From Death into Life Part 26

One thing that simplified my work very much was the fact, that the people were spiritually dead. I used to tell them, that in this free country every man is accounted innocent till he is proved to be guilty, but that in the Bible every man is guilty before G.o.d till he is pardoned, and dead till he is brought to life. In one sense it does not matter very much whether a man is an infidel, a drunkard, or anything else, if he is dead in trespa.s.ses and sins.

It is of very little consequence in what coloured raiment a corpse is shrouded; it remains a corpse still.

Taking this position positively, I avoided much religious controversy, to the disappointment of many eager disputants, who longed to ventilate their views. 'I told them plainly, that whether they were, right or wrong, my business was with the salvation: of souls, and my one desire was to rescue the lost: by bringing' them to Christ.

Hitherto I had been to places where the Lord had previously prepared the hearts of the people, and therefore it had been my joy to see a revival spring up, as if spontaneously; that is, without the ordinary preparation by the people of the place. These extraordinary manifestations of G.o.d's power and love; and they showed me what He could and do. Now that I was somewhat more intelligent on the subject, He sent me forth to prepare and work for similar results.

Hayle was to all appearances a very barren soil, and the people I had to labour amongst were greater and mightier than myself. They already had possession of the ground, and were perfectly content with their own way.

Moreover, they did not desire any change, and were ready even to resist and oppose every effort which was designed to ameliorate their condition, or to change their lives. In this undertaking I knew and understood that without prayer and dependence upon G.o.d to work in me and by me, my mission would be altogether unavailing, I therefore looked about, and found some Christians who consented to unite in pleading for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit. We agreed to pray in private, and also met together frequently during the week for united prayer. Finding that many of the pet.i.tions offered were vague and diffuse, I endeavoured to set before those a.s.sembled a definite object of prayer. I told them that the work was not ours but the Lord's, and that He was willing and ready to accomplish it, but that He must be inquired of concerning the work of His hands. Also, in order that our prayers should be intelligent and united, I put before them the fact, that the people we had to work amongst were lost; not that they would be lost by-and-by if they died in their sins; but that they were actually lost now. It is true that many were quite ignorant of the way of salvation, and were also unconscious of the power of the enemy who held them captive; and besides, they loved their captivity too well; but all this would be overcome in a moment, when they were once enlightened by the Spirit (in answer to prayer) to see and feel themselves lost. No one could be more ignorant than the jailor at Philippi, but as soon as he was awakened he cried out, "What must I do to be saved?" (Acts 16:30).

I showed them that the work we had to do was clearly set forth in Scripture (Acts 26:18), and that the order in which it was to be done was also made manifest. We must not begin with giving instruction as if the people were merely ignorant; but rather by awakening or opening their eyes to see that they were in a lost and ruined condition. Then they would appreciate being turned "from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto G.o.d, that they may receive forgiveness of sins"

(Acts 26:18). I strove earnestly to show them that until people had received forgiveness of sins, our work was not complete. We made this our definite aim, and prayed about it with clear expectation. Under the shadow and influence of this prayer, I began to preach to the people; not to believe, but to awake and see their lost condition; that is, to repent, that they might believe the Gospel.

At first there were very few people in my congregation, but by degrees more came, and listened attentively to the Word. After preaching for four or five Sundays, I asked the people during my sermon, what in the world they were made of; for I was surprised at them! They came and listened to G.o.d's truth, and yet did not yield themselves to Him. "Are you wood, or leather, or stone? What are your hearts made of, that G.o.d's love cannot touch or His Word break them?" I then invited the anxious to remain for an after-meeting, when I said that I would converse with them more familiarly; but they every one went away.

I returned to the vestry,' feeling somewhat dejected, but still hoping for better days. As I opened the door to go home, two men ran away like frightened boys, but it was too dark for me to distinguish who they were.

That next morning it came to my mind that I must go round to the people and ask them what they were thinking about? I had done so from the pulpit; now I would go from house to house and do the same. I went first to the school, and finding that several children were absent, I took their names and determined to go after them, in the hope of reaching their parents.

The first house I called at was a mistake, and yet it was not. I knocked at the door, and said, "Does Mrs. W-- live here?"

The woman who opened it said, "No, she lives next door."

I apologized for disturbing her, and was going away, when she said, "Will you not come in for a few minutes?" I a.s.sented, and going in, took a seat. Then I asked her name, and whether she went to church.

She replied, "To be sure I do. Don't you see me there every Sunday?"

"Then," I said, "did you hear my question last evening."

"Yes," she said, "but I was afraid, and ashamed to stay behind. But I do wish to be saved; I have been wretched for more than a week."

It was very easy to lead to the Saviour of sinners one whose heart was so prepared. She soon found peace, and became one of my most useful and steadiest helpers.

Her neighbour next door, was by no means so ready to receive the truth, and I had to supply another argument altogether. Eventually, she also found peace in believing; though not for some weeks.

From this house, I visited several others, and in all of them had serious dealing with individuals about their 'souls' salvation. Then I set off to see a man I had often observed in church; having noticed the anxious look with which he always regarded me during the sermon. I found him at home, and, on entering his house, he said, at once, "I know what you are come for. Wait a little, sir, please to sit down;" and before I had time to say a word, he went upstairs. In a few minutes he returned, with a shilling in his hand. "There," he said, "there it is; that is my contribution for the Indian Mutiny Fund."

I thanked him for his offering, and promised that it should be given to the treasurer. "But," I added, "to tell the truth, I have not come about that, but to see you. I want to speak to you about your soul."

He sat down, looking, as I thought, most unhappy. Then he said,--"Last night my mate and I made up our minds to speak to you in the vestry; but, just as we were coming to the door, you opened it, and we ran away."

"Yes," I said, "I heard you."

"Well, after that, we came home, and prayed the Lord to send you to us: and here you are!"

"Thank G.o.d for the answer to prayer. Now then, what can I do for you?"

He told me that he was born of respectable parents in Germany; but that, for his bad ways and bad habits, they had sent him to this country to work for his bread; that he had taken the pledge several times, and broken it again and again, though he had prayed and done all he could think of; but it was to no propose.

"If you had stayed last night," I said, "I might have helped you. How did you come to break your pledge?"

"Oh," he said, "it came to my mind that when I signed, I was only thinking of beer and spirits, not wine; so I took some, and it flew to my head; and soon I was as bad as ever."

"Now," I said, "you have renounced wine and all; have you?"

"Yes, I have."

"Well then, will you give your heart to G.o.d also?"

In course of conversation it came out, that this man's first impressions were effected some years before, by a dream, or vision of Christ on the cross. He was pa.s.sing by, but, somehow, turned to look at it; when, to his surprise, he saw that the eyes of the figure were looking at him. As he approached, the figure appeared to be standing on the ground, and beckoning, when a sudden fear came over him; he stopped, and the vision faded away. Ever since that time, he had felt that Jesus was the Friend he needed; and that nothing less would satisfy him.

Unfortunately, too many, like this man, stop at a critical point of their history; and, often, the crisis is not prolonged for them, as it was for him.

A long time ago there was a sinner arrested by a similar vision. He says, in a hymn which he wrote, giving a description of it:--

"I saw One hanging on a tree, In agony and blood, Who fixed His languid eyes on me As near the cross I stood."

He continues,

"My conscience felt and owned its guilt;" and when he did so, he received a second look, which spoke forgiveness to him, as distinctly as the first look brought him under conviction.

I charged this man to make his surrender, and to own or acknowledge himself the sinner for whom Jesus died. On doing so, he obtained forgiveness and peace, and has since, by grace, been enabled to live a happy, consistent, and devoted life, and has been a blessing to many souls. No sooner had he found the Saviour, than immediately he began to plead for and with his friend James. I know not what pa.s.sed between them; but that same evening he brought him to me with a heart prepared to receive Christ. We had only to point him to Jesus, and encourage him to thank G.o.d, when he realized the truth in his own experience.

So that Monday I rejoiced over five people brought to the Lord; and then the work began in real earnest. Every week after that, remarkable conversions took place, besides many ordinary ones. Some of these, including the one just mentioned, are described at length in tracts, and are also published in a volume ent.i.tled "Building from the Top, and other Stories;" but, notwithstanding this, a brief allusion to them in this narrative may not be out of place, being so particularly connected with the work here.

A woman called me into her cottage one morning as I was pa.s.sing by, and told me of her son, a steady young man, though still unconverted, for whom she had prayed continually ever since his birth. She said, when he was a very little child, she heard him one night sobbing and praying in his room--"O Lord, save me up for a good boy!" She thought this was in answer to her supplication; but as he grew up he became thoughtless and careless, like too many others of his age.

"Some five or six months ago," she said, "he had a dream or vision, and saw you so plainly that he pointed you out to me, among other clergymen, and said, 'Mother, that man is to be our minister one I saw him a little time ago, in a dream, as plainly as I see him now; I know that is the man.' We did not know who you were then, or where you came from, and never saw you again till you came lately to this parish to be our minister.

"Last night," continued the mother, "after he returned from church, my William was very unhappy and restless; and in the night I heard him crying and praying aloud for mercy, in great distress. He told me this morning, when I asked him about it, that he dreamt that the last day was come, and that the world was on fire: and he began immediately to try to pray, but could not; yet he went on trying till he heard some one laugh out at him, and say, 'Ho! ho! my boy, you are too late!--ho! ho!--too late! I have got you now---you are too late!' This frightened him so much that he woke up, and getting out of bed, began on his knees to pray in earnest for the Lord to have mercy on his soul."

Being much interested in the young man, I begged her to send him to me in the evening. She did so; and when he arrived I frankly told him what I had heard about him, and particularly about his distress and prayer the night before.

"Your mother has prayed for you for years; and when you were a little boy you prayed the Lord to save you: last night, again, you were constrained to cry for mercy. These are all tokens of G.o.d's good intentions and purposes towards you. Can you trust Him?" As he hesitated (for so many like to feel something before they make the venture of faith), I continued, "These tokens are better than feelings, for they are facts and sure signs by which you may know that the Lord is calling you."

We may well understand that it was not long before the Lord, who had so marvellously opened his eyes to see his sins, enabled him by the same Spirit to see Jesus as His Saviour, and to rejoice in the forgiveness of his sins. Then I asked him to sit down again, for I was curious to hear about the dream or vision which he had had some months before he ever saw me.

"William," I said, "did you ever see me before I came to this parish?"

"Yes," he replied, "I saw you once in a vision, more than six months ago!"

"Do you mind telling me about it?"

After a little hesitation, he answered, "I often dream things. One night I dreamt that I was walking on a wild barren common; there were many bare places where people had cut turf, and there were p.r.i.c.kly furze-bushes about. I knew there were some did open mine-shafts there, for people sometimes fell into them at night; but I was walking along without thinking of danger, and was not afraid, though it was dark, and I was alone. I don't know how long I went on like this, but next I found I was walking with you. I could see you very plainly, just as if it had not been dark, and you were talking about Jesus and His love to sinners.

I liked your words very much, and was so taken up with them that I do not know when it became light; for now I could see the rough common, and a path, and we were walking in it. Going along this path, we came to a wall, and I could not go any further; but you walked on as if there were no wall. Presently you stopped, and, turning to me, said, 'Why don't you come on?'

"I answered, 'I cannot.'"