From Death into Life Part 28

CHAPTER 33

The Work Continued, 1859.

While I was at Hayle, I had so much to do among the people, and so many meetings, that I seldom had leisure to go out for preaching elsewhere; nor do I remember that I had many invitations to do so. Occasionally I went to preach at Penzance, where a good work was steadily progressing at St. Paul's Church; but otherwise. I seldom left my pulpit.

Everything was now going on in a way which satisfied me, after all my tossings to and fro. I was surrounded with a happy people, who were living and working for the Lord. All the week they were busy, and also on the watch for souls. On Sunday they came regularly to church, with an intelligent idea of wors.h.i.+p, and joined heartily in the services of the day. At eight o'clock in the morning they a.s.sembled in large numbers for the Holy Communion; then we had the usual morning and evening services in the church, concluding with a prayer meeting. In the afternoon we had something else. There was the Sunday school for some of our workers; tract distribution for others: many went out to preach in the villages; and others went with me either to the sands, the common, or on board some s.h.i.+p, for an evangelistic service. The day of rest was not one of inactivity, but of useful and happy occupation for the Lord. Many a former Sabbath-breaker, now changed and rejoicing in G.o.d, was amongst us, delighting in the Christian privilege of working for the Master. It was a day that many of them looked forward to and spent with intense delight; and on Monday evening we met to tell what we had seen and heard of the Lord's goodness to ourselves and others.

Whenever the good s.h.i.+p "Cornwall" was in harbour, it was expected there would be a preaching on "board of her," under the well-known Bethel flag. The mate of this vessel had been a terribly wicked man, and a most daring blasphemer. It pleased G.o.d to convert his soul in a remarkable manner; and now nothing would do but he must work for G.o.d.

One Sunday, when he was at Cardiff, he heard that a vessel which had left that port on the previous Friday morning had gone down with all hands. He was greatly grieved about this; for one of the seamen of the vessel was in former times a friend and companion of his. He had prayed for his soul, but hitherto without any success, and this added to his grief. To his amazement, he saw his friend standing on the quay.

"Hallo!" he said, "I am glad to see you. How is it you are here? Have you heard that your vessel has gone down with all hands?"

"Has she, indeed!" he exclaimed, bursting out into tears; "then it is all my fault, for I let her go short-handed. After we set sail I had words with the captain, so he dismissed me, and I came back in the pilot boat. It is all my fault!"

"This is the third time, then, that the Lord has given you your life,"

said Sam.

"You had better call on Him to have mercy on your soul." So saying, he fell on his knees, and began to pray for him. His companion soon followed, crying aloud for mercy. Though a crowd of people quickly a.s.sembled and stood round, he took no heed, but continued his supplication until he obtained mercy, and could praise G.o.d.

Seeing that some of the by-standers were looking anxious, Sam invited them on board his s.h.i.+p and had a meeting, at which he told them how the Lord had saved his soul. Having received much encouragement that day, he determined, if possible, that he would get a Bethel flag, and hold services whenever and wherever he could.

On his arrival at Hayle from Cardiff, he went at once to see the wife of the owner of the s.h.i.+p, knowing that she took a great interest in the welfare of sailors. He told her his plans, and made his request for a Bethel flag, which this lady kindly and generously gave him permission to get.

On obtaining it, Sam came and asked me if I would preach at the first hoisting of it. This I consented to do, and on the following Sunday afternoon we had a large concourse of people on board, and also on the quay alongside. I gave out the hymn:--

"O G.o.d of Bethel, by whose hand Thy people still are fed."

While I was giving it out, Sam ran his flag up to the masthead in the shape of a ball. So it remained while we were singing; and during the prayer which followed; and when I gave out my text (Gen. 28:19), "He called the name of that place Bethel," Sam pulled the halyard, and the flag, some eighteen or twenty feet long, 'flew out in all its grandeur.

Before the sermon was finished, some of the people began to cry for mercy, and dear Sam was in an ecstasy of delight, and rejoiced aloud.

'Thus his flag was inaugurated with blessing from on high, and "Many is the time since," said 3am, "when souls have been blessed under it, both at Cardiff and at Hayle."

I have said nothing about the infidels I had to work amongst when I first came to this place. Some of them raged and opposed themselves against us for a time, but one by one the ringleaders of this party were brought to G.o.d, and eventually their club dwindled away. The history concerning some I have already published in tracts; but there is one case I feel I must insert here, for besides being a remarkable history, there is much teaching in it.

It is the story of a man who professed to be an infidel, and used to speak very freely of things which he said he did not believe. For instance, he boasted that he did not believe in G.o.d or the Bible, Christ or devil, heaven or h.e.l.l; though I must say he seemed to believe in himself very considerably. It was very difficult to deal with a man who took his stand upon nothing but negatives. He was well known among his neighbours, dreaded by some and quite a mystery to others. He was continually to be seen about with a gun, especially on Sundays, when he was not ashamed to be thus desecrating G.o.d's holy day; on the contrary, he rather prided himself on not "s.h.i.+fting" his working-day clothes, when other people were dressed in their best.

It was sad to see a man of such intelligence and capacity defying public respect and opinion, and trampling upon every sense of right and propriety. There is generally a reason, if we can only discover it, why people outrage public opinion, and break out of the stream and path of their fellow-men.

One Sunday evening, however, after a day spent as usual, in idling about and shooting little birds, our friend John was observed by a woman standing outside a church, under the window nearest to the pulpit. He stood there, listening very attentively to the sermon, till it was over; and then, before the congregation could come out, he made off stealthily and hastily, to escape observation. But pa.s.sing near the woman who had been watching him, she heard him say, with a look of distress on his countenance, "It's no use--the devil's sure to have me! It doesn't matter!"

This woman told me on Monday morning what she had seen and heard; so I determined to go at once and see the man. It was not his dinner-time yet; but I thought I would have a little conversation with his wife before he came home. To my surprise, however, I found him there. "What, not working today, John?" I said. "What's the matter?"

"I ain't very well," he answered. "I got no sleep last night; but I mean to work in the afternoon, for all that," he continued, with an air of determination and defiance.

"What's the matter? Have you got anything on your mind?" I inquired.

"Mind?" he repeated, as if in contempt at the thought. "There is not much that ever troubles my mind." He then went on to give me a long account of his bodily ailments.

"But do you never think about your soul, John?" I asked; "never think about another world and eternity?"

"Soul and eternity! I don't believe in either the one or the other of them!"

"Not believe you have a soul! Come, John, I am sure you know better than that." And I went on to speak of the joys of heaven and the bitter torments of h.e.l.l; of the love of G.o.d, who willeth not the death of the sinner, but rather that he should turn and live; and then I proceeded to tell him of the atonement which Jesus Christ finished on the cross, and that now there is pardon for the vilest sinner through the efficacy of the blood which has been shed once for all.

"You know, John," I continued, "that I do not care to argue about these things. There is mercy for you, if you will have it. We can bring water to the horses, but we cannot make them drink. My business is to put the way of pardon and salvation plainly before you; and after that, if you reject it, it will be your own fault if you perish. Do you know how to get forgiveness of sins?"

He seemed very uneasy all the time I was speaking; and at length, after a pause, he looked me in the face with a hardened expression, and said, "There's no pardon for me--I know it."

"That cannot be," I said; "I do not believe it."

"No," he continued, "there's no pardon for me. I have known that for fourteen years." I inwardly resolved to get this dreadful secret from him, which was driving him to such evident desperation. A few days afterwards an opportunity occurred, and I pressed upon him for his own sake to tell me, or some one else, what had happened fourteen years ago; and what special communication he had had with another world.

"Oh," he said, "I never told anybody; but I would as soon tell you as any one else. I had a dream once---do you ever have dreams? I have many things told me in dreams." Then he was silent; but I was more curious than ever now, and begged him to tell me what had happened. At last he began, "I dreamt that I was walking along a broad smooth road, where everything was most lovely; the weather was fine, and the scenery grand; there were beautiful gardens, churches, chapels, theatres, houses, and indeed everything you could think of. The people all seemed to be delighting in it, and as though they were out for a holiday. Some were walking, some singing, some dancing, and in one way or the other they all appeared to be enjoying themselves beyond bounds. Seeing a workman in a field close by, I called to him, and asked 'Where does this road lead to?' He answered, 'To h.e.l.l, straight on; you cannot miss!' 'h.e.l.l!'

I was surprised; 'h.e.l.l,' I said to myself, 'this is very different to what I thought. Is the way to h.e.l.l as pleasant as this? and are people so unconcerned about it?' I was amazed; but though the man told me this pleasant road led to h.e.l.l, I did not stop; I went on and on, seemingly as pleased as others were. However, it did not continue like this long, for soon I came to a rough part, all up and down, where the atmosphere was thick and sulphury, and it was almost dark. I did not like it, and wished very much to get out of the place, but I could not.

"Seeing some people in the distance, I went near to ask them the way out. They were busy with long rakes raking cinders about on the dry ground, and would not answer my urgent inquiries. As I approached them I saw that they did not look like 'humans,' and that every now and then fire appeared from under ground, over which they raked cinders to keep it out of sight. They were so absorbed in their work that they did not heed my question, though I pleaded more and more earnestly. At last, I observed that one of them ceased from his strange work, and looked at me; whereupon I addressed myself to him, begging him to show me the way out of the place." John added, "If I ever prayed in my life I prayed then; but he shook his head as if he pitied me, and said mournfully, 'The way you came in,' I replied, 'I cannot find it'; then again he shook his head as if to say, 'You never will.' I was obliged to rise from my knees, for the ground was so hot, and in my despair I ran I know not whither. As I pa.s.sed along in haste, I came to cracks in the ground full of fire; I stepped over them one after another, and ran on till I came to such a large chasm, that I could not jump over it. I turned and went in another direction, leaping and running, in a state of terror, till at last I came upon a sheet of glowing fire, into which I fell.

Then I awoke. For fourteen years this has followed me; there is no hope for me!"

By this time he became very much excited and agitated: seizing his cap he ran out of the house, leaving his wife and myself in mute astonishment at his strange tale.

I went home pondering over the meaning of this dream, and was struck at the amount of truth in it. I thought--How fair are the promises of the world to begin with, and how delusive and disappointing they are at the end! Of course, Satan, the G.o.d of this world, will make the way to h.e.l.l as bright and pleasing as he possibly can; and if people take outward circ.u.mstances and pleasing prospects for indications of safety, they wilfully lay themselves open to this deadly delusion. What a number there are who know, or might know, that they are on the road to h.e.l.l; that they cannot miss; and yet they go on! And then how many people there are who rake cinders; that is, when thoughts of death, or judgment, or h.e.l.l, obtrude themselves, how readily they cover them over with hopes of escape, or some good intentions to be better, before it is too late! How often parents do the same for their children, for they cannot bear to think of their being lost forever; so they hope that somehow they will be changed before they die! How often preachers rake cinders also, by addressing their hearers as if they were all safe, and only wanted a little teaching now and then; and it may be a little warning occasionally! They cannot bear to tell them plainly that they are lost now, and may be lost for ever, if they do not repent and believe the Gospel; they would rather "be persuaded better things of them, and things which accompany salvation," though they know for certain that there are many unsaved ones in their congregation. They entertain them with good hearty services and pleasing sermons, and then let them go on their way to the solemn end, perfectly unconscious of any danger.

The Lord Jesus had no such false charity as this. He has told us plainly that we are all peris.h.i.+ng creatures, and that there is no hope for any one of us while we are still on the broad road to ruin and in an unchanged state; that we must be born again or we cannot see the kingdom of G.o.d; that we must believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, who died in our stead on the cross, or perish for ever. Preachers therefore ought to be more faithful, because life is so uncertain, and the warnings of G.o.d so sure.

Well did John dream that they did not look like human beings, who were raking cinders to keep the fire out of sight.

After some days I got light on the subject of this awful dream, and hastened to tell John that I had found the way out of that fearful place for him. He would not hear me for some time; but I told him, that the prodigal son said, "I will arise and go to my Father, and say unto Him, I have sinned." "You see, John," I continued, "he came back the way he went, and he found pardon; that is the way for you."

I then knelt down and prayed, and he knelt with me at his table. There he remained for four hours, without speaking a word, until I was thoroughly exhausted and obliged to go. No sooner had I gone, than John's heart failed him, and he burst out crying aloud, and said to his wife, "Oh, Mary, what shall I do? What shall I do?"

"Take the book and read," she said, pus.h.i.+ng the Bible along the table to him. It was open at the fifteenth chapter of St. Luke, where he read the words aloud, "I will arise and go to my Father and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned." The spell was broken and the string of his tongue loosed, so that he cried aloud for mercy.

This was no unusual thing in one house or another; but in this particular dwelling it was wonderful. His next-door neighbour, who had often heard the sound of cursing and swearing there, but never the voice of prayer, was so astonished, that he rose and came to the door to a.s.sure himself of the astonis.h.i.+ng fact. It was quite true; surely it was John's own voice praying. So, lifting the latch, he went in and shouted, "Glory to G.o.d!" The louder William shouted, the louder John cried for mercy. When listening to his friend, who pointed him to "the Lamb of G.o.d, who taketh away the sin of the world," he found that "There is life for a look at the Crucified One;" and then they shouted and praised G.o.d together.

It was a joyful meeting when I saw him again, and thanked G.o.d with him for the marvellous change which had been wrought in his soul. His very face was altered; and instead of the restless and defiant glare there used to be in his countenance, there was rest and cheerfulness.

I pointed out to him, from that same portion of the Word of G.o.d which had been blessed to his soul, that there was something more to be had than the pardon that he had already received; that there was also the best robe, the ring, the shoes, and the feast of rejoicing. The Father's arms round the neck of the prodigal son is a token of forgiveness---the robe, of righteousness divine which is imputed to us; the ring, of our union with Christ; the shoes, of strength, even grace, with which we walk; and the feast of rejoicing, the believer's privilege of joy and thanksgiving.

John's conversion was a remarkable event, and caused a great sensation; crowds of his fellow-work-mates used to stand round him while he told his wonderful story. "Oh," he said, "I used to say there was no h.e.l.l, when all the time I had it burning in my heart; but, glory be to G.o.d, I am saved from h.e.l.l to heaven!"

He seldom prayed in public after this, without begging the Lord to loose the string of the tongue; for, as he said (speaking from experience), "so many are held captive by that dumb devil." He became a true missionary for souls, and was very zealous in his testimony, especially amongst his old companions, who worked in the same factory: he had the joy of seeing many of them brought to the Lord.

John seemed to realize unseen things in an unusually striking way. He was a man who in his sleep had vivid dreams, and who in his waking hours pondered much upon eternal realities, so that he spoke as one who lived in sight of another world.

CHAPTER 34

The Dismissal, 1860-61