capacity defying public\nrespect and opinion, and trampling upon every sense of right and\npropriety. There is generally a reason, if we can only discover it, why\npeople outrage public opinion, and break out of the stream and path of\ntheir fellow-men.\n\nOne Sunday evening, however, after a day spent as usual, in idling about\nand shooting little birds, our friend John was observed by a woman\nstanding outside a church, under the window nearest to the pulpit. He\nstood there, listening very attentively to the sermon, till it was over;\nand then, before the congregation could come out, he made off stealthily\nand hastily, to escape observation. But passing near the woman who had\nbeen watching him, she heard him say, with a look of distress on his\ncountenance, \"It's no use--the devil's sure to have me! It doesn't\nmatter!\"\n\nThis woman told me on Monday morning what she had seen and heard; so I\ndetermined to go at once and see the man. It was not his dinner-time\nyet; but I thought I would have a little conversation with his wife\nbefore he came home. To my surprise, however, I found him there. \"What,\nnot working today, John?\" I said. \"What's the matter?\"\n\n\"I ain't very well,\" he answered. \"I got no sleep last night; but I mean\nto work in the afternoon, for all that,\" he continued, with an air of\ndetermination and defiance.\n\n\"What's the matter? Have you got anything on your mind?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Mind?\" he repeated, as if in contempt at the thought. \"There is not\nmuch that ever troubles my mind.\" He then went on to give me a long\naccount of his bodily ailments.\n\n\"But do you never think about your soul, John?\" I asked; \"never think\nabout another world and eternity?\"\n\n\"Soul and eternity! I don't believe in either the one or the other of\nthem!\"\n\n\"Not believe you have a soul! Come, John, I am sure you know better than\nthat.\" And I went on to speak of the joys of heaven and the bitter\ntorments of hell; of the love of God, who willeth not the death of the\nsinner, but rather that he should turn and live; and then I proceeded to\ntell him of the atonement which Jesus Christ finished on the cross, and\nthat now there is pardon for the vilest sinner through the efficacy of\nthe blood which has been shed once for all.\n\n\"You know, John,\" I continued, \"that I do not care to argue about these\nthings. There is mercy for you, if you will have it. We can bring water\nto the horses, but we cannot make them drink. My business is to put the\nway of pardon and salvation plainly before you; and after that, if you\nreject it, it will be your own fault if you perish. Do you know how to\nget forgiveness of sins?\"\n\nHe seemed very uneasy all the time I was speaking; and at length, after\na pause, he looked me in the face with a hardened expression, and said,\n\"There's no pardon for me--I know it.\"\n\n\"That cannot be,\" I said; \"I do not believe it.\"\n\n\"No,\" he continued, \"there's no pardon for me. I have known that for\nfourteen years.\" I inwardly resolved to get this dreadful secret from\nhim, which was driving him to such evident desperation. A few days\nafterwards an opportunity occurred, and I pressed upon him for his own\nsake to tell me, or some one else, what had happened fourteen years ago;\nand what special communication he had had with another world.\n\n\"Oh,\" he said, \"I never told anybody; but I would as soon tell you as\nany one else. I had a dream once---do you ever have dreams? I have many\nthings told me in dreams.\" Then he was silent; but I was more curious\nthan ever now, and begged him to tell me what had happened. At last he\nbegan, \"I dreamt that I was walking along a broad smooth road, where\neverything was most lovely; the weather was fine, and the scenery grand;\nthere were beautiful gardens, churches, chapels, theatres, houses, and\nindeed everything you could think of. The people all seemed to be\ndelighting in it, and as though they were out for a holiday. Some were\nwalking, some singing, some dancing, and in one way or the other they\nall appeared to be enjoying themselves beyond bounds. Seeing a workman\nin a field close by, I called to him, and asked 'Where does this road\nlead to?' He answered, 'To hell, straight on; you cannot miss!' 'Hell!'\nI was surprised; 'Hell,' I said to myself, 'this is very different to\nwhat I thought. Is the way to hell as pleasant as this? and are people\nso unconcerned about it?' I was amazed; but though the man told me this\npleasant road led to hell, I did not stop; I went on and on, seemingly\nas pleased as others were. However, it did not continue like this long,\nfor soon I came to a rough part, all up and down, where the atmosphere\nwas thick and sulphury, and it was almost dark. I did not like it, and\nwished very much to get out of the place, but I could not.\n\n\"Seeing some people in the distance, I went near to ask them the way\nout. They were busy with long rakes raking cinders about on the dry\nground, and would not answer my urgent inquiries. As I approached them I\nsaw that they did not look like 'humans,' and that every now and then\nfire appeared from under ground, over which they raked cinders to keep\nit out of sight. They were so absorbed in their work that they did not\nheed my question, though I pleaded more and more earnestly. At last, I\nobserved that one of them ceased from his strange work, and looked at\nme; whereupon I addressed myself to him, begging him to show me the way\nout of the place.\" John added, \"If I ever prayed in my life I prayed\nthen; but he shook his head as if he pitied me, and said mournfully,\n'The way you came in,' I replied, 'I cannot find it'; then again he\nshook his head as if to say, 'You never will.' I was obliged to rise\nfrom my knees, for the ground was so hot, and in my despair I ran I know\nnot whither. As I passed along in haste, I came to cracks in the ground\nfull of fire; I stepped over them one after another, and ran on till I\ncame to such a large chasm, that I could not jump over it. I turned and\nwent in another direction, leaping and running, in a state of terror,\ntill at last I came upon a sheet of glowing fire, into which I fell.\nThen I awoke. For fourteen years this has followed me; there is no hope\nfor me!\"\n\nBy this time he became very much excited and agitated: seizing his cap\nhe ran out of the house, leaving his wife and myself in mute\nastonishment at his strange tale.\n\nI went home pondering over the meaning of this dream, and was struck at\nthe amount of truth in it. I thought--How fair are the promises of the\nworld to begin with, and how delusive and disappointing they are at the\nend! Of course, Satan, the god of this world, will make the way to hell\nas bright and pleasing as he possibly can; and if people take outward\ncircumstances and pleasing prospects for indications of safety, they\nwilfully lay themselves open to this deadly delusion. What a number\nthere are who know, or might know, that they are on the road to hell;\nthat they cannot miss; and yet they go on! And then how many people\nthere are who rake cinders; that is, when thoughts of death, or\njudgment, or hell, obtrude themselves, how readily they cover them over\nwith hopes of escape, or some good intentions to be better, before it is\ntoo late! How often parents do the same for their children, for they\ncannot bear to think of their being lost forever; so they hope that\nsomehow they will be changed before they die! How often preachers rake\ncinders also, by addressing their hearers as if they were all safe, and\nonly wanted a little teaching now and then; and it may be a little\nwarning occasionally! They cannot bear to tell them plainly that they\nare lost now, and may be lost for ever, if they do not repent and\nbelieve the Gospel; they would rather \"be persuaded better things of\nthem, and things which accompany salvation,\" though they know for\ncertain that there are many unsaved ones in their congregation. They\nentertain them with good hearty services and pleasing sermons, and then\nlet them go on their way to the solemn end, perfectly unconscious of any\ndanger.\n\nThe Lord Jesus had no such false charity as this. He has told us plainly\nthat we are all perishing creatures, and that there is no hope for any\none of us while we are still on the broad road to ruin and in an\nunchanged state; that we must be born again or we cannot see the kingdom\nof God; that we must believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, who died in our\nstead on the cross, or perish for ever. Preachers therefore ought to be\nmore faithful, because life is so uncertain, and the warnings of God so\nsure.\n\nWell did John dream that they did not look like human beings, who were\nraking cinders to keep the fire out of sight.\n\nAfter some days I got light on the subject of this awful dream, and\nhastened to tell John that I had found the way out of that fearful place\nfor him. He would not hear me for some time; but I told him, that the\nprodigal son said, \"I will arise and go to my Father, and say unto Him,\nI have sinned.\" \"You see, John,\" I continued, \"he came back the way he\nwent, and he found pardon; that is the way for you.\"\n\nI then knelt down and prayed, and he knelt with me at his table. There\nhe remained for four hours, without speaking a word, until I was\nthoroughly exhausted and obliged to go. No sooner had I gone, than\nJohn's heart failed him, and he burst out crying aloud, and said to his\nwife, \"Oh, Mary, what shall I do? What shall I do?\"\n\n\"Take the book and read,\" she said, pushing the Bible along the table to\nhim. It was open at the fifteenth chapter of St. Luke, where he read the\nwords aloud, \"I will arise and go to my Father and will say unto him,\nFather, I have sinned.\" The spell was broken and the string of his\ntongue loosed, so that he cried aloud for mercy.\n\nThis was no unusual thing in one house or another; but in this\nparticular dwelling it was wonderful. His next-door neighbour, who had\noften heard the sound of cursing and swearing there, but never the voice\nof prayer, was so astonished, that he rose and came to the door to\nassure himself of the astonishing fact. It was quite true; surely it was\nJohn's own voice praying. So, lifting the latch, he went in and shouted,\n\"Glory to God!\" The louder William shouted, the louder John cried for\nmercy. When listening to his friend, who pointed him to \"the Lamb of\nGod, who taketh away the sin of the world,\" he found that \"There is life\nfor a look at the Crucified One;\" and then they shouted and praised God\ntogether.\n\nIt was a joyful meeting when I saw him again, and thanked God with him\nfor the marvellous change which had been wrought in his soul. His very\nface was altered; and instead of the restless and defiant glare there\nused to be in his countenance, there was rest and cheerfulness.\n\nI pointed out to him, from that same portion of the Word of God which\nhad been blessed to his soul, that there was something more to be had\nthan the pardon that he had already received; that there was also the\nbest robe, the ring, the shoes, and the feast of rejoicing. The Father's\narms round the neck of the prodigal son is a token of forgiveness---the\nrobe, of righteousness divine which is imputed to us; the ring, of our\nunion with Christ; the shoes, of strength, even grace, with which we\nwalk; and the feast of rejoicing, the believer's privilege of joy and\nthanksgiving.\n\nJohn's conversion was a remarkable event, and caused a great sensation;\ncrowds of his fellow-work-mates used to stand round him while he told\nhis wonderful story. \"Oh,\" he said, \"I used to say there was no hell,\nwhen all the time I had it burning in my heart; but, glory be to God, I\nam saved from hell to heaven!\"\n\nHe seldom prayed in public after this, without begging the Lord to loose\nthe string of the tongue; for, as he said (speaking from experience),\n\"so many are held captive by that dumb devil.\" He became a true\nmissionary for souls, and was very zealous in his testimony, especially\namongst his old companions, who worked in the same factory: he had the\njoy of seeing many of them brought to the Lord.\n\nJohn seemed to realize unseen things in an unusually striking way. He\nwas a man who in his sleep had vivid dreams, and who in his waking hours\npondered much upon eternal realities, so that he spoke as one who lived\nin sight of another world.\n\n\nCHAPTER 34\n\nThe Dismissal, 1860-61\n\nOf this work at Hayle was not \"a success,\" in every sense of the word, I\ndo not yet know what success in parochial ministry is. If large\ncongregations may be counted; many communicants taken into reckoning;\nwith frequent services, and schools full of children--we certainly had\nthese. But above all, we had a continual ingathering of souls, who will\ntestify throughout eternity of the blessedness and reality of the work\nof God during the time I was there.\n\nIt so happened that as we approached the term of three years, of which I\nhad been premonished when I first came, that my dear friend, Mr. Aitken,\ncame to pay us a visit. He preached with more amazing power than ever.\nHis appeals were altogether overwhelming, and I do not wonder that the\npeople fell on their knees, as they did then and there, and cried aloud\nfor mercy.\n\nA newspaper reporter who came to hear this \"great man\" preach, was at\nfirst observed to be writing very diligently; then he paused, and his\nhand fell; then his pencil and book went from his grasp; presently he\nhimself fell on his knees, and began to cry for mercy. We were curious\nafterwards to read his report.\n\nIn it the grateful man acknowledged his indebtedness, and the blessing\nhe had received. As to the sermon, he likened it to one of the storms of\nthe great Atlantic. He said. \"At such a time it is interesting to stand\non the shore and watch the sea, and to note the power of wind and waves\nwhile the storm is raging. Even then it is sometimes terrific enough;\nbut how much more so when the wind veers and the mighty waves come\nrolling in one after another, and breaking with tremendous force upon\nthe rocks on which we stand! So it was with this preacher. All eyes were\nfixed on him when he gave out his text, and proceeded with his usual\nintroduction. Now and then he alarmed and roused us with the power of\nhis oratory; but when he turned to apply his subject to the consciences\nof the people, he became irresistible. Immediately, there was heard on\nall sides a cry for mercy. The stentorian voice of the preacher was\naudible above all others as he went on to apply the Word with\nunrelenting force, till very few hearts, however hard, remained\nunbroken.\"\n\nThis was a memorable day with us. Twice was the church filled and\nemptied; and again a third time, in the evening, the people crowded in\nand filled the place. Far into the night we wrought amongst the anxious\nand broken-hearted, bidding them to look at the Crucified One and live.\n\nMr. Aitken was not a man who raked cinders over the fire, but rather\nraked them off and that in true kindness and love; but with terrible and\nawful plainness he showed the danger of trifling with the Gospel, and\npresuming upon God's love and forbearance.\n\nOn Monday evening we invited the people to assemble in the large\nschoolroom, which was filled to excess. Here I thought that the\nschoolmaster's desk would have been demolished under the tremendous\nenergy and force, both mental and physical, of this preacher. At the\nfirst sign of a breakdown among the people, the great, tall man, in his\nlong coat or cassock, came majestically striding out from behind the\ndesk. That was enough. A hard rough-looking sailor, who was sitting by,\nwith his eyes fixed on Mr. Aitken for a long time, fell on his knees and\nbegan to roar aloud for mercy, and very many others followed his\nexample.\n\nI asked this man afterwards what it was that had had such an effect upon\nhim? \"Oh,\" he replied, drawing his breath, as if he had scarcely yet\nrecovered from the shock, \"that big man was bad enough the other side of\nthe desk, but when he came forth to the front, I didn't know what would\nhappen to me. I was obliged to cry out for mercy; I couldn't help it.\"\n\nThe \"big man,\" like the \"Stormy Petrel,\" was just in his element in such\na scene. In the gladness and joy of his heart he rejoiced and shouted,\n\"Glory--glory be to God!\" in a way which no one else could imitate or\nfollow.\n\nIn the midst of this scene of confusion (as it must have appeared to an\noutside observer, if such an one was there), sat a woman, looking on at\nthe people praying and praising God, when all at once Mr. Aitken turned\nsuddenly upon her and said, \"And you, my sister!\" Immediately she gave a\nscream, and was down on her knees in a moment, crying for mercy as loud\nas the loudest.\n\nIf Cornish people like a noise, they certainly had it that evening to\ntheir hearts' content. As I have said before, when there is a real power\nof the Spirit present, the outpouring of the heart with noisy\ndemonstration is joyous to those who go with the stream, and are in\nsympathy with it; but if those present stop to doubt the propriety of\nsuch an outcry, and begin to rebuke those who make it, then I think the\nanswer that the Lord gave the Pharisees would still be applicable: \"I\ntell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would\nimmediately cry out\" (Luke 19:40).\n\nIt was a great triumph, and the rams' horns did more execution in these\ntwo days than the silver trumpets had done in as many yearn.\n\nThe next day, as soon as Mr. Aitken had gone, the rector came to see me.\nHe appeared to be somewhat embarrassed at first, but after a little time\nsaid (looking on the ground), \"You know I am no revivalist. I do not\nlike all this uproar. I cannot have it.\" He then went on to say that he\nwished me to leave, for though he had given a guarantee that if I\nsucceeded, he would build me a church and endow it, he could not do\nanything of the kind now, for he did not consider my work any success\nwhatever--quite the contrary. \"These converted people (as you call them)\nare no churchmen!\"\n\nI replied, that I had taken his voice as from God in inviting me, and I\nsupposed that I must take the same for my dismissal, if he really\nintended it; but I urged upon him to consider the matter well before he\nbroke up the work which was going on there, for whatever he thought\nabout it, it was undoubtedly a work of God, though one certainly not\nvery common in churches.\n\nWithout saying another word he took up his hat and went away. His\ndeparture was so abrupt that I could not believe he intended me to\nreceive this as six months' notice. Consequently, I went on with my work\nas usual, finding plenty to do, more especially after Mr. Aitken's\nenergetic visit. There were many new converts to add to our classes;\nanxious ones to be guided and led to Christ; and broken-hearted and\ndespairing ones to be comforted and built up. The work under such a\npreacher is by no means finished with his visit, however long or short\nit may be; but, on the contrary, it may rather be said to begin there.\n\nAfter some months, the rector came again to remind me that he had given\nme notice more than five months before, and that he wished me to leave\nat the beginning of the year, as he had secured the services of a\nclergyman whose views were in accordance with his own. I was much\ngrieved at this and could only lay it before the Lord, and beg of Him to\norder all according to His will.\n\nThe following morning, without any seeking on my part, I received an\ninvitation from Bath, asking me to come and take charge of the district\nof St. Paul's, in the parish of Holy Trinity. Thus was the door shut\nbehind me, and another opened in front. This was so unmistakable, that I\ncould not but be satisfied, and acquiesce in the manifest will of God;\nthough, naturally, I felt great sorrow at having to leave the people and\nthe work I loved so well. I said nothing about my dismissal, but went on\nwith my various engagements as usual, though I had only a little more\nthan three weeks left me.\n\nBy some means it appeared in the newspapers, that I was appointed to a\ndistrict in Bath, and another clergyman was named as my successor at St.\nJohn's, Hayle. This fell as a great blow upon my people, who were both\ngrieved and angry; but I could not comfort them, any more than I could\nhelp myself.\n\nThe last Christmas-day came and went, a sad and sorrowful day it was;\nthen the last day of the year, and the last night. We held our\nwatch-night service as usual, thanking God for the mercies of the past,\nand entered upon the new year with thanksgiving and prayer.\n\nThus ended my work, and eventful sojourn at Hayle, a little more than\nthree years after it began. A very sorrowful trial it was, and one of\nbitter disappointment; but the Lord's leading was clear, and I have\nsince proved that it was all right, though at the time it was most\nmysterious and very dark.\n\nA few weeks before leaving Hayle, as I was sitting by the fire one wet\nafternoon, my eyes fell on a little coloured picture on the\nmantle-piece, which had been the companion of my journeys for all the\ntwenty years of which I have been writing. It was a quaint mediaeval\nillustration of Moses lifting up the serpent in the wilderness, copied\nfrom a valuable manuscript (Book of Prayers) in the Bodleian Library at\nOxford.\n\nAs I looked at the engraving before me, I began to suspect for the first\ntime that there was a design in the arrangement of the figures, and that\nit was really intended to convey some particular teaching. I took it in\nmy hand and studied it, when I observed that the cross or pole on which\nthe serpent was elevated stood in the centre, dividing two sets of\ncharacters, and that there were serpents on one side, and none on the\nother.\n\nBehind the figure of Moses, is a man standing with his arms crossed on\nhis breast, looking at the brazen serpent. He has evidently obtained\nlife and healing by a look. On the other side, I observed that there\nwere four kinds of persons represented, who were not doing as this\nhealed one did to obtain deliverance.\n\nFirst, there is one who is kneeling in front of the cross, but he is\nlooking towards Moses, and not at the serpent, and apparently confessing\nto him as if he were a priest.\n\nNext behind him is one lying on his back, as if he was perfectly safe,\nthough he is evidently in the midst of danger; for a serpent may be seen\nat his ear, possibly whispering \"Peace, peace, when there is no peace.\"\n\nStill further back from the cross there is a man with a sad face doing a\nwork of mercy, binding up the wounds of a fellow-sufferer, and little\nsuspecting that he himself is involved in the same danger.\n\nBehind them all, on the background, is a valiant man who is doing battle\nwith the serpents, which may be seen rising against him in unabating\npersistency.\n\nI observed that none of these men were looking at the brazen serpent as\nthey were commanded to do. I cannot describe how excited and interested\nI became; for I saw in this illustration a picture of my own life. Here\nwas the way of salvation clearly set forth, and four ways which are not\nthe way of salvation, all of which I had tried and found unavailing.\nThis was the silent but speaking testimony of some unknown denizen of a\ncloister, who lived in the beginning of the fifteenth century, in the\ndays of ignorance and superstition. But notwithstanding this darkness,\nhe was brought out into the marvellous light of the Gospel, and has left\nthis interesting record of his experience.\n\nLike him, I also had fought with serpents, for I began in my own\nstrength to combat with sin, and strove by my own resolutions to\novercome. From this, I went on to do good works, and works of mercy, in\nthe vain hope of thus obtaining the same for myself. Then, I relied in\nthe Church for salvation, as God's appointed ark of safety; but not\nfeeling secure, I took another step beyond, and sought forgiveness\nthrough the power of the priest. This I found was as ineffectual as all\nmy previous efforts. At last, I was brought (by the Spirit of God) as a\nwounded and dying sinner, to look at the Crucified One. Then (as I have\nrelated), I found pardon and peace. Ever since it has been my joy and\nprivilege (like Moses pointing to the serpent) to cry, \"Behold the Lamb\nof God which taketh away the sin of the world\" (John 1:29). \"I have\ndetermined to know nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified;\" that is,\nto tell only of the person and office of Jesus Christ our Lord.\n\nNearly twenty years have elapsed since the period at which this book\ncloses,* and, during all that time I have verified the truth and reality\nof the teaching and experience I have recorded in this volume. All these\nyears, with their months, weeks, and days have passed by, and have found\nme continually rejoicing in the work of the Lord--often wearied in it,\nbut never of it--often tempted to falter, but al ways enabled to\npersevere. I have seen many rise and start well, who have collapsed or\nretired; many who have blazed like a meteor for a short time, and then\ndisappeared from the scene.\n\n__________________________\n\n* I may, perhaps, at some future time, give an account of these latter\ntwenty years.\n_______________________________\n\n\nMay I here, in a few parting words to the reader, tell how it is that I\nhave been kept. I believe it is--first, Because I have never failed to\ninsist upon the absolute necessity of conversion, saying in the words of\nthe Master, \"Marvel not, Ye must be born again\" (John 3:7). Secondly,\nBecause I have preached nothing but what is taken from the Word, and\nrequired nothing to be believed for Salvation and Edification, but what\ncan be proved thereby. Thirdly, because I have exhorted living souls\nwith purpose of heart to cleave unto the Lord; firmly believing that He\nwho died to save, rose again from the dead, and lives to keep His\npeople.\n\nWhen we are saved, we are debtors to God, to devote ourselves to His\nservice, and for His glory: besides this, we are debtors to men, to make\nknown to them the grace which we have received; and we, as faithful\nstewards of God should be ever ready (and not ashamed) to preach the\nGospel, for, \"It is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that\nbelieveth\" (Rom. 1:16).\n\nBrockville, Canada: The Standard Book Room.","title":"From Death Into Life or, Twenty Years of My Ministry","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":95928}