14716	----	Team. THE ART OF SOUL-WINNING. (SPECIALLY ADAPTED FOR PERSONAL WORKERS.) BY J.W. MAHOOD, EVANGELIST, Author of "The Missing Wheel Found," and joint-author of "The Young People's History of Methodism." "_And he brought him to Jesus._" CINCINNATI: JENNINGS & PYE. NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS. 1901 PREFACE. Never was there such great need for a mighty, Pentecostal revival in all our Churches; and the key to such a revival is earnest personal work. But the membership of the Churches are not prepared to enter upon this work. Multitudes know nothing of a personal Pentecost. Many are utterly indifferent. They do not realize their opportunity and responsibility before God. If they did, the revival would come at once. With the hope that many professing Christians may be awakened to duty, and hear God's call to personal work in soul-winning, this little volume is written. Let the pastor see that a copy is put into every home one month previous to the time set for special revival-meetings. Let him secure a pledge from the people to read the study for each day, commit the memory verses, and meditate upon the Scripture suggested. Once each week, either at a special meeting appointed for this purpose, at the week-night prayer-meeting, or at the young people's devotional meeting Sunday evening, let the studies for the week be reviewed and the memory verses recited. Short talks may also be given on each topic by persons previously selected. When the entire Church membership shall begin to think and speak upon these vital themes; when the spirit of grace and supplication shall take the place of formality and worldly desire; when the Holy Ghost of Pentecost shall come upon the waiting, praying Church, then the times of refreshing will be sure to come from the presence of the Lord, and the perishing multitudes will be saved. Sioux City, Iowa. CONTENTS. FIRST WEEK--THE SOUL-WINNER'S MOTIVE. "THE LOVE OF CHRIST." PAGE STUDY I Foreword and Appeal 9 STUDY II The Lord's Command 12 STUDY III By Personal Effort 15 STUDY IV Trophies of Personal Effort 18 STUDY V The Worth of a Soul 21 STUDY VI The Death of a Soul 24 STUDY VII The Supreme Motive 27 SECOND WEEK--THE SOUL-WINNER'S LIFE. "YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD." STUDY VIII A Definite Experience 33 STUDY IX A Complete Surrender 36 STUDY X The Spirit's Witness 39 STUDY XI Every Weight 42 STUDY XII Prayer 45 STUDY XIII Faith 48 STUDY XIV Self-Sacrifice 51 THIRD WEEK--THE SOUL-WINNER'S EQUIPMENT. "COMPLETELY FURNISHED." PAGE STUDY XV Knowledge of the Scripture 57 STUDY XVI Tact 60 STUDY XVII Earnestness 63 STUDY XVIII Perseverance 66 STUDY XIX Tenderness 69 STUDY XX Burden for Souls 72 STUDY XXI A Personal Pentecost 75 FOURTH WEEK--THE SOUL-WINNER'S METHODS. "BY ALL MEANS." STUDY XXII Direct Approach 81 STUDY XXIII Correspondence 85 STUDY XXIV Tracts and Books 88 STUDY XXV The Prayer List 91 STUDY XXVI Work Among Students 93 STUDY XXVII Meeting Objections 96 STUDY XXVIII No Effort in Vain 100 THE SOUL-WINNER'S MOTIVE. "FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST." STUDY I. FOREWORD AND APPEAL. Memory Verse: "And they that are wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever."--(Dan. xii, 3.) Scripture for Meditation: Matt. vi, 19-23; Rev. iii, 14-22. Fred B---- was a medical student. He was stricken, with that dreaded scourge, consumption. The physicians advised a trip to the mountains. During the first few months among the Rockies he improved rapidly, and hope and ambition flamed anew; but it was only a brief respite from suffering before the final collapse. Lying in a Denver hospital, he was visited by some consecrated young people, who sang and prayed with him. He yielded himself to Christ, and the peace of God filled his heart. They brought him home to a little Iowa city to die. The day after his arrival the pastor was summoned to his bedside, when the young man related the circumstances of his conversion. The pastor said, "Then you are not afraid to die?" "No," said he, "_not afraid, but not ready_." When asked why he was not ready, he replied: "I have done nothing for my Master. I have won no souls for him. Could I have six months more to live that I might bring some souls to Jesus, and thus not go into his presence empty-handed, I would be satisfied to die. _I am not afraid to die, but not ready._" Just then the door of the room opened, and the dying boy's father, an old, white-haired man who had been absent from home and had not seen his son since his return, came in. The old man was not a Christian. Then occurred a pathetic scene. The young man threw his arms about his father's neck, and drew him down upon his knees at the bedside, urged him to give himself to God, and then, with shortening breath, uttered such a prayer of intercession as is seldom heard. The old man sobbed aloud, yielded to Christ, declared his faith, and the dying boy had won one soul for his Master. In a few hours he had gone into the presence of the King; _but not empty-handed_. O ye to whom God has given the strength and vigor of manhood and womanhood, and who have pledged your allegiance to the Christ of Calvary, are you winning any souls for your Master? Or are you going into his presence _empty-handed_? What if in the judgment-day it shall be seen that some souls who might have been saved have been lost through your neglect? What if it shall then be seen that the crown of many stars which you might have won is given to another? And what, if in the great day of his appearing you shall be found, having gathered no sheaves and _empty-handed_? STUDY II. THE LORD'S COMMAND. Memory Verse: "Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature."--(Mark xvi, 15.) Scripture for Meditation: Ezek. xxxiii, 1-11. By the Master's final words to his disciples the obligation is laid upon every Christian to be a soul-winner. "Ye shall be my witnesses," is the risen Lord's message to all his followers. No one is excused. "Follow me," said Christ, "and I will make you fishers of men." And when his face was set toward Calvary, he said to the Father, "As thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world." By the mouth of the prophet Ezekiel, God distinctly says that, if we neglect "to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine hand." We are all _sent_, and if we shrink or excuse ourselves from our great mission we shall come into condemnation. The unsaved multitudes know that every Christian should be an ambassador for Christ, and when we fail to do our duty we are condemned in their eyes as well as before God. A writer in the _Epworth Era_ says: "A college professor who was noted among his fellow-teachers for his habit of addressing young men upon their personal relations to Christ, was asked by one of his fellow-professors, 'Do they not resent your appeals as an impertinence?' He replied: 'No! Nothing is of such interest to any man as his own soul and its condition. He will never resent words of warning or comfort if they are prompted by genuine feeling. When I was a young man, I felt as you do. My wife's cousin, a young fellow not yet of age, lived in our house for six months. My dread of meddling was such that I never asked him to be present at family worship, or spoke to him on the subject of religion. He fell into the company of a wild set, and was rapidly going to the bad. When I reasoned with him I spoke of Christ. "Do you call yourself a Christian?" he asked, assuming an astonished look. "I hope so," I replied. "But you are not. If you were, he must be your Best Friend. Yet I have lived in your house for six months, and you have never once named his name to me; no, he is nothing to you!" I have never forgotten the rebuke.'" STUDY III. BY PERSONAL EFFORT. Memory Verse: "And he brought him to Jesus."--(John i, 42.) Scripture for Meditation: John i, 35-45. Have you ever noticed that much of the work which the Master and his disciples did was "personal work?" Some of our Lord's greatest sermons were preached to one person. The apostles were all won individually. Turn to your Bible now, and read the account of the visit of Nicodemus to Christ, and of the meeting with the woman of Samaria at the well. If you take the time to follow this theme through the Gospels and through the Acts of the Apostles, you will be sure to see that the work of winning souls for Christ by personal effort is the work of every Christian. And a conviction of this is the greatest need of the Church to-day. It is the key to the twentieth-century revival. The world would be evangelized in this generation did each professing Christian win only one soul each year for Christ; and the great social and labor problems of the day would be speedily solved were the great Christian Church actively engaged in leading men and women to Jesus of Nazareth. Mightier than the influence of great sermons and fine music and splendid ritual is the influence of a life consecrated to personal effort in seeking the lost. That remarkable soul-winner, Dr. J.O. Peck, now translated, said: "So great is my conviction of the value of personal effort, as the result of a lifework of winning souls, that I can not emphasize the method too strongly. If it were revealed to me from heaven by the archangel Gabriel that God had given me the certainty of ten years of life, and that as a condition of my eternal salvation I must win a thousand souls to Christ in that time; and if it were further conditioned to this, that I might preach every day for the ten years, but might not personally appeal to the unconverted outside the pulpit; or that I might not enter the pulpit during these ten years, but might exclusively appeal to individuals, I would not hesitate one moment to make the choice of personal effort as the sole means to be used in securing the conversion of one thousand souls necessary to my own salvation." Dr. Theodore Cuyler once said concerning the three thousand souls he had received into Church fellowship during his ministry, "I have handled every stone." STUDY IV. TROPHIES OF PERSONAL EFFORT. Memory Verse: "And he that is wise winneth souls."--(Prov. xi, 30, R.V.) Scripture for Meditation: 2 Cor. v, 14-21. Is it not a suggestive fact that nearly all those men who have shone brightly in the galaxy of martyrs, preachers, and reformers in the Christian Church through the centuries have been won to Christ by the personal effort of some consecrated life? Think of some in our own age. Dwight L. Moody, when a clerk in a store, was visited by his Sunday-school teacher, who put his hand upon the young man's shoulder and talked to him about Christ; and Mr. Moody says, "I had not felt I had a soul till then." Colonel H.H. Hadley, who has kneeled and prayed with over thirty-five thousand drunkards, declares that one of the agencies which led him to Christ was a brief interview with Chaplain (now Bishop) McCabe on a railway-train in Ohio just after the Civil War. Lord Shaftesbury, one of the greatest Christian philanthropists of the nineteenth century, was won for Christ in early boyhood by the effort of Maria Willis, a servant-girl in his father's home. The conversion of Diaz, the great Cuban evangelist, was due to the faithfulness of a consecrated young lady of Brooklyn. She found him in a hospital at the point of death, procured a Spanish New Testament, read to him the words of mercy and invitation, pointed him to Christ; and he went back to his own country, a flaming herald of the gospel. J. Wilbur Chapman, one of the most successful pastor-evangelists of this generation, says that while in a revival-meeting, when a boy, his Sunday-school teacher touched him on the elbow, and said, "Do you not think you had better stand?" and that one touch, as much as anything else, pushed him into the kingdom. Joseph F. Berry, whose name is a household word in the Methodist Episcopal Church, was led to Christ by two young friends who took the young printer to his father's barn, and held a prayer-meeting with him, which resulted in a glorious conversion. STUDY V. THE WORTH OF A SOUL. Memory Verse: "For what is a man profited, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?"--(Matt. xvi, 26.) Scripture for Meditation: Luke xv, 1-10. What is a life worth? What is your life worth? What is the life of your son or daughter or mother or wife worth? What would you take for a life? But if the life of a dear one be worth so much to you, what must be its value in God's sight, who sees to what depths a soul may plunge and to what heights it may rise? It may be a small matter to you that in yonder saloon is a man dissipated and drunken. But what if he were your father or brother or husband? It may be a very small matter to you that the boy whom you met on the street is puffing a cigarette and wears already upon his face the marks of an evil life. But what if he were your boy or your brother? Yet, in God's sight, his life is as valuable as if he were your boy or your brother; and every soul is of infinite worth. Jesus Christ set a high estimate upon human life when he left his Father's throne and came into this sin-cursed world to suffer and die that he might redeem us from death. The Church of to-day needs a new vision of the worth of a soul. We need to stand beside Calvary and see the price that was paid there for human life. John Keble, the poet-preacher of the English Church, said that the salvation of one soul is worth more than the framing of the Magna Charta of a thousand worlds. It was meditation upon the words of the memory verse of this study that fired the souls of Ignatius Loyola and Francis Xavier with a holy enthusiasm to rescue the perishing multitudes. Had their successors and disciples been, filled with the same enthusiasm, and kept themselves free from the machinations of politics, they would have long since evangelized the world, and Jesuitism would not have been "the scandal of Christianity." STUDY VI. THE DEATH OF A SOUL. Memory Verse: "Let him know, that he which converteth the sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death."--(James v, 20.) Scripture for Meditation: Luke xvi, 19-31. What is death--the death of a soul? What is it to die eternally? In the passage for meditation our Lord gives us a glimpse into the realms of death. Surely the Son of God is not trifling here; nor does he speak to confuse. For a moment the curtain is drawn, and we see what is actually transpiring in the future world. In these days there is a disposition in some quarters to make light of the future punishment of the wicked. Some preachers are dumb upon the awful punishment of sin, or preach only half a gospel, saying, as Bishop Warren puts it, "You must repent, as it were; be converted, in a measure; or you will go to hell, so to speak." But Christ did not speak with any uncertain sound about the future punishment of the impenitent. He is authority. Take your Bible and read such passages as Matt. xxv, 41, 46; Matt. viii, 12; Luke xvi, 23; John v, 29. In the light of these words, we must see that the death of a soul means eternal separation from God, from mercy, and from heaven. And yet how indifferent we are concerning the unsaved multitudes all about us who are drifting into a hopeless eternity. The Church needs a vision like that of the little lad in Olive Schreiner's "Story of a South African Farm," who, waking at midnight, sees multitudes drifting over the precipice into eternal night, and throws himself on his face on the floor, crying out in the agony of his burdened heart to God to have mercy. Some one tells of a shepherd in the Far West who, on a dark, stormy night, found three sheep missing. Going to the kennel where the faithful shepherd-dog lay with her little family, he bade her go to find the sheep. An hour afterwards she returned with two. When these had been put in the fold, he said, "One sheep is yet missing. Go!" The faithful dog took one mute look of despair at her little family, then was off in the dark and the storm. In two hours she had returned with the lost sheep, but was torn and bleeding, and, as she staggered toward the kennel, fell dead at the door. But if a poor, dumb brute, with no immortal hope, be obedient, even unto death, what shall we say of men and women who know the destiny of the soul, and whom the King of kings has bidden seek the lost, yet are disobedient, indifferent, and thoughtless as to the dying multitudes about them? STUDY VII. THE SUPREME MOTIVE. Memory Verse: "For the love of Christ constraineth us."--(2 Cor. v, 14.) Scripture for Meditation: 1 Cor. xiii, R.V. But the supreme motive in all our efforts to win others should be "the glory of God." Possessed of an undying love for him who first loved us, we will have an inspiration to seek the lost for whom he gave his life. And all our efforts shall be, as Paul puts it in his letter to the Ephesians, "unto the praise of his glory." "The love of Christ doth me constrain To seek the wandering souls of men." Love never faileth. Love knows no impossibility. He who works for wages and he who works for love live in two different realms. A lot of men were entombed in a coal-mine, and great crowds gathered to help clear away the earth and rescue the miners. An old, gray-headed man came running up, and, seizing a shovel, began working with the strength of ten men. Some one asked to relieve the old man. "Get out of the way," he cried; "I have two boys down there." Love will triumph; and he whose heart throbs with love to Christ will find real joy in rescuing from sin those who are the purchase of his blood, _that his name may be glorified_. Study his life of self-sacrifice. See again his suffering for sinful men. Linger in Gethsemane, and behold the agony of Calvary. Then your heart will begin to throb with love to him "who first loved us." Get a new vision of your crucified, but now risen, Savior, until the beauty of his matchless life charms your heart and you are ready to say: "Come, and possess me whole, Nor hence again remove; But sup with me, and let the feast Be everlasting love." Then you will possess the highest motive that moves human hearts, and personal work in soul-winning will become a real delight. THE SOUL-WINNER'S LIFE. "YIELD YOURSELVES UNTO GOD." STUDY VIII. A DEFINITE EXPERIENCE. Memory Verse: "Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he can not see the kingdom of God."--(John iii, 3.) Scripture for Meditation: John iii, 1-15. In a prayer-meeting a young lady was asked, "What is the first thing we must do if we would win others to Christ?" She replied, "_We must live holy ourselves._" She was right. Just as the telegraph wire must be insulated, so must the life of him who expects to be the messenger of God be insulated from the old life of sin before he can hope to carry the loving messages of the gospel to other souls. This implies a definite experience of conversion. He who would engage in this most fascinating of all work must have nothing short of an inner consciousness of sins forgiven and of the presence of Christ in his life. He must be able to say, like Andrew and like Philip of old, "I have found him." He must know what it is to have "a new heart" and to have peace with God. William Butler, the veteran missionary and soul-winner, now translated, wrote the author of these studies a letter, in which he said: "First and foremost, I thank God for a true conversion. When I got religion, I got it good and thorough. Christ became everything to me. The law of sin, or temptation to worldly conformity of any kind, was completely eradicated from my heart; and from that hour to this the law of Christ has fully satisfied my soul, and made me gloriously free and independent of the world and its maxims and pleasures. And now, after fifty-five years' enjoyment of peace with God and humble devotion to his service, I bless him that I ever gave him my heart and devoted myself to his work. I am happy. The consoling comforts of the grace of God are with me by day and by night, and the blessed future is radiant with the hope of being 'numbered with the saints in glory everlasting.'" In these days of compromise and doubt we need to have as definite an experience of salvation as had William Butler. He who would win others to a new life must himself possess that life, and know it, being able to say with Paul, "I know whom I have believed." STUDY IX. A COMPLETE SURRENDER. Memory Verse: "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service."--(Rom. xii, 1.) Scripture for Meditation: Rom. vi, 1-13. John Wesley said, "Give me one hundred preachers who fear nothing but sin and desire nothing but God, and I care not a straw whether they be clergymen or laymen, they alone will shake the gates of hell and set up the kingdom of heaven upon the earth." A life surrendered to God will be an invincible life, while the life only partly surrendered will know nothing but defeat. Someone says that, in the transfer of property, any reservation implies, also, reserved rights. If a man sells a ten-acre lot, and keeps a yard square in the center for himself, he has a right of way across what he has sold to get to his reservation. And if, in our surrender, we keep back anything, "that constitutes the devil's territory, and he will trample over all we call consecrated to get to his own." Therefore a complete surrender of the life to God is absolutely necessary. To the rich young man who came to him, Jesus said, "One thing thou lackest." He demanded an unconditional surrender of every interest of his life. But the young man was not willing to make the surrender, and went away sorrowful. Of every man and woman Jesus asks the same surrender. But many now wander off in the darkness of formality and doubt because they are not willing. Three things are implied in such a surrender: (1) An acknowledgment of the Divine ownership and human stewardship in all temporal affairs; (2) A complete submission of the will to God; (3) The supremacy of Jesus Christ in the heart and life, so that the interests of his kingdom are first, always, and everywhere. There is an old story of a monk who, having been disobedient to the rules of the monastery, was told he must die. They took him out into the graveyard, stood him upright in a grave, filled in the earth about his feet. Then they asked, "Are you dead yet?" He said, "No." The earth was then filled in about him to his waist, and the question again asked. He replied, "No." Then they filled in the earth until he was covered, all but his head, and could scarcely breathe. When asked if he would die, he replied, "Yes, I will give up; I will die." So may we die to the old life of self and sin, and live the new life of entire surrender to our risen Lord! "If Christ would live and reign in me, I must die, I must die. Like him I crucified must be, I must die, I must die. So dead that no desire may rise, To pass for good, or great, or wise, To any but my Savior's eyes,-- Let me die, let me die." STUDY X. THE SPIRIT'S WITNESS. Memory Verse: "The Spirit Himself beareth witness with our spirit that we are children of God."--(Rom. viii, 16, R.V.) Scripture for Meditation: 1 John v, 1-15. When the life has been wholly surrendered to God, and Christ, the crucified and risen Savior, is enthroned in the heart and confessed before men, then the blessed assurance of our sonship with God will be clear and joyous. No longer shall we say, "I hope I am a Christian," or, "I am trying to be a Christian;" but, like Paul, we shall exclaim, "I know whom I have believed." The witness of the Spirit will give a holy confidence to the soul-winner. "What we have seen and felt, With confidence we tell." Much of the timidity and reluctance shown by Christians toward personal work may be traced to a refusal or neglect to live the surrendered life and have the clear assurance of acceptance with God. This direct testimony to our adoption is given only by the Holy Spirit, and given only to believers because they are the sons of God. It is God's seal which he places upon his own, and we then no longer receive the spirit of bondage unto fear; but we receive the spirit of adoption whereby we cry, Abba, Father. The voice of God is heard in the soul bearing witness to our acceptance, and then the fruit of the Spirit speedily follows in the life to corroborate the inner voice and "give unmistakable confirmation to the testimony which was primary and direct." To some, this assurance comes like a sudden flash from the sky; to others, like the gentle breathing of the evening zephyr. But it comes, _it surely comes_; and no soul should be satisfied until it comes; for it is essential to a useful, joyous life. Look up now, and with eager expectancy await the "blessed assurance." "Why should the children of a King Go mourning all their days? Great Comforter, descend and bring The tokens of thy grace. Assure my conscience of her part In the Redeemer's blood; And bear thy witness with my heart, That I am born of God. Thou art the earnest of His love, The pledge of joys to come; May thy blest wings, celestial Dove, Safely convey me home!" STUDY XI. EVERY WEIGHT. Memory Verse: "Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith."--(Heb. xii, 1, 2.) Scripture for Meditation: 1 Cor. viii, 9-13; ix, 24-27. We hear much about "personal liberty" in these days, and, to hear some talk, one would think that personal liberty was a gift to be selfishly guarded rather than to be sacrificed for the good of others. But Paul, the apostle, sacrificed his liberty for the sake of others; so did Onesimus, the Christian slave. Surely those professing Christians who make "personal liberty" their plea for engaging in some form of worldly amusement (such as dancing, card-playing, or theater-going), and those who are given to some filthy habit (such as the use of tobacco), have not studied the life of Jesus, or of Paul, or of Onesimus. If there were no other reasons why these things should be renounced, that they injure our influence as soul-winners would be sufficient; for who ever heard of a man or woman who engaged in these forms of questionable amusement becoming illustrious as a soul-winner? To say the least, they are "weights," and must be laid aside. In a revival service, a lady rose, and, with tears raining down her face, said: "I have taught a Sunday-school class of sixteen young men for three years, and have not seen one of them converted. I believe I know why, and now confess my sin. Being a teacher in the city schools, I thought I must see a Shakespearean play, and went to the theater one night. I saw several of my class there, and they all seemed to be looking at me as if surprised. Next day I met some of them, and they confessed surprise that I was at the theater. I have been conscious from that time that I had lost my influence to win these young men to Christ." Within one week after this confession was made this lady had won seven of her class for the Savior. A young lady, once a society belle and fond of worldly amusements, consecrated her life to the Lord's work. In a rescue mission she was asked to speak to a poor wreck of a man who had been a gambler. He looked at her suspiciously as he asked, "Do you play cards, or dance, or go to the theater?" "No, not now," she replied. "Well, then you may talk to me; but I won't listen to one word from you fine folks who are doing on a small scale the very things that brought us poor wretches to where we are." And the young lady afterwards said she had found more real joy in leading that lost soul to Christ than she had ever found in the pleasures of the world. _Lay aside every weight; lay aside every weight, just now._ STUDY XII. PRAYER. Memory Verse: "The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much."--(James v, 16.) Scripture for Meditation: Gen. xxxii, 24-30; Luke xi, 1-13. Nothing is more essential to the soul-winner than prayer. Prayer will generate a spiritual atmosphere in the individual life. The prayers of many will generate a spiritual atmosphere in a community. In answer to prayer, the Holy Spirit will do his office, and produce such pungent conviction of sin that men will carry out, as on the day of Pentecost, "Men and brethren, what shall we do?" In the Life of Mr. Finney it is related that, during a revival at Rome, New York, the air seemed surcharged with Divine power. A sheriff, who had laughed about the meetings, came over from Utica. He felt this strange influence when he crossed the old canal, a mile west of town. When he sat in the hotel dining-room, he had to get up and go to the window two or three times to divert his attention and keep from weeping. After dinner he hurried away, but was afterwards converted. See what spiritual triumphs and great revivals the early Church witnessed; but the secret of it all was that "they continued steadfastly in prayers." Why is it that to-day many have so little courage and so little power to win others to Christ? They neglect prayer. "They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint." How little time we spend daily in prayer! Study the life of Paul, and Savonarola, and Catherine of Siena, and Martin Luther, and John Knox, and see how they all gave themselves continually to prayer, and so prevailed. All they who have become illustrious as great soul-winners have been, without exception, men and women mighty in prayer. They came to understand that God's storehouses of wisdom, prayer, and grace are inexhaustible, and with the key of prayer they unlocked every door. Prayer avails for the salvation of others when every other means seems to fail. The disciples spent ten days in prayer. Then came Pentecost and a revival that brought thousands into the kingdom. John Livingstone, with a few friends, spent a whole night in prayer, and the next day five hundred persons gave themselves to Christ. Two sisters agreed to spend the night in prayer in behalf of an unconverted brother. That night, although twenty miles away, the young man tossed on his bed in agony of conviction, and next day started for home, and found salvation. Prayer is omnipotent; and, if we would see the kingdom of Christ come speedily in the world, we must have a great revival of prevailing prayer. STUDY XIII. FAITH. Memory Verse: "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father."--(John xiv, 12.) Scripture for Meditation: Heb. xi. Not the mystery of faith, nor the philosophy of faith, does the soul-winner need to study; but the simplicity, the childlikeness of faith. To believe God implicitly is to have victorious faith. "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me," said Paul; and everywhere in the Bible we find the clear teaching that "God and one make a majority." To realize this in one's own life is to live the victorious life. But perhaps we should distinguish between trust and saving faith. Trust gives the life to God; faith takes from God that which he has promised in his Word. Trust is continuous; faith is a definite act. "Faith is the giving substance to things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." (Heb. xi, 1.) It is true that we walk by faith now; but faith has a clear eye. Faith can see the clouds full of chariots and horses. Faith can see legions of angels marshaling themselves for our defense. Faith can see that every promise of God is steadfast, and will surely be fulfilled, and can claim its fulfillment. "Faith, mighty faith, the promise sees, And looks to that alone; Laughs at impossibilities, And cries, 'It shall be done.'" Of Barnabas it is said, "He was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost and of faith." The fullness of faith will make unbelief and moral darkness impossible in the soul, and will generate a triumphant confidence in God. To have faith is to have power; and the little child, as well as the grown man, may possess this power, and exercise it in winning souls for Jesus. A little girl who had bowed at the altar and given her heart to God, pulled the pastor's coat at the close of the service, and said, "Will you please pray for my mamma?" "Certainly," said the pastor. And the next evening the little girl brought her mother to the service. When the invitation was given, she took her hand and led her to the altar. That little girl's faith won her mother to Christ. Faith will give courage for personal work. With a strong, unfaltering confidence which takes God at his word, we shall not hesitate nor fear to approach the unsaved and seek to win them to the Savior. Faith is nourished by the Word. "Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God." If we feed our faith upon the Word, and exercise it, then we shall have the faith of those mentioned in the eleventh chapter of Hebrews, and we shall prove the promise of the Savior, "All things are possible to him that believeth." STUDY XIV. SELF-SACRIFICE. Memory Verse: "For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it; and whosoever will lose his life for my sake, shall find it."--(Matt. xvi, 25.) Scripture for Meditation: Matt. xvi, 24; 2 Cor. iv. The words of Christ, "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me," can not be mistaken. The earthly life of Jesus was a supreme example of self-sacrifice. All the way from Bethlehem to Calvary his life was a constant denial of self. The early Church followed their Master. They were ready to sacrifice all. Men sold their fields and houses for the work's sake. They counted nothing too good for sacrifice, even to life itself; and many went gladly to the arena and the fiery stake rather than be untrue to their Lord. As long as the early Christian Church maintained this spirit, she went from victory to victory. Nothing could withstand her progress. And when the followers of Jesus Christ in this twentieth century shall again put on the beautiful garments of self-sacrifice, the Church will become invincible. There is now a great opportunity for men and women to sacrifice, in personal liberty, in popularity, in social standing, and personal comfort, for the sake of the perishing multitudes. None are too poor, none too old, to do something to win souls. An aged widow, who had all her money invested in a farm in a drouth-stricken part of the West, found herself almost penniless. She was compelled to find shelter in a Refuge Home. At first she was discouraged and heart-broken; but God put upon her heart the multitudes of perishing women in India. She tried to occupy her mind piecing a quilt. This she sold, and the money was sent to India. Then she made another for Africa, then another for Japan, until now, in six years, she has given four hundred dollars to home and foreign missions, and has six people at work as her substitutes in foreign lands. And she says, "I was surely called of God to teach that no one is too poor to give to missions, or too old to work for God and souls." A young man, twenty-four years old, working on a farm for twenty dollars a month and board, has, in nineteen months, sent six substitutes, and says, "I pray God to make me a Christian drunkard, that I may spend my time and money for him as the drunkard does for the devil." And when the whole Church shall begin to show the same spirit of self-sacrifice in giving time and money, and in sacrificing pleasure and comfort and social standing for the Lord's work, and for dying multitudes about them, then we shall soon see the dawn of the millennial day. THE SOUL-WINNER'S EQUIPMENT. "COMPLETELY FURNISHED." STUDY XV. KNOWLEDGE OF THE SCRIPTURES. Memory Verse: "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom."--(Col. iii, 16.) Scripture for Meditation: Heb. iv, 12; 2 Tim. iii, 13-17; Ps. cxix, 1-11. A thorough knowledge of the Word of God is essential to success in soul-winning. The Word is "the sword of the Spirit," "the hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces." If we are not skilled in the use of the Divine sword and the Divine hammer, then we can not expect that the Spirit will use us. In an excellent little book on "How to Obtain the Fullness of Power," Dr. R.A. Torrey says: "There can be no fullness of life and service if the Bible is neglected. In much that is now written on power; also in much that is said in conventions, this fact is overlooked. The work of the Holy Spirit is magnified; but the instrument through which the Holy Spirit works is largely forgotten. The result is transient enthusiasm and activity, but no steady continuance and increase in power and usefulness. We can not obtain power, and we can not maintain power, in our own lives and in our work for others, unless there is deep and frequent meditation upon the Word of God.... Of course, it is much easier, and therefore much more agreeable to our spiritual laziness, to go to a convention or revival-meeting, and claim a 'filling with the Holy Spirit,' than it is to peg along, day after day, month after month, year after year, digging into the Word of God. But a 'filling of the Spirit,' that is not maintained by a persistent study of the Word will soon vanish.... Evidently Paul knew of no filling with the Spirit divorced from deep and constant meditation upon the Word." The most remarkable movement among young men in this generation is the World's Christian Student Federation, organized by Mr. John R. Mott. Through this movement multitudes of young men the world over have been led to keep what is called "The Morning Watch," by which they rise at least half an hour earlier than usual each morning, and spend the time in devotional Bible-study and prayer. What a mighty impetus would be given to Christian work everywhere if all Christian young people would form the habit of keeping "The Morning Watch!" Have a plan for your Bible study, and faithfully follow it. Commit to memory the texts found in Study Twenty-seven, and thus be able to use skillfully the Sword of the Spirit. STUDY XVI. TACT. Memory Verse: "I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some."--(1 Cor. ix, 22.) Scripture for Meditation: 1 Cor. ix, 19-27. The successful business man knows the value of tact, and the Christian worker should know the value of consecrated tact. A special study of the life of Christ to notice his methods of dealing with various people, and to see the aptness with which he used parable and exhortation, would prove very helpful to every soul-winner. The life of Paul might also be studied in the same manner with profit. He knew how to become all things to all men to save some. Christ's exhortation to his disciples was, "Be ye as wise as serpents," but how little wisdom many seem to have in seeking to win the unsaved to Christ! And this, too, when we have the promise, "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not: and it shall be given him." "Now if I could tell you," said a pastor to an unsaved business man, who had been relating how much a friend had helped him in business, "how much Christ has helped me, and what he has been to me, I believe I could win you to him." The value of tact was well illustrated in an incident which occurred during Mr. Finney's meetings in New York City. The big cutlery firm of Sheffield, England, had a branch house in New York. The manager was a partner of the firm, and very worldly. One of his clerks, who had been converted in the meetings, invited his employer to attend. One evening he was there, and sat just across the aisle from Mr. Arthur Tappan. He appeared affected during the sermon, and Mr. Tappan kept his eye on him. After the dismissal, Mr. Tappan stepped quickly across the aisle, introduced himself, and invited him to stay for the after-service. The gentleman tried to excuse himself and get away, but Mr. Tappan caught hold of the button on his coat and said, "Now, do stay; I know you will enjoy it;" and he was so kind and gentlemanly that the cutlery man could not very well refuse. He staid, and was converted. Afterwards he said, "An ounce of weight upon my coat-button saved my soul." To watch for opportunity, and then to know how effectively to make use of the opportunity, is all-important in soul-winning. And there is no better teacher than the Holy Spirit, of whom it is said, "He shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance." STUDY XVII. EARNESTNESS. Memory Verse: "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might."--(Eccl. ix, 10.) Scripture for Meditation: Mark ii, 1-12. The testimony of Charles H. Spurgeon should have weight here. He said: "If a man is to be a soul-winner, there must be in him intensity of emotion as well as sincerity of heart. You may repeat the most affectionate exhortations in such a half-hearted manner that no one will be moved either by love or fear. I believe that for soul-winning there is more in this matter of earnestness than in almost anything else." When we become as much in earnest to rescue our friends and dear ones from eternal death as we are to save them from physical suffering and death, then we shall see the rapid spread of the kingdom of Christ. A man falls overboard from the deck of a vessel, and his wife screams: "Stop the boat! My God! My husband is drowning!" But no one criticises the woman for her passionate outcry, or bids her keep still. It was so natural for her to cry out for help. And when the Church of Jesus Christ becomes thoroughly awake to the worth of a soul and the awful danger to which all out of Christ are exposed, it will be the most natural thing in the world for them to show an undying earnestness in seeking the lost. Then propriety, and reticence, and restraint, and rules of rhetoric will be thrown to the winds, and a divine passion will possess the life. The world may sneer at it as fanaticism, but it is the fanaticism of Pentecost. When the crowd saw the intensity of emotion shown by the newly-anointed disciples, they exclaimed, "These men are full of new wine." Here was shown an enthusiasm that leaps over all difficulties and rises above every discouragement--the enthusiasm of Pentecost; and every soul-winner must have it. Then, like Paul, wishing himself accursed that Israel might be saved, or like John Welch, wrapped in his plaid, kneeling in the snow, unable to sleep, and praying mightily for the souls of men, this holy earnestness will not let us rest until we see the salvation of the lost. It will tell in look, and tone, and manner. It may lead us to do things that may shock the sense of propriety of the dead, formal Church member, such as being obedient to the Master's command, "Go ye out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in." Jeremiah preached repentance in the streets; and the early Church preached everywhere, on the streets, by the river's bank, in the market-places, and in prisons. John Livingstone stood on a tombstone, and preached with such power in the midst of a falling rain that multitudes were born in a day. So did John Wesley. O that the great Church of Jesus Christ might now have the enthusiasm of Pentecost! STUDY XVIII. PERSEVERANCE. Memory Verse: "Ye that are the Lord's remembrancers, take no rest."--(Isa. lxii, 6, R.V.) Scripture for Meditation: Luke xv, 1-10. How we are willing to persevere to save our friends from physical suffering and death! No night is too long to watch, no sacrifice too great to make, no burden too heavy to bear, that the life of a loved one may be saved. But should we not be just as persistent in our efforts to save from eternal death those whom we love? Perhaps we have no more illustrious example of devotion to soul-winning than evidenced in the life of Uncle John Vassar. Two incidents, related by the Rev. Walter B. Vassar, illustrate the perseverance with which he sought the perishing. A young man was noticed to come night after night to revival-meetings, but would slip away before one could grasp his hand. Mr. Vassar felt he must see this soul, and walked five miles to the farm where he lived, arriving as the family was about to eat an early dinner, of which he was urged to partake. After being seated, the face of the young man not appearing in the family group, Mr. Vassar excused himself from the table, and hunted through all the farm-buildings where a man might possibly be in hiding. At last, when about to confess himself defeated, he walked to the further end of the corn-crib, and there, in an old hogshead, he found the fellow lying low. He confessed afterward that he had taken satisfaction in looking through the bunghole of the hogshead, in believing Uncle John would not find him there. But this "winner of souls," knowing his opportunity, leaped over by the side of the runaway, and then and there turned, as Charles Spurgeon has said, "the hogshead into a Bethel," and won a soul for heaven. An Irish woman in a village was told about a strange man calling about her place, and affirmed he would not be kindly treated if he knocked at her door. Mr. Vassar, not knowing her feelings, came there in his visits, but the moment she saw he was the man--according to the description of him--she slammed the door in his face. He sat at once upon her doorstep and began to sing: "But drops of grief can ne'er repay The debt of love I owe." In a few weeks she wanted admission into the Protestant Church, and all her experience was, "Those drops of grief, those drops of grief; I could not get over them." See how men persevere to get rich or to gain political prestige! See how insurance agents, and book agents, and traveling men persevere in their efforts to convince men! They seek most favorable times, and then often go again and again. And shall we who win immortal souls be any less diligent? STUDY XIX. TENDERNESS. Memory Verse: "I am the good Shepherd; the good Shepherd giveth his life for the sheep."--(John x, 12.) Scripture for Meditation: Luke xv, 3-7; John x, 1-18. What infinite depths of tenderness are revealed in these sweet parables of the Lost Sheep and the Good Shepherd! The tender, loving heart of the Savior goes out in eager compassion and pity for the straying. What boundless sympathy is revealed in the words, "He calleth his own sheep by name;" "He goeth after that which is lost;" "When he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing!" The seeker after souls must be like his Master. A heart ready to melt at the sight of human suffering and human need is necessary to successful soul-winning. There are many whose hearts are hardened by long years of rebellion against God; whose power of will is emasculated by long years of neglect; and they will never be saved until some earnest Christian worker shall find them, whose heart has been touched with the same sorrow that Jesus felt when he stood on the Mount of Olives weeping over Jerusalem. J. Hudson Taylor, of the China Inland Mission, tells that when he was a college student he had charge of a man with a gangrenous foot. It was his duty to dress the man's foot every day. He soon learned that his patient was not a Christian, and had not been in a church for forty years. Such was his hatred of religion that he refused to go inside the church at his wife's funeral. Young Taylor made up his mind to speak to this man about his soul every time he visited him. The man cursed him, and refused to allow him to pray. The student persisted in presenting Christ until one day he said to himself, "It's no use," and was leaving the room. When he reached the door, he turned around and saw the man looking after him as if saying, "Why, you are going away to-day without speaking to me about Christ!" Then the young man burst into tears, and returning to the bedside, said: "Whether you wish me to or not, I must deliver my soul. Will you let me pray with you?" The man assented, began to weep, was converted. Mr. Taylor says, "God broke my heart, that through me he might break this wicked man's heart." Ask now that the Holy Spirit may give you a tender heart, and make your eyes a fountain of tears, that, with the sympathy of Christ, you may seek the lost and perishing. STUDY XX. BURDEN FOR SOULS. Memory Verse: "For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren."--(Rom. ix, 3.) Scripture for Meditation: Gen. xviii, 16-33. How the great heart of the Savior was burdened for the lost! See him standing on Olivet and weeping as he said: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!" Where there is no real soul-burden for sinners, there will be no revival. The early Church travailed in pain for the souls of dying men. One preacher said, "As I entered the pulpit, I could scarcely stand erect because of my concern for the people and solicitude for souls;" and another said, "I spent a whole night in prayer, and what I passed through was inexpressible." When we get a glimpse of the worth of a soul, and then of the death of a soul, and begin to realize that we stand between lost men and heaven or hell, then we shall have real concern, and the Lord will hear our prayer of intercession. When Mr. Moody first went to London he preached in a Congregational Church, Sunday morning. There was no particular stir. That evening he spoke to a large audience of men in the same place, and scores expressed a desire to become Christians. He went to Dublin next day, but was recalled by a telegram saying that a great revival had broken out. And Mr. Moody accounts for this wonderful work of grace which followed by telling that, on that Sunday morning, a lady went home and told her invalid sister that Mr. Moody from America had preached. "I know what that means," said the invalid. "We are going to have a great revival. I have been praying for months that the Lord would send him here." She would not eat any dinner, but spent the day in fasting and prayer. The revival began in that invalid's room. A gentleman waked his wife up at three o'clock in the morning to have her join him in prayer in behalf of a neighboring family who were unsaved; and at daybreak went to his neighbor's house to entreat them to yield to Christ. When such concern for the perishing is manifested by the Church, there is sure to be a gracious ingathering. STUDY XXI. A PERSONAL PENTECOST. Memory Verse: "But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth."--(Acts i, 8.) Scripture for Meditation: Acts ii, 1-4; xix, 1-6. But, above all, the soul-winner must have _a personal Pentecost_. Christ does not send us alone to seek the lost. In the fifteenth and sixteenth chapters of St. John's Gospel, he definitely promises the Comforter. And again, on the day of his ascension, he bids his disciples tarry at Jerusalem until the Holy Ghost is come. Then as they waited, "with one accord in one place," "a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind filled all the house where they were sitting, ... and they were all filled with the Holy Ghost." Since that day the one supreme qualification for Christ's witnesses is _the enduement with the Holy Ghost_. He will give a better knowledge of the Scriptures; he will re-enforce tact and earnestness and perseverance; he will give tenderness of heart and the burden for souls. What a marvelous change the coming of the Spirit wrought in those waiting disciples! They had forsaken him; they had doubted his word; Peter had denied him. But now they all became flaming evangels, and "spake the word of God with boldness." A personal Pentecost will help the soul-winner to overcome timidity, give utterance and a holy boldness, and make effective the words he speaks. It is the supreme need of the Church to-day. God wants men and women in every vocation of life who are Spirit-filled; and who, by diligent study of the Word of God, by prayer, and by Christian testimony, live a Spirit-filled life that is perennial. The personal worker will succeed only when endued and empowered with the Holy Ghost. Dr. J. Wilbur Chapman tells of a young Irishman who was a member of his Church, and who had not had the educational advantages many young people have. Dr. Chapman says: "With a heart burdened for the men of the city, I called together a few of the men of the Church, and laying before them the plan I had in mind, told them first of all that we could do nothing without the 'infilling of the Holy Ghost.' "When this had been explained, I noticed this man leave the room. He did not return while the meeting was in session. When I sought him I found him in one of the lower rooms of the church, literally on his face before God. He was in prayer. "I shall never forget his petition: 'O God, I plead with thee for this blessing!' then, as if God were showing him what was in the way, he said, 'My Father, I will give up every known sin, only I plead with thee for power;' and then, as if his individual sins were passing before him, he said again and again, 'I will give them up; I will give them up.' Then, without any emotion, he rose from his knees, turned his face heavenward, and simply said, 'And now I claim the blessing.' "For the first time he became sensible of my presence, and with a shining countenance he reached out his hands to clasp mine. You could feel the very presence of the Spirit as he said, 'I have received him; I have received him!' And I believe he had, for in the next few months he led more than sixty men into the kingdom of God. His whole life had been transformed." THE SOUL-WINNER'S METHODS. "THAT I MAY, BY ALL MEANS, SAVE SOME." STUDY XXII. DIRECT APPROACH. Memory Verse: "Jesus ... saith unto him, Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee."--(Mark v, 19.) Scripture for Meditation: John iv, 1-42. John Vassar, than whom there has been no more successful soul-winner for a hundred years, accomplished his work through personal conversation, and declared that the best method of dealing with souls is to strike home at once with the most direct and searching question possible. Without a word of introduction he would say, "Have you experienced that great change called the new birth?" That question could not be easily evaded. Study the methods of Christ in dealing with such as Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, and the rich young man. How eagerly he used every opportunity! How his questions search the life! Without any apology, how he thrusts home warning and entreaty! How easily we may lose opportunity to speak directly to men of their danger! While the great Dr. Chalmers was a guest at the home of his friend, a Highland country gentleman, his friend died suddenly. Dr. Chalmers had never spoken to him about his soul. He was much distressed, and said, "If I had only known that he was going to be taken from earth so soon, how earnestly I would have pleaded with him about his soul!" Dr. J.E. Carson, of New York City, said to his congregation one Sunday morning, that every saved man was either a channel through which the Spirit of God was reaching the unsaved, or a barrier preventing the Spirit doing his work. One of the trustees of the Church said to himself on the way home, "Am I a channel, or a barrier?" That night he could not sleep, and cried out, "O Lord, make me a channel!" Almost the first thought that came was that there were some men in his employ to whom he had never spoken a word about Jesus Christ. He confessed his fault, and told the Lord that if he would make him a channel he would speak to these men. The first man who entered his office the next morning was his confidential clerk, who had been with him eighteen years. The merchant said, "Edward, haven't I been a good employer to you?" "Yes, sir." "Have not I treated you well?" "Yes, sir." "Why, sir, what have I done," said the clerk, "that you are going to discharge me?" "Edward, I am on my way to heaven, and I want you to go with me." Tears came into the eyes of both men as Edward took the merchant's extended hand and said, "I will, sir." Dr. Carson afterwards received eleven men into his Church because this trustee had consented to be a channel for the Holy Spirit. Dr. Manley S. Hard talked with a physician about his soul, and, two days after, the doctor entered the revival-meeting just before the benediction, walked straight to the altar, and begged the people to wait and pray for him, saying: "I know it is late and you are all tired, but I want you to stay a little while and pray for me. This has been an awfully hard day. I have ridden fifty miles and visited more than twenty patients, but I am the sickest man of them all. Two sermons have been preached to me; a faithful one yesterday by my pastor; the other this morning when I had to tell a woman she had better get ready to die, for she could not live. As I drove away I said to myself, 'You have warned another, but you are not ready yourself.'" To go to a man and speak to him directly and plainly about his responsibility to God, and warn him to flee from "the wrath to come," may take more courage than to preach to a thousand; but it pays, and it must be done if the dying multitudes are ever saved. STUDY XXIII. CORRESPONDENCE. Memory Verse: "Ye see how large a letter I have written unto you with mine own hand."--(Gal. vi, 11.) Scripture for Meditation: Philemon. What a beautiful letter is that which Paul wrote to Philemon! How it breathes affection, and sympathy, and tender entreaty! And it was written _by his own hand_. Study this letter, and have your heart saturated with its spirit. You will then know how to write "words that touch" to your unsaved friends. There are special occasions [Transcriber's note: original reads 'ocasions'], such as the time of bereavement, of sickness, of trial, or of success, when this method may be employed to advantage. Many a soul has been won for Christ, and many a lonely life cheered by a sympathetic, wisely-worded letter, winged by prayer. Sitting in a public park, a young man was seen poring over a letter while the tears rained down his face, and he almost sobbed aloud. "It is from my mother," he said. "She wrote it herself, and though I ran away from home and broke her heart, yet she says that she still loves me, and is praying for me, and wants me to come home." Dr. T.L. Cuyler went to make his first call on a rich merchant. It was a cold winter evening, and as the door was opened when the minister was leaving, a cold, piercing gale swept in. Dr. Cuyler said, "What an awful night for the poor!" The merchant went back and brought a roll of bank-bills, saying, "Give these to the poorest people you know." Some days after, Dr. Cuyler wrote him, telling him how his bounty had relieved many poor, and then added, "How is it that a man so kind to his fellow-creatures has always been so unkind to his Savior as to refuse him his heart?" That sentence touched him. He sent for the minister to talk to him, was converted, and told Dr. Cuyler that he was the first person in twenty years who had spoken to him about his soul. Do not allow letter-writing to excuse you from direct personal work; but watch for opportunity to write, as well as speak, that "by all means you may save some." STUDY XXIV. TRACTS AND BOOKS. Memory Verse: "And when I looked, behold, a hand was sent unto me; and, lo, a roll of a book was therein."--(Ezek. ii, 9.) Scripture for Meditation: Eccl. xi, 1; 1 Tim. iv, 7-16. The influence of a tract or of a good book can not be estimated. Rev. J. Hudson Taylor, of the China Inland Mission, was converted in boyhood through reading a gospel tract which he found in his father's library. "He had been frequently troubled about his soul, and had again and again tried to become a Christian, but had failed so often that he had concluded that there was no use in trying any more." An agent of the American Tract Society relates the following: "A man on a canal-boat received a tract, but to show his contempt for the tract and its giver, took out his penknife and cut it up into fantastic shapes. Then he held it up to the derision of the company. "In tearing it apart, one of the pieces clung to his knee. His eyes were attracted by the only word on it--'eternity.' He turned it over, and there was the word 'God.' "These ideas remained in his mind. He tried to laugh them off; then to drink, to play cards in order to banish them. But they still clung to him, and plagued him till he sought God and preparation for eternity." There is an old true story about a tract, that should be told over and over again: A Puritan minister named Sibbs wrote a tract called "The Bruised Reed." A copy of this was given by a humble layman to a little boy at whose father's house he had been entertained over night. That boy was Richard Baxter, and the book was the means of his conversion. Baxter wrote his "Call to the Unconverted," and among the multitude led to Christ by it was Philip Doddridge. Doddridge wrote "The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul," and "the time would fail to tell" its blessed influence. By it Wilberforce was converted, and of his life and labors volumes could be written. Wilberforce wrote his "Practical View of Christianity," and this led not only Dr. Chalmers into the truth, but Legh Richmond to Christ. Richmond wrote "The Dairyman's Daughter," which has been published in a hundred languages, and many million copies have been sold. But he who would make the best use of good literature must be wise. How little tact some workers have! In a hospital a tract-distributor handed a leaflet on dancing to a poor fellow who had lost both limbs. Another zealous young man gave a tract on "The Tobacco Habit" to a beautiful cultured lady, the wife of a minister. A good supply of common sense is just as necessary to success in the use of this method as in any other. STUDY XXV. THE PRAYER LIST. Memory Verse: "I will pray for you unto the Lord."--(1 Sam. vii, 5.) Scripture for Meditation: Luke xviii, 1-8. One of the highest privileges of the Christian life is the privilege of intercession for the unsaved. Every Christian may be an intercessor, and bear to the mercy-seat, in the arms of prayer, some unsaved friend every day. Have a prayer list. In a little memorandum-book write the names of those whom you are anxious to see saved. Spread these names before the Lord daily until your prayers are answered. One of the greatest Christian movements of modern times started with a prayer-list carried in the vest-pocket of a commercial traveler, Mr. E.R. Graves, traveling for a paper-house in New York City. He secured permission from a merchant to allow his name to be entered on his prayer-list. The merchant wrote his name in the traveler's book, and then proceeded to inform Mr. Graves that he had determined not to be a Christian, and that he had taken too big a contract if he expected to pray him into the kingdom. But the traveler simply said, "I confidently expect my prayer to be answered." When they met again the merchant had been converted, and, amid tears of rejoicing, another name was checked off the list. The merchant's name was Samuel M. Sayford. Mr. Sayford became a secretary in the Young Men's Christian Association, and shortly after met C.K. Ober, then a student at Williams College, and pushed him out into Association work. Mr. Ober, in turn, found John E. Mott in Cornell University, persuaded him to enter Association work among students; and Mr. Mott, in the course of time, started on his journey around the world, organizing the World's Christian Student Federation. STUDY XXVI. WORK AMONG STUDENTS. Memory Verse: "Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God."--(2 Cor. v, 20.) Scripture for Meditation: 1 Cor. ii. No more fruitful and important field for personal work can be found than in our educational institutions, and Christian students who make soul-winning a habit of life may win many rich trophies for the Master. Bishop H.W. Warren, when a Freshman in college, was led to an open confession of Christ through a Saturday morning walk with a Junior, who talked to him about his soul. Dr. J.W. Bashford, in _The Christian Student_, tells about "a Senior in the Ohio Wesleyan University who was smitten with conviction because he had neglected personal work for the Master. He intended to be a minister, but had been indifferent to the spiritual welfare of his student friends. He offered himself to Christ in full consecration, and made a list of sixteen friends for whom he felt personal responsibility. He engaged in systematic personal work with these friends, and had the satisfaction before the year was completed of seeing every one of them begin the Christian life. Six of his sixteen friends entered the ministry, and some of them are even more talented and successful than the student friend who led them to Christ." As a rule, young people during their college years are thoughtful and easily reached; but if not saved before they leave the college halls and begin the active work of life, they are almost certainly lost to the kingdom. How often, because of timidity or carelessness, Christian students and teachers allow this precious harvest time to go by, and lose the opportunity to win a soul for Christ! A man, who is now an eminent and widely-known minister, says that he roomed with a young man at college for two years, and never said a word to him about his soul. When he was about to leave for home, his room-mate said, "Why have you not spoken to me about my soul?" Said the Christian student, "I thought you did not care for me to do so." The young man replied, "Why, that is the very reason I roomed with you, and there has never been a day for these two years that you could not have done so." Let Christian students set out to win some trophies among their friends and room-mates for Christ. The results of faithful personal work may not be immediate or apparent, but the blessed Spirit of God will water the seed. For thirteen months a college student prayed for and urged a fellow-student to surrender to Christ, and died without seeing any result of his efforts. But the seed was faithfully sown, and the young man was afterwards converted, and became Bishop Hannington, the martyr bishop of Africa. STUDY XXVII. MEETING OBJECTIONS. Memory Verse: "For I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which all your adversaries shall not be able to gainsay nor resist."--(Luke xxi, 15.) Scripture for Meditation: John ix, 1-41. The zealous personal worker will be met by objections; but it must be remembered that these objections are often given for the sake of argument, and often for the sake of something to say. They should be squarely met, however, and answered; and the best way to answer such is by Scripture. There is not an objection advanced by the unconverted that can not be met and overcome by some passage of Scripture. Just as Jesus in the wilderness met the tempter's arguments with "It is written," so we may meet every argument of the objector with the Word. A faithful study of Christ's conversations with seeking souls, such as Nicodemus and the rich young man, will also be helpful. Below are some of the objections usually given, with the Scripture references that may be used to meet them. This arrangement of texts is taken from "Personal Work," by S.M. Sayford, by consent of the publishers: "I am good enough." (Gen. vi, 5; Ps. li, 5-7; Luke xviii, 19.) "I am as good as most Christians." (Rom. xiv, 10-12; 2 Cor. v, 10; Rev. xx, 11; xii, 15.) "I have never done anything really bad." (Luke xvi, 15; James ii, 10.) "I can not give up my pleasures." (Eccl. ii, 1; xi, 9; Ps. xvi, 11.) "I know I shall fail." (John vi, 37; 2 Tim. i, 12; iv, 18.) "I can not now, but will some time." (Luke xiv, 17; Acts xxiv, 25; James iv, 13, 14; Luke xii, 19, 20.) "I am too great a sinner." (Luke v, 32; xix, 10; 1 Tim. i, 15.) "My day of grace has past." (Ex. xxxiv, 5-7; 2 Chron. xxx, 9; Isa. lv, 7.) "I do not feel concerned." (Rom. xiii, 11; Eph. v, 14; Heb. ii, 3.) "I can not know that these things are true." (Acts xvii, 11; John v, 39; vii, 17.) "It will cost me my living." (Matt. vi, 33; Ps. lxxxiv, 11; Rom. xiv, 8.) "It will prevent my becoming rich." (1 Tim. vi, 9, 10; Mark viii, 36, 37; Rev. iii, 17, 18.) "I can not hold my friends." (Matt. x, 37; xxii, 37; Phil. iii, 8.) "How may I know that Christ is the Son of God?" (John xx, 30, 31; x, 23-25; 1 John v, 13, 20; Mark iv, 11.) "How may I know that the Bible is true?" (John vii, 17.) "Will not God save me if I do my best?" (Eph. ii, 9; Titus iii, 5-8.) "Why must a man believe in Christ to be saved?" (John xiv, 6; Acts iv, 12; Gal. ii, 16; Rom. iii, 23, 26.) "How may I know I am forgiven?" (Ps. xxxii, 5; Prov. xxviii, 13; 1 John i, 7-9.) STUDY XXVIII. NO EFFORT IN VAIN. Memory Verse: "So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it."--(Isa. lv, 11.) Scripture for Meditation: John iv, 36; 1 Cor. xv, 58. "Some day I hope you will preach the gospel," said an aged minister to a little boy in England. That boy became Charles H. Spurgeon. That great soul-winner, Mark Guy Pearse, says that when he was a boy his father took him to see a saintly old lady, who laid her hand upon his head, saying, "God bless the boy, and make him a minister." Mr. Pearse says that, through this aged woman, God called him to the ministry. In a college chapel in Pennsylvania a Christian layman sat down beside a boy and talked to him about Christ. That boy became Alfred Cookman, whose name will be held in everlasting remembrance. An eminent lawyer of Minneapolis, converted a short time since, declares that the earnest question, "Have you found Jesus?" spoken by a young lady to his friend who sat by his side in a revival-meeting, and her startled look, when she was answered roughly, followed him for fifteen years until he was finally converted. No sincere effort for Christ can fail. To human eyes there may be little encouragement, but his Word shall prevail. Every invitation and entreaty shall in the end be, to those who reject it, the "savor of death unto death," but to those who accept it, "the savor of life unto life." We may go forth now, weeping, bearing precious seed; but some blessed day we shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing our sheaves with us. Perhaps we are too anxious to see results now. We do like to number the converts, and add to the Church roll. Far better do our best for Christ and souls, then leave the results to God. He will see that the seed, faithfully planted, is watered, and that _no effort is in vain_. 
9957	----	Team THE PERSONAL TOUCH BY J. WILBUR CHAPMAN, D.D. CONTENTS FOREWORD I. A TESTIMONY II. A GENERAL PRINCIPLE III. A POLISHED SHAFT IV. STARTING RIGHT V. NO MAN CARED FOR MY SOUL VI. WINNING THE YOUNG VII. WINNING AND HOLDING VIII. A PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATION IX. WHOSOEVER WILL X. CONVERSION IS A MIRACLE XI. A FINAL WORD _FOREWORD_ IF If to be a Christian is worth while, then the most ordinary interest in those with whom we come in contact should prompt us to speak to them of Christ. * * * * * If the New Testament be true--and we know that it is--who has given us the right to place the responsibility for soul-winning on other shoulders than our own? * * * * * If they who reject Christ are in danger, is it not strange that we, who are so sympathetic when the difficulties are physical or temporal, should apparently be so devoid of interest as to allow our friends and neighbours and kindred to come into our lives and pass out again without a word of invitation to accept Christ, to say nothing of sounding a note of warning because of their peril? * * * * * If to-day is the day of salvation, if to-morrow may never come, and if life is equally uncertain, how can we eat, drink, and be merry when those who live with us, work with us, walk with us, and love us are unprepared for eternity because they are unprepared for time? * * * * * If Jesus called His disciples to be fishers of men, who gave us the right to be satisfied with making fishing tackle or pointing the way to the fishing banks instead of going ourselves to cast out the net until it be filled? * * * * * If Jesus Himself went seeking the lost, if Paul the Apostle was in agony because his kinsmen, according to the flesh, knew not Christ, why should we not consider it worth while to go out after the lost until they are found? * * * * * If I am to stand at the judgment seat of Christ to render an account for the deeds done in the body, what shall I say to Him if my children are missing, my friends not saved, or if my employer or employee should miss the way because I have been faithless? * * * * * If I wish to be approved at the last, then let me remember that no intellectual superiority, no eloquence in preaching, no absorption in business, no shrinking temperament, no spirit of timidity can take the place of or be an excuse for my not making an honest, sincere, prayerful effort to win others to Christ by means of the _Personal Touch_. CHAPTER I _A Testimony_ I have the very best of reasons for believing in the power of the personal touch in Christian work, especially as it may be used in the winning of others to Christ. My boyhood's home was in the city of Richmond, in the State of Indiana, my mother was a devout member of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and in the first years of my life in company with my father and the other children of the household, I attended the church of my mother. When she was just a little more than thirty-five years of age she was called home. My father in his youth had been trained as a Presbyterian; many of his ancestors having belonged to that denomination; therefore it was quite natural that he should return to the Church of his fathers when my mother had gone home. It was thus I became a member of the Presbyterian Church, and my Church training as a boy after fifteen years of age was in that denomination. Because of this special interest in both the Church of my father and my mother, I attended two Sunday Schools. In the morning I was in a class in the Presbyterian school and in the afternoon was a member of a class in the Grace Methodist Sunday School, my teacher in the afternoon school being Mrs C.C. Binckley, a godly woman, the wife of Senator Binckley of Indiana, through all her life from girlhood, a devout follower of Christ and a faithful teacher in the Sunday School. Not so very long ago I heard that she was still teaching in the same school, and I am sure, as in the olden days, winning boys to Christ. I fear that I was a thoughtless boy, and yet the impressions made upon my life in those days by the death of my mother, the teaching of my father, and the influence of my Sunday School teacher, were such that I have never been able to get away from them. One Sunday afternoon a stranger came to address our school--his name I have never learned; I would give much to find it out. At the close of his address he made an appeal to the scholars to stand and confess Christ. I think every boy in my class rose to his feet with the exception of myself. I found myself reasoning thus: Why should I rise, my mother was a saint; my father is one of the truest men I know; my home teaching has been all that a boy could have; I know about Christ and think I realise His power to save. While I was thus reasoning, my Sunday School teacher, with tears in her eyes, leaned around back of the other boys and looking straight at me, as I turned towards her she said, "Would it not be best for you to rise?" And when she saw that I still hesitated, she put her hand under my elbow and lifted me just a little bit, and I stood upon my feet. I can never describe my emotions. I do not know that that was the time of my conversion, but I do know that it was the day when one of the most profound impressions of my life was made upon me. Through all these years I have never forgotten it, and it was my Sunday School teacher who influenced me thus to take the stand--it was her personal touch that gave me courage to rise before the school and confess my Saviour. In the good providence of God, during my student days, as well as during the first years of my ministry, I was thrown in contact with men who knew God, who were being marvellously used by Him, and who seemed ready and willing to give assistance to one who was just beginning the journey of life with all its struggles and conflicts ahead of him. When I was a student attending Lake Forest University, not far from Chicago, I was very greatly troubled about the matter of assurance. I heard that Mr Moody was to be in Chicago, and in company with a friend I went in from Lake Forest to hear him. Five times in a single day I sat at his feet and drank in the words which fell from his lips. He thrilled me through and through. I heard him preach his great sermon on "Sowing and Reaping," when old Farwell Hall was crowded with young men many of whom were students like myself. The impression that Mr Moody made upon me as a Christian young man, was that I myself was not absolutely sure I was saved. I analysed my experience and found that sometimes I was more than sure and at other times dwelt in Doubting Castle. When the great evangelist called for an after-meeting, I was one of the first to enter the room where he had indicated he would meet those who were interested, and to my great joy he came and sat down beside me. He asked me my difficulty and I told him I was not quite sure that I was saved. He asked me to read John v. 24, and trembling with emotion I read: "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on Him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life." He said to me, "Do you believe this?" I said, "Certainly." He said, "Are you a Christian?" and I replied, "Sometimes I think I am, and again I am fearful." Then he said, "Read it again." And I read it once more. His question was again repeated, and I answered it in the same manner as before. Then he seemed to lose his patience, and the only time I can remember Mr Moody being sharp with me was when he turned upon me and said, "Whom are you doubting?" And suddenly it dawned upon me that I was doubting Him who said I was possessed of everlasting life because I believed on the Son and on the Father who had sent Him, and in spite of this possession and His sure Word of promise concerning it, I was sceptical. But as I sat there beside him I saw it all. Then he said, "Read it again." And I read it the third time, and talking to me as gently as a mother would to her child he said, "Do you believe this?" I said, "Yes, indeed I do." Then he said, "Are you a Christian?" And I answered, "Yes, Mr Moody, I am." From that day to this I have never questioned my acceptance with God. For some reason Mr Moody always seemed to keep me in mind. He came into my church in the early days of my ministry, told me where he thought I was wrong and suggested how I might be more greatly used of God. He advised me to give my time wholly to evangelistic work, and when I said to him one day that I was going to take up the pastorate after three years of experience in general evangelism, he seemed disturbed. To him more than to any other man, I owe the greatest blessing that ever came into my life. Through Mr Moody I met the Rev F.B. Meyer, and one sentence which he used at Northfield changed my ministry. He said, "If you are not willing to give up everything for Christ, are you willing to be made willing?" That seemed like a new star in the sky of my life, and one day acting upon his suggestion, after having carefully studied the passages in the New Testament which relate to surrender and to consecration, I gave myself anew to Christ and I shall never be able to express in words my appreciation of what this man of God to whom I have referred, did for me by personal influence. All along the way I have been brought in contact with men whom God has signally blessed, and I am persuaded that there are many to-day whose hearts are hungering for a blessing, who are waiting as I was myself, for someone to speak to them personally, and help them out of darkness into light; out of a certain kind of bondage into a glorious freedom. The personal touch in Christian work, to me, means everything. CHAPTER II _A General Principle_ I have been amazed in my study of the biographies of men and women who have been specially used of God, to see how almost universal is the rule that they have come to Christ, or to an experience of power, through the personal influence of a friend or acquaintance. Preaching is not enough, it is sometimes too general; the impressions of a song may soon be effaced, but the personal touch, the tear in the eye, the pathos in the voice, the concern which is manifested in the very expression of one's countenance; these are used with great effect, and thousands of people are to-day in the Kingdom of God, or in special service, because of such influences being brought to bear upon their lives. John Wesley is a notable illustration of the influence of the personal touch. Peter Bohler of the Moravian Church, came into his life when he was in sore need of just such assistance as he seemed able to give. Dr W. H. Fitchett of Australia, writes:-- "The Moravians of Savannah taught him exactly what Peter Bohler taught him afterwards in London, but the teaching at the moment left his life unaffected. Wesley's own explanation is, 'I understood it not; I was too learned and too wise, so that it seemed foolishness unto me; and I continued preaching, and following after, and trusting in that righteousness whereby no flesh can be justified.' "The truth is that Peter Bohler himself, had he met Wesley in Savannah, would have taught him in vain. The stubborn Sacramentarian and High Churchman had to be scourged, by the sharp discipline of failure, out of that subtlest and deadliest form of pride, the pride that imagines that the secret of salvation lies, or can lie, within the circle of purely human effort. Wesley later describes Peter Bohler as 'One whom God prepared for me.' But God in the toilsome and humiliating experiences of Georgia, was preparing Wesley for Peter Bohler." Bohler described Wesley as "a man of good principles, who did not properly believe on the Saviour, and was willing to be taught." Later on, in the city of London, where Wesley had been intimately associated with Peter Bohler and had come directly under his influence, he one night attended a religious service in Aldersgate Street, where the one conducting the service was reading Luther's preface to the Epistle to the Romans. The effect of that service upon Wesley is best told in his own words. "About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for my salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death. I began to pray with all my might for those who had in a more special manner despitefully used me and persecuted me. I then testified openly to all there what I now first felt in my heart. But it was not long before the enemy suggested, 'This cannot be faith; for where is thy joy?' Then was I taught that peace and victory over sin are essential to faith in the Captain of our salvation; but that, as to the transports of joy that usually attend the beginning of it, especially in those who have mourned deeply, God sometimes giveth, sometimes withholdeth, them according to the counsels of His own will." Charles Haddon Spurgeon, in speaking of his own early experiences, writes thus: "When I was a young child staying with my grandfather, there came to preach in the village Mr Knill, who had been a missionary at St Petersburgh, and a mighty preacher of the gospel. He came to preach for the London Missionary Society, and arrived on the Saturday at the manse. He was a great soul winner, and he soon spied out the boy. He said to me, 'where do you sleep? for I want to call you up in the morning.' I showed him my little room. At six o'clock he called me up, and we went into the arbour. There, in the sweetest way, he told me of the love of Jesus and of the blessedness of trusting in Him and loving Him in our childhood. With many a story he preached Christ to me, and told me how good God had been to him, and then he prayed that I might know the Lord and serve Him. "He knelt down in the arbour and prayed for me with his arms about my neck. He did not seem content unless I kept with him in the interval between the services, and he heard my childish talk with patient love. On Monday morning he did as on the Sabbath, and again on Tuesday. Three times he taught me and prayed with me, and before he had to leave, my grandfather had come back from the place where he had gone to preach, and all the family were gathered to morning prayer. Then, in the presence of them all, Mr Knill took me on his knee and said, 'This child will one day preach the gospel, and he will preach it to great multitudes. I am persuaded that he will preach in the chapel of Rowland Hill, where (I think he said) I am now the minister.' He spoke very solemnly, and called upon all present to witness what he said." D.L. Moody was thus won to Christ. His Sunday School teacher in Boston was Mr E.D. Kimball. He was not one of the ordinary type of Sunday School teachers. Mere literal instruction on Sunday did not satisfy his ideal of the teacher's duty. He knew his boys, and if he knew them, it was because he studied them, because he became acquainted with their occupations and aims, visiting them during the week. It was his custom, moreover, to find opportunity to give to his boys an opportunity to use his experience in seeking the better things of the Spirit. The day came when he resolved to speak to young Moody about Christ, and about his soul. "I started down to Holton's shoe store," says Mr Kimball. "When I was nearly there, I began to wonder whether I ought to go just then, during business hours. And I thought maybe my mission might embarrass the boy, that when I went away the other clerks might ask who I was, and when they learned might taunt Moody and ask if I was trying to make a good boy out of him. While I was pondering over it all, I passed the store without noticing it. Then when I found I had gone by the door, I determined to make a dash for it and have it over at once. I found Moody in the back part of the store wrapping up shoes in paper and putting them on shelves. I went up to him and put my hand on his shoulder, and as I leaned over I placed my foot upon a shoe box. Then I made my plea, and I feel that it was really a very weak one. I don't know just what words I used, nor could Mr Moody tell. I simply told him of Christ's love for him and the love Christ wanted in return. That was all there was of it. I think Mr Moody said afterwards that there were tears in my eyes. It seemed that the young man was just ready for the light that then broke upon him, for there at once in the back of that shoe store in Boston the future great evangelist gave himself and his life to Christ." Many years afterward Mr Moody himself told the story of that day. "When I was in Boston," he said, "I used to attend a Sunday School class, and one day, I recollect, my teacher came around behind the counter of the shop I was at work in, and put his hand upon my shoulder, and talked to me about Christ and my soul. I had not felt that I had a soul till then. I said to myself. This is a very strange thing. Here is a man who never saw me till lately, and he is weeping over my sins, and I never shed a tear about them. But, I understand it now, and know what it is to have a passion for men's souls and weep over their sins. I don't remember what he said, but I can feel the power of that man's hand on my shoulder to-night. It was not long after that I was brought into the Kingdom of God." The personal touch is necessary. It is not so much what we say, as the way we say it, and indeed, it is not so much what we say and the way we say it, as what we are, that counts in personal work. We cannot delegate this work to others. God has called the evangelist to a certain mission in soul winning. He has given ministers the privilege of winning many to Christ. Mission workers, generally, are charged with the responsibility for this special work. But this fact cannot relieve the parents, the children, the husband, the wife, the friends, the business man, the toiler in the shop, from personal responsibility in the matter of attempting to win others to the Saviour. CHAPTER III _A Polished Shaft_ "He hath made me a polished shaft; in his quiver hath he hid me," Isaiah xlix. 2.[1] Personal preparation is essential to the best success in personal work. No familiarity with the methods of other workers; no distinction among men because of past favours of either God or men; no past success in the line of special effort; no amount of intellectual equipment and no reputation for cleverness in the estimation of your fellowmen will take the place of individual soul culture, if you are to be used of God. [Footnote 1: Suggested by Dr Charles Cuthbert Hall.] Thou must be true thyself, If thou the truth would teach; It takes the overflow of heart To give the lips full speech. The words of Isaiah the Prophet literally refer to Him who was the servant of Jehovah. He was God's prepared blessing to a waiting and needy people. He came from the bosom of the Father that He might lift a lost and ruined race to God. And swifter than an arrow speeds from the hand of the archer when the string of the bow is drawn back, He came to do the will of God. In the Epistle to the Hebrews we find Him saying, "Lo I come, in the volume of the Book it is written of me I delight to do thy will." This was the spirit of all His earthly life. When He was hungry and sent His disciples to buy meat, He found it unnecessary to partake of the food they brought to Him, saying, "My meat is to do the will of him that sent me." And when He came to the garden of Gethsemane, well on to the climax of His sacrificial life, we hear Him saying again, "Not my will, but Thine be done." In such a completely surrendered life we have a perfect representation of the prepared Christian worker. In the expression of Isaiah we have also the thought of His anguish. "He was made a polished shaft." In these days when there is a disposition to place Jesus upon the level with others who have wrought for the good of humanity, it is well to remember that He is the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world. There is also the thought of the beauty of His character, for He is a "polished shaft," "chiefest among ten thousand," and "the One altogether lovely." He is "the lily of the valley" for fragrance, and "the rose of Sharon" for beauty, and thus prepared He stands before us beckoning us on to a work which is indescribable in its fascination. Calling His disciples He said, "I will make you fishers of men." The same promise is made to us. Working His miracles He said to those about Him, "Greater works than these shall ye do." We have only to follow in His footsteps and walk sufficiently near to hear His faintest whisper when He directs us to be, in the truest sense of the word, successful personal workers. It is a great encouragement to hear Him say, "As the Father hath sent me, even so send I you." The shaft mentioned by Isaiah is an arrow prepared with all care. The quiver in which this arrow is placed is carried on the left side of the archer, placed upon the string of the bow, the archer drawing back the string adds to the elasticity of bow and string his own strength, and the shaft is off to do the archer's will. There is in this story an illustration for all Christian workers. Fitness for service lies first of all in divine endowment. God has given to each one of us special and peculiar qualifications. If we live as we ought to live, exercising the gift that is in us; the painter may paint for His glory; the poet may sing and speak of Him; the preacher may preach and declare His righteousness, and should we live in less conspicuous spheres than these, we have only to do our best with that with which He has endowed us and our lives will be pleasing to Him. It lies also in the divine call. The shaft was made for a special purpose. We have been created to do His will. The possession of power is not enough; talents unused will rise at the Judgment Seat to rebuke us. God gives us ability and then calls us forth into the field that we may exercise it. Fitness for service also lies in the response to God's will. The possession of power and the call of God may both be realised and we may still fail. It is when we say "I will," to God that human weakness is linked to divine strength and then a great service is possible. Life is not drudgery, it is an inspiration. "Let me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at desk or loom; When vagrant wishes beckon me away, Let me but find it in my heart to say, This is my work, my blessing not my doom; Of all who live I am the only one by whom This work can best be done." The word of the Prophet Isaiah is a picture of the child of God, as well as of Him who is our inspiration for service. There is the thought of definiteness of use in the shaft. Other articles may be created for a variety of purposes. This shaft is made to go at the owner's will. There is only one way to live in this world and that is according to the will of God and for His glory. It matters little where I was born, Or if my parents were rich or poor; Whether they shrank from the cold world's scorn, Or walked in the pride of wealth secure; But whether I live a surrendered man, And hold my integrity firm in my clutch, I tell you, my brother, as plain as I can, It matters much! It matters little where be my grave, Or on the land or on the sea. By purling brook, or 'neath stormy wave, It matters little or nought to me; But whether the angel of death comes down And marks my brow with his loving touch, And one that shall wear the victor's crown, It matters much! There is also in this picture of the shaft the thought of directed motion. The aim is everything. The arrow cannot aim itself. There is no such thing as an aimless life. Our energies are either being directed for Christ or against Him; in the interests of humanity or contrary to them. Every child of God must reach the place where he will say, Not my will, but Thine, O God, be done; not my path but Thine, O Christ, be travelled; not my ambitions realized but Thine own purposes in me fulfilled, my Heavenly Father. The progress of such a life is peace, the consummation of it the most perfect victory. When I am dying how glad I shall be That the lamp of my life has been blazed out for Thee. I shall be glad in whatever I gave, Labour, or money, one sinner to save; I shall not mind that the path has been rough, That Thy dear feet led the way is enough. When I am dying how glad I shall be, That the lamp of my life has been blazed out for Thee. In the picture of the archer and his arrow, there is an illustration of derived energy. The arrow placed upon the string and drawn back by the archer speeds away to do the master's will. It has no power in itself; it flies forward in the master's strength. God is always seeking an outlet for His power along the line of service. It is when our lives are surrendered to Him that victory is possible. A friend of mine took for his year text the expression "I believe, and I belong." We might well add, "I live and I love," and because I do both I will obey. Ole Bull once played his violin in the presence of a company of University students. He charmed them, they knew at once that they were in the presence of a master. When he was finished playing, one who was present said to him, "What is the secret of your power, have you a special bow, or is it in the instrument you use?" Ole Bull responded, "I think it is in neither, but it has always seemed to me that I had power in playing because I waited to play until I had an inspiration, when my soul was overflowing with music and I could not stay the torrent that was back of me; it is then that I take my violin and the music flows forth." If we were always passive in the hands of the Master He would show forth in and through us His marvellous grace and power. The polishing of the shaft is always necessary. God uses all our experiences to equip us for life. Parental influence; the power of prayer as offered in our behalf by others; the education given us in the schools; the disappointments of life which seem almost to crush us; the sorrows which are indescribable; all these are like the touch of a master's hand, and forth from such a school and such a training we ought to come prepared to do the will of God. The arrow was carried in the quiver and the quiver was near to the master's side. Nearness to God is essential if we are to be used of God. He chooses the vessel nearest His hand. This has always been true. The apostles, martyrs, missionaries, and saints who have finished their work and have gone on before, as well as those who live to-day, prove the statement that we must be in closest relationship with Christ if we are to be entrusted with the gift of power. It is when we are in the secret place of the Most High that we learn God's will concerning us. Many people do not know God's will because they live too much in the bustle and confusion of life. God speaks His best messages to us in whispers, not in thunder tones, and we must be still to know that He is God and study to be quiet that we may go forth from quietness to conquer. The practice of the quiet hour is the secret of many a soul's victorious service. Shut in with God alone, I spend the quiet hour; His mercy and His love I own, And seek His saving power Shut in with God alone; In meditation sweet, My spirit waits before the throne, Bowed low at Jesus' feet. Shut in with God alone; I praise His holy name, Who gave the Saviour to atone For all my sin and shame. Shut in with God alone; And yet I have no fear, I rest beneath the cleansing blood, And perfect love is here. CHAPTER IV _Starting Right_ "Every one over against his house," Nehemiah iii. 28. The first part of the Book of Nehemiah gives us a striking picture of destruction, and as we look about us we see a city in ruins: the walls are down; the homes have been destroyed; the people are in despair, so great is the desolation that even the temple has been defaced. When the tidings concerning the havoc which has been wrought in the city of Jerusalem reached Nehemiah he was well nigh heart-broken. Speaking about the story that had been brought to him he said, "And they said unto me, The remnant that are left of the captivity there in the province are in great affliction and reproach; the wall of Jerusalem also is broken down, and the gates thereof are burned with fire," Nehemiah i. 3. When he reaches the city of Jerusalem he goes about to view the ruins, and he thus describes his journey: "So I came to Jerusalem and was there three days. Then I told them of the hand of my God which was good upon me; as also the king's words that He had spoken unto me. And they said, Let us rise up and build. So they strengthened their hands for this good work," Nehemiah ii. 11 and 18. This picture of despair as seen in the olden days in Jerusalem is almost if not altogether being repeated to-day. The case is really desperate. The need of Divine help in the re-construction of human lives has never been greater. Hosts of men find the following testimony a description of their own experience. It is a young university man who is speaking, and before a great crowd of people he says:-- "Probably nine out of every ten of you men standing in front of me know who I am and know my family well. You will no doubt be surprised to hear of the awful experiences through which I have gone during the past six months. Just six months ago, as most of you know, I was an active Christian worker, and there are many of you in front of me who as recently as last July sat and heard me preach. During the last six months trouble came upon me, and in a weak moment, losing faith in God, I took to drink, and sank as low as it is possible for any man to sink. Not even the prodigal in the parable could have fallen lower than I did. Disowned by my mother; cast aside by my brother and sisters; despised by the members and officers of the church to which I belonged and in which I preached, I was in every respect an outcast. Just before Christmas, whilst tramping on the road, I actually took the shirt off my back to sell it for drink, so miserable was I. My nights I spent in the open fields, waking in the morning covered with frost. Something seemed to compel me to attend the meetings in this city. I attended night after night, and although the singing and the address had a wonderful effect upon me, I kept struggling against the working of the Spirit, until the singing of the chorus "I am Included," brought home to me as never before, the fact that even I, wretched outcast that I was, had not gone too far. I then and there made up my mind to accept the promise of John iii. 16. From that time I have realized, as never before, that Christ went to Calvary not so much for the world, as He did for me. And I intend to devote the rest of my life to winning souls for Him." There is surely cause for great alarm because of the present condition of affairs, and for the following reasons: Home life is not what it used to be. In the olden times the home was a harbour into which tempest-tossed souls came day after day, and thus protected, had time to regain lost strength and go forth again to battle with the storm. It was once true that fathers were priests in their own households and mothers were saints. The best memory that some of us have is that which centres in a home where love ruled and reigned; where Christ was honoured; where the Bible was read, explained and loved, and where the very atmosphere was like heaven. In many instances to-day this is missing and he is to be pitied who has not such a memory as this, and such an influence for good in his life. The family altar in too many households has been broken down or given up. "What led you to Christ?" was the question asked of a distinguished Christian worker. And the answer quickly given was, "My father's prayers at the family altar. They followed me through my manhood and compelled me eventually to accept Christ." When the family altar is gone from a home, it is like the taking away of a strong foundation from a building or depriving the arch of its keystone. Better sacrifice everything than this spirit and practice of prayer in the home. It is barely possible that because of conditions family prayers may not be conducted to-day as in other days, but there is at least time for a verse of scripture and a prayer out of a full heart, and the influence of even so brief a service will keep the members of the household from many a failure. Church attendance is not what it once was. The old-fashioned family pew is a thing of the past in too many cases. In other days the father, the mother, and the children attended divine worship in the house of God. They sang the hymns of the church together; they worshipped God with the same spirit of devotion; they listened to the minister's preaching and they came forth from such a service clothed with a power that made them able to stand against the mightiest influences for evil. Because the family pew is out of date many boys are wandering, and many girls have gone astray. With the beginning of the fourth chapter of Nehemiah there is a change in the story as told by the Prophet. There is a ring of triumph when he announces: "So built we the wall; and all the wall was joined together unto the half thereof; for the people had a mind to work," Nehemiah iv. 6. And the completeness of his work is described when he says: "Now it came to pass when the wall was built, and I had set up the doors, and the porters and the singers and the Levites were appointed ..." Nehemiah vii. 1. I am sure it is quite true that out from all the despair which sometimes appals us, we shall come into the same complete victory. But if we are to win others to Christ and if our work is to be a work of prevention, so that our children shall not go astray and our friends may not wander, then it will be essential that we should, like Nehemiah of old, begin to build everyone over against his own house. It is a sad thing to find so many people in the world who are a public success and a private failure. Great superintendents of Sunday Schools, and poor fathers; experienced Sunday School teachers, and inconsistent in their own homes; eloquent preachers and poor illustrations of the spirit of Jesus; famed for piety as revealed to the public eye and quite as famed for lack of piety, when living out of the lime light, in the common round of daily duties with those who know us best and ought to speak of us most highly. If our work is to be as God would have it where shall it begin? By all means let it begin with ourselves. There is a text of Scripture which every Christian must say over and over. He might begin the day with it and it might not be amiss for him to say it over before he closes his eyes in sleep. "Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me and know my thoughts; and see if there be any wicked way in me," Psalm cxxxix. 23, 24. It is quite unnecessary to study the methods of men if we cannot bear the test of God's searching eye. We must be right in our own homes. In a meeting conducted recently in Wales a gentleman rose to say: "I came to the meeting on Friday afternoon and made a covenant with God that I would speak to someone about Christ. It laid so hold of my heart that I went home and spoke to my little girl. I asked her if she loved the Lord Jesus Christ, and she said, 'Yes, I do.' I said, 'Will you accept Jesus as your personal Saviour?' 'Yes, I am willing to' she said. I went to the steel works, and had been praying that God would use me. I asked the young man with whom I was working if he were a Christian. He looked black at me, but I asked him to be honest before God. In a moment his face changed as he said without hesitation, 'I will accept Jesus as my Saviour now.' "I was working during the night, and it came to food time, so I asked several of the men if they would come into the smith shop and have a word of prayer. There was a young man there whose little boy I had spoken to. This young man came to me at three o'clock in the morning to tell me that he would accept Jesus as his personal Saviour. I asked some of the men if they would come up to my house and have a little prayer meeting after work, at six o'clock in the morning. They came up and I spoke to them, quoting the texts John iii. 16 and John v. 24. Some of the men present were not saved. I asked them if they really understood the Scriptures, and they told me they did. 'Now,' I said, 'will you not accept Jesus as your personal Saviour?' and one who was in the smith shop told me that he had definitely given himself to God at three o'clock that morning. Then I asked a boy of fifteen if he understood the words. 'Yes,' he said, so I asked him if he would not accept Christ. 'Yes' he replied, 'I will.' The following night I spoke to another in the works, concerning his soul, and asked him if he had fully surrendered, because I knew he was in trouble. About one o'clock I spoke to him and said, 'Will you give yourself to the Lord now?' 'No,' he said, 'not now.' 'Well,' I said, 'come to the smith shop at food time and have a word of prayer.' After food time he came out, and started again at his work. Presently he came across to me. 'Well,' I said, 'have you fully surrendered?' 'Yes, Tom,' he said, 'I have given myself to Christ, now.'" Beginning in the home it is quite easy to go out into a wider circle and serve. The tendency, however, is to begin in some public place, and oftentimes because of this we fail to win those who work by our side, who sit with us at our own table and who live with us day after day and for whom we are specially responsible. It will also be necessary for us to enlarge the circle and reach the people in our own places of business. Two business men journeyed into a New England city together for twenty years. One of them was a Christian, the other was not. They were both dying the same day, and the man who was not a Christian when he heard that his friend was dying, had a right to say to his wife, as he did, "It is a strange thing that my friend and I have known each other so well, and love each other so dearly, that he has allowed me to come to this day without a warning." A business man rose in a meeting to say, "I have been greatly concerned about one young man who works in my office. I asked him if he would not come to the office a little earlier this morning. When he came and we were alone I asked him if he knew why I had got him to come a little earlier. When he told me that he did not, I said to him 'I am a Christian, I have never spoken to you about Christ and I have asked you to come this morning that I might explain the way to you and urge you to take your stand for Him.' That morning I had the great joy of leading my employee to Christ. I gave him a little pocket Testament in which I wrote his name, and under his name I wrote this Scripture, 'Thou art my son, this day have I begotten thee,' and after that I signed my name. Three days later," said the business man, "the young man of whom I speak, led three others to Christ, one of them was the head book-keeper in my office." If we are to be successful soul winners it is essential not only that we should get right with God but that we should keep right with Him. There must be a quick confession of sin and a quick turning away from all that would work against Christ. Our friends with whom we live and labour are keen critics, and as a rule, just ones. They know when we are wrong and nothing so hinders a testimony as to allow a wrong to go unrighted. When before our own households and with those who know us best, and by whose side we toil, in shop, or store, or office, or with those whom we employ, we keep ourselves unspotted from the world, we have an unanswerable argument for Christ and a testimony as regards the value of following Him which cannot be gainsayed. CHAPTER V _No Man cared for my Soul_ "No man cared for my soul," Psalm cxlii. 4. All about us people are saying these words, and they really think we do not care. I believe there has never been a story of a man in which was found more contrast than in this account of the man who sobs out the words, "No man cared for my soul." He is a shepherd boy, then a king, a saint, writing the twenty-third Psalm, then suddenly turned into a sinner blackening the pages of the Old Testament with the story of his transgressions. The world has not had better poetry than that which came from the heart and brain of this marvellous man. In addition to all this, he is a musician, and all through the Psalms he is keeping time to heaven's music until, when he comes to the close of the Psalter, he stands like the leader of a mighty chorus, and calls upon every living breathing being to praise the Lord. He is a pursuer of men, and the hosts of the enemy run and cry and flee before him. Suddenly the scene is changed. He is himself pursued. He is in the cave of Engedi. The cave is dark, and it is in the gloom that we hear him crying out, "I looked upon my right hand and beheld, but there was no man that would know me: refuge failed me." And as he said this I think he must have said, with a sob, "No man cared for my soul." But it is not my intention so much to tell the story of this man whose life was so filled with contrasts, but rather to speak of those who live to-day, and who think they have a right to use the same words as the Psalmist, "No man cared for my soul." They walk on the streets of our cities; they live in our homes; they meet us in our places of business; they are members of our circle of friends; they know that we are Christians, and they are often thinking or saying, "No man cared for my soul." It is strange that we should permit this, because we read in the Bible, "He that believeth not is condemned already." "He that hath not the Son of God hath not life, but the wrath of God abideth on him." It seems strange that one could say he believes the Bible to be true; that he accepts these statements concerning the one who is not a Christian, and yet lives and works and associates with him and never speaks to him about the salvation of his soul. It would seem as if they at least had a right to say, "No man _seems_ to care." But some may say, "They have the Church, and the doors are wide open; they have the minister, and his message is faithful." Yet, the average man who sits in church and listens to the most impassioned appeal of the preacher, rarely considers the sermon personal. He finds himself saying, sometimes against his will, that the preacher is professional, that his plea is perfunctory, and so he goes out of church and says again, "No man _seems_ to care for my soul." There came into my church in an Eastern city a man who worshipped with us for a time. His family were in the mountains. I made it a rule never to allow one to attend the church that I did not speak to him personally. One day I called on this business man. He took me into his private office. When I took him by the hand I said, "I have come to ask you to be a Christian." He looked at me in amazement; and I said, "I am not asking you to join my church, that may not be the church of your choice, but I am asking you to be a Christian." He drew his hand out of mine, walked away to the window, and stood looking down upon the busy street for fully five minutes. I thought I had offended him. Then he came back, and, brushing the tears out of his eyes, he took my hand again and said, "It is the first invitation to be a Christian I have ever had in all my life. Nobody ever asked me before. My mother never asked me; my wife has never asked me; no minister has ever asked me." Then, sinking back into the chair by his table, he used the words which are almost identical with the words of David, "I thought no one cared." Such men are all around us; men in deepest need; men with sore aching hearts. There was a man in an American city who occupied a high position among men. He took his own life. Under the stress of political excitement he misappropriated the funds of the bank, thinking he could repay them, and in his beautiful home he put the revolver to his temple and shot himself. The saddest letter I have ever seen was written by that man. He wrote to his wife asking her forgiveness. He told her to pray for the children whom he had dishonoured. Then he concluded his farewell letter with this statement: "Through all the months I have been wishing somebody would speak to me about becoming a Christian." In the light of such facts I believe that what we need in these days is not so much, more men to preach--although that would be a great blessing--as people in the church who will be absolutely consistent. If they say they believe God's Word to be true, they must speak to those over whom they have an influence, about the personal acceptance of Christ. I was waiting one day outside the office of the Governor of one the Western States, and while I waited, the Lieutenant-Governor spoke to me. He said, "I was in your service last night, and I want to take issue with you on what you said. You told your hearers to go up and down the streets asking the people to become Christians. I think if anyone should come into my office and ask me to become a Christian I should tell him to go about his business." "You surely misunderstood me," I said; "what I told them was this, that if a business man was not a Christian, his friend who is a Christian ought to speak to him kindly about his soul." I had been introduced to the Lieutenant-Governor by one of the great politicians of the State, who was a sincere Christian, and I said, "Suppose our mutual friend here should come to you and say, 'I am a Christian. I think it is the best thing for a man to be a Christian. I am not always what I would like to be myself, but I should like to invite you to become a Christian.' Then suppose he should tell you what a strength and help it had been to him, what would you say to him?" He looked at me for a moment, and said, "I think I should say 'Thank you.'" I am sure thousands could be won to Jesus Christ if the members of the Church were consistent in the matter of living in Christ and giving an invitation to people to become acquainted with Him. It is not fair to charge the minister with being professional, nor to say that in his appeal he is perfunctory. Nor is it always just to criticize those who are in the church, for not speaking to the unsaved, for there may be an explanation. Sometimes we feel a sense of our own unworthiness. There are business men who know that if they should speak to their employees, the first speech would have to be a confession of failure. There are women who know that if they should go to their husbands or children, and ask them to come to Christ, they would have first of all to say, "You must forgive my inconsistency." There are fathers who know that they could not go to their homes and call their children around them, and bid them come to Christ without first saying, "You must forgive your father." But if a confession is necessary, then make it. It is sometimes a sense of unworthiness that seals one's lips, but remember if you have a friend who is not a Christian, and to whom you have never spoken of Christ, your friend counts you inconsistent because of your failure. I said to the officers in my church one evening, "How many of you have ever led a soul to Christ?" About half of them said they never had. One officer said, "That is a sharp question for me. If you will excuse me I will go home and speak to my children, to-night." He did so, and I received two of his sons into the church shortly after. Again, we seem to have failed to warn our friends because we have such a slight conception of the meaning of the word "Lost." A mother in Chicago one day carried her little baby over to the doctor, and said, "Doctor, look into this baby's eyes, something has gone wrong with them." The doctor took the little child and held it in his arms so that the light would strike its face, He gazed at it only for a moment, then, putting it back into its mother's arms, he shook his head, and the mother said quickly, "Doctor, what is it?" And he said, "Madam, your baby is going blind. There is no power in this world that can make him see." She held the baby in her arms close up against her heart. Then with a cry she fell to the floor in a swoon, saying as she fell, "My God--blind!" I think any parent must know how she felt. But Jesus said, "Better to be maimed, and halt, and blind than to be lost." If you believe the Bible you cannot be indifferent. But you say, some would not like to have you speak to them. I have been twenty-seven years a minister, and have spoken to all classes and conditions of men and women, and only in one single instance have I ever been rebuked. I was once asked to speak to the president of a bank. I went into his office, and was introduced to him by the pastor with whom I was staying. I said, "My friend is very interested in you, and I wish I could lead you to Christ." He looked at me in perfect amazement. Then, rising from the chair, he took me by the hand, and said, "Thank you, sir." I saw him that night, make his way down the crowded aisle of the church, give the minister his hand, and say, "I will." But I had a sad experience at college. I roomed with a man when I was a student for the ministry, and never spoke to him about his soul. When the day of my graduation came, and I was bidding him good-bye, he said, "By the way, why have you never spoken to me about becoming a Christian?" I would rather he had struck me. I said, "Because I thought you did not care." "Care!" he said. "There has never been a day that I did not want you to speak; there has never been a night that I did not hope you would speak." I lost an opportunity. I fear some day, I must answer for it. You had an idea that you had no influence, but you must remember that when you speak in the name of Jesus Christ, God stands back of you; that when you plead for the salvation of a person, all the power of heaven is working through you. Some may ask, What is the best time to speak to my friends about Christ? I should say, speak to them when they are in trouble, seek them out when others are being saved, but, best of all, go to them when the Spirit of God says go, that is the best time. Whenever God says "Go," He is always making ready the heart for our coming. I was one day walking down the streets of an American city with a Methodist minister, when he said to me, "What would you do if you were impressed that you should speak to a man?" I said, "Speak to him." He said, "But this man has not been in church for thirteen years." "Nevertheless," I said, "speak to him." He turned and made his way to the great house where this business man lived. He rang the bell, and the door was opened by the gentleman himself, who said, "Doctor, I am glad to see you. I have been in all day thinking you might come." And in a very few minutes he was kneeling in the library with this gentleman whom he quickly led to Christ. A year later I was passing through the city of Chicago, when, picking up a newspaper, I noticed that this man whom the minister had won to Christ, had died suddenly. I got a letter from the minister not long afterwards, and he said, "I was with him when he died. He sent a messenger for me to come and see him, and when I arrived he turned his face towards mine and said, "Dr ----, thank you for coming that day, for if you had missed that day, I might have missed this. Then he began to sing as best he could. He raised himself on his pillow, with his arms outreaching, and said, "Jesus Lover of My soul," and passed away. The minister's letter was marked with tears, and down at the foot of it was written this sentence; "God helping me, I will never hesitate again." They are all about us, men with aching hearts, men caught by the power of sin, young people and older people as well. They are waiting. Preaching may not win them; singing may not touch them. But personal effort will. I might change the text and make it read: "The world does not care for your soul," You may win it, and it will mock you. Satan does not care for your soul. He will fascinate you and snare you, and when you say, "Oh, wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" there will be no deliverance. But God cares. Christ cares. The minister cares, and thousands of others care. Some are saying, "What must I do to be a Christian?" A gentleman once said to me, "I do not love God." Another person once said, "You talk about love for Christ; is it like love for my mother, because if it is I have not got it." No, it is not like that. That is not the first step in the way. Tell them God does not say, "Love me, and I will save you." God says, "Trust me. Accept my conditions, believe on my Son and follow Him." There was a great man in a Western city who had a little girl who was deaf and dumb. He loved his child so much that he would not allow anybody to teach her. She had a kind of sign language which they both understood, but nobody else was allowed to teach her. This gentleman at one time had occasion to leave home and go abroad. He could not take his daughter with him, so his minister persuaded him to send her over to an institution where she could be taught to use the sign language of the deaf and dumb. He took her over himself, never for a moment imagining that she would learn to speak with her lips, as she did. The months passed by, and when the father returned, the minister went with him to see his child in the institution. The little girl had been told that he was coming, and looking out of the window she saw her father coming through the gate. She sprang to the door, and ran down the steps, and along the walk until she reached her father. Then she climbed up into his arms, and, putting her lips up against his ear, she said, "Father, I love you, I love you." The great man held her out at arm's length, looked into her face, then pressed her more closely to his heart and fell in a faint--when he recovered consciousness he was sobbing. All the day he kept saying, "I have heard her speak, and she loves me, she loves me." So tell the people very plainly that God does not say, "Love me." He says, "Believe on me; trust me; follow me." Then ask them, Will you do it? And if they will follow Him, having accepted His Son as their Saviour, and with his help having turned from sin, then if they will obey Him, they will come to love Him with all their hearts. CHAPTER VI _Winning the Young_ "There is a lad here," John vi. 9. Jesus had just crossed over the sea of Galilee and, attracted by the miracles which he had wrought, great multitudes had followed after Him. In order that He might escape the throng, He went up into a mountain and there He sat with His disciples. When the Master saw the great company stretching out on every side of Him He said unto Philip, "Whence shall we buy bread that these may eat." Philip was so amazed at the crowd that he answered Him, "Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one of them may take a little." Then one of His disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, said unto Him, "_There is a lad here_ which hath five barley loaves and two small fishes." Then Jesus made the multitude sit down, and took the loaves and gave to the disciples, and the disciples to them that were seated, and likewise of the fishes as much as they would, and when they were filled, the fragments that remained filled twelve baskets. The presence of this lad and the service which he rendered to Jesus, as well as the use which the Master made of him, all help us to teach our lesson. Youth is the time to turn to Christ. The wise man knew this when he said, "Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth; while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh; when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them." Sin has not so strong a hold upon a life in the time of youth, therefore it is the easiest time to turn to Christ. I once heard a man tell the story of his special work among outcast men and women, and when I asked him he told me how he himself was converted. He said that as a boy in London, he was left one day in charge of the private office. He said "I wanted to write a letter and I took the firm's note-paper; I used one of their envelopes, and when I wanted postage I opened the private drawer of the safe, the door of which was swinging open, and took out one postage stamp, and when I put this stamp upon my letter and dropped it into the post-box I felt as if I had dropped my character with it. That was the beginning, and the end was a prison cell, for I went from one form of thieving to another until I was obliged to pay the penalty. I found Christ while I was in prison, but I feel as if the mark of my early sin would never leave me. I would urge every boy to accept Christ," he said, "before the cords of sin bind him too securely." When one reaches the age of eighteen he finds it extremely difficult to turn away from the sins that are mastering him, and when he passes beyond twenty years of age, the tide against him is extremely heavy. The critical time in the life of boys and girls is from twelve to twenty. If they do not accept Christ during these years, it is wellnigh impossible to win them. If this is true then we must make the most of the opportunities of influencing the youth whom God is ever bringing before us. The Scripture used in connection with this feeding of the multitude is a good illustration. It is a lad who confronts us, and this is, as has been said, the favourable time for bringing Christian influence to bear upon him. There is a time in the life of every boy when it is comparatively easy to win him to Christ. Parents surely know this, and Sunday school teachers may easily discover it. "How did you come to Christ?" said a New York minister to a little boy. His reply was, "My Sunday school teacher took me last Sunday out into the park. She drew me away from the crowd and took her seat beside me. She asked me if I would become a Christian. I felt that I ought to do so, and because her invitation was so definite, and she seemed so interested, I told her I would do so, and because I am a Christian I went to join the Church." Too much cannot be said in favour of reaching the young while they are in the days of their youth. Recently in an audience of 4500 people I found that at least 400 of the audience came to Christ under 10 years of age; between 10 and 12, 600; between 12 and 14, 600; between 14 and 16, about 1000; between 16 and 20, fully one half, and in the entire audience not more than 25 people came to Christ after they were 30 years of age. Five hundred ministers were in the same audience. The majority of them were converted before they were 16 years of age; 40 of them between 16 and 20; and only 15 out of the 500 ministers were converted after they were 20. This in itself is an unanswerable argument in favour of personal work for the young. The lad is here now before us, but he will soon be gone. Boys quickly grow into manhood. As a rule religious influence weakens as they pass on, while the power of sin increases. Many young men would turn to Christ if they thought they could, but it seems to them that the attraction towards evil is almost, if not quite irresistible. I recently heard a Christian gentleman speaking before a great audience in London. He was telling of his going over the Alps in the care of a trusted guide. As they came to one of the most dangerous places in the journey his guide stopped him, and said, "Do you see those footprints off here to the right?" The gentleman said he did, plainly. "Do you notice," said the guide, "how they get farther and farther apart?" And when asked to give an explanation he said that a week before a young telegraph operator had attempted to cross the mountains without a guide, that just at the place where they were standing his hat blew off, and, without thinking, he reached out after it, lost his balance and started to fall. In trying to recover himself he started down the mountain to the right. The way was all covered with snow; when once he started he could not stop; farther and farther apart were his footprints until at last they were lost on the edge of a great abyss. He had gone over to his death. It is thus that young men go to destruction. Because they do, we ought to be instant in season and out of season in seeking to arrest their downward progress. When Jesus took the loaves and fishes in the possession of the lad and brought to bear upon them his own marvellous power, the results were great. No one realises what is being accomplished when he assists or influences a boy. I am wondering what that minister, who led Spurgeon to Christ, thinks of his work now that he sees it from the heavenly standpoint, and I have many times thought I should like to ask the business man who spoke to D.L. Moody about his soul, what estimate he puts upon the importance of the work he did that day. To win a boy to Christ may be to turn towards the Master one who may one day move the world for Christ. A great number of Chinese young men have come from their native land to study in the educational institutions of the United States. Some of them have found Christ in these institutions, others have passed through their course of study and returned to their native land without a hope in the Saviour. What a marvellous work might have been accomplished if the Christian students in these educational institutions had set themselves to win these Chinese boys. The students in China are to have an increasing influence in the Government, and if the majority of them had been led to Christ, the whole Chinese Government might have been powerfully affected. Some years ago there came to the United States a little Chinese boy. He was sent to a New England educational institution, and made his home in the house of a very humble woman. She knew Christ and loved Him, and she recognised the presence of this little boy as presenting an opportunity for service. She treated him as if he were her own child. She mothered him and grew to love him. She taught him how to read the Bible and she told him the story of Jesus and His love. That little boy came to Christ. He passed through the educational institution, went back to China to exercise his strongest influence for righteousness, and has recently been entrusted with the commission of bringing to the United States a number of other Chinese boys, all of whom, it is said, he will place in institutions that are Christian. The poor woman in New England did not realise that when she led one boy to Christ that she was touching forty others. This is the fascination of Christian work. Some of the noblest men and women the Church has ever known came to Christ in youth. Polycarp, Matthew Henry, Jonathan Edwards, the immortal Watts, John Hall, and a countless host of others who have served conspicuously in the advancement of the Kingdom of God, came to Christ before they were fifteen years of age, some of them coming as early as seven. The lad is here, it will be a pity if we allow him to grow to manhood without a hope in Christ all because we do not seek to win him. CHAPTER VII _Winning and Holding_ "From a child thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus," 2 Timothy iii. 15. Timothy's inheritance was invaluable. His equipment was superb, and his experience from the day of his birth until the end of his life upon earth, ideal. He had a good grandmother. Evidently she influenced him profoundly. I am quite sure that his parents too must have fulfilled their obligations to their child, and in addition to his own immediate ancestry, he had Paul, the Apostle, who looked upon him as a son in the Gospel, and honoured him by sending him his last message when he said, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day, and not to me only, but to all them also that love His appearing. Do thy diligence to come shortly unto me" 2 Timothy iv. 7-9. It is a great loss to any child to be deprived of what Timothy had. We may not all be rich, and we certainly cannot all be great, but we may all be true and faithful as parents, and when a child has such an inheritance he is well started in life. It is because children do not have this that many of them drift. Given a good ancestry it is comparatively easy to draw children to Christ, and even to draw them back when once they have wandered. It is the testimony of rescue mission workers that when they have the privilege of appealing to lost and ruined men in the name of a mother who was saintly and a father who was true to Christ, they have a hold upon an almost irresistible force, to bring the wanderer back to the faith of his father and the teaching of his mother. There is the sorest need to-day of a special and continued interest in behalf of our young people. David Starr Jordan is authority for the statement that "one-third of the young men of America are wasting themselves through intemperate habits and accompanying vices," the conditions in other lands are also very serious. The secretary of the College Association of North America has been quoted as saying that there are twelve thousand college men in New York City alone who are down and out through vice. "Talk of the ravages of war. The ravages of war, pestilence and disease combined are as nothing compared with the awful moral ravages wrought in the teen period. The shores are strewn thick with the wasted lives of those who have been wrecked in youth." "We have been seeking results too far afield and overlooking great opportunities near at hand. If you take a census of a Christian congregation and ask those who were converted before their eighteenth birthday to rise, five-sixths of your congregation will stand. This means that five-sixths of all the people who give themselves to Christ do it on the under side of the eighteenth year. Put beside this the fact that we have more than 12,000,000 children and youth in the Protestant Sunday Schools of America under eighteen years of age and you will see that our great evangelistic opportunity does not lie outside of the Church, but inside, in the Sunday School department. Here we have a vast army, ready and waiting for the Christian call."[1] [Footnote 1: Rev Edgar Blake.] It is one thing to lead souls to Christ, it is quite another thing to hold them when once they have been won. The serious time for drifting is between the ages of twelve and twenty. If we could but safeguard these years we would hold for the Church many who drift out upon the sea of life, make shipwreck of their hopes and break the hearts of those who are interested in them. "An investigation in the Wesleyan Church of England showed that only ten per cent of the Sunday School were held in active membership in the Church. Ten per cent. were held in a merely nominal relationship. Eighty per cent. were lost entirely. This is a fair statement of the situation in many churches. We have lost multitudes of our youth who might have been saved if they had been properly cared for. "At the very time the Church loses its grip upon the boys and girls the public school loses its grip also. The exodus begins about the fifth grade, and at the eighth grade fifty per cent. of the scholars have departed. At the twelfth grade, near the middle teens, ninety per cent. of the scholars have gone out from the public schools. Thus these two most powerful forces in the creation of character, the Church and the School, lose their hold upon youth at the same time. "The home also loses its hold at this period. Up to his middle teens your youth accepts everything on the authority of others, but midway of the critical teen period there comes an awakening. The consciousness of his own personality, his right to make decisions for himself comes to him for the first time. Sometimes spontaneously, sometimes gradually, but always he breaks with authority. He insists upon deciding matters for himself. Parents may counsel, but they cannot determine[1]." [Footnote 1: Rev Edgar Blake.] "A gentleman came to a friend of mine at the close of an address which he had delivered and said to him, 'I was much interested in what you said about the boys we lose. I teach a class of the finished product.' 'Where do you teach?' said I. 'In the State prison' he said. A few years ago seventy-five per cent. of the inmates of the Minnesota State prison were boys who had once been in Sunday School and had been permitted to drift away. The later teen age, sixteen to twenty, is the criminal period. It is an appalling thing that 12,000 children were brought before the courts of New York in 1909, and in the same year more than 15,000 boys and girls suffered arrest in Chicago. Our criminal ranks are added to, at the rate of 300,000 a year, and in the vast majority of cases the criminal course is begun in the teen age. Is it necessary? Is this awful waste--this moral havoc--unavoidable? I believe not. Recently a young man in his teens was convicted of theft in the court of Milwaukee. When the judge asked him if he had anything to say before sentence was pronounced upon him, the young man arose, pale with excitement and said, 'Your honour, my father and mother died when I was three years old. I never had anyone who loved or cared for me. I have been kicked about all my life. Judge, I never would have been a thief if I had had a chance.' This is the pitiful plea of thousands who have been wrecked around us. They were not shepherded and they went astray." There is a way to hold the majority of those whom we may win to the Saviour. A friend of mine led to Christ a young man who had gone to the very depths of sin and shame. He was a drunkard; he had disgraced his father's name; had broken his wife's heart, and when his little boy died he did not have enough money to bury the child decently; when the mother put the child in the grave the father was wild with drink, and he was buried without his father being present. But my friend won this man to Christ. After he was saved, every day for three weeks he went to sit by his side and talk with him; he guarded him at the critical time; he kept him from growing discouraged; he hindered him from drinking. To-day this man is himself one of the most noted rescue mission workers in the world, and is being used of God to save multitudes of men who like himself had gone down through drink. It is what we are ourselves that largely counts in the holding of our friends for Christ. Paul wrote to Titus saying, "In all things showing thyself a pattern of good works ... that he that is of the contrary part may be ashamed, having no evil thing to say of you," which is only another way of saying that a Christian life is an unanswerable argument in favour of Christ. When our lives are right with God; when we keep ourselves unspotted from the world; when we quickly confess our own failure or wrongdoing; when we have a concern not only that others should be saved, but that they might do something for Christ after their salvation, it is comparatively easy to hold them, and to keep from drifting those who have just started along the way. When my friend S.H. Hadley, the great rescue missionary, was lying in his coffin, a timid knock was heard at the door of the room where the body was resting. When the one who had knocked entered the room it was found that he was a drunkard, he had fallen from a high position to the very depths of despair, and as he stood timidly in the presence of the sorrowing friends of the great man, he said, "I thought I would like to come and look into his face and if I might be permitted to do so I would like to touch his hand. He did his best to win me while he was living and now that he is dead I cannot let his body be placed in the grave without coming here by the side of his casket to yield myself to Christ. All that he has said has followed me and I cannot get away from it." Timothy knew the Scriptures, and a familiarity with God's Word is one of the best preventives in the case of drifting. One verse of Scripture committed to memory each day would help us to overcome the tempter; would keep us in loving touch with Jesus Christ; would inspire us to higher and holier living; and these suggestions made to those whom we win to Christ would keep them from wandering. It is the man who does not know his Bible who finds himself an easy prey to the wicked one. The ability to pray is also a God-given force which keeps us from drifting. When we read the Bible God talks to us; when we pray we talk to Him. We cannot always speak plainly of our condition to those about us, but we may tell Him what we are and what we wish we might have been. And while it is true that He knows before we speak, it is also true that in the telling we draw nearer to Him, and drawing nearer we absorb a little bit more of His spirit, and in that spirit we stand. Service is also one of the surest preventives from wandering. It is when the brain is idle that evil thoughts master it; when the heart is given up to impure imaginations that we find it easy to fall. And it is when we are busy lifting others' burdens; making the way easier for others to travel; comforting those who are in distress; speaking a word of cheer to the cheerless, and above all, when we are seeking to lead others to Christ, that we ourselves grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. If these things are true, and we know they are, then it is the duty of every Christian not only to seek to win another to Christ, but by all means to seek to hold him when once he is won, and that which we know holds us will keep others from stumbling. The suggestions made above are for the young as well as the more mature. Young people will be interested in spiritual things if we have sufficient interest in them ourselves to make them attractive. If we would show as great interest in helping to keep those whom we may have won for Christ, as we revealed when we were seeking them, fewer of them would drift. CHAPTER VIII _A Practical Illustration_ It will be a great day when the Church is aroused to the responsibility and privilege of personal work. In Swansea, Wales, with Mr Charles M. Alexander, I had the satisfaction of conducting a mission in which I preached for an entire week on Soul Winning. I then urged the people to go forth and labour, and asked them to come back with their reports. These reports were thrilling. Often ten or twelve people would be standing at the one time waiting to speak. The following are only a few testimonies taken from the many:-- A minister said: "I spoke to a bright young fellow, under the influence of drink, as I was going home in the car last night. He got off the car when I did, so I stood at the street corner and talked with him for a few minutes. He told me that he had been a follower of the Lord Jesus many years ago, but had fallen away through bad company. I asked him to pray for himself. He said he could not, but asked me to pray for him. And there on that street corner I put my arm around his shoulder and we prayed together, and he has promised to come to the meeting to-night." "About three years ago," said another, "I came in touch with a man who has been the biggest and most hardened scoffer I have had to contend with. He had such a sarcastic way of ridiculing the Lord Jesus Christ. But this last fortnight I have seen a distinct change in that young man's life. Last week, as we were working near to one another, I spoke to him and his eyes filled with tears. He said, 'I have decided to come out and accept Christ.' I could hardly credit it, but it has proved to be real, and when I see God moving in such a hard case as this, I have hope for every sinner in this city." Another said, "I came to the Lord three years ago, one of the worst drunkards in Swansea. Since the Saviour found me, I have spoken to men on their death-beds. I have spoken to drunkards all over Swansea, but I neglected my own charge that God had given to me. Dr Chapman woke me up to approach my own household and children. It was the greatest struggle in all my life. I went to my two boys and put my hands on their shoulders saying, 'I want you to do something for Jesus and for your father.' They said, 'Father, we will do it.' Two of my boys came to the Albert Hall yesterday and gave their hearts to Jesus. This has been one of the most blessed weeks I have had since I was saved three years ago." "On Thursday night I had been asking the Lord to lead me to the right one to speak to. He led me to a young man of sixteen years of age who was under tremendous conviction. He said, 'I think I will make a clean breast of it. I have done something,' and he told me his story. This young lad, in his employer's service for four years, last week, for the first time, began to steal. He turned out his pocket and showed me what he had. He said, 'What shall I do? I go to bed at night and I cannot sleep, it is haunting me.' I said, 'Look here, laddie, do this. Go to your master to-morrow morning, and make a clean breast of it and get the victory.' 'What about my situation?' said the boy. 'I will pray for you,' I said. 'If your master is so unkind as to dismiss you, come to me and I will see what I can do.' It was a long time before he gave in, but eventually he said, 'I will.' I prayed for him, and last night I got this letter: 'Victorious! Devil conquered; overjoyed. I cannot very well explain what I experienced so will be pleased to meet you on Thursday next in the mission at Albert Hall.'" A week later this gentleman said: "I have a lot to thank God for these last ten days. I have had a glorious blessing. I can say with all humility, I have been on fire for Jesus. I had a letter yesterday from the young man whom I was talking about last Sunday. He says, 'Dear Friend, My only regret now is that I did not accept Jesus as my Saviour years ago. It would have saved me so much trouble. I explained everything to my master and handed him the article back. Then he gave me two-thirds of this particular article and burned the letter. So that is what I got for owning up.'" Another said: "I do thank and praise God this morning for the great things He has done in my home. He has brought my children to trust in the Saviour. I have great pleasure in reporting that a brother at the works, to whom I spoke a week ago, has decided for Christ. One of the workers presented me with a Testament to give to that brother, who was in very poor circumstances, and he received it with joy. The following day he came to tell me that he had read a chapter to his wife. His wife is travelling the wrong way. They have five little children, and on Thursday I took them to the meeting. On Friday morning he came to thank me for taking them there, and told me that during his absence from the house, his eldest boy, of about ten years of age, had got into a Bible Reading Circle, led by a Christian boy, and he asked his father if he could spare sixpence for him to buy a Testament. What joy filled my heart and soul from the fact that I could present that little lad with a Testament, and I sent my own lad back a mile, yesterday, with it. "I spoke to a dear Christian brother last night at the works. I asked him if his household were saved. 'I have one boy of sixteen not saved,' he said 'Brother, will you promise me to speak to him when you go home?' He went home and put his hand on the shoulder of the lad and gave him the invitation. The boy gladly promised to accept Jesus." Continuing with the reports, one said: "Last night, in one of our public houses I spoke to a woman about Jesus. Years ago she had lost her husband and instead of going to God for comfort she had turned to drink. She became a drunkard and had separated from her children. When I spoke to her she said, 'I know I am a sinner. I am the worst woman in Swansea, but I want to be good.' 'Will you decide now?' we asked her. 'Yes,' she said. She came out into the cold biting wind and knelt in the open air, and there she sent up this simple prayer: 'Oh, God, although I am a bad woman, please make me good, for Jesus' sake.' Later she arose in a crowded meeting and told her story, concluding with this remark, 'By God's help I am going to be a child of God.'" Another said: "On the second night of the mission I was led to speak to a dear brother who was a back-slider. I plead with him that evening to turn to Christ, but he did not come to a decision. The next night I went in and talked with him. I asked him again at the close of the meeting would he come back to the Lord Jesus Christ. He told me he could not come back that night. On the following night I went up and spoke to him again. When we got outside the building I said, 'I may not ever have the privilege of speaking to you again. Will you kindly give me your name? I will give you a guarantee that no one but God shall know about it. I want your name that I may pray for you.' On Tuesday night in the minor hall at the after meeting I searched for him. I had been praying continually every night and morning, and sometimes during the day. When I found him that night I said, 'You have withstood the Spirit of God long enough. Make a definite decision to-night to return to the Lord. If you do not care about coming to the front, fill out this card, but make up your mind to give yourself to Christ.' He took the card and filled it out. Then I said, 'You know the way of salvation because you have been that way before. When you get home tonight, will you kindly make a definite decision at your bedside?' And he told me he would." Another gentleman rose to give his testimony and said: "I belong, as you know, to another city, but I want to speak a word to the glory of God, and for the encouragement of those who have taken up personal work for Him. Some two years ago in our city I spoke to one who was an inspector in the Police Force, but who is to-day the Chief Inspector of our Police, about the claims of Christ. He told me that I was the first one who had ever spoken to him as to how he stood in relation to these matters for a period of fifteen years. Having once broken the ice and spoken to him, I never gave him up. "About two months ago I had occasion to go to the Police Court to ask his assistance on behalf of a woman who wanted an ejectment notice against another woman who was living in the same house. When he heard the name of the woman who wished to obtain the notice he refused to have anything to do with the matter. She had been a bad character. He said, 'I tell you candidly, she ought to be drowned for her cruelty to her children.' I said, 'You knew her once, but you do not know her now. How long is it since you saw her?' 'About nine weeks' he replied. 'Well,' I said, 'nine weeks ago she and her husband both came to Christ in our mission hall. For the first time in thirteen years they entered a place of worship. She had a black eye that covered over half her face, but both her husband and she are now Christians, and are faithfully following Christ to-day. And yet you call her a lost soul.' He said, 'Certainly I do. If there is a lost soul she is one.' 'Then Sir,' I said, striking him on the shoulder, 'Jesus came to seek and to save that which was lost. Jesus has saved that woman. When she comes on Monday night, Inspector, just look at her and see what Christ has wrought. I ask you to grant her request.' He shook himself free. 'Wait a moment, Inspector,' I said, 'I have never given up praying for you. You have risen to the position of Chief Inspector, but I want you not to forget Christ.' "On the Thursday of the following week he came to my home. When I saw him there I was glad, for he had kept away from me for a long time. I said, 'I am glad to see you in my home.' He said, 'You will be more glad when you know why I have come. In my room the other night I knelt down and gave myself to Jesus Christ, and asked the Lord to save me.' I would ask those of you who are working for souls not to get disheartened and discouraged. When the mission ceases do not give up taking a personal interest in those for whom you are concerned. "Some months ago I was sitting in the Assize Court in your city. I sat next to our Chief Inspector. The case that was being tried was one of attempted murder. As I sat there following the case this Chief Inspector turned to me and said, 'Why didn't they know Him on the road to Emmaus?' I said, 'I suppose because their eyes were holden.' He said, 'How did they know Him when they got to the home?' I said, 'Probably in the breaking of the bread.' 'Don't you think,' said he, 'that in the breaking of the bread they saw for the first time the marks of the wounds in His hands and knew Him by them?' What a difference Christ had made in the life of that Chief Inspector." A man employed in the steel works rose in one of our meetings to say: "I made my covenant with God last Saturday. The burden was laid heavy on my heart on behalf of two souls. One of them was my own little girl. I spoke to her about Jesus, and she told me she would accept Him as her Saviour. I have been working this week on a shift that ran from ten o'clock at night to six o'clock in the morning. On Tuesday night I asked the Lord to pour out His blessing on our workmen. About one o'clock in the morning I had an opportunity of speaking to a young man. I asked him if he had accepted Jesus as his Saviour, and he said he had not. Then I asked him to be honest before God, and I said, 'Will you accept Him now?' With a smile he looked up at me and said, 'Tom, I will accept Jesus as my Saviour now.' I have brought some of my mates with me here to-day and I thank God for what He has done. "Down at the works the other day there was a young man who came on duty at three o'clock in the morning. I knew he was troubled about his soul, and I spoke to him. I said, 'Are you in trouble about your soul?' He said, 'Yes, I am.' 'Well,' I said, 'Jesus has died to save you. Will you accept Him now?' He said to me, 'But, Tom, I have done this and that,' 'Well,' I said, 'Jesus has died for you, will you accept Him?' As he looked me straight in the face he said, 'Yes, I will.' "I asked these men who had accepted Jesus and one or two others, to come up to my home at six o'clock when we finished work. As we went through the yard there was a boy about fifteen years of age standing there and we got him to come along with us. In my home we had a small meeting. I asked God to pour down His blessing upon us. I asked one friend who was drifting, if he had ever accepted Christ, and he said at one time during a revival. I said, 'Praise God for that. He is willing to receive you back. Will you come?' and he said, 'At three o'clock this very morning, I came back to the Lord Jesus.' And then I turned to the boy of fifteen and said, 'Are you willing to accept the Saviour?' And he said he didn't think he was ready. I said, 'Well, my boy, if you don't, what will become of you?' He said, 'I will go to hell, I suppose.' Not long afterwards he accepted the Saviour.[1] [Footnote 1: This man worked at night and slept during the day.] "Yesterday I could not sleep. I went home from my work. I was up in the morning with a burden on my heart because of the poor souls who were going to eternity without a Saviour. A young woman came to our house and started to sing 'Lord save Swansea,' and the words kept ringing in my ears. I went back to bed but could not sleep. I had no peace. I said, 'Well, Lord, I believe Thou hast surely started the work.' I went to the works last night. I did not feel very well as I had been up all day. I asked some of the men if they would come to a prayer meeting for the mission. We did not have much time before work commenced, but we went in and I asked one of the young fellows if he would accept Jesus. He replied, 'I must have time to think of it.' The next night I said to him, 'Johnnie, have you thought of what we spoke on last night?' and he said, 'I have been in trouble about my soul.' Before we had tea I asked him if he would accept Christ now. He said, 'I cannot do it now.' I said, 'God will give you strength.' We went into a little shop and I prayed for him. At three o'clock this morning I spoke to him again. 'Johnnie,' I said, 'can you see the way clear?' 'Yes,' he said, 'I can see the way clear now. I will accept Jesus as my personal Saviour.'" CHAPTER IX _Whosoever Will_ All classes of persons may do personal work if they will. A prominent business man in a Welsh city began to do this work and one morning spoke to eighteen people before breakfast. Several, to whom he spoke, accepted Christ. Making a further report of his work, he said. "An old man, about seventy years of age, whose face was white and who appeared to be very ill, was leaning against the wall of a building near where I have my office. I said to him, 'Have you been to the mission?' 'No,' he said, 'I have not.' I then asked him if he had accepted Christ. 'Well,' he said, 'I have been a believer all my life.' I said, 'Are you saved?' 'I cannot say that,' he replied. 'Why?' I asked; 'God says, "He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life. Do you believe that?' He stood staring me in the face for a few minutes, when he said, 'I never saw it in that light before.' I said, 'Will you take him at His word now?' And he replied, 'Yes, I will.' "An old woman, an office cleaner, was making her way up the steps of a building. As I came up I recognised her, and said, 'Mrs Bell, I have been constrained to ask you if you have accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Saviour.' She looked at me, then setting down her broom she said, 'I want to, but no one has ever asked me,' 'Well,' I said, 'I ask you now. Will you accept Him just here? Will you say, Lord Jesus I accept Thee as my personal Saviour?' But she could not see the way. After some conversation I asked her if she would come to the hall and hear Dr Chapman and Mr Alexander, and she said she would go that evening. I was unable to go to the service myself that night and did not see her until the following Saturday morning. She came to my office and said, 'Since you spoke to me a few days ago I have had no peace. I am in an awful state, and unless I take Jesus I shall die. I am sure I shall because I cannot live like this.' And right there in the office she knelt down and accepted Christ as her Saviour and had the joy that always comes with this acceptance. "This morning, the very first man I met, I was constrained to speak to about Jesus. I introduced myself by asking him if he had been to the mission. He said, 'Yes, I was at the Grand Theatre last Sunday afternoon.' 'Well,' I said, 'did you give your heart to the Lord?' 'No,' he replied, 'I did not.' I said 'Why?' 'Because I missed my opportunity,' was his answer. I said to Him, 'Will you do it now?' 'Do it now!' he exclaimed. 'Listen,' I said, 'God says in His Word. As many as received Him to them gave He power to become the sons of God. Will you receive Him? It is either one thing or the other--receive or reject. Your sins have been atoned for by His precious blood. Will you take Jesus now?' And suddenly, taking me by the hand, he said, 'I will.' "From time to time I have been speaking to a young man belonging to a respectable family. At one time he was being brought up for the ministry, but he got into sin and sank very low. I persuaded him to attend one of the mission meetings. When Dr Chapman requested all those who wished prayer offered for themselves or for their loved ones, this poor fellow got up in the balcony and said, 'Pray for me.' Prayer was offered for him, and there, that night, he experienced the joy of salvation. He came to me the other day and said that he had definitely taken Jesus Christ as his Saviour." One would not expect a police officer to be a personal worker, but many of them are, and notably so in Great Britain. Ex-Sergeant Wheeler of Oldham came to attend one of our meetings, and being asked to speak, he said: "Though an Ex-Sergeant, I am not an Ex-Christian. There are a large number of people who look upon a policeman from many standpoints, but it is very seldom that they see him in the position in which I am placed to-night. They have an idea that a policeman does not exist to preach the Gospel or to tell them about Jesus Christ, and it is Christian people who get that idea sometimes." "I know a police sergeant in London who is a particular friend of mine and a great Christian worker. A lady went to one of our Provincial Police Conferences in connection with the Police Association and saw this big man who was so enthusiastic in connection with the work that the lady doubted his genuineness, and to satisfy her curiosity she ascertained his private address, travelled by rail from London, visited his home during his absence, and asked his wife what sort of a man he was. That is the way to find a man out. But she found that he was even a better man in the home than he was out of it. If you want to find what a man's character is, you do not ask about it on special occasions when he is on his guard, you ask what it is when he is at home, it is there that he unconsciously reveals it, and this revelation just because of its unconsciousness, proves invariably correct. "When the Lord Jesus brought me out of darkness into the light, when He broke the fetters and snapped the chains eleven years ago, I went home and said to my wife, 'I am going to live for Jesus, and we will start here, at home. We will have family prayers--we were not a large family, only nine of us, and for the first time in their lives, my children heard their father pray; and there on my knees in all humility I pledged myself before God that I would do anything, make any sacrifice, if by so doing I could help a weaker brother and lift him out of the gutter. That is the way I started. I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I hope to be, but, thank God, by His grace and love, I am what I am and not what I once was. The Lord changed my desires when he put a new heart within me. When I see a drunken man in the streets I do not pass him like I used to. My heart goes out to him and I look beyond the man in the streets to the life in the home he comes from, and see the misery there; but I thank God that He put the desire in my heart to try to help that brother. And how often opportunities present themselves. "On one occasion at five o'clock on a Sunday morning in the month of August, a policeman and I were going along the street. There was a man standing at a gate near the corner. As we approached he said to me, 'Sergeant, can you get me a drink of whisky?' I said, 'That is rather a strange thing to ask a Sergeant of Police,' 'Well,' he said, 'I have plenty of bottled ale in my home, but it sticks in my throat.' I said, 'Do you take whisky when you are thirsty?' 'Yes,' he replied. I got into conversation with him and after a while I said to him, 'Do you ever go to a place of worship?' 'No,' he said, 'I don't, I pay a sovereign for a sitting.' 'That won't get you to heaven,' I said, and after a little further talk with him he remarked, 'Sergeant, I am all right financially, but wrong here, in my heart.' And then he said, 'Will you come to my home and pray for me?' 'Yes,' I replied, und we went. It was not far away, a fine home, a palace to mine, I thought, as I walked across the velvet carpet into the drawing-room. He brought a Bible and said, 'Read me something out of that.' And he sat down like a little child, to listen. I turned to Isaiah liii. 6, and read, 'All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned everyone to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.' 'Now,' I said, 'it starts with All and finishes with All, so we are both included.' Then I took him to John iii. 16, and then to the last chapter in the Book of Revelation, verse 17: 'And the Spirit and the Bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst--I stopped at that--and whosoever ...' 'Now,' I said, 'we will read it again. And after we had read it again we knelt down, and there in that large home I poured out my soul to God over that man. I plead for him, and while I prayed he said, 'Lord, if I am not too bad, save me.' I said, 'Amen.' And the Lord heard his prayer, and before I left the house he was a changed man. When I was leaving he came to the door and said, 'I never bargained for this, this morning, Sergeant.' The man who wanted whisky got Christ. He drank of something different, he drank of the living water which Christ spoke about at the well of Samaria when He said, 'Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.'" "I left him and went back the following day. I rang the bell and he answered the door himself. I asked him how he was, and he said, 'Grand, I have had no whisky.' I went back a month later and he told me he was never so happy in all his life. He said, 'Do you remember me telling you I paid a sovereign for my sitting in church? Well, I occupy that pew myself now.' And that day he gave me a donation for the Christian Police Association and told me to call again at any time. That is what the Lord does when he changes a man's heart. There are many men to-day who may be all right financially; they may have a seat in God's House; they may be members of a Church and yet not be right at heart. I urge upon you, get right with God and you will have, not the peace of this world, but the peace that passeth all understanding. "Something like seven years ago I went to some services in Manchester that were being conducted by Dr Torrey and Mr Alexander. At the close of these services I went to the front and took some Gospel literature that was there for distribution. When I got home and commenced my duties I began to give this literature to the policemen. I thought the policemen stood as much in need of it as anybody else. If he is a peacemaker, sometimes he is a peacebreaker, and with all due respect to him he is not always a law-abiding man. "There were two booklets in which I was specially interested. One which was called 'God's Sure Promise,' asked several questions at the close, and then requested the reader to sign his name. The other was, 'Get Right with God.' I gave the latter to policemen on their beats, and asked them to read them carefully. I went on with my praying. One man received the book with great scorn. About a week after I visited this particular man, and with a smile upon his face he said, 'You remember those two booklets you gave me?' 'Yes,' I said. 'Well,' he said, 'the one called "God's Sure Promise" I tore up and put into the fire, the other I tore up and threw over the wall, but not before I read them both. Now, I have never got away from that, and about half an hour ago I came to the climax. I got down on my knees in the street, and now I can honestly say that God for Christ's sake has pardoned all my sins.' I felt overjoyed with his testimony, for he was the most scornful and bitter man in the division. I was so overjoyed that I walked round his beat with him, talking with him, and giving him words of encouragement. I can never forget that night. From ten o'clock until six in the morning it was one continual downpour of rain. We were soaked through. As we walked round I said, 'We will have a word of prayer.' We took off our helmets, knelt down on the pavement and there we had a little prayer meeting just about two o'clock in the morning. The showers of rain were nothing compared to the showers of blessing we had. I was so delighted when we went off duty that morning that I could not sleep. "I came to Manchester when Dr Torrey was holding a meeting, and during the meeting I sent a note up to Dr Torrey saying that a policeman wanted to say something. However, the opportunity did not present itself that night. A week after that another policeman came to me and said, 'Sergeant, do you remember that booklet you gave me, "God's Sure Promise?"' I said, 'Yes.' 'Well,' he said, 'here it is signed.' Seven years have passed away since that time, and those two policeman and I have stood together on the platform many and many a time telling the story of Jesus and His love. We have had some meetings together and I have seen them speaking to hundreds of men and the Lord has blessed them both. If the Lord Jesus Christ can save a policeman, He can save anybody. "I found that we existed for something more than locking up people. I wanted to arrest people in their sin, and going along the street one night in company with another constable we were called into a little house. The kind people there had taken in a woman off the street. She was lying on the floor in a very drunken condition, unconscious of everything around her. I knew this woman, she was about twenty-seven years of age. I made her acquaintance when I used to be on night duty. Every Saturday night or in the early hours of Sunday morning I used to find her door open--her home was in a little side street, that kind of people generally live in a side street. It was about three o'clock on Sunday morning when I walked in and saw the man lying on the floor and the wife who was also drunk, lying on a sofa. The next time I was on night duty I found the same door open, and this time the wife was lying on the floor and the man on the sofa, and both were drunk. "These kind people that I spoke of, consented to keep the woman there while I went to see the husband. I got to the house but found that he had removed to a little room in a little back street. There he was lying on a bit of a shake-down. I roused him up and told him where he would find his wife. He said, 'What time is it?' I said, 'Three o'clock in the afternoon.' He had one shilling left and he took a cab and went and brought his wife home. "A few days afterwards I got them both to sign the pledge. The man was about the same age as his wife. He told me he did not know the taste of tea and coffee, he drank nothing but beer. He only had the clothes he stood up in. Four months passed after he signed the pledge. I met him one night and he had on a black suit of clothes and a watch and guard in his pocket. I was delighted to see him. Some time after that I went to address a very large temperance meeting. The hall was packed, and when I went on to the platform who should be there but this young fellow occupying the chair. What a sight it was to me! He pointed out to me his wife in the audience. There she sat, all smiling and well dressed. Time went on and I was the means not only of keeping them to the pledge but of bringing them to Christ; the Christ of the Gospel; the Christ that has bridged the gulf between God and the gutter; between the saint and the sot; between the pew and the slum. "Oh, what a pleasure it has been to see how that man works for Jesus. I went to his house some time after that. It was not in the back streets, although he worked there and got some people to sign the pledge. But he came out into the front street, and there was a knocker on his door. When I knocked, his wife admitted me into the sitting room. She told me that Sunday morning that her husband was out visiting the sick. I know that he brought many men to the Sunday morning Bible Class. He told me this story. 'Do you know,' he said, 'When I used to spend all my money in the public house, oftentimes on the holidays I would take the landlord's luggage to the station for the price of a pint of beer. Not long ago we had our holiday, and instead of taking the landlord's luggage to the station I had a man to carry mine, and as we were going up the street with this man walking in front of us we passed one of the public houses where I had often spent my wages. The landlord was standing at the door. When he saw me passing he said, 'What does this mean?' I said, 'It means that I am going to Ireland instead of thee.' That man is being used to-day in God's service. The blood of Jesus Christ cannot only save but it can keep." CHAPTER X _Conversion Is a Miracle_ When one turns from sin to Christ and thus becomes a new creature, it is entirely the work of God. He must feel a sense of his need and appreciate the power of the Saviour, but it is the power of the Holy Spirit of God that transforms him. The stories of men and women who have been brought to Christ are always thrilling. Every Christian ought to be a soul winner, and however many other obligations may rest upon him, the obligation of introducing others to Jesus Christ is of the first importance. If our lives are right; if we are wholly submitted to Him; if we are quick to do His bidding; if we have a familiarity with the Scriptures; if we have a confidence in the willingness of God to save; then we are emboldened to seek the lost and turn to those who are furthest away from Christ. To know that others have been won to Him is always an inspiration. Recently in one of our meetings in New York, the Salvation Army forces came to assist us, and they brought with them some men and women whose stories of conversion were truly remarkable. In quick succession they appeared before an audience of several thousand. The first speaker modestly began by saying: "What I am this afternoon, I am by the grace of God. For years and years I had been nothing but an every-day drunkard. Not far from where the Salvation Army held their open air meetings was an old lamp post. One Sunday afternoon I heard their music and their singing, and I made my way to this lamp post. If it had not been there I believe I would never have been saved, for I was so intoxicated I could not stand. "After the meeting was over one of the sisters came to me and said, 'My brother, wont you come along to the meeting? You need salvation.' 'Yes,' I said, 'I need something better than what I have got.' At the same time I did not go--I finished up the day in the saloon. I came out into the open air again and the devil said, 'You cannot mix with these people they are too far above you.' By and by there came a man who said he had been every bit as bad as I was, and he told me how his life had been changed. And my eyes were opened then and there, and I kept going to the meetings and I got some decent clothes, and a home of my own--though I had been working every day I had not a home to go to--but when I was converted all became changed. And now I am perfectly happy. My life is completely made over. I never think of drink and have no desire for it. I have a happy home and a "little lump of glory" for a wife. "When I first became a Christian the devil said to me, 'You cannot stay there with those people, there is a whisky bill you have not yet paid. Suppose you are out in one of those open air meetings and the saloon keeper should see you and say, 'Why, he owes me six dollars,' what could you say then?' I went to that saloon keeper and said to him, 'How much do I owe you?' And he said, 'Six dollars.' 'Well,' I said, 'I want to pay it.' I did pay it then and there, and glory to God He has kept me from then to this day." The next testimony was that of a former anarchist. Before he was converted he did not have a shirt to his back. He is now a business man in New York City, and prosperous. "It was about eighteen years ago that I was with a group of men in a back street attending a meeting of anarchists, when the police came along and broke up the meeting. I made off as fast as I could, but I did not get away fast enough, for the police officer caught me by the arm and took me away to prison. While I was there the Salvation Army came to preach to us. Thank God for that night! It was the first time I had heard salvation preached, for I come from the stock of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. When I got out of goal I went to the Salvation Army. There stood on the platform that night two girls. They told me about Jesus. They spoke of salvation for the drunkard, but that did not appeal to me; they spoke of salvation for the unbeliever, but that did not appeal to me; and when they spoke of salvation for the thief, neither did that appeal to me. Then one night they said salvation is for the Jew. I said to myself, 'That means me.' I came forward that night and got rid of my wretchedness and my misery; I came for salvation, and the Jew got salvation.' "I moved away from the Bowery, for that was where I spent most of my time. I have walked down the Bowery many a night with not a place to lie down in, with not fifteen cents to pay for a bed, and not a shirt to my back. Thank God, I moved away from the Bowery. I started in business myself. To-day I have a splendid business connected with twenty houses on Broadway. Hallelujah! Godlessness, sin, vice, takes a man off Broadway and puts him on the Bowery; salvation takes a man from the Bowery and puts him on Broadway." In the year 1880, the second convert in the Salvation Army in the United States was made, and after years of testing he came before us to speak as follows: "I started to drink when about thirteen years of age, and I kept drinking till the Salvation Army came to New York in 1880. I read in the papers about seven sisters coming over to open up the forces in the United States. There used to be an old lady who came to our house to see my mother. She was a Methodist, and my mother was also a Methodist. She used to come there like an old grandmother and darn stockings. One day she said she would like to go to the Salvation Army, and asked me to take her. I was leading such a dissipated and drunken life, that I had no money to pay the car fare, but she slipped ten cents into my hand and we went to the Salvation Army that night. She was very deaf and got me away up to the front. The Spirit of God took hold of me, and the Salvation Army people, in the way they have, got after me. One of the officers came up and said, 'Are you saved?' I said, 'No, I could not be saved.' I managed to get out of the meeting that night without giving my heart to God. But all the time there was something taking hold of me. I tried to drown it in drink. On Sunday night with the old lady I was back at the Army again. On Monday night I was drunk again. On Tuesday night I knelt down and gave my heart to Jesus, and a Salvationist said, 'Now brother, if you want the Lord to do anything, you just tell Him.' "Before that time I had served two terms in the penitentiary. Sometimes twice a week I would be brought into the Police Court for drunkenness. Every time I went out and got drunk I would get arrested. I tried to get away from this life and went out West. I thought if I got out there and got into new surroundings things would be different. I got as far as Hornsville, New York, and got arrested there. I got a little further West and was arrested again. But I never got rid of the kind of life I used to live until I came to the Lord Jesus Christ. That was thirty years ago. The Lord is not only able to save a man but, thank God, He is able to keep him." This is the story of an English baronet. He went wrong in England, came to America as a cow boy, was wild and reckless, but was soundly converted. He said: "I will not say much about myself. Perhaps you already know something about me. You may have seen my picture in the papers, telling of my past life, but I want to try to tell you, to the glory of God, how I was born again. "When I succeeded my father to one of the oldest titles in England, in the year 1907, I was wild and reckless. I came over to America. To escape from a wild scrape I beat the sheriff in Colorado into Utah. Then I went home to England in 1908 and took over the title of the estate, and I made the occasion simply one drunken spree. I was out for all the devilment I could get into. I hated the Church. I hated religion. I hated anything good. When I went down to the old church which is in the grounds of the estate, they said to me, 'What will you do about the minister?' I said, 'I would kick the fool out, but the law would make me put in another.' If anybody mentioned the Salvation Army to me, I would refer to them as thieves and liars. "I came back to America and immediately got involved in some more sprees, such as driving horses into saloons, and other devilment. Then I crossed again to London and started a wild-west show of my own in the London Hippodrome. I came back to America deeper in sin than ever. One day I was sitting in a saloon planning a fresh escapade when a Salvation Army sister came in with her tambourine and some 'War Cries.' She looked at me and said, 'Are you a Christian?' I said, 'No.' She gave me the address of the Headquarters and asked me to come up. The bar-tender turned round and said, 'Go up and rope somebody.' I said, 'I will go up.' There was something different about me. I did not know what was wrong with myself I went up to the open-air meeting and was as quiet as a mouse. For five or six days I could not keep away from the Headquarters. I did not know what was wrong. I went out to see some moving pictures to see if I could see myself amongst them; then I went and had another drink; but back to the Salvation Army Headquarters I had to go. I was getting almost crazy. I reached the point when I had either to give in or kill myself. "I locked the door of my room and then got down on my knees and asked God to forgive me. Do you know, it seemed as if hell was turned loose around me. Everything said, 'You have gone too far; you are too big a sinner,' I said, 'But Jesus died for me.' I prayed and prayed, and I heard that voice come and say, 'Go and sin no more,' It was just as if a finger had touched my soul. My prayer turned from one of supplication to one of thankfulness for what God had done for me. I was born again. I rose up with the old life gone, and my two greatest blessings are that all that old life is blotted out for ever, and that I have the knowledge that the Spirit of Jesus my Saviour is in me, and I dwell in Him. The union between us is perfect. I thank God for that." The following story was told by a man who had been a successful lawyer. He had gone down into the depths of sin and by the power of God's grace had been redeemed. He began by saying:-- Must Jesus bear the Cross alone, And all the world go free? No, there's a cross for you to bear, And there's a cross for me. "It is a cross for me to come here and relate my experience, but I am glad to be here inasmuch as something I say may gladden someone who is discouraged. I was brought up in a Christian home. My mother was a good woman and my father was a clergyman. I went through college and the lower school before I took a single drop of strong drink. But when I took my first drink--I remember it well--it seemed to be something I had been looking for all my life and had never found before. From that time on I drank periodically. I had a lovely family and an honoured name, but I dragged it and my family into the dust. I struggled through my own strength to redeem myself, but I could not, nor can any man. I took cures, but they availed me not. I was in the hospital fourteen times, struggling up all the time, but falling down again. I seemed too hopeless. The light seemed to be fading for ever from the horizon, and darkness was coming over me. I was without hope. I would rather have fallen asleep in death, away from my companions, away from my loved ones, and never have been seen again, than to have lived the way I was. But through the providence of God, and through a kind wife and sister, I am able to stand here to-day. God bless the wives of the drunkards and drinking men, for if any will have a crown in heaven, it will be the wife of the drunkard who stands by him through thick and thin and who never gives him up. "I went away to a certain town and while there I noticed the title of a book called 'Twice Born Men.' It aroused my curiosity, and I picked it up and commenced to read it. I came to the story of the puncher, a man who was formerly a prize fighter, and who had descended to the lowest scale of humanity. He had become a drunkard of the worst type and had gone one night into a saloon with murder in his heart. He was going home to kill his wife, when there flashed in upon him some strange influence, some mighty influence, some compelling influence--the power of the Almighty--and drove him into the Salvation Army barracks, and there he knelt at the Penitent form and God took the load from his back. When he rose up there was a new light in his eyes, a new heart in his breast, and he arose a new born man. He began to work for Christ. "As I read that story I said, 'If there is hope for the puncher, there is hope for me.' I had been brought up a Christian, and during my drinking days I had attended church, and I had fought as every poor drunkard fights to redeem himself. But through my own strength I failed, and I want to say to you here, there is no man who suffers pangs of bitter conscience or from a broken heart more than a poor drunkard who cannot tear the chains from himself. Have pity on him. And I read about this man going out to save those who were lost, and then I read on further about Danny, a drunkard, who while in prison was visited by the puncher, who sought him out, and said, 'There is a better life for you.' He took him to his home, and it was a new and happy home he took him to, with a happy wife and children, and he laboured with them. Danny the thief; Danny the drunkard; Danny the murderer. When the day had passed Danny went back to prison. But the power of God came over Danny in prison, and he said to himself, 'If God can save the puncher, God can save me.' And then there came into his heart a light; and I said, 'If God can save the puncher; if God can save Danny--He can save me.' And He did save me, and He has kept me, and from that day to this I have never desired a drop of alcohol. "I have gone through physical sufferings that are attendant upon it, but thanks be unto God through the Lord Jesus Christ, He gave me the victory, and I stand here to-day an example of the keeping power of God. Oh, my friends, what a new life it opened up for me. I thought I was a Christian once; but until I was thrown down, until I was crucified twice over, not until then could I be convinced that God could save me from this terrible curse. And I want to say that no Christian man ever came to me and told me that God could save me from wrong. Oh, what a duty rests upon Christians to speak to the drinking men! When God took me by the hand I had a new life and I wanted to go out and save drunkards, and I have been trying to save them since. I went to the Salvation Army Barracks in Jersey City, and if it was not for the Salvation Army, I do not know whether I could have held out or not, but when I felt distressed those brothers prayed and stood round me, and if there is anyone here who is discouraged, and who is away from God, and who goes round the corner to see his little children going to school because he cannot go home, if there is anyone who has left a broken-hearted mother or wife at home; get up and go home to them and give your heart to the Lord." The last story told at the meeting has to do with the complete transformation of a woman's life. It is a modern miracle. The one who tells the story is growing old and feeble, but all are thrilled as they listen to her. This woman was educated in a young ladies' seminary, and had a fairly good start in life among some of the leading people in Western New York. She married a man who became an habitual drunkard. She was sorely disappointed in him, and, little by little, she started to drink, till there came the time when she and her husband were possibly two of the worst drunkards the State had ever known. She had been in prison two hundred or more times. But now, up in the little town of Canandaigua where she lives, she is treasurer of the Salvation Army, and has been for fifteen years. She is respected by all who know her. Not only the people in the army, but the well-to-do people of the town all love and respect Mary Law. Her husband was not converted until recently. She had been praying fifteen years for him, and one night she prayed specially for him, the last half hour of the meeting passed, the last twenty minutes, and then Charlie came. "I thank God for what He did for me," she said. "Before the Salvation Army got hold of me, I was one of the worst drunkards in the state of New York. The first night they came I wanted to know what the Salvation Army was like. Just like any other old drunken sot, I wanted to know what the Salvation Army was going to be. So I walked out as far as the Police Station, and I said, 'Where is the Salvation Army going to be to-night?' 'Well,' said the police officer, 'it is going to be up at the Presbyterian Church, but I want to tell you one thing. If you go up there you will get run in,' I thought to myself for a moment, if I stay out I will get run in, so I might just as well go up there and get run in. I went up, and I suppose I was a terrible-looking object. I got into a corner near the door, so that if anything turned up I could get out. I had just one quarter in my purse when they came to take up the collection, and I put that quarter in. I believe if I had been outside I would have been run in. When I got outside I wanted that quarter for a bottle of whisky. I then went up to the Police Station. When the Police Justice saw me coming in he said, 'Where have you been to-night?' I said, 'Up to the Salvation Army meeting.' 'Well,' he said, 'let me give you a little bit of advice. Keep right on going.' "The first night they had their meeting in the hall I went to the penitent form, and the next night I got saved. That was over fifteen years ago. I have neither tasted nor handled one drop of intoxicating liquor from that day to this. I did not have a home fit for a dog to live in. I hardly ever knew what it was to be without a black eye. I have been pounded until I did not know where I was; until I was dazed. And when I came to, and saw where I was, I was lying on the floor and Charlie was lying on the bed with his dirty old clothes on, and if anybody has gone through hell, it is I. But I thank God to-day I have got just as good a husband as there is in the state of New York. I have just as comfortable a home as anybody could wish, and every dollar of it is paid for. Before that the saloons got the money, but I thank God to-day the saloons don't get any of my money. "Charlie would get arrested, and when I saw him locked up, I would do something that would get me locked up too. We went in together and we came out together, We would not be out for long when back we would go again. If one went to the lock-up, the other went, and that is the way we carried on through life. "An election campaign was being held many years ago, and Charlie went up the street to vote. He came home drunk. I suppose it was election whisky, but he brought some home, and we had a drink together. We went to bed on Tuesday night, and woke up intending to go to work the next day. I asked one of the neighbours what time it was, and she said it is almost night now, but where have you been for the last two or three days? We had gone to sleep on Tuesday night and did not wake up till Thursday night. I went back, and we took another drink that night, and did not wake up till Saturday night. If my life, sixteen years ago, was not hell upon earth, I do not know what you call hell. "Just about the time when I first started out to serve God in Canandaigua, I was an outcast. Nobody cared for me. Nobody would notice me. When they saw me they would go out of their way to avoid me. Nobody wanted to come near me. But when I was drunk I thought I was about as good as they were, and sometimes I gave them a little of my mind, and that was the way I often got arrested. But to-day those very folks, who were my very worst enemies, who tried to hurt me and who did everything they could to injure me, are my very best friends. I have friends among the rich, and friends among the poor. They do not shun my home, they come and see me, and if I am sick some of the wealthy people come to see how I am getting along, and if I have everything I want. For all this I have to thank God and the Salvation Army. "I have been kicked and knocked and pounded until I have been almost dead. Charlie did the kicking and the pounding, but I was as much to blame as he was. I was drunk and so was he, but I was never the one to go to the police officer and get a warrant out for my husband. If he pounded me until I could hardly breathe, and he happened to get arrested for it, I managed to get arrested too. I cannot tell you how many times we have been in jail in the little village of Elgin, and in the penitentiary too. But I would rather go back to the penitentiary to-day and spend my days there than to live again the life that I lived before I was converted. I thank God and the Salvation Army to-night that I do not have to carry black eyes, and that I can go home in peace. "I have a nice comfortable home, and it is all paid for, and if it had not been for the Salvation Army coming to Canandaigua, I would have been in a drunkard's hell to-day. When the Army first came there, I was like a great many others. I wanted to see what the Salvation Army was like, and out of curiosity I went to a meeting. But I was too drunk to understand anything about it. The next night I went there quite sober, and I gave my heart to the Lord. That was seventeen years ago, and I thank God that since then I have tried to do my utmost to serve Him to the best of my ability. And it is my determination, as long as He gives me breath, to do for Him all I can, to spread His Kingdom on earth." CHAPTER XI _A Final Word_ As has been suggested, it is necessary, if one is to be a successful personal worker, to know well the Scriptures. The incorruptible seed, which is the Word of God, when it is received into the human heart as good and honest ground, will, without question, produce a satisfactory harvest. If you should attempt to win one to Christ, who insists that he is out of the Kingdom because of his doubts, tell him to come with his doubts, and Christ will set him free. "My doubts are round about me like a chain," said one in the audience, with whom one of our personal workers was labouring, and the worker said quickly, "Come, chains and all." The doubter hesitated a second, then said, "I will," and as he rose to move forward, he testified that the chains were snapped, and he was free. If the one you are seeking to introduce to Christ says that he is such a great sinner, and because of this he cannot come, then tell him to come with his sins. He wants him just as he is, and stands ready to set him free from the sins that have enslaved him and blinded his eyes so that he could not see Christ as he stood waiting to save him. It is a good thing to start by giving the assurance to the unsaved that God is Love, and that His love is boundless. This may be easily proved by the Scriptures. Tell him also that Christ is not only able, but ready and willing to save. There are abundant evidences of this in the New Testament. Tell him that no one is too sinful; none too far from God; none too depraved by sin to be saved. There are evidences on every side of us of many such seeking and finding pardon. It is well to start with such a declaration as is found in John i. 12, "But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name." Insist upon it that Christ has laid down the conditions, and that if we are to be saved, we must honestly and sincerely, with all our doubts and sins, receive Him as a personal Saviour. Make it very plain to the one with whom you are dealing that when one comes into the Kingdom he is born into it. There is no other way than this, for Jesus said, John iii. 3, "Except a man be born again he cannot see the Kingdom of God." If the joy of regeneration is to be experienced, it is necessary that the acceptance of Jesus as a Saviour should be definite, and that there should be sufficient confidence in God's Word to lead us to believe that when we have fulfilled our part of the contract the Saviour will keep His. If we are born into the Kingdom then we start as babes in Christ. We are expected to grow. If we are to grow, we must have proper food; this is found in the Word of God. We must be faithful in prayer. We must have proper light and air; this is found by walking in fellowship with Christ, and learning His will as we study the Scripture, we seek with joy to do it. We may stumble as little children do, but He will help us, and if at times we seem to fail, He will hold us fast. As little babes in Christ it will not be strange that at times we grow discouraged and faint-hearted, but if we press on to know the Lord we shall find our strength increasing and our temptations decreasing until at last we may enter into a continuous and joyous Christian experience. Tell the one with whom you are dealing that the assurance of salvation is possible. Jesus said, "He that heareth my word, and believeth on Him that sent Me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death unto life" (John v. 24). And the Apostle John wrote, "These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God" (1 John v. 13). State very plainly the fact that we are saved by faith and not by feeling, and being thus saved we are kept by Divine Power. When we have passed through the darkness of doubt into the light of our conscious acceptance of Christ, and when on the authority of God's Word we have the assurance of salvation, then let it ever be remembered that we must seek to bring others to Him. And as we labour day by day our own faith will grow stronger, our hope will be brighter, and our consciousness of the presence of Christ will be more marked. Day by day we may walk with Him and talk with Him until at last we shall see Him as He is and then we may hear Him say, "Well done, good and faithful servant ... enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 
33015	----	THE OVERCOMING LIFE AND OTHER SERMONS By D. L. MOODY. "_This is the victory that overcometh the, world, even our faith_." FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY New York Chicago Toronto _Publishers of Evangelical Literature_ COPYRIGHTED 1896, BY Fleming H. Revell Company. CONTENTS. THE OVERCOMING LIFE PART I. THE CHRISTIAN'S WARFARE PART II. INTERNAL FOES PART III. EXTERNAL FOES RESULTS OF TRUE REPENTANCE TRUE WISDOM "COME THOU AND ALL THY HOUSE INTO THE ARK" HUMILITY REST SEVEN "I WILLS" OF CHRIST THE OVERCOMING LIFE. PART I. THE CHRISTIAN'S WARFARE. I would like to have you open your Bible at the first epistle of John, fifth chapter, fourth and fifth verses: "Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God?" When a battle is fought, all are anxious to know who are the victors. In these verses we are told who is to gain the victory in life. When I was converted I made this mistake: I thought the battle was already mine, the victory already won, the crown already in my grasp. I thought that old things had passed away, that all things had become new; that my old corrupt nature, the Adam life, was gone. But I found out, after serving Christ for a few months, that conversion was only like enlisting in the army, that there was a battle on hand, and that if I was to get a crown, I had to work for it and fight for it. Salvation is a gift, as free as the air we breathe. It is to be obtained, like any other gift, without money and without price: there are no other terms. "To him that worketh not, but believeth." But on the other hand, if we are to gain a crown, we must work for it. Let me quote a few verses in First Corinthians: "For other foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. But if any man buildeth on the foundation gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay, stubble; each man's work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it is revealed in fire: and the fire itself shall prove each man's work, of what sort it is. If any man's work shall abide, which he built thereon, he shall receive a reward. If any man's work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so as through fire." We see clearly from this that we may be saved, but all our works burned up. I may have a wretched, miserable voyage through life, with no victory, and no reward at the end; saved, yet so as by fire, or as Job puts it, "with the skin of my teeth." I believe that a great many men will barely get to heaven as Lot got out of Sodom, burned out, nothing left, works and everything else destroyed. It is like this: when a man enters the army, he is a member of the army the moment he enlists; he is just as much a member as a man who has been in the army ten or twenty years. But enlisting is one thing, and participating in a battle another. Young converts are like those just enlisted. It is folly for any man to attempt to fight in his own strength. The world, the flesh and the devil are too much for any man. But if we are linked to Christ by faith, and He is formed in us the hope of glory, then we shall get the victory over every enemy. It is believers who are the overcomers. "Thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ." Through Him we shall be more than conquerors. I wouldn't think of talking to unconverted men about overcoming the world, for it is utterly impossible. They might as well try to cut down the American forest with their penknives. But a good many Christian people make this mistake: they think the battle is already fought and won. They have an idea that all they have to do is to put the oars down in the bottom of the boat, and the current will drift them into the ocean of God's eternal love. But we have to cross the current. We have to learn how to watch and fight, and how to overcome. The battle is only just commenced. The Christian life is a conflict and a warfare, and the quicker we find it out the better. There is not a blessing in this world that God has not linked Himself to. All the great and higher blessings God associates with Himself. When God and man work together, then it is that there is going to be victory. We are coworkers with Him. You might take a mill, and put it forty feet above a river, and there isn't capital enough in the States to make that river turn the mill; but get it down about forty feet, and away it works. We want to keep in mind that if we are going to overcome the world, we have got to work with God. It is His power that makes all the means of grace effectual. The story is told that Frederick Douglas, the great slave orator, once said in a mournful speech when things looked dark for his race:-- "The white man is against us, governments are against us, the spirit of the times is against us. I see no hope for the colored race. I am full of sadness." Just then a poor old colored woman rose in the audience, and said.-- "Frederick, is God dead?" My friend, it makes a difference when you count God in. Now many a young believer is discouraged and disheartened when he realizes this warfare. He begins to think that God has forsaken him, that Christianity is not all that it professes to be. But he should rather regard it as an encouraging sign. No sooner has a soul escaped from his snare than the great Adversary takes steps to ensnare it again. He puts forth all his power to recapture his lost prey. The fiercest attacks are made on the strongest forts, and the fiercer the battle the young believer is called on to wage, the surer evidence it is of the work of the Holy Spirit in his heart. God will not desert him in his time of need, any more than He deserted His people of old when they were hard pressed by their foes. The Only Complete Victor. This brings me to the fourth verse of the fourth chapter of the same epistle: "Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world." The only man that ever conquered this world--was complete victor--was Jesus Christ. When He shouted on the cross, "It is finished!" it was the shout of a conqueror. He had overcome every enemy. He had met sin and death. He had met every foe that you and I have got to meet, and had come off victor. Now if I have got the spirit of Christ, if I have got that same life in me, then it is that I have got a power that is greater than any power in the world, and with that same power I overcome the world. Notice that everything human in this world fails. Every man, the moment he takes his eye off God, has failed. Every man has been a failure at some period of his life. Abraham failed. Moses failed. Elijah failed. Take the men that have become so famous and that were so mighty--the moment they got their eye off God, they were weak like other men; and it is a very singular thing that those men failed on the strongest point in their character. I suppose it was because they were not on the watch. Abraham was noted for his faith, and he failed right there--he denied his wife. Moses was noted for his meekness and humility, and he failed right there--he got angry. God kept him out of the promised land because he lost his temper. I know he was called "the servant of God," and that he was a mighty man, and had power with God, but humanly speaking, he failed, and was kept out of the promised land. Elijah was noted for his power in prayer and for his courage, yet he became a coward. He was the boldest man of his day, and stood before Ahab, and the royal court, and all the prophets of Baal; yet when he heard that Jezebel had threatened his life, he ran away to the desert, and under a juniper tree prayed that he might die. Peter was noted for his boldness, and a little maid scared him nearly out of his wits. As soon as she spoke to him, he began to tremble, and he swore that he didn't know Christ. I have often said to myself that I'd like to have been there on the day of Pentecost alongside of that maid when she saw Peter preaching. "Why," I suppose she said, "what has come over that man? He was afraid of _me_ only a few weeks ago, and now he stands up before all Jerusalem and charges these very Jews with the murder of Jesus." The moment he got his eye off the Master he failed; and every man, I don't care who he is--even the strongest--every man that hasn't Christ in him, is a failure. John, the beloved disciple, was noted for his meekness; and yet we hear of him wanting to call fire down from heaven on a little town because it had refused the common hospitalities. Triumphs of Faith. Now, how are we to get the victory over all our enemies? Turn to Galatians, second chapter, verse twenty: "I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me." We live by faith. We get this life by faith, and become linked to Immanuel--"God with us." If I have God for me, I am going to overcome. How do we gain this mighty power? By faith. The next passage I want to call your attention to is Romans, chapter eleven, verse twenty: "Because of unbelief they were broken off; and thou standest by faith." The Jews were cut off on account of their unbelief: we were grafted in on account of our belief. So notice: We live by faith, and we stand by faith. Next: We walk by faith. Second Corinthians, chapter five, verse seven: "For we walk by faith, not by sight." The most faulty Christians I know are those who want to walk by sight. They want to see the end--how a thing is going to come out. That isn't walking by faith at all--that is walking by sight. I think the characters that best represent this difference are Joseph and Jacob. Jacob was a man who walked with God by sight. You remember his vow at Bethel:--"If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father's house in peace; then shall the Lord be my God." And you remember how his heart revived when he saw the wagons Joseph sent him from Egypt. He sought after signs. He never could have gone through the temptations and trials that his son Joseph did. Joseph represents a higher type of Christian. He could walk in the dark. He could survive thirteen years of misfortune, in spite of his dreams, and then ascribe it all to the goodness and providence of God. Lot and Abraham are a good illustration Lot turned away from Abraham and tented on the plains of Sodom. He got a good stretch of pasture land, but he had bad neighbors. He was a weak character and he should have kept with Abraham in order to get strong. A good many men are just like that. As long as their mothers are living, or they are bolstered up by some godly person, they get along very well; but they can't stand alone. Lot walked by sight; but Abraham walked by faith; he went out in the footsteps of God. "By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise: for he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." And again: We fight by faith. Ephesians, sixth chapter, verse sixteen: "Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked." Every dart Satan can fire at us we can quench by faith, By faith we can overcome the Evil One. To fear is to have more faith in your antagonist than in Christ. Some of the older people can remember when our war broke out. Secretary Seward, who was Lincoln's Secretary of State--a long-headed and shrewd politician--prophesied that the war would be over in ninety days; and young men in thousands and hundreds of thousands came forward and volunteered to go down to Dixie and whip the South. They thought they would be back in ninety days; but the war lasted four years, and cost about half a million of lives. What was the matter? Why, the South was a good deal stronger than the North supposed. Its strength was underestimated. Jesus Christ makes no mistake of that kind. When He enlists a man in His service, He shows him the dark side; He lets him know that he must live a life of self-denial. If a man is not willing to go to heaven by the way of Calvary, he cannot go at all. Many men want a religion in which there is no cross, but they cannot enter heaven that way. If we are to be disciples of Jesus Christ, we must deny ourselves and take up our cross and follow Him. So let us sit down and count the cost. Do not think that you will have no battles if you follow the Nazarene, because many battles are before you. Yet if I had ten thousand lives, Jesus Christ should have every one of them. Men do not object to a battle if they are confident that they will have victory, and, thank God, every one of us may have the victory if we will. The reason why so many Christians fail all through life is just this--they under-estimate the strength of the enemy. My dear friend; you and I have got a terrible enemy to contend with. Don't let Satan deceive you. Unless you are spiritually dead, it means warfare. Nearly everything around tends to draw us away from God. We do not step clear out of Egypt on to the throne of God. There is the wilderness journey, and there are enemies in the land. Don't let any man or woman think all he or she has to do is to join the church. That will not save you. The question is, are you overcoming the world, or is the world overcoming you? Are you more patient than you were five years ago? Are you more amiable? If you are not, the world is overcoming you, even if you are a church member. That epistle that Paul wrote to Titus says that we are to be sound in patience, faith and charity. We have got Christians, a good many of them, that are good in spots, but mighty poor in other spots. Just a little bit of them seems to be saved, you know. They are not rounded out in their characters. It is just because they haven't been taught that they have a terrible foe to overcome. If I wanted to find out whether a Man was a Christian, I wouldn't go to his minister. I would go and ask his wife. I tell you, we want more _home piety_ just now. If a man doesn't treat his wife right, I don't want to hear him talk about Christianity. What is the use of his talking about salvation for the next life, if he has no salvation for this? We want a Christianity that goes into our homes and everyday lives. Some men's religion just repels me. They put on a whining voice and a sort of a religious tone, and talk so sanctimoniously on Sunday that you would think they were wonderful saints. But on Monday they are quite different. They put their religion away with their clothes, and you don't see any more of it until the next Sunday. You laugh, but let us look out that we don't belong to that class. My friend, we have got to have a higher type of Christianity, or the Church is gone. It is wrong for a man or woman to profess what they don't possess. If you are not overcoming temptations, the world is overcoming you. Just get on your knees and ask God to help you. My dear friends, let us go to God and ask Him to search us. Let us ask Him to wake us up, and let us not think that just because we are church members we are all right. We are all wrong if we are not getting victory over sin. PART II. INTERNAL FOES. Now if we are going to overcome, we must begin inside. God always begins there. An enemy inside the fort is far more dangerous than one outside. Scripture teaches that in every believer there are two natures warring against each other. Paul says in his epistle to the Romans:--"For we know that the law is spiritual: but I am carnal, sold under sin. For that which I do I allow not: for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I. If then I do that which I would not, I consent unto the law that it is good. Now then it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not. For the good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do. Now if I do that I would not, it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. I find then a law, that when I would do good, evil is present with me. For I delight in the law of God after the inward man: but I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members." Again, in the Epistle to the Galatians, he says: "For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would." When we are born of God, we get His nature, but He does not immediately take away all the old nature. Each species of animal and bird is true to its nature. You can tell the nature of the dove or canary bird. The horse is true to his nature, the cow is true to hers. But a man has two natures, and do not let the world or Satan make you think that the old nature is extinct, because it is not. "Reckon ye yourselves dead"; but if you were dead, you wouldn't need to reckon yourselves dead, would you? The dead self would be dropped out of the reckoning. "I keep my body under"; if it were dead, Paul wouldn't have needed to keep it under. I am judicially dead, but the old nature is alive, and therefore if I don't keep my body under and crucify the flesh with its affections, this lower nature will gain the advantage, and I shall be in bondage. Many men live all their lives in bondage to the old nature, when they might have liberty if they would only live this overcoming life. The old Adam never dies. It remains corrupt. "From the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in it; but wounds, and bruises, and putrifying sores: they have not been closed, neither bound up, neither mollified with ointment." A gentleman in India once got a tiger-cub, and tamed it so that it became a pet. One day when it had grown up, it tasted blood, and the old tiger-nature flashed out, and it had to be killed. So with the old nature in the believer. It never dies, though it is subdued: and unless he is watchful and prayerful, it will gain the upper hand, and rush him into sin. Someone has pointed out that "I" is the centre of S-I-N. It is the medium through which Satan acts. And so the worst enemy you have to overcome, after all, is _yourself_. When Capt. T-- became converted in London, he was a great society man. After he had been a Christian some months, he was asked; "What have you found to be your greatest enemy since you began to be a Christian?" After a few minutes of deep thought he said, "Well, I think it is myself." "Ah!" said the lady, "the King has taken you into His presence, for it is only in His presence that we are taught these truths." I have had more trouble with D. L. Moody than with any other man who has crossed my path. If I can only keep him right, I don't have any trouble with other people. A good many have trouble with servants. Did you ever think that the trouble lies with you instead of the servants? If one member of the family is constantly snapping, he will have the whole family snapping. It is true whether you believe it or not. You speak quickly and snappishly to people and they will do the same to you. Appetite. Now take _appetite_. That is an enemy inside. How many young men are ruined by the appetite for strong drink! Many a young man has grown up to be a curse to his father and mother, instead of a blessing. Not long ago the body of a young suicide was discovered in one of our large cities. In his pocket was found a paper on which he had written: "I have done this myself. Don't tell anyone. It is all through drink." An intimation of these facts in the public press drew two hundred and forty six letters from two hundred and forty six families, each of whom had a prodigal son who, it was feared, might be the suicide. Strong drink is an enemy, both to body and soul. It is reported that Sir Andrew Clarke, the celebrated London physician, once made the following statement: "Now let me say that I am speaking solemnly and carefully when I tell you that I am considerably within the mark in saying that within the rounds of my hospital wards today, seven out of every ten that lie there in their beds owe their ill health to alcohol. I do not say that seventy in every hundred are drunkards; I do not know that one of them is; but they use alcohol. So soon as a man begins to take one drop, then the desire begotten in him becomes a part of his nature, and that nature, formed by his acts, inflicts curses inexpressible when handed down to the generations that are to follow him as part and parcel of their being. When I think of this I am disposed to give up my profession--to give up everything--and to go forth upon a holy crusade to preach to all men, 'Beware of this enemy of the race!'" It is the most destructive agency in the world today. It kills more than the bloodiest wars. It is the fruitful parent of crime and idleness and poverty and disease. It spoils a man for this world, and damns him for the next. The Word of God has declared it: "Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, . . . nor _drunkards_ . . . shall inherit the Kingdom of God." How can we overcome this enemy? Bitter experience proves that man is not powerful enough in his own strength. The only cure for the accursed appetite is regeneration--a new life--the power of the risen Christ within us. Let a man that is given to strong drink look to God for help, and He will give him victory over his appetite. Jesus Christ came to destroy the works of the devil, and He will take away that appetite if you will let Him. Temper. Then there is _temper_. I wouldn't give much for a man that hasn't temper. Steel isn't good for anything if it hasn't got temper. But when temper gets the mastery over me I am its slave, and it is a source of weakness. It may be made a great power for good all through my life, and help me; or it may become my greatest enemy from within, and rob me of power. The current in some rivers is so strong as to make them useless for navigation. Someone has said that a preacher will never miss the people when he speaks of temper. It is astonishing how little mastery even professing Christians have over it. A friend of mine in England was out visiting, and while sitting in the parlor, heard an awful noise in the hall. He asked what it meant, and was told that it was only the doctor throwing his boots downstairs because they were not properly blacked. "Many Christians," said an old divine, "who bore the loss of a child or of all their property with the most heroic Christian fortitude, are entirely vanquished by the breaking of a dish or the blunders of a servant." I have had people say to me, "Mr. Moody, how can I get control of my temper?" If you really want to get control, I will tell you how, but you won't like the medicine. Treat it as a sin and confess it. People look upon it as a sort of a misfortune, and one lady told me she inherited it from her father and mother. Supposing she did. That is no excuse for her. When you get angry again and speak unkindly to a person, and when you realize it, go and ask that person to forgive you. You won't get mad with that person for the next twenty-four hours. You might do it in about forty eight hours, but go the second time, and after you have done it about half-a-dozen times, you will get out of the business, because it makes the old flesh burn. A lady said to me once, "I have got so in the habit of exaggerating that my friends accuse me of exaggerating so that they don't understand me." She said, "Can you help me? What can I do to overcome it?" "Well," I said, "the next time you catch yourself lying, go right to that party and say you have lied, and tell him you are sorry. Say it is a lie; stamp it out, root and branch; that is what you want to do." "Oh," she said, "I wouldn't like to call it _lying_." But that is what it was. Christianity isn't worth a snap of your finger if it doesn't straighten out your character. I have got tired of all mere gush and sentiment. If people can't tell when you are telling the truth, there is something radically wrong, and you had better straighten it out right away. Now, are you ready to do it? Bring yourself to it whether you want to or not. Do you find someone who has been offended by something you have done? Go right to them and tell them you are sorry. You say you are not to blame. Never mind, go right to them, and tell them you are sorry. I have had to do it a good many times. An impulsive man like myself has to do it often, but I sleep all the sweeter at night when I get things straightened out. Confession never fails to bring a blessing. I have sometimes had to get off the platform and go down and ask a man's forgiveness before I could go on preaching. A Christian man ought to be a gentleman every time; but if he is not, and he finds he has wounded or hurt someone, he ought to go and straighten it out at once. You know there are a great many people who want just Christianity enough to make them respectable. They don't think about this overcoming life that gets the victory all the time. They have their blue days and their cross days, and the children say, "Mother is cross to-day, and you will have to be very careful." We don't want any of these touchy blue days; these ups and downs. If we are overcoming, that is the effect our life is going to have on others, they will have confidence in our Christianity. The reason that many a man has no power, is that there is some cursed sin covered up. There will not be a drop of dew until that sin is brought to light. Get right inside. Then we can go out like giants and conquer the world if everything is right within. Paul says that we are to be sound in faith, in patience, and in love. If a man is unsound in his faith, the clergy take the ecclesiastical sword and cut him off at once. But he may be ever so unsound in charity, in patience, and nothing is said about that. We must be sound in faith, in love, and in patience if we are to be true to God. How delightful it is to meet a man who can control his temper! It is said of Wilberforce that a friend once found him in the greatest agitation, looking for a dispatch he had mislaid, for which one of the royal family was waiting. Just then, as if to make it still more trying, a disturbance was heard in the nursery. "Now," thought the friend, "surely his temper will give way." The thought had hardly passed through his mind when Wilberforce turned to him and said: "What a blessing it is to hear those dear children! Only think what a relief, among other hurries, to hear their voices and know they are well." Covetousness. Take the sin of _covetousness_. There is more said in the Bible against it than against drunkenness. I must get it out of me--destroy it, root and branch--and not let it have dominion over me. We think that a man who gets drunk is a horrid monster, but a covetous man will often be received into the church, and put into office, who is as vile and black in the sight of God as any drunkard. The most dangerous thing about this sin is that it is not generally regarded as very heinous. Of course we all have a contempt for misers, but all covetous men are not misers. Another thing to be noted about it is that it fastens upon the old rather than upon the young. Let us see what the Bible says about covetousness:-- "Mortify therefore your members . . . covetousness, which is idolatry." "No covetous man hath any inheritance in the Kingdom of God." "They that will be (that is, desire to be) rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows." "The wicked blesseth the covetous, whom the Lord abhorreth." Covetousness enticed Lot into Sodom. It caused the destruction of Achan and all his house. It was the iniquity of Balaam. It was the sin of Samuel's sons. It left Gehazi a leper. It sent the rich young ruler away sorrowful. It led Judas to sell his Master and Lord. It brought about the death of Ananias and Sapphira. It was the blot in the character of Felix. What victims it has had in all ages! Do you say: "How am I going to check covetousness?" Well,--I don't think there is any difficulty about that. If you find yourself getting very covetous--very miserly--wanting to get everything you can into your possession--just begin to scatter. Just say to covetousness that you will strangle it, and rid it out of your disposition. A wealthy farmer in New York state, who had been a noted miser, a very selfish man, was converted. Soon after his conversion a poor man came to him one day to ask for help. He had been burned out, and had no provisions. This young convert thought he would be liberal and give him a ham from his smoke house. He started toward the smoke-house, and on the way the tempter said, "Give him the smallest one you have." He struggled all the way as to whether he would give a large or a small one. In order to overcome his selfishness, he took down the biggest ham and gave it to the man. The tempter said, "You are a fool." But he replied, "If you don't keep still, I will give him every ham I have in the smoke-house." If you find that you are selfish, give something. Determine to overcome that spirit of selfishness, and to keep your body under, no matter what it may cost. Mr. Durant told me he was engaged by Goodyear to defend the rubber patent, and he was to have half of the money that came from the patent, if he succeeded. One day he woke up to find that he was a rich man, and he said that the greatest struggle of his life then took place as to whether he would let money be his master, or he be master of money, whether he would be its slave, or make it a slave to him. At last he got the victory, and that is how Wellesley College was built. Are You Jealous, Envious? Go and do a good turn for that person of whom you are jealous. That is the way to cure jealousy; it will kill it. Jealousy is a devil, it is a horrid monster. The poets imagined that Envy dwelt in a dark cave, being pale and thin, looking asquint, never rejoicing except in the misfortune of others, and hurting himself continually. There is a fable of an eagle which could outfly another, and the other didn't like it. The latter saw a sportsman one day, and said to him, "I wish you would bring down that eagle." The sportsman replied that he would if he only had some feathers to put into the arrow. So the eagle pulled one out of his wing. The arrow was shot, but didn't quite reach the rival eagle; it was flying too high. The envious eagle pulled out more feathers, and kept pulling them out until he lost so many that he couldn't fly, and then the sportsman turned around and killed him. My friend, if you are jealous, the only man you can hurt is yourself. There were two business men--merchants--and there was great rivalry between them, a great deal of bitter feeling. One of them was converted. He went to his minister and said, "I am still jealous of that man, and I do not know how to overcome it." "Well," he said, "if a man comes into your store to buy goods, and you cannot supply him, just send him over to your neighbor." He said he wouldn't like to do that. "Well," the minister said, "you do it and you will kill jealousy." He said he would, and when a customer came into his store for goods which he did not have, he would tell him to go across the street to his neighbor's. By and by the other began to send his customers over to this man's store, and the breach was healed. Pride. Then there is _pride_. This is another of those sins which the Bible so strongly condemns, but which the world hardly reckons as a sin at all. "An high look and a proud heart is sin." "Everyone that is proud in heart is an abomination to the Lord; though hand join in hand, he shall not be unpunished." Christ included pride among those evil things which, proceeding out of the heart of a man, defile him. People have an idea that it is just the wealthy who are proud. But go down on some of the back streets, and you will find that some of the very poorest are as proud as the richest. It is the heart, you know. People that haven't any money are just as proud as those that have. We have got to crush it out. It is an enemy. You needn't be proud of your face, for there is not one but that after ten days in the grave the worms would be eating your body. There is nothing to be proud of--is there? Let us ask God to deliver us from pride. You can't fold your arms and say, "Lord, take it out of me"; but just go and work with Him. Mortify your pride by cultivating humility. "Put on, therefore," says Paul, "as the elect of God, holy and beloved, . . . humbleness of mind." "Be clothed with humility," says Peter. "Blessed are the poor in spirit." PART III. EXTERNAL FOES. What are our enemies without? What does James say? "Know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God? whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God." And John? "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." Now, people want to know what is _the world_. When you talk with them they say: "Well, when you say 'the world,' what do you mean?" Here we have the answer in the next verse: "For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever." "The world" does not mean nature around us. God nowhere tells us that the material world is an enemy to be overcome. On the contrary, we read: "The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein." "The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth His handywork." It means "human life and society as far as alienated from God, through being centered on material aims and objects, and thus opposed to God's Spirit and kingdom." Christ said: "If the world hate you, ye know that it hated Me before it hated you . . . the world hath hated them because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world." Love of the world means the forgetfulness of the eternal future by reason of love for passing things. How can the world be overcome? Not by education, not by experience; only by faith. "This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God?" Worldly Habits and Fashions. For one thing we must fight _worldly habits and fashions_. We must often go against the customs of the world. I have great respect for a man who can stand up for what he believes is right against all the world. He who can stand alone is a hero. Suppose it is the custom for young men to do certain things you wouldn't like your mother to know of--things that your mother taught you are wrong. You may have to stand up alone among all your companions. They will say: "You can't get away from your mother, eh? Tied to your mother's apron strings!" But just you say: "Yes! I have some respect for my mother. She taught me what is right, and she is the best friend I have. I believe that is wrong, and I am going to stand for the right." If you have to stand alone, _stand_. Enoch did it, and Joseph, and Elisha, and Paul. God has kept such men in all ages. Someone says: "I move in society where they have wine parties. I know it is rather a dangerous thing because my son is apt to follow me. But I can stop just where I want to; perhaps my son hasn't got the same power as I have, and he may go over the dam. But it is the custom in the society where I move." Once I got into a place where I had to get up and leave. I was invited into a home, and they had a late supper, and there were seven kinds of liquor on the table. I am ashamed to say they were Christian people. A deacon urged a young lady to drink until her face flushed. I rose from the table and went out; I felt that it was no place for me. They considered me very rude. That was going against custom; that was entering a protest against such an infernal thing. Let us go against custom, when it leads astray. I was told in a southern college, some years ago, that no man was considered a first class gentleman who did not drink. Of course it is not so now. Pleasure. Another enemy is _worldly pleasure_. A great many people are just drowned in pleasure. They have no time for any meditation at all. Many a man has been lost to society, and lost to his family, by giving himself up to the god of pleasure. God wants His children to be happy, but in a way that will help and not hinder them. A lady came to me once and said: "Mr. Moody, I wish you would tell me how I can become a Christian." The tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she was in a very favorable mood; "but," she said, "I don't want to be one of your kind." "Well," I asked, "have I got any peculiar kind? What is the matter with my Christianity?" "Well," she said, "my father was a doctor, and had a large practice, and he used to get so tired that he used to take us to the theater. There was a large family of girls, and we had tickets for the theaters three or four times a week. I suppose we were there a good deal oftener than we were in church. I am married to a lawyer, and he has a large practice. He gets so tired that he takes us out to the theater," and she said, "I am far better acquainted with the theater and theater people than with the church and church people, and I don't want to give up the theater." "Well," I said, "did you ever hear me say anything about theaters? There have been reporters here every day for all the different papers, and they are giving my sermons verbatim in one paper. Have you ever seen anything in the sermons against the theaters?" She said, "No." "Well," I said, "I have seen you in the audience every afternoon for several weeks and have you heard me say anything against theaters?" No, she hadn't. "Well," I said, "what made you bring them up?" "Why, I supposed you didn't believe in theaters." "What made you think that?" "Why," she said, "Do you ever go?" "No." "Why don't you go?" "Because I have got something better. I would sooner go out into the street and eat dirt than do some of the things I used to do before I became a Christian." "Why!" she said, "I don't understand." "Never mind," I said. "When Jesus Christ has the pre-eminence, you will understand it all. He didn't come down here and say we shouldn't go here and we shouldn't go there, and lay down a lot of rules; but He laid down great principles. Now, He says if you love Him you will take delight in pleasing Him." And I began to preach Christ to her. The tears started again. She said: "I tell you, Mr. Moody, that sermon on the indwelling Christ yesterday afternoon just broke my heart. I admire Him, and I want to be a Christian, but I don't want to give up the theaters." I said, "Please don't mention them again. I don't want to talk about theaters. I want to talk to you about Christ." So I took my Bible, and I read to her about Christ. But she said again, "Mr. Moody, can I go to the theater if I become a Christian?" "Yes," I said, "you can go to the theater just as much as you like if you are a real, true Christian, and can go with His blessing." "Well," she said, "I am glad you are not so narrow-minded as some." She felt quite relieved to think that she could go to the theaters and be a Christian. But I said, "If you can go to the theater for the glory of God, keep on going; only be sure that you go for the glory of God. If you are a Christian you will be glad to do whatever will please Him." I really think she became a Christian that day. The burden had gone, there was joy; but just as she was leaving me at the door, she said, "I am not going to give up the theater." In a few days she came back to me and said, "Mr. Moody, I understand all about that theater business now. I went the other night. There was a large party at our house, and my husband wanted us to go, and we went; but when the curtain lifted, everything looked so different. I said to my husband, 'This is no place for me; this is horrible. I am not going to stay here, I am going home.' He said, 'Don't make a fool of yourself. Everyone has heard that you have been converted in the Moody meetings, and if you go out, it will be all through fashionable society, I beg of you don't make a fool of yourself by getting up and going out.' But I said, 'I have been making a fool of myself all of my life.'" Now, the theater hadn't changed, but she had got something better and she was going to overcome the world. "They that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit." When Christ has the first place in your heart you are going to get victory. Just do whatever you know will please Him. The great objection I have to these things is that they get the mastery, and become a hindrance to spiritual growth. Business. It may be that we have got to overcome in _business_. Perhaps it is business morning, noon and night, and Sundays, too. When a man will drive like Jehu all the week and like a snail on Sunday, isn't there something wrong with him? Now, business is legitimate; and a man is not, I think, a good citizen that will not go out and earn his bread by the sweat of his brow; and he ought to be a good business man, and whatever he does, do thoroughly. At the same time, if he lays his whole heart on his business, and makes a god of it, and thinks more of it than anything else, then the world has come in. It may be very legitimate in its place--like fire, which, in its place, is one of the best friends of man; out of place, is one of the worst enemies of man;--like water, which we cannot live without; and yet, when not in place, it becomes an enemy. So my friends, that is the question for you and me to settle. Now look at yourself. Are you getting the victory? Are you growing more even in your disposition? are you getting mastery over the world and the flesh? And bear this in mind: Every temptation you overcome makes you stronger to overcome others, while every temptation that defeats you makes you weaker. You can become weaker and weaker, or you can become stronger and stronger. Sin takes the pith out of your sinews, but virtue makes you stronger. How many men have been overcome by some little thing! Turn a moment to the Song of Solomon, the second chapter, fifteenth verse: "Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes." A great many people seem to think these little things--getting out of patience, using little deceits, telling white lies (as they call them), and when somebody calls on you sending word by the servant you are not at home--all these are little things. Sometimes you can brace yourself up against a great temptation; and almost before you know it you fall before some little thing. A great many men are overcome by a little _persecution_. Persecution. Do you know, I don't think we have enough persecution now-a-days. Some people say we have persecution that is just as hard to bear as in the Dark Ages. Anyway, I think it would be a good thing if we had a little of the old fashioned kind just now. It would bring out the strongest characters, and make us all healthier. I have heard men get up in prayer-meeting, and say they were going to make a few remarks, and then keep on till you would think they were going to talk all week. If we had a little persecution, people of that kind wouldn't talk so much. Spurgeon used to say some Christians would make good martyrs; they would burn well, they are so dry. If there were a few stakes for burning Christians, I think it would take all the piety out of some men. I admit they haven't got much; but then if they are not willing to suffer a little persecution for Christ, they are not fit to be His disciples. We are told: "All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." Make up your mind to this: If the world has nothing to say against you, Jesus Christ will have nothing to say for you. The most glorious triumphs of the Church have been won in times of persecution. The early church was persecuted for about three hundred years after the crucifixion, and they were years of growth and progress. But then, as Saint Augustine has said, the cross passed from the scene of public executions to the diadem of the Caesars, and the down-grade movement began. When the Church has joined hands with the State, it has invariably retrograded in spirituality and effectiveness; but the opposition of the State has only served to purify it of all dross. It was persecution that gave Scotland to Presbyterianism. It was persecution that gave this country to civil and religious freedom. How are we to overcome in time of persecution? Hear the words of Christ: "In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer: I have overcome the world." Paul could testify that though persecuted, he was never forsaken; that the Lord stood by him, and strengthened him, and delivered him out of all his persecutions and afflictions. A great many shrink from the Christian life because they will be _sneered at_. And then, sometimes when persecution won't bring a man down, _flattery_ will. Foolish persons often come up to a man after he has preached and flatter him. Sometimes ladies do that. Perhaps they will say to some worker in the church: "You talk a great deal better than so-and-so"; and he becomes proud, and begins to strut around as if he was the most important person in the town. I tell you, we have a wily devil to contend with. If he can't overcome you with opposition, he will try flattery or ambition; and if that doesn't serve his purpose, perhaps there will come some affliction or disappointment, and he will overcome in way. But remember that anyone that has got Christ to help him can overcome every foe, and overcome them singly or collectively. Let them come. If we have got Christ within us, we will overthrow them all. Remember what Christ is able to do. In all the ages men have stood in greater temptations than you and I will ever have to meet. Now, there is one more thing on this line: I have either got to overcome the world, or the world is going to overcome me. I have either got to conquer sin in me--or sin about me--and get it under my feet, or it is going to conquer me. A good many people are satisfied with one or two victories, and think that is all. I tell you, my dear friends, we have got to do something more than that. It is a battle all the time. We have this to encourage us: we are assured of victory at the end. We are promised a glorious triumph. Eight "Overcomes." Let me give you the eight "overcomes" of Revelation. The first is: "_To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the tree of life_." He shall have a right to the tree of life. When Adam fell, he lost that right. God turned him out of Eden lest he should eat of the tree of life and live as he was forever. Perhaps He just took that tree and transplanted it to the Garden above; and through the second Adam we are to have the right to eat of it. Second: "_He that overcometh shall not be hurt of the second death_." Death has no terrors for him, it cannot touch him. Why? Because Christ tasted death for every man. Hence he is on resurrection ground. Death may take this body, but that is all. This is only the house I live in. We need have no fear of death if we overcome. Third: "_To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it_." If I overcome God will feed me with bread that the world knows nothing about, and give me a new name. Fourth: "_He that overcometh, and keepeth My works unto the end, to him will I give power over the nations_." Think of it! What a thing to have; power over the nations! A man that is able to rule himself is the man that God can trust with power. Only a man who can govern himself is fit to govern other men. I have an idea that we are down here in training, that God is just polishing us for some higher service. I don't know where the kingdoms are, but it we are to be kings and priests we must have kingdoms to reign over. Fifth: "_He that overcometh, the same shall be clothed in white raiment; and I will not blot out his name out of the book of life, but I will confess his name before My Father, and before His angels_." He shall present us to the Father in white garments, without spot or wrinkle. Every fault and stain shall be taken out, and we be made perfect. He that overcomes will not be a stranger in heaven. Sixth: "_Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of My God; and he shall go no more out; and I will write upon him the name of My God and the name of the city of My God, which is New Jerusalem, which cometh down out of heaven from My God: and I will write upon him My new name_." Think of it! No more backsliding, no more wanderings over the dark mountains of sin, but forever with the King, and He says, "I will write upon him the name of My God." He is going to put His name upon us. Isn't it grand? Isn't it worth fighting for? It is said when Mahomet came in sight of Damascus and found that they had all left the city, he said: "If they won't fight for this city what will they fight for?" If men won't fight here for all this reward, what will they fight for? Seventh: "_To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with Me in My throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with My Father in His throne_." My heart has often melted as I have looked at that. The Lord of Glory coming down and saying: "I will grant to you to sit on My throne, even as I sit on My Father's throne, if you will just overcome." Isn't it worth a struggle? How many will fight for a crown that is going to fade away! Yet we are to be placed above the angels, above the archangels, above the seraphim, above the cherubim, away up, upon the throne with Himself, and there we shall be forever with Him. May God put strength into every one of us to fight the battle of life, so that we may sit with Him on His throne. When Frederick of Germany was dying, his own son would not have been allowed to sit with him on the throne, nor to have let anyone else sit there with him. Yet we are told that we are joint heirs with Jesus Christ, and that we are to sit with Him in glory! And now, the last I like best of all: "_He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be My son_." My dear friends, isn't that a high calling? I used to have my Sabbath-school children sing--"I want to be an angel": but I have not done so for years. We shall be above angels: we shall be sons of God. Just see what a kingdom we shall come into: we shall inherit all things! Do you ask me how much I am worth? I don't know. The Rothschilds cannot compute their wealth. They don't know how many millions they own. That is my condition--I haven't the slightest idea how much I am worth. God has no poor children. If we overcome we shall inherit all things. Oh, my dear friends, what an inheritance! Let us then get the victory, through Jesus Christ our Lord and Master. RESULTS OF TRUE REPENTANCE. I want to call your attention to what true repentance leads to. I am not addressing the unconverted only, because I am one of those who believe that there is a good deal of repentance to be done by the Church before much good will be accomplished in the world. I firmly believe that the low standard of Christian living is keeping a good many in the world and in their sins. When the ungodly see that Christian people do not repent, you cannot expect them to repent and turn away from their sins. I have repented ten thousand times more since I knew Christ than ever before; and I think most Christians have some things to repent of. So now I want to preach to Christians as well as to the unconverted; to myself as well as to one who has never accepted Christ as his Savior. There are five things that flow out of true repentance: 1. Conviction. 2. Contrition. 3. Confession of sin. 4. Conversion. 5. Confession of Jesus Christ before the world. 1. Conviction. When a man is not deeply convicted of sin, it is a pretty sure sign that he has not truly repented. Experience has taught me that men who have very slight conviction of sin, sooner or later lapse back into their old life. For the last few years I have been a good deal more anxious for a deep and true work in professing converts than I have for great numbers. If a man professes to be converted without realizing the heinousness of his sins, he is likely to be one of those stony ground hearers who don't amount to anything. The first breath of opposition, the first wave of persecution or ridicule, will suck them back into the world again. I believe we are making a woeful mistake in taking so many people into the Church who have never been truly convicted of sin. Sin is just as black in a man's heart to-day as it ever was. I sometimes think it is blacker. For the more light a man has, the greater his responsibility, and therefore the greater need of deep conviction. William Dawson once told this story to illustrate how humble the soul must be before it can find peace. He said that at a revival meeting, a little lad who was used to Methodist ways, went home to his mother and said, "Mother, John So-and-so is under conviction and seeking for peace, but he will not find it to-night, mother." "Why, William?" said she. "Because he is only down on one knee, mother, and he will never get peace until he is down on both knees." Until conviction of sin brings us down on both knees, until we are completely humbled, until we have no hope in ourselves left, we cannot find the Savior. There are three things that lead to conviction: (1) Conscience; (2) the Word of God; (3) the Holy Spirit. All three are used by God. Long before we had any Word, God dealt with men through the conscience. That is what made Adam and Eve hide themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the trees of the Garden of Eden. That is what convicted Joseph's brethren when they said: "We are verily guilty concerning our brother in that we saw the anguish of his soul when he besought us and we would not hear. Therefore," said they (and remember, over twenty years had passed away since they had sold him into captivity), "therefore is this distress come upon us." That is what we must use with our children before they are old enough to understand about the Word and the Spirit of God. This is what accuses or excuses the heathen. Conscience is "a divinely implanted faculty in man, telling him that he ought to do right." Someone has said that it was born when Adam and Eve ate of the forbidden fruit, when their eyes were opened and they "knew good and evil." It passes judgment, without being invited, upon our thoughts, words, and actions, approving or condemning according as it judges them to be right or wrong. A man cannot violate his conscience without being self-condemned. But conscience is not a safe guide, because very often it will not tell you a thing is wrong until you have done it. It needs illuminating by God because it partakes of our fallen nature. Many a person does things that are wrong without being condemned by conscience. Paul said: "I verily thought with myself that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth." Conscience itself needs to be educated. Again, conscience is too often like an alarm clock, which awakens and arouses at first, but after a time the man becomes used to it, and it loses its effect. Conscience can be smothered. I think we make a mistake in not preaching more to the conscience. Hence, in due time, conscience was superseded by the law of God, which in time was fulfilled in Christ. In this Christian land, where men have Bibles, these are the agency by which God produces conviction. The old Book tells you what is right and wrong before you commit sin, and what you need is to learn and appropriate its teachings, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Conscience compared with the Bible is as a rushlight compared with the sun in the heavens. See how the truth convicted those Jews on the day of Pentecost. Peter, filled with the Holy Ghost, preached that "God hath made this same Jesus, whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ." "Now when they heard this, they were _pricked in their heart_, and said unto Peter and to the rest of the apostles, Men and brethren, what shall we do?" Then, thirdly, the Holy Ghost convicts. I once heard the late Dr. A. J. Gordon expound that passage--"And when He (the Comforter) is come, He will reprove the world of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment; of sin because they believe not on Me,"--as follows:-- "Some commentators say there was no real conviction of sin in the world until the Holy Ghost came. I think that foreign missionaries will say that that is not true, that a heathen who never heard of Christ may have a tremendous conviction of sin. For notice that God gave conscience first, and gave the Comforter afterward. Conscience bears witness to the law, the Comforter bears witness to Christ. Conscience brings legal conviction, the Comforter brings evangelical conviction. Conscience brings conviction unto condemnation, and the Comforter brings conviction unto justification. 'He shall convince the world of sin, because they believe not on Me.' That is the sin about which He convinces. It does not say that He convinces men of sin, because they have stolen or lied or committed adultery; but the Holy Ghost is to convince men of sin because they have not believed on Jesus Christ. The coming of Jesus Christ into the world made a sin possible that was not possible before. Light reveals darkness; it takes whiteness to bring conviction concerning blackness. There are negroes in Central Africa who never dreamed that they were black until they saw the face of a white man; and there are a great many people in this world that never knew they were sinful until they saw the face of Jesus Christ in all its purity. Jesus Christ now stands between us and the law. He has fulfilled the law for us. He has settled all claims of the law, and now whatever claim it had upon us has been transferred to Him, so that it is no longer the _sin_ question, but the _Son_ question, that confronts us. And, therefore, you notice that the first thing Peter does when he begins to preach after the Holy Ghost has been sent down is about Christ: 'Him being delivered by the determinate counsel of God, ye have taken and by wicked hands have crucified and slain.' It doesn't say a word about any other kind of sin. That is the sin that runs all through Peter's teaching, and as he preached, the Holy Ghost came down and convicted them, and they cried out, 'What shall we do to be saved?' Well, but we had no part in crucifying Christ; therefore, what is our sin? It is the same sin in another form. They were convicted of crucifying Christ; we are convicted because we have not believed on Christ crucified. They were convicted because they had despised and rejected God's Son. The Holy Ghost convicts us because we have not believed in the Despised and Rejected One. It is really the same sin in both cases--the sin of unbelief in Christ." Some of the most powerful meetings I have ever been in were those in which there came a sort of hush over the people, and it seemed as if an unseen power gripped their consciences. I remember a man coming to one meeting, and the moment he entered, he felt that God was there. There came an awe upon him, and that very hour he was convicted and converted. 2. Contrition. The next thing is contrition, deep Godly sorrow and humiliation of heart because of sin. If there is not true contrition, a man will turn right back into the old sin. That is the trouble with many Christians. A man may get angry, and if there is not much contrition, the next day he will get angry again. A daughter may say mean, cutting things to her mother, and then her conscience troubles her, and she says: "Mother, I am sorry: forgive me." But soon there is another outburst of temper, because the contrition is not deep and real. A husband speaks sharp words to his wife, and then to ease his conscience, he goes and buys her a bouquet of flowers. He will not go like a man and say he has done wrong. What God wants is contrition, and if there is not contrition, there is not full repentance. "The Lord is nigh to the broken of heart, and saveth such as be contrite of spirit." "A broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise." Many sinners are sorry for their sins, sorry that they cannot continue in sin; but they repent only with hearts that are not broken. I don't think we know how to repent now-a-days. We need some John the Baptist, wandering through the land, crying: "Repent! repent!" 3. Confession of Sin. If we have true contrition, that will lead us to confess our sins. I believe that nine-tenths of the trouble in our Christian life comes from failing to do this. We try to hide and cover up our sins; there is very little confession of them. Someone has said: "Unconfessed sin in the soul is like a bullet in the body." If you have no power, it may be there is some sin that needs to be confessed, something in your life that needs straightening out. There is no amount of psalm-singing, no amount of attending religious meetings, no amount of praying or reading your Bible that is going to cover up anything of that kind. It must be confessed, and if I am too proud to confess, I need expect no mercy from God and no answers to my prayers. The Bible says: "He that covereth his sins shall not prosper." He may be a man in the pulpit, a priest behind the altar, a king on the throne; I don't care who he is. Man has been trying it for six thousand years. Adam tried it, and failed. Moses tried it when he buried the Egyptian whom he killed, but he failed. "Be sure your sin will find you out." You cannot bury your sin so deep but it will have a resurrection by and by, if it has not been blotted out by the Son of God. What man has failed to do for six thousand years, you and I had better give up trying to do. There are three ways of confessing sin. All sin is against God, and must be confessed to Him. There are some sins I need never confess to anyone on earth. If the sin has been between myself and God, I may confess it alone in my closet: I need not whisper it in the ear of any mortal. "Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before Thee." "Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight." But if I have done some man a wrong, and he knows that I have wronged him, I must confess that sin not only to God but also to that man. If I have too much pride to confess it to him, I need not come to God. I may pray, and I may weep, but it will do no good. First confess to that man, and then go to God and see how quickly He will hear you, and send peace. "If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy ways. First be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift." That is the Scripture way. Then there is another class of sins that must be confessed publicly. Suppose I have been known as a blasphemer, a drunkard, or a reprobate. If I repent of my sins, I owe the public a confession. The confession should be as public as the transgression. Many a person will say some mean thing about another in the presence of others, and then try to patch it up by going to that person alone. The confession should be made so that all who heard the transgression can hear it. We are good at confessing other people's sins, but if it is true repentance, we shall have as much as we can do to look after our own. When a man or woman gets a good look into God's looking glass, he is not finding fault with other people: he has as much as he can do at home. "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Thank God for the Gospel! Church member, if there is any sin in your life, make up your mind that you will confess it, and be forgiven. Do not have any cloud between you and God. Be able to read your title clear to the mansion Christ has gone to prepare for you. 4. Conversion. Confession leads to true conversion, and there is no conversion at all until these three steps have been taken. Now the word "conversion" means two things. We say a man is "converted" when he is born again. But it also has a different meaning in the Bible. Peter said: "Repent, and be converted." The Revised Version reads: "Repent, and _turn_." Paul said that he was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision, but began to preach to Jews and Gentiles that they should repent and _turn_ to God. Some old divine has said: "Every man is born with his back to God. Repentance is a change of one's course. It is right about face." Sin is a turning away from God. As someone has said, it is _aversion_ from God and _conversion_ to the world: and true repentance means conversion to God and aversion from the world. When there is true contrition, the heart is broken _for_ sin; when there is true conversion, the heart is broken _from_ sin. We leave the old life, we are translated out of the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light. Wonderful, isn't it? Unless our repentance includes this conversion, it is not worth much. If a man continues in sin, it is proof of an idle profession. It is like pumping away continually at the ship's pumps, without stopping the leaks. Solomon said:--"If they pray, and confess thy name, and turn from their sin . . ." Prayer and confession would be of no avail while they continued in sin. Let us heed God's call; let us forsake the old wicked way; let us return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon us; and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon. If you have never turned to God, turn now. I have no sympathy with the idea that it takes six months, or six weeks, or six hours to be converted. It doesn't take you very long to turn around, does it? If you know you are wrong, then turn right about. 5. Confession of Christ. If you are converted, the next step is confess it openly. Listen: "If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus Christ, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation." Confession of Christ is the culmination of the work of true repentance. We owe it to the world, to our fellow-Christians, to ourselves. He died to redeem us, and shall we be ashamed or afraid to confess Him? Religion as an abstraction, as a doctrine, has little interest for the world, but what people can say from personal experience always has weight. I remember some meetings being held in a locality where the tide did not rise very quickly, and bitter and reproachful things were being said about the work. But one day, one of the most prominent men in the place rose and said: "I want it to be known that I am a disciple of Jesus Christ; and if there is any odium to be cast on His cause, I am prepared to take my share of it." It went through the meeting like an electric current, and a blessing came at once to his own soul and to the souls of others. Men come to me and say: "Do you mean to affirm, Mr. Moody, that I've got to make a public confession when I accept Christ; do you mean to say I've got to confess Him in my place of business, and in my family? Am I to let the whole world know that I am on His side?" That is precisely what I mean. A great many are willing to accept Christ, but they are not willing to publish it, to confess it. A great many are looking at the lions and the bears in the way. Now, my friends, the devil's mountains are only made of smoke. He can throw a straw into your path and make a mountain of it. He says to you: "You cannot confess and pray to your family; why, you'll break down! You cannot tell it to your shopmate; he will laugh at you." But when you accept Christ, you will have power to confess Him. There was a young man in the West--it was the West in those days--who had been more or less interested about his soul's salvation. One afternoon, in his office, he said: "I will accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior." He went home and told his wife (who was a nominal professor of religion) that he had made up his mind to serve Christ; and he added: "After supper to-night I am going to take the company into the drawing-room, and erect the family altar." "Well," said his wife, "you know some of the gentlemen who are coming to tea are sceptics, and they are older than you are, and don't you think you had better wait until after they have gone, or else go out in the kitchen and have your first prayer with the servants?" The young man thought for a few moments, and then he said: "I have asked Jesus Christ into my house for the first time, and I shall take Him into the best room, not into the kitchen." So he called his friends into the drawing room. There was a little sneering, but he read and prayed. That man afterwards became Chief Justice of the United States Court. Never be ashamed of the Gospel of Christ: it is the power of God unto salvation. A young man enlisted, and was sent to his regiment. The first night he was in the barracks with about fifteen other young men who passed the time playing cards and gambling. Before retiring, he fell on his knees and prayed, and they began to curse him and jeer at him and throw boots at him. So it went on the next night and the next, and finally the young man went and told the chaplain what had taken place, and asked what he should do. "Well," said the chaplain, "you are not at home now, and the other men have just as much right in the barracks as you have. It makes them mad to hear you pray, and the Lord will hear you just as well if you say your prayers in bed and don't provoke them." For weeks after the chaplain did not see the young man again, but one day he met him, and asked-- "By the way, did you take my advice?" "I did, for two or three nights." "How did it work?" "Well," said the young man, "I felt like a whipped hound, and the third night I got out of bed, knelt down and prayed." "Well," asked the chaplain, "how did that work?" The young soldier answered: "We have a prayer-meeting there now every night, and three have been converted, and we are praying for the rest." Oh, friends, I am so tired of weak Christianity. Let us be out and out for Christ; let us give no uncertain sound. If the world wants to call us fools, let them do it. It is only a little while; the crowning day is coming. Thank God for the privilege we have of confessing Christ. TRUE WISDOM. "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever." Dan. 12:3. That is the testimony of an old man, and one who had the richest and deepest experience of any man living on the face of the earth at the time. He was taken down to Babylon when a young man; some Bible students think he was not more than twenty years of age. If anyone had said, when this young Hebrew was carried away into captivity, that he would outrank all the mighty men of that day--that all the generals who had been victorious in almost every nation at that time were to be eclipsed by this young slave--probably no one would have believed it. Yet for five hundred years no man whose life is recorded in history shone as did this man. He outshone Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar, Cyrus, Darius, and all the princes and mighty monarchs of his day. We are not told when he was converted to a knowledge of the true God, but I think we have good reason to believe that he had been brought under the influence of Jeremiah the prophet. Evidently some earnest, godly man, and no worldly professor, had made a deep impression upon him. Someone had at any rate taught him how he was to serve God. We hear people nowadays talking about the hardness of the field where they labor; they say their position is a very peculiar one. Think of the field in which Daniel had to work. He was not only a slave, but he was held captive by a nation that detested the Hebrews. The language was unknown to him. There he was among idolaters; yet he commenced at once to shine. He took his stand for God from the very first, and so he went on through his whole life. He gave the dew of his youth to God, and he continued faithful right on till his pilgrimage was ended. Notice that all those who have made a deep impression on the world, and have shone most brightly have been men who lived in a dark day. Look at Joseph; he was sold as a slave into Egypt by the Ishmaelites; yet he took his God with him into captivity, as Daniel afterwards did. And he remained true to the last; he did not give up his faith because he had been taken away from home and placed among idolaters. He stood firm, and God stood by him. Look at Moses who turned his back upon the gilded palaces of Egypt, and identified himself with his despised and down-trodden nation. If a man ever had a hard field it was Moses; yet he shone brightly, and never proved unfaithful to his God. Elijah lived in a far darker day than we do. The whole nation was going over to idolatry. Ahab and his queen, and all the royal court were throwing their influence against the worship of the true God. Yet Elijah stood firm, and shone brightly in that dark and evil day. How his name stands out on the page of history! Look at John the Baptist. I used to think I would like to live in the days of the prophets; but I have given up that idea. You may be sure that when a prophet appears on the scene, everything is dark, and the professing Church of God has gone over to the service of the god of this world. So it was when John the Baptist made his appearance. See how his name shines out to-day! Eighteen centuries have rolled away, and yet the fame of that wilderness preacher shines brighter than ever. He was looked down upon in his day and generation, but he has outlived all his enemies; his name will be revered and his work remembered as long as the Church is on the earth. Talk about your field being a hard one! See how Paul shone for God as he went out, the first missionary to the heathen, telling them of the God whom he served, and who had sent His Son to die a cruel death in order to save the world. Men reviled him and his teachings; they laughed him to scorn when he spoke of the crucified One. But he went on preaching the Gospel of the Son of God. He was regarded as a poor tent-maker by the great and mighty ones of his day; but no one can now tell the name of any of his persecutors, or of those who lived at that time, unless their names happen to be associated with his, and they were brought into contact with him. Now the fact is, all men like to shine. We may as well acknowledge it at once. Go into business circles, and see how men struggle to get into the front rank. Everyone wants to outshine his neighbor and to stand at the head of his profession. Go into the political world, and see how there is a struggle going on as to who shall be the greatest. If you go into a school, you find that there is a rivalry among the boys and girls. They all want to stand at the top of the class. When a boy does reach this position and outranks all the rest, the mother is very proud of it. She will manage to tell all the neighbors how Johnnie has got on, and what a number of prizes he has gained. Go into the army and you find the same thing--one trying to outstrip the other; everyone is very anxious to shine and rise above his comrades. Go among the young men in their games, and see how anxious the one is to outdo the other. So we have all that desire in us; we like to shine above our fellows. And yet there are very few who can really shine in the world. Once in a while one man will outstrip all his competitors. Every four years what a struggle goes on throughout our country as to who shall be the President of the United States, the battle raging for six months or a year. Yet only one man can get the prize. There are a good many struggling to get the place, but many are disappointed, because only one can attain the coveted prize. But in the kingdom of God the very least and the very weakest may shine if they will. Not only can _one_ obtain the prize, but _all_ may have it if they will. It does not say in this passage that the statesmen are going to shine as the brightness of the firmament. The statesmen of Babylon are gone; their very names are forgotten. It does not say that the nobility are going to shine. Earth's nobility are soon forgotten. John Bunyan, the Bedford tinker, has outlived the whole crowd of those who were the nobility in his day. They lived for self, and their memory is blotted out. He lived for God and for souls, and his name is as fragrant as ever it was. We are not told that the merchants are going to shine. Who can tell the name of any of the millionaires of Daniel's day? They were all buried in oblivion a few years after their death. Who were the mighty conquerors of that day? But few can tell. It is true that we hear of Nebuchadnezzar, but probably we should not have known very much about him but of his relations to the prophet Daniel. How different with this faithful prophet of the Lord! Twenty five centuries have passed away, and his name shines on, and on, and on, brighter and brighter. And it is going to shine while the Church of God exists. "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars forever and ever." How quickly the glory of this world fades away! Eighty years ago the great Napoleon almost made the earth to tremble. How he blazed and shone as an earthly warrior for a little while! A few years passed and a little island held that once proud and mighty conqueror; he died a poor broken-hearted prisoner. Where is he to-day? Almost forgotten. Who in all the world will say that Napoleon lives in their heart's affections? But look at this despised and hated Hebrew prophet. They wanted to put him into the lions' den because he was too sanctimonious and too religious Yet see how green his memory is to-day! How his name is loved and honored for his faithfulness to his God. Many years ago I was in Paris, at the time of the Great Exhibition. Napoleon the Third was then in his glory. Cheer after cheer would rise as he drove along the streets of the city. A few short years, and he fell from his lofty estate. He died an exile from his country and his throne, and where is his name today? Very few think about him at all, and if his name is mentioned it is not with love and esteem. How empty and short lived are the glory and the pride of this world! If we are wise, we will live for God and eternity; we will get outside of ourselves, and will care nothing for the honor and glory of this world. In Proverbs we read: "He that winneth souls is wise." If any man, woman, or child by a Godly life and example can win one soul to God, their life will not have been a failure. They will have outshone all the mighty men of their day, because they will have set a stream in motion that will flow on and on forever and ever. God has left us down here to shine. We are not here to buy and sell and get gain, to accumulate wealth, to acquire worldly position. This earth, if we are Christians, is not our home; it is up yonder. God has sent us into the world to shine for Him--to light up this dark world. Christ came to be the Light of the world, but men put out that light. They took it to Calvary, and blew it out. Before Christ went up on high, He said to His disciples: "Ye are the light of the world. Ye are my witnesses. Go forth and carry the Gospel to the perishing nations of the earth." So God has called us to shine, just as much as Daniel was sent into Babylon to shine. Let no man or woman say that they cannot shine because they have not so much influence as some others may have. What God wants you to do is to use the influence you have. Daniel probably did not have much influence down in Babylon at first, but God soon gave him more, because he was faithful and used what he had. Remember a small light will do a good deal when it is in a very dark place. Put one little tallow candle in the middle of a large hall, and it will give a good deal of light. Away out in the prairie regions, when meetings are held at night in the log schoolhouses, the announcement of the meeting is given out in this way: "A meeting will be held by early candlelight." The first man who comes brings a tallowdip with him. It is perhaps all he has; but he brings it, and sets it on the desk. It does not light the building much; but it is better than nothing at all. The next man brings his candle; and the next family bring theirs. By the time the house is full, there is plenty of light. So if we all shine a little, there will be a good deal of light. That is what God wants us to do. If we cannot all be lighthouses, any one of us can at any rate be a tallow candle. A little light will sometimes do a great deal. The city of Chicago was set on fire by a cow kicking over a lamp, and a hundred thousand people were burnt out of house and home. Do not let Satan get the advantage of you, and make you think that because you cannot do any great thing you cannot do anything at all. Then we must remember that we are to _let_ our light shine. It does not say, "_Make_ your light shine." You do not have to _make_ light to shine; all you have to do is to _let_ it shine. I remember hearing of a man at sea who was very seasick. If there is a time when a man feels that he cannot do any work for the Lord it is then--in my opinion. While this man was sick, he heard that someone had fallen overboard. He was wondering if he could do anything to help to save the man. He laid hold of a light, and held it up to the port-hole. The drowning man was saved. When this man got over his attack of sickness, he went on deck one day and was talking with the man who was rescued. The saved man gave this testimony. He said he had gone down the second time, and was just going down again for the last time, when he put out his hand. Just then, he said, someone held a light at the port-hole, and the light fell on it. A sailor caught him by the hand and pulled him into the lifeboat. It seemed a small thing to do to hold up the light; yet it saved the man's life. If you cannot do some great thing you can hold the light for some poor, perishing drunkard, who may be won to Christ and delivered from destruction. Let us take the torch of salvation and go into the dark homes, and hold up Christ to the people as the Savior of the world. If the perishing masses are to be reached, we must lay our lives right alongside theirs, and pray with them and labor for them. I would not give much for a man's Christianity if he is saved himself and is not willing to try and save others. It seems to me the basest ingratitude if we do not reach out the hand to others who are down in the same pit from which we were delivered. Who is able to reach and help drinking men like those who have themselves been slaves to the intoxicating cup? Will you not go out this very day and seek to rescue these men? If we were all to do what we can, we should soon empty the drinking saloons. I remember reading of a blind man who was found sitting at the corner of a street in a great city with a lantern beside him. Someone went up to him and asked what he had the lantern there for, seeing that he was blind, and the light was the same to him as the darkness. The blind man replied: "I have it so that no one may stumble over me." Dear friends, let us think of that. Where one man reads the Bible, a hundred read you and me. That is what Paul meant when he said we were to be living epistles of Christ, known and read of all men. I would not give much for all that can be done by sermons, if we do not preach Christ by our lives. If we do not commend the Gospel to people by our holy walk and conversation, we shall not win them to Christ. Some little act of kindness will perhaps do more to influence them than any number of long sermons. A vessel was caught in a storm on Lake Erie, and they were trying to make for the harbor of Cleveland. At the entrance of that port they had what are called the upper lights and the lower lights. Away back on the bluffs were the upper lights burning brightly enough; but when they came near the harbor they could not see the lights showing the entrance to it. The pilot said he thought they had better get back on the lake again. The Captain said he was sure they would go down if they went back, and he urged the pilot to do what he could to gain the harbor. The pilot said there was very little hope of making the harbor, as he had nothing to guide him as to how he should steer the ship. They tried all they could to get her in. She rode on the top of the waves, and then into the trough of the sea, and at last they found themselves stranded on the beach, where the vessel was dashed to pieces. Someone had neglected the lower lights, and they had gone out. Let us take warning. God keeps the upper lights burning as brightly as ever, but He has left us down here to keep the lower lights burning. We are to represent Him here, as Christ represents us up yonder. I sometimes think if we had as poor a representative in the courts above as God has down here on earth, we would have a pretty poor chance of heaven. Let us have our loins girt and our lights brightly burning, so that others may see the way and not walk in darkness. Speaking of a lighthouse reminds me of what I heard about a man in the State of Minnesota, who, some years ago, was caught in a fearful storm. That State is cursed with storms which come sweeping down so suddenly in the winter time that escape is difficult. The snow will fall and the wind will beat it into the face of the traveler so that he cannot see two feet ahead. Many a man has been lost on the prairies when he has got caught in one of those storms. This man was caught and was almost on the point of giving up, when he saw a little light in a log house. He managed to get there, and found a shelter from the fury of the tempest. He is now a wealthy man. As soon as he was able, he bought the farm, and built a beautiful house on the spot where the log building stood. On the top of a tower he put a revolving light, and every night when there comes a storm he lights it up in the hope that it may be the means of saving someone else. That is true gratitude, and that is what God wants us to do. If He has rescued us and brought us up out of the horrible pit, let us be always looking to see if there is not someone else whom we can help to save. I remember hearing of two men who had charge of a revolving light in a lighthouse on a rock-bound and stormy coast. Somehow the machinery went wrong, and the light did not revolve. They were so afraid that those at sea should mistake it for some other light, that they worked all the night through to keep the light moving round. Let us keep our lights in the proper place, so that the world may see that the religion of Christ is not a sham but a reality. It is said that in the Grecian sports they had one game where the men ran with lights. They lit a torch at the altar, and ran a certain distance; sometimes they were on horseback. If a man came in with his light still burning, he received a prize; if his light had gone out, he lost the prize. How many there are who, in their old age, have lost their light and their joy! They were once burning and shining lights in the family, in the Sunday-school, and in the Church. But something has come in between them and God--the world or self--and their light has gone out. Reader, if you are one who has had this experience, may God help you to come back to the altar of the Savior's love and light up your torch anew, so that you can go out into the lanes and alleys, and let the light of the Gospel shine in these dark homes. As I have already said, if we only lead one soul to Jesus Christ we may set a stream in motion that will flow on when we are dead and gone. Away up the mountain side there is a little spring; it seems so small that an ox might drink it up at a draught. By and by it becomes a rivulet; other rivulets run into it. Before long it is a large brook, and then it becomes a broad river sweeping onward to the sea. On its banks are cities, towns and villages, where many thousands live. Vegetation flourishes on every side, and commerce is carried down its stately bosom to distant lands. So if you turn one to Christ, that one may turn a hundred; they may turn a thousand, and so the stream, small at first, goes on broadening and deepening as it rolls toward eternity. In the book of Revelation we read: "I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors; and their works do follow them." There are many mentioned in the Scriptures of whom we read that they lived so many years and then they died. The cradle and the grave are brought close together; they lived and they died, and that is all we know about them. So in these days you could write on the tombstone of a great many professing Christians that they were born on such a day and they died on such a day; there is nothing whatever between. But there is one thing you cannot bury with a good man; his influence still lives. They have not buried Daniel yet: his influence is as great today as it ever was. Do you tell me that Joseph is dead? His influence still lives and will continue to live on and on. You may bury the frail tenement of clay that a good man lives in, but you cannot get rid of his influence and example. Paul was never more powerful than he is to-day. Do you tell me that John Howard, who went into so many of the dark prisons in Europe, is dead? Is Henry Martyn, or Wilberforce, or John Bunyan dead? Go into the Southern States, and there you will find millions of men and women who once were slaves. Mention to any of them the name of Wilberforce, and see how quickly the eye will light up. He lived for something else besides himself, and his memory will never die out of the hearts of those for whom he lived and labored. Is Wesley or Whitefield dead? The names of those great evangelists were never more honored than they are now. Is John Knox dead? You can go to any part of Scotland today, and feel the power of his influence. I will tell you who are dead. The enemies of these servants of God--those who persecuted them and told lies about them. But the men themselves have outlived all the lies that were uttered concerning them. Not only that; they will shine in another world. How true are the words of the old Book: "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars forever and ever." Let us go on turning as many as we can to righteousness. Let us be dead to the world, to its lies, its pleasures, and its ambitions. Let us live for God, continually going forth to win souls for Him. Let me quote a few words by Dr. Chalmers: "Thousands of men breathe, move and live, pass off the stage of life, and are heard no more--Why? They do not partake of good in the world, and none were blessed by them; none could point to them as the means of their redemption; not a line they wrote, not a word they spoke could be recalled; and so they perished; their light went out in darkness, and they were not remembered more than insects of yesterday. Will you thus live and die, O man immortal? Live for something. Do good, and leave behind you a monument of virtue that the storms of time can never destroy. Write your name in kindness, love and mercy, on the hearts of the thousands you come in contact with year by year; you will never be forgotten. No, your name, your deeds will be as legible on the hearts you leave behind as the stars on the brow of evening. Good deeds will shine as the stars of heaven." "COME THOU AND ALL THY HOUSE INTO THE ARK." I want to call your attention to a text that you will find in the seventh chapter of Genesis, first verse. When God speaks, you and I can afford to listen. It is not man speaking now, but it is God. "The Lord said unto Noah, Come thou and all thy house into the ark." Perhaps some sceptic is reading this, and perhaps some church member will join with him and say, "I hope Mr. Moody is not going to preach about the ark. I thought that was given up by all intelligent people." But I want to say that I haven't given it up. When I do, I am going to give up the whole Bible. There is hardly any portion of the Old Testament Scripture but that the Son of God set His seal to it when He was down here in the world. Men say, "I don't believe in the story of the flood." Christ connected His own return to this world with that flood: "And as it was in the days of Noah, so shall it be also in the days of the Son of man. They did eat, they drank, they married wives, they were given in marriage, until the day that Noah entered into the ark, and the flood came, and destroyed them all." I believe the story of the flood just as much as I do the third chapter of John. I pity any man that is picking the old Book to pieces. The moment that we give up any one of these things, we touch the deity of the Son of God. I have noticed that when a man does begin to pick the Bible to pieces, it doesn't take him long to tear it all to pieces. What is the use of being five years about what you can do in five minutes? A Solemn Message. One hundred and twenty years before God spake the words of my text, Noah had received the most awful communication that ever came from heaven to earth. No man up to that time, and I think no man since, has ever received such a communication. God said that on account of the wickedness of the world He was going to destroy the world by water. We can have no idea of the extent and character of that antediluvian wickedness. The Bible piles one expression on another, in its effort to emphasize it. "God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented the Lord that He had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at His heart. . . . The earth also was corrupt before God, and the earth was filled with violence. And God looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted his way upon the earth." Men lived five hundred years and more then, and they had time to mature in their sins. How the Message was Received. For one hundred and twenty years God strove with those antediluvians. He never smites without warning, and they had their warning. Every time Noah drove a nail into the ark it was a warning to them. Every sound of the hammer echoed, "I believe in God." If they had repented and cried as they did at Nineveh, I believe God would have heard their cry and spared them. But there was no cry for mercy. I have no doubt but that they ridiculed the idea that God was going to destroy the world. I have no doubt but that there were atheists who said there was not any God anyhow. I got hold of one of them some time ago. I said, "How do you account for the formation of the world?" "Oh! force and matter work together, and by chance the world was created." I said, "It is a singular thing that your tongue isn't on the top of your head if force and matter just threw it together in that manner." If I should take out my watch and say that force and matter worked together, and out came the watch, you would say I was a lunatic of the first order. Wouldn't you? And yet they say that this old world was made by chance! "It threw itself together!" I met a man in Scotland, and he took the ground that there was no God. I asked him, "How do you account for creation, for all these rocks?" (They have a great many rocks in Scotland.) "Why!" he said, "any school boy could account for that." "Well, how was the first rock made?" "Out of sand." "How was the first sand made?" "Out of rock." You see he had it all arranged so nicely. Sand and rock, rock and sand. I have no doubt but that Noah had these men to contend with. Then there was a class called agnostics, and there are a good many of their grandchildren, alive to-day. Then there was another class who said they believed there was a God; they couldn't make themselves believe that the world happened by chance; but God was too merciful to punish sin. He was so full of compassion and love that He couldn't punish sin. The drunkard, the harlot, the gambler, the murderer, the thief and the libertine would all share alike with the saints at the end. Supposing the governor of your state was so tender-hearted that he could not bear to have a man suffer, could not bear to see a man put in jail, and he should go and set all the prisoners free. How long would he be governor? You would have him out of office before the sun set. These very men that talk about God's mercy, would be the first to raise a cry against a governor who would not have a man put in prison when he had done wrong. Then another class took the ground that God could not destroy the world anyway. They might have a great flood which would rise up to the meadowlands and lowlands, but all it would be necessary to do would be to go up on the hills and mountains. That would be a hundred times better than Noah's ark. Or if it should come to that, they could build rafts, which would be a good deal better than that ark. They had never seen such an ugly looking thing. It was about five hundred feet long, and about eighty feet wide, and fifty feet high. It had three stories, and only one small window. And then, I suppose there was a large class who took the ground that Noah must be wrong because he was in such a minority. That is a great argument now, you know. Noah was greatly in the minority. But he went on working. If they had saloons then, and I don't doubt but that they had, for we read that there was "violence in the land," and wherever you have alcohol you have violence. We read also that Noah planted a vineyard and fell into the sin of intemperance. He was a righteous man, and if he did that, what must the others have done? Well, if they had saloons, no doubt they sang ribald songs about Noah and his ark, and if they had theaters they likely acted it out, and mothers took their children to see it. And if they had the press in those days, every now and then there would appear a skit about "Noah and his folly." Reporters would come and interview him, and if they had an Associated Press, every few days a dispatch would be sent out telling how the work on the ark was progressing. And perhaps they had excursions, and offered as an inducement that people could go through the ark. And if Noah happened to be around they would nudge each other and say: "That's Noah. Don't you think there is a strange look in his eye?" As a Scotchman would say, they thought him a little daft. Thank God a man can afford to be mad. A mad man thinks everyone else mad but himself A drunkard does not call himself mad when he is drinking up all his means. Those men who stand and deal out death and damnation to men are not called mad; but a man is called mad when he gets into the ark, and is saved for time and eternity. And I expect if the word crank was in use, they called Noah "an old crank." And so all manner of sport was made of Noah and his ark. And the business men went on buying and selling, while Noah went on preaching and toiling. They perhaps had some astronomers, and they were gazing up at the stars, and saying, "Don't you be concerned. There is no sign of a coming storm in the heavens. We are very wise men, and if there was a storm coming, we should read it in the heavens." And they had geologists digging away, and they said, "There is no sign in the earth." Even the carpenters who helped build the ark might have made fun of him, but they were like lots of people at the present day, who will help build a church, and perhaps give money for its support, but will never enter it themselves. Well, things went on as usual. Little lambs skipped on the hillsides each spring. Men sought after wealth, and if they had leases, I expect they ran for longer periods than ours do. We think ninety-nine years a long time, but I don't doubt but that theirs ran for nine hundred and ninety nine years. And when they came to sign a lease they would say with a twinkle in their eyes: "Why, this old Noah says the world is coming to an end in one hundred and twenty years, and it's twenty years since he started the story. But I guess I will sign the lease and risk it." Someone has said that Noah must have been deaf, or he could not have stood the jeers and sneers of his countrymen. But if he was deaf to the voice of men, he heard the voice of God when He told him to build the ark. I can imagine one hundred years have rolled away, and the work on the ark ceases. Men say, "What has he stopped work for?" He has gone on a preaching tour, to tell the people of the coming storm--that God is going to sweep every man from the face of the earth unless he is in the ark. But he cannot get a man to believe him except his own family. Some of the old men have passed away, and they died saying: "Noah is wrong." Poor Noah! He must have had a hard time of it. I don't think I should have had the grace to work for one hundred and twenty years without a convert. But he just toiled on, believing the word of God. And now the hundred and twenty years are up. In the spring of the year Noah did not plant anything, for he knew the flood was coming, and the people say: "Every year before he has planted, but this year he thinks the world is going to be destroyed, and he hasn't planted anything." Moving in. But I can imagine one beautiful morning, not a cloud to be seen, Noah has got his communication. He has heard the voice that he heard one hundred and twenty years before--the same old voice. Perhaps there had been silence for one hundred and twenty years. But the voice rang through his soul once again, "Noah, come thou and all thy house into the ark." The word "come" occurs about nineteen hundred times in the Bible, it is said, and this is the first time. It meant salvation. You can see Noah and all his family moving into the ark. They are bringing the household furniture. Some of his neighbors say, "Noah, what is your hurry? you will have plenty of time to get into that old ark. What is your hurry? There are no windows and you cannot look out to see when the storm is coming." But he heard the voice and obeyed. Some of his relatives might have said, "What are you going to do with the old homestead?" Noah says, "I don't want it. The storm is coming." He tells them the day of grace is closing, that worldly wealth is of no value, and that the ark is the only place of safety. We must bear in mind that these railroads that we think so much of, will soon go down; they only run for time, not for eternity. The heavens will be on fire, and then what will property, honor, and position in society be worth? The first thing that alarms them is, they rise one morning, and lo! the heavens are filled with the fowls of the air. They are flying into the ark, two by two. They come from the desert; they come from the mountain; they come from all parts of the world. They are going into the ark. It must have been a strange sight. I can hear the people cry, "Great God! what is the meaning of this?" And they look down on the earth; and, with great alarm and surprise, they see little insects creeping up two by two, coming from all parts of the world. Then behold! there come cattle and beasts, two by two. The neighbors cry out, "What does this mean?" They run to their statesmen and wise men, who have told them there was no sign of a coming storm, and ask them why it is that those birds, animals, and creeping things go toward the ark, as if guided by some unseen hand. "Well," the statesmen and wise men say, "We cannot explain it; but give yourselves no trouble; God is not going to destroy the world. Business was never better than it is now. Do you think if God was going to destroy the world, He would let us go on so prosperously as He has? There is no sign of a coming storm. What has made these creeping insects and these wild beasts of the forest go into the ark, we do not know. We cannot understand it; it is very strange. But there is no sign of anything going to happen. The stars are bright, and the sun shines as bright as ever it did. Everything moves on as it has been moving for all time past. You can hear the children playing in the street. You can hear the voice of the bride and bridegroom in the land, and all is merry as ever." I imagine the alarm passed away, and they fell into their regular courses. Noah comes out and says: "The door is going to be shut. Come in. God is going to destroy the world. See the animals, how they have come up. The communication has come to them direct from heaven." But the people only mocked on. Do you know, when the hundred and twenty years were up, God gave the world seven days' grace? Did you ever notice that? If there had been a cry during those seven days, I believe it would have been heard. But there was none. At length the last day had come, the last hour, the last minute, ay! the last second. God Almighty came down and shut the door of that ark. No angel, no man, but God Himself shut that door, and when once the master of the house has risen and shut to the door, the doom of the world is sealed; and the doom of that old world was forever sealed. The sun had gone down upon the glory of that old world for the last time. You can hear away off in the distance the mutterings of the storm. You can hear the thunder rolling. The lightning begins to flash, and the old world reels. The storm bursts upon them, and that old ark of Noah's would have been worth more than the whole world to them. I want to say to any scoffer who reads this, that you can laugh at the Bible, you can scoff at your mother's God, you can laugh at ministers and Christians, but the hour is coming when one promise in that old Book will be worth more to you than ten thousand worlds like this. The windows of heaven are opened and the fountains of the great deep are broken up. The waters come bubbling up, and the sea bursts its bounds and leaps over its walls. The rivers begin to swell. The people living in the lowlands flee to the mountains and highlands. They flee up the hillsides. And there is a wail going up: "Noah! Noah! Noah! Let us in." They leave their homes and come to the ark now. They pound on the ark. Hear them cry: "Noah! Let us in. Noah! Have mercy on us." "I am your nephew." "I am your niece." "I am your uncle." Ah, there is a voice inside, saying: "I would like to let you in; but God has shut the door, and I cannot open it!" God shut that door! When the door is shut, there is no hope. Their cry for mercy was too late; their day of grace was closed. Their last hour had come. God had plead with them; God had invited them to come in; but they had mocked at the invitation. They scoffed and ridiculed the idea of a deluge. Now it is too late. God did not permit anyone to survive to tell us how they perished. When Job lost his family, there came a messenger to him: but there came no messenger from the antediluvians; not even Noah himself could see the world perish. If he could, he would have seen men and women and children dashing against that ark; the waves rising higher and higher, while those outside were perishing, dying in unbelief. Some think to escape by climbing the trees, and think the storm will soon go down; but it rains on, day and night, for forty days and forty nights, and they are swept away as the waves dash against them. The statesmen and astronomers and great men call for mercy; but it is too late. They had disobeyed the God of mercy. He had called, and they refused. He had plead with them, but they had laughed and mocked. But now the time is come for judgment instead of mercy. Judgment. The time is coming again when God will deal in judgment with the world. It is but a little while; we know not when, but it is sure to come. God's word has gone forth that this world shall be rolled together like a scroll, and shall be on fire. What then will become of your soul? It is a loving call, "Now come, thou and all thy house, into the ark." Twenty four hours before the rain began to fall, Noah's ark, if it had been sold at auction, would not have brought as much as it would be worth for kindling wood. But twenty four hours after the rain began to fall, Noah's ark was worth more than all the world. There was not then a man living but would have given all he was worth for a seat in the ark. You may turn away and laugh. "I believe in Christ!" you say; "I would rather be without Him than have Him." But bear in mind, the time is coming when Christ will be worth more to you than ten thousand worlds like this. Bear in mind that He is offered to you now. This is a day of grace; it is a day of mercy. You will find, if you read your Bible carefully, that God always precedes judgment with grace. Grace is a forerunner of judgment. He called these men in the days of Noah in love. They would have been saved if they had repented in those one hundred and twenty years. When Christ came to plead with the people in Jerusalem, it was their day of grace; but they mocked and laughed at Him. He said: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!" Forty years afterward, thousands of the people begged that their lives might be spared; and eleven hundred thousand perished in that city. In 1857 a revival swept over this country in the east and on to the western cities, clear over to the Pacific coast. It was God calling the nation to Himself. Half a million people united with the Church at that time. Then the war broke out. We were baptized with the Holy Ghost in 1857, and in 1861 we were baptized in blood. It was a call of mercy, preceding judgment. Are Your Children Safe? The text which I have selected has a special application to Christian people and to parents. This command of the Scripture was given to Noah not only for his own safety, but that of his household, and the question which I put to each father and mother is this: "Are your children in the ark of God?" You may scoff at it, but it is a very important question. Are all your children in? Are all your grandchildren in? Don't rest day or night until you get your children in. I believe my children have fifty temptations where I had one. I am one of those who believe that in the great cities there is a snare set upon the corner of every street for our sons and daughters; and I don't believe it is our business to spend our time in accumulating bonds and stocks. Have I done all I can to get my children in? That is it. Now, let me ask another question: What would have been Noah's feelings if, when God called him into the ark, his children would not have gone with him? If he had lived such a false life that his children had no faith in his word, what would have been his feelings? He would have said: "There is my poor boy on the mountain. Would to God I had died in his place! I would rather have perished than had him perish." David cried over his son: "Oh, my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom, would God I had died for thee!" Noah loved his children, and they had confidence in him. Someone sent me a paper a number of years ago, containing an article that was marked. Its title was: "Are all the children in?" An old wife lay dying. She was nearly one hundred years of age, and the husband who had taken the journey with her, sat by her side. She was just breathing faintly, but suddenly she revived, opened her eyes, and said: "Why! it is dark." "Yes, Janet, it is dark." "Is it night?" "Oh, yes! it is midnight." "Are all the children in?" There was that old mother living life over again. Her youngest child had been in the grave twenty years, but she was traveling back into the old days, and she fell asleep in Christ asking, "Are all the children in?" Dear friend, are they all in? Put the question to yourself now. Is John in? Is James in? Or is he immersed in business and pleasure? Is he living a double and dishonest life? Say! where is your boy, mother? Where is your son, your daughter? Is it well with your children? Can you say it is? After being superintendent of a Sunday school in Chicago for a number of years, a school of over a thousand members, children that came from godless homes, having mothers and fathers working against me, taking the children off on excursions on Sunday, and doing all they could to break up the work I was trying to do, I used to think that if I should ever stand before an audience I would speak to no one but parents; that would be my chief business. It is an old saying--"Get the lamb, and you will get the sheep." I gave that up years ago. Give me the sheep, and then I will have someone to nurse the lamb; but get a lamb and convert him, and if he has a godless father and mother, you will have little chance with that child. What we want is godly homes. The home was established long before the Church. I have no sympathy with the idea that our children have to grow up before they are converted. Once I saw a lady with three daughters at her side, and I stepped up to her and asked her if she was a Christian. "Yes, sir." Then I asked the oldest daughter if she was a Christian. The chin began to quiver, and the tears came into her eyes, and she said, "I wish I was." The mother looked very angrily at me and said, "I don't want you to speak to my children on that subject. They don't understand." And in great rage she took them all away from me. One daughter was fourteen years old, one twelve, and the other ten, but they were not old enough to be talked to about religion. Let them drift into the world and plunge into worldly amusements, and then see how hard it is to reach them. Many a mother is mourning to-day because her boy has gone beyond her reach, and will not allow her to pray with him. She may pray _for_ him, but he will not let her pray or talk _with_ him. In those early days when his mind was tender and young, she might have led him to Christ. Bring them in. "Suffer the little children to come unto Me." Is there a prayerless father reading this? May God let the arrow go down into your soul! Make up your mind that, God helping you, you will get the children in. God's order is to the father first, but if he isn't true to his duty, then the mother should be true, and save the children from the wreck. Now is the time to do it while you have them under your roof. Exert your parental influence over them. I never speak to parents but I think of two fathers, one of whom lived on the banks of the Mississippi, the other in New York. The first one devoted all his time to amassing wealth. He had a son to whom he was much attached, and one day the boy was brought home badly injured. The father was informed that the boy could live but a short time, and he broke the news to his son as gently as possible. "You say I cannot live, father? O! then pray for my soul," said the boy. In all those years that father had never said a prayer for that boy, and he told him he couldn't. Shortly after, the boy died. That father has said since that he would give all that he possessed if he could call that boy back only to offer one short prayer for him. The other father had a boy who had been sick some time, and he came home one day and found his wife weeping. She said: "I cannot help but believe that this is going to prove fatal." The man started, and said: "If you think so, I wish you would tell him." But the mother could not tell her boy. The father went to the sick room, and he saw that death was feeling for the cords of life, and he said: "My son, do you know you are not going to live?" The little fellow looked up and said: "No; is this death that I feel stealing over me? Will I die to-day?" "Yes, my son, you cannot live the day out." And the little fellow smiled and said: "Well, father, I shall be with Jesus tonight, shan't I?" "Yes, you will spend the night with the Lord," and the father broke down and wept. The little fellow saw the tears, and said: "Don't weep for me. I will go to Jesus and tell Him that ever since I can remember you have prayed for me." I have three children, and if God should take them from me, I would rather have them take such a message home to Him than to have the wealth of the whole world. Oh! would to God I could say something to stir you, fathers and mothers, to get your children into the ark. HUMILITY. "Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart."--Matthew 11:29. There is no harder lesson to learn than the lesson of humility. It is not taught in the schools of men, only in the school of Christ. It is the rarest of all the gifts. Very rarely do we find a man or woman who is following closely the footsteps of the Master in meekness and in humility. I believe that it is the hardest lesson which Jesus Christ had to teach His disciples while He was here upon earth. It almost looked at first as though He had failed to teach it to the twelve men who had been with Him almost constantly for three years. I believe that if we are humble enough we shall be sure to get a great blessing. After all, I think that more depends upon us than upon the Lord, because He is always ready to give a blessing and give it freely, but we are not always in a position to receive it. He always blesses the humble, and, if we can get down in the dust before Him, no one will go away disappointed. It was Mary at the feet of Jesus, who had chosen the "better part." Did you ever notice the reason Christ gave for learning of Him? He might have said: "Learn of me, because I am the most advanced thinker of the age. I have performed miracles that no man else has performed. I have shown my supernatural power in a thousand ways." But no: the reason He gave was that He was "meek, and lowly in heart." We read of the three men in Scripture whose faces shone, and all three were noted for their meekness and humility. We are told that the face of Christ shone at His transfiguration; Moses, after he had been in the mount for forty days, came down from his communion with God with a shining face; and when Stephen stood before the Sanhedrim on the day of his death, his face was lighted up with glory. If our faces are to shine we must get into the valley of humility; we must go down in the dust before God. Bunyan says that it is hard to get down into the valley of humiliation, the descent into it is steep and rugged; but that it is very fruitful and fertile and beautiful when once we get there. I think that no one will dispute that; almost every man, even the ungodly, admires meekness. Someone asked Augustine, what was the first of the religious graces, and he said, "Humility." They asked him what was the second, and he replied, "Humility." They asked him the third, and he said, "Humility." I think that if we are humble, we have all the graces. Some years ago I saw what is called a sensitive plant. I happened to breathe on it, and suddenly it drooped its head; I touched it, and it withered away. Humility is as sensitive as that; it cannot safely be brought out on exhibition. A man who is flattering himself that he is humble and is walking close to the Master, is self-deceived. It consists not in thinking meanly of ourselves, but in not thinking of ourselves at all. Moses wist not that his face shone. If humility speaks of itself, it is gone. Someone has said that the grass is an illustration of this lowly grace. It was created for the lowliest service. Cut it, and it springs up again. The cattle feed upon it, and yet how beautiful it is. The showers fall upon the mountain peaks, and very often leave them barren because they rush down into the meadows and valleys and make the lowly places fertile. If a man is proud and lifted up, rivers of grace may flow over him and yet leave him barren and unfruitful, while they bring blessing to the man who has been brought low by the grace of God. A man can counterfeit love, he can counterfeit faith, he can counterfeit hope and all the other graces, but it is very difficult to counterfeit humility. You soon detect mock humility. They have a saying in the East among the Arabs, that as the tares and the wheat grow they show which God has blessed. The ears that God has blessed bow their heads and acknowledge every grain, and the more fruitful they are the lower their heads are bowed. The tares which God has sent as a curse, lift up their heads erect, high above the wheat, but they are only fruitful of evil. I have a pear tree on my farm which is very beautiful; it appears to be one of the most beautiful trees on my place. Every branch seems to be reaching up to the light and stands almost like a wax candle, but I never get any fruit from it. I have another tree, which was so full of fruit last year that the branches almost touched the ground. If we only get down low enough, my friends, God will use every one of us to His glory. "As the lark that soars the highest builds her nest the lowest; as the nightingale that sings so sweetly, sings in the shade when all things rest; as the branches that are most laden with fruit, bend lowest; as the ship most laden, sinks deepest in the water;--so the holiest Christians are the humblest." The _London Times_ some years ago told the story of a petition that was being circulated for signatures. It was a time of great excitement, and this petition was intended to have great influence in the House of Lords; but there was one word left out. Instead of reading, "We humbly beseech thee," it read, "We beseech thee." So it was ruled out. My friends, if we want to make an appeal to the God of Heaven, we must humble ourselves; and if we do humble ourselves before the Lord, we shall not be disappointed. As I have been studying some Bible characters that illustrate humility, I have been ashamed of myself. If you have any regard for me, pray that I may have humility. When I put my life beside the life of some of these men, I say, Shame on the Christianity of the present day. If you want to get a good idea of yourself, look at some of the Bible characters that have been clothed with meekness and humility, and see what a contrast is your position before God and man. One of the meekest characters in history was John the Baptist. You remember when they sent a deputation to him and asked if he was Elias, or this prophet, or that prophet, he said, "No." Now he might have said some very flattering things of himself. He might have said: "I am the son of the old priest Zacharias. Haven't you heard of my fame as a preacher? I have baptized more people probably, than any man living. The world has never seen a preacher like myself." I honestly believe that in the present day most men standing in his position would do that. On the railroad train, some time ago, I heard a man talking so loud that all the people in the car could hear him. He said that he had baptized more people than any man in his denomination. He told how many thousand miles he had traveled, how many sermons he had preached, how many open-air services he had held, and this and that, until I was so ashamed that I had to hide my head. This is the age of boasting. It is the day of the great "I." My attention was recently called to the fact that in all the Psalms you cannot find any place where David refers to his victory over the giant, Goliath. If it had been in the present day, there would have been a volume written about it at once; I don't know how many poems there would be telling of the great things that this man had done. He would have been in demand as a lecturer, and would have added a title to his name: G. G. K.,--Great Giant Killer. That is how it is to-day: great evangelists, great preachers, great theologians, great bishops. "John," they asked, "who are you?" "I am nobody. I am to be heard, not to be seen. I am only a voice." He hadn't a word to say about himself. I once heard a little bird faintly singing close by me,--at last it got clear out of sight, and then its notes were still sweeter. The higher it flew the sweeter sounded its notes. If we can only get self out of sight and learn of Him who was meek and lowly in heart we shall be lifted up into heavenly places. Mark tells us, in the first chapter and seventh verse, that John came and preached saying, "There cometh one mightier than I after me, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to stoop down and unloose." Think of that; and bear in mind that Christ was looked upon as a deceiver, a village carpenter, and yet here is John, the son of the old priest, who had a much higher position in the sight of men than that of Jesus. Great crowds were coming to hear him, and even Herod attended his meetings. When his disciples came and told John that Christ was beginning to draw crowds, he nobly answered: "A man can receive nothing, except it be given him from heaven. Ye yourselves bear me witness that I said, I am not the Christ, but that I am sent before Him. He that hath the bride is the bridegroom: but the friend of the bridegroom, which standeth and heareth him, rejoiceth greatly because of the bridegroom's voice: this my joy therefore is fulfilled. He must increase, but I must decrease." It is easy to read that, but it is hard for us to live in the power of it. It is very hard for us to be ready to decrease, to grow smaller and smaller, that Christ may increase. The morning star fades away when the sun rises. "He that cometh from above is above all: he that is of the earth is earthly, and speaketh of the earth: He that cometh from heaven is above all, and what He hath seen and heard, that He testifieth; and no man receiveth His testimony. He that hath received His testimony hath set to his seal that God is true. For He whom God hath sent speaketh the words of God: for God giveth not the Spirit by measure unto Him." Let us now turn the light upon ourselves. Have we been decreasing of late? Do we think less of ourselves and of our position than we did a year ago? Are we seeking to obtain some position of dignity? Are we wanting to hold on to some title, and are we offended because we are not treated with the courtesy that we think is due us? Some time ago I heard a man in the pulpit say that he should take offence if he was not addressed by his title. My dear friend, are you going to take that position that you must have a title, and that you must have every letter addressed with that title or you will be offended? John did not want any title, and when we are right with God, we shall not be caring about titles. In one of his early epistles Paul calls himself the "least of all the apostles." Later on he claims to be "less than the least of all saints," and again, just before his death, humbly declares that he is the "chief of sinners." Notice how he seems to have grown smaller and smaller in his own estimation. So it was with John. And I do hope and pray that as the days go by we may feel like hiding ourselves, and let God have all the honor and glory. "When I look back upon my own religious experience," says Andrew Murray, "or round upon the Church of Christ in the world, I stand amazed at the thought of how little humility is sought after as the distinguishing feature of the discipleship of Jesus. In preaching and living, in the daily intercourse of the home and social life, in the more special fellowship with Christians, in the direction and performance of work for Christ--alas! how much proof there is that humility is not esteemed the cardinal virtue, the only root from which the graces can grow, the one indispensable condition of true fellowship with Jesus." See what Christ says about John. "He was a burning and shining light." Christ gave him the honor that belonged to him. If you take a humble position, Christ will see it. If you want God to help you, then take a low position. I am afraid that if we had been in John's place, many of us would have said: "What did Christ say,--I am a burning and shining light?" Then we would have had that recommendation put in the newspapers, and would have sent them to our friends, with that part marked in blue pencil. Sometimes I get a letter just full of clippings from the newspapers, stating that this man is more eloquent than Gough, etc. And the man wants me to get him some church. Do you think that a man who has such eloquence would be looking for a church? No, they would all be looking for him. My dear friends, isn't it humiliating? Sometimes I think it is a wonder that any man is converted these days. Let another praise you. Don't be around praising yourself. If we want God to lift us up, let us get down. The lower we get, the higher God will lift us. It is Christ's eulogy of John, "Greater than any man born of woman." There is a story told of Carey, the great missionary, that he was invited by the Governor-general of India to go to a dinner party at which were some military officers belonging to the aristocracy, and who looked down upon missionaries with scorn and contempt. One of these officers said at the table: "I believe that Carey was a shoemaker, wasn't he, before he took up the profession of a missionary?" Mr. Carey spoke up and said: "Oh no, I was only a cobbler. I could mend shoes, and wasn't ashamed of it." The one prominent virtue of Christ, next to His obedience, is His humility; and even His obedience grew out of His humility. Being in the form of God, He counted it not a thing to be grasped to be on an equality with God, but He emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and was made in the likeness of men. And being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, yea, the death of the cross. In His lowly birth, His submission to His earthly parents, His seclusion during thirty years, His consorting with the poor and despised, His entire submission and dependence upon His Father, this virtue that was consummated in His death on the cross, shines out. One day Jesus was on His way to Capernaum, and was talking about His coming death and suffering, and about His resurrection, and He heard quite a heated discussion going on behind Him. When He came into the house at Capernaum, He turned to His disciples, and said: "What was all that discussion about?" I see John look at James, and Peter at Andrew,--and they all looked ashamed. "Who shall be the greater?" That discussion has wrecked party after party, one society after another--"Who shall be the greatest?" The way Christ took to teach them humility was by putting a little child in their midst and saying: "If you want to be great, take that little child for an example, and he who wants to be the greatest, let him be servant of all." To me, one of the saddest things in all the life of Jesus Christ was the fact that just before His crucifixion, His disciples should have been striving to see who should be the greatest, that night He instituted the Supper, and they ate the Passover together. It was His last night on earth, and they never saw Him so sorrowful before. He knew Judas was going to sell Him for thirty pieces of silver. He knew that Peter would deny Him. And yet, in addition to this, when going into the very shadow of the cross, there arose this strife as to who should be the greatest. He took a towel and girded Himself like a slave, and He took a basin of water and stooped and washed their feet. That was another object lesson of humility. He said, "Ye call me Lord, and ye do well. If you want to be great in my Kingdom, be servant of all. If you serve, you shall be great." When the Holy Ghost came, and those men were filled, from that time on mark the difference: Matthew takes up his pen to write, and he keeps Matthew out of sight. He tells what Peter and Andrew did, but he calls himself Matthew "the publican." He tells how they left all to follow Christ, but does not mention the feast he gave. Jerome says that Mark's gospel is to be regarded as memoirs of Peter's discourses, and to have been published by his authority. Yet here we constantly find that damaging things are mentioned about Peter, and things to his credit are not referred to. Mark's gospel omits all allusion to Peter's faith in venturing on the sea, but goes into detail about the story of his fall and denial of our Lord. Peter put himself down, and lifted others up. If the Gospel of Luke had been written to-day, it would be signed by the great Dr. Luke, and you would have his photograph as a frontispiece. But you can't find Luke's name; he keeps out of sight. He wrote two books, and his name is not to be found in either. John covers himself always under the expression--"the disciple whom Jesus loved." None of the four men whom history and tradition assert to be the authors of the gospels, lay claim to the authorship in their writings. Dear man of God, I would that I had the same spirit, that I could just get out of sight,--hide myself. My dear friends, I believe our only hope is to be filled with the Spirit of Christ. May God fill us, so that we shall be filled with meekness and humility. Let us take the hymn, "O, to be nothing, nothing," and make it the language of our hearts. It breathes the spirit of Him who said: "The Son can do _nothing_ of Himself!" Oh to be nothing, nothing! Only to lie at His feet, A broken and emptied vessel, For the Master's use made meet. Emptied, that He might fill me As forth to His service I go; Broken, that so unhindered, His life through me might flow. REST. Some years ago a gentleman came to me and asked me which I thought was the most precious promise of all those that Christ left. I took some time to look them over, but I gave it up. I found that I could not answer the question. It is like a man with a large family of children, he cannot tell which he likes best; he loves them all. But if not the best, this is one of the sweetest promises of all: "_Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and My burden is light_." There are a good many people who think the promises are not going to be fulfilled. There are some that you do see fulfilled, and you cannot help but believe they are true. Now remember that all the promises are not given without conditions. Some are given with, and others without, conditions attached to them. For instance, it says, "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me." Now, I need not pray as long as I am cherishing some known sin. He will not hear me, much less answer me. The Lord says in the eighty fourth Psalm, "No good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly." If I am not walking uprightly I have no claims under the promise. Again, some of the promises were made to certain individuals or nations. For instance, God said that He would make Abraham's seed to multiply as the stars of heaven: but that is not a promise for you or me. Some promises were made to the Jews, and do not apply to the Gentiles. Then there are promises without conditions. He promised Adam and Eve that the world should have a Savior, and there was no power in earth or perdition that could keep Christ from coming at the appointed time. When Christ left the world, He said He would send us the Holy Ghost. He had only been gone ten days when the Holy Ghost came. And so you can run right through the Scriptures, and you will find that some of the promises are with, and some without, conditions; and if we don't comply with the conditions we cannot expect them to be fulfilled. I believe it will be the experience of every man and woman on the face of the earth, I believe that everyone will be obliged to testify in the evening of life, that if they have complied with the condition, the Lord has fulfilled His word to the letter. Joshua, the old Hebrew hero, was an illustration. After having tested God forty years in the Egyptian brick-kilns, forty years in the desert, and thirty years in the Promised Land, his dying testimony was: "Not one thing hath failed of all the good things which the Lord promised." I believe you could heave the ocean easier than break one of God's promises. So when we come to a promise like the one we have before us now, I want you to bear in mind that there is no discount upon it. "Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Perhaps you say: "I hope Mr. Moody is not going to preach on this old text." Yes: I am. When I take up an album, it does not interest me if all the photographs are new; but if I know any of the faces. I stop at once. So with these old, well-known texts. They have quenched our thirst before, but the water is still bubbling up--we cannot drink it dry. If you probe the human heart, you will find a want, and that want is rest. The cry of the world to day is, "Where can rest be found?" Why are theaters and places of amusement crowded at night? What is the secret of Sunday driving, of the saloons and brothels? Some think they are going to get it in pleasure, others think they are going to get it in wealth, and others in literature. They are seeking and finding no rest. Where Can Rest be Found? If I wanted to find a person who had rest I would not go among the very wealthy. The man that we read of in the twelfth chapter of Luke, thought he was going to get rest by multiplying his goods, but he was disappointed. "Soul, take thine ease." I venture to say that there is not a person in this wide world who has tried to find rest in that way and found it. Money cannot buy it. Many a millionaire would gladly give millions if he could purchase it as he does his stocks and shares. God has made the soul a little too large for this world. Roll the whole world in, and still there is room. There is care in getting wealth, and more care in keeping it. Nor would I go among the pleasure seekers. They have a few hours' enjoyment, but the next day there is enough sorrow to counterbalance it. They may drink the cup of pleasure to-day, but the cup of pain comes on to-morrow. To find rest I would never go among the politicians, or among the so-called great. Congress is the last place on earth that I would go. In the Lower House they want to go to the Senate; in the Senate they want to go to the Cabinet; and then they want to go to the White House; and rest has never been found there. Nor would I go among the halls of learning. "Much study is a weariness to the flesh." I would not go among the upper ten, the "bon-ton," for they are constantly chasing after fashion. Have you not noticed their troubled faces on our streets? And the face is index to the soul. They have no hopeful look. Their worship of pleasure is slavery. Solomon tried pleasure, and found bitter disappointment, and down the ages has come the bitter cry, "All is vanity." Now, there is no rest in sin. The wicked know nothing about it. The Scriptures tell us the wicked "are like the troubled sea that cannot rest." You have, perhaps been on the sea when there is a calm, when the water is as clear as crystal, and it seemed as if the sea were at rest. But if you looked you would see that the waves came in, and that the calm was only on the surface. Man, like the sea, has no rest. He has had no rest since Adam fell, and there is none for him until he returns to God again, and the light of Christ shines into his heart. Rest cannot be found in the world, and thank God the world cannot take it from the believing heart! Sin is the cause of all this unrest. It brought toil and labor and misery into the world. Now for something positive. I would go successfully to someone who has heard the sweet voice of Jesus, and has laid his burden down at the cross. There is rest, sweet rest. Thousands could certify to this blessed fact. They could say, and truthfully: I heard the voice of Jesus say, "Come unto me and rest. Lay down, thou weary one, lay down, Thy head upon my breast." I came to Jesus as I was, Weary and worn and sad. I found in Him a resting-place, And He hath made me glad. Among all his writings St. Augustine has nothing sweeter than this: "Thou hast made us for Thyself, O God, and our heart is restless till it rests in Thee." Do you know that for four thousand years no prophet or priest or patriarch ever stood up and uttered a text like this? It would be blasphemy for Moses to have uttered a text like it. Do you think he had rest when he was teasing the Lord to let him go into the Promised Land? Do you think Elijah could have uttered such a text as this, when, under the juniper-tree, he prayed that he might die? And this is one of the strongest proofs that Jesus Christ was not only man, but God. He was God-Man, and this is Heaven's proclamation, "Come unto Me, and I will give you rest". He brought it down from heaven with Him. Now, if this text was not true, don't you think it would have been found out by this time? I believe it as much as I believe in my existence. Why? Because I not only find it in the Book, but in my own experience. The "I wills" of Christ have never been broken, and never can be. I thank God for the word "give" in that passage. He doesn't sell it. Some of us are so poor that we could not buy it if it was for sale. Thank God, we can get it for nothing. I like to have a text like this, because it takes us all in. "Come unto me all ye that labor." That doesn't mean a select few--refined ladies and cultured men. It doesn't mean good people only. It applies to saint and sinner. Hospitals are for the sick, not for healthy people. Do you think that Christ would shut the door in anyone's face, and say, "I did not mean _all_; I only meant certain ones"? If you cannot come as a saint, come as a sinner. Only come! A lady told me once that she was so hard-hearted she couldn't come. "Well," I said, "my good woman, it doesn't say all ye soft-hearted people come. Black hearts, vile hearts, hard hearts, soft hearts, all hearts come. Who can soften your hard heart but Himself?" The harder the heart, the more need you have to come. If my watch stops I don't take it to a drug store or to a blacksmith's shop, but to the watchmaker's, to have it repaired. So if the heart gets out of order take it to its keeper, Christ, to have it set right. If you can prove that you are a sinner, you are entitled to the promise. Get all the benefit you can out of it. Now, there are a good many believers who think this text applies only to sinners; It is just the thing for them too. What do we see to-day? The Church, Christian people, all loaded down with cares and troubles. "Come unto me all ye that labor." All! I believe that includes the Christian whose heart is burdened with some great sorrow. The Lord wants you to come. Christ the Burden-Bearer. It says in another place, "Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you." We would have a victorious Church if we could get Christian people to realize that. But they have never made the discovery. They agree that Christ is the sin-bearer, but they do not realize that He is also the burden-bearer. "Surely He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows." It is the privilege of every child of God to walk in unclouded sunlight. Some people go back into the past and rake up all the troubles they ever had, and then they look into the future and anticipate that they will have still more trouble, and they go reeling and staggering all through life. They give you the cold chills every time they meet you. They put on a whining voice, and tell you what "a hard time they have had." I believe they embalm them, and bring out the mummy on every opportunity. The Lord says, "Cast all your care on Me. I want to carry your burdens and your troubles." What we want is a joyful Church, and we are not going to convert the world until we have it. We want to get this long-faced Christianity off the face of the earth. Take these people that have some great burden, and let them come into a meeting. If you can get their attention upon the singing or preaching, they will say, "Oh, wasn't it grand! I forgot all my cares." And they just drop their bundle at the end of the pew. But the moment the benediction is pronounced they grab the bundle again. You laugh, but you do it yourself. Cast your care on Him. Sometimes they go into their closet and close their door, and they get so carried away and lifted up that they forget their trouble; but they just take it up again the moment they get off their knees. Leave your sorrow now; cast all your care upon Him. If you cannot come to Christ as a saint, come as a sinner. But if you are a saint with some trouble or care, bring it to Him. Saint and sinner, come! He wants you all. Don't let Satan deceive you into believing that you cannot come if you will. Christ says, "Ye will not come unto Me." With the command comes the power. A man in one of our meetings in Europe said he would like to come, but he was chained, and couldn't come. A Scotchman said to him, "Ay, man, why don't you come chain and all?" He said, "I never thought of that." Are you cross and peevish, and do you make things unpleasant at home? My friend, come to Christ and ask Him to help you. Whatever the sin is, bring it to Him. What Does it Mean to Come? Perhaps you say, "Mr. Moody, I wish you would tell us what it is to come." I have given up trying to explain it. I always feel like the colored minister who said he was going to _confound_, instead of _expound_, the chapter. The best definition is just--come. The more you try to explain it, the more you are mystified. About the first thing a mother teaches her child is to look. She takes the baby to the window, and says, "Look, baby, papa is coming!" Then she teaches the child to come. She props it up against a chair, and says, "Come!" and by and by the little thing pushes the chair along towards mamma. That's coming. You don't need to go to college to learn how. You don't need any minister to tell you what it is. Now will you come to Christ? He said, "Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out." When we have such a promise as this, let us cling to it, and never give it up. Christ is not mocking us. He wants us to come with all our sins and backslidings, and throw ourselves upon His bosom. It is our sins God wants, not our tears only. They alone do no good. And we cannot come through resolutions. Action is necessary. How many times at church have we said, "I will turn over a new leaf," but the Monday leaf is worse than the Saturday leaf. The way to heaven is straight as a rule, but it is the way of the cross. Don't try to get around it. Shall I tell you what the "yoke" referred to in the text is? It is the cross which Christians must bear. The only way by which you can find rest in this dark world is by taking up the yoke of Christ. I do not know what it may include in your case, beyond taking up your Christian duties, acknowledging Christ and acting as becomes one of His disciples. Perhaps it may be to erect a gamily altar; or to tell a godless husband that you have made up your mind to serve God; or to tell your parents that you want to be a Christian. Follow the will of God, and happiness and peace and rest will come. The way of obedience is always the way of blessing. I was preaching in Chicago to a hall full of women one Sunday afternoon, and after the meeting was over a lady came to me and said she wanted to talk to me. She said she would accept Christ, and after some conversation she went home. I looked for her for a whole week, but didn't see her until the following Sunday afternoon. She came and sat down right in front of me, and her face had such a sad expression. She seemed to have entered into the misery, instead of the joy, of the Lord. After the meeting was over I went to her and asked her what the trouble was. She said: "Oh, Mr. Moody, this has been the most miserable week of my life." I asked her if there was anyone with whom she had had trouble and whom she could not forgive. She said: "No, not that I know of." "Well, did you tell your friends about having found the Savior?" "Indeed I didn't, I have been all the week trying to keep it from them." "Well," I said, "that is the reason why you have no peace." She wanted to take the crown, but did not want the cross. My friends, you must go by the way of Calvary. If you ever get rest, you must get it at the foot of the cross. "Why," she said, "if I should go home and tell my infidel husband that I had found Christ I don't know what he would do. I think he would turn me out." "Well," I said, "go out." She went away, promising that she would tell him, timid and pale, but she did not want another wretched week. She was bound to have peace. The next night I gave a lecture to men only, and in the hall there were eight thousand men and one solitary woman. When I got through and went into the inquiry meeting, I found this lady with her husband. She introduced him to me (he was a doctor, and a very influential man) and said: "He wants to become a Christian." I took my Bible and told him all about Christ, and he accepted Him. I said to her after it was all over: "It turned out quite differently from what you expected, didn't it?" "Yes," she replied, "I was never so scared in my life. I expected he would do something dreadful, but it has turned out so well." She took God's way, and got rest. I want to say to young ladies, perhaps you have a godless father or mother, a sceptical brother, who is going down through drink, and perhaps there is no one who can reach them but you. How many times a godly, pure young lady has taken the light into some darkened home! Many a home might be lit up with the Gospel if the mothers and daughters would only speak the word. The last time Mr. Sankey and myself were in Edinburgh, there were a father, two sisters and a brother, who used every morning to take the morning paper and pick my sermon to pieces. They were indignant to think that the Edinburgh people should be carried away with such preaching. One day one of the sisters was going by the hall, and she thought she would drop in and see what class of people went there. She happened to take a seat by a godly lady, who said to her: "I hope you are interested in this work." She tossed her head and said: "Indeed I am not. I am disgusted with everything I have seen and heard." "Well," said the lady, "perhaps you came prejudiced." "Yes, and the meeting has not removed any of it, but has rather increased it." "I have received a great deal of good from them." "There is nothing here for me. I don't see how an intellectual person can be interested." To make a long story short, she got the lady to promise to come back. When the meeting broke up, just a little of the prejudice had worn away. She promised to come back again the next day, and then she attended three or four more meetings, and became quite interested. She said nothing to her family, until finally the burden became too heavy, and she told them. They laughed at her, and made her the butt of their ridicule. One day the two sisters were together, and the other said: "Now what have you got at those meetings that you didn't have in the first place?" "I have a peace that I never knew of before. I am at peace with God, myself and all the world." Did you ever have a little war of your own with your neighbors, in your own family? And she said: "I have self-control. You know, sister, if you had said half the mean things before I was converted that you have said since, I would have been angry and answered back, but if you remember correctly, I haven't answered once since I have been converted." The sister said: "You certainly have something that I have not." The other told her it was for her too, and she brought the sister to the meetings, where she found peace. Like Martha and Mary, they had a brother, but he was a member of the University of Edinburgh. He be converted? He go to these meetings? It might do for women, but not for him. One night they came home and told him that a chum of his own, a member of the University, had stood up and confessed Christ, and when he sat down his brother got up and confessed; and so with the third one. When the young man heard it, he said: "Do you mean to tell me that he has been converted?" "Yes." "Well," he said, "there must be something in it." He put on his hat, and coat, and went to see his friend Black. Black got him down to the meetings, and he was converted. We went through to Glasgow, and had not been there six weeks when news came that that young man had been stricken down and died. When he was dying he called his father to his bedside and said: "Wasn't it a good thing that my sisters went to those meetings? Won't you meet me in heaven, father?" "Yes, my son, I am so glad you are a Christian; that is the only comfort that I have in losing you. I will become a Christian, and will meet you again." I tell this to encourage some sister to go home and carry the message of salvation. It may be that your brother may be taken away in a few months. My dear friends, are we not living in solemn days? Isn't it time for us to get our friends into the Kingdom of God? Come, wife, won't you tell your husband? Come, sister, won't you tell your brother? Won't you take up your cross now? The blessing of God will rest on your soul if you will. I was in Wales once, and a lady told me this little story: An English friend of hers, a mother, had a child that was sick. At first they considered there was no danger, until one day the doctor came in and said that the symptoms were very unfavorable. He took the mother out of the room, and told her that the child could not live. It came like a thunderbolt. After the doctor had gone the mother went into the room where the child lay and began to talk to the child and tried to divert its mind. "Darling, do you know you will soon hear the music of heaven? You will hear a sweeter song than you have ever heard on earth. You will hear them sing the song of Moses and the Lamb. You are very fond of music. Won't it be sweet, darling?" And the little tired, sick child turned its head away, and said, "Oh mamma, I am so tired and so sick that I think it would make me worse to hear all that music." "Well," the mother said, "you will soon see Jesus, You will see the seraphim and cherubim and the streets all paved with gold"; and she went on picturing heaven as it is described in Revelation. The little tired child again turned its head away, and said, "Oh mamma, I am so tired that I think it would make me worse to see all those beautiful things!" At last the mother took the child up in her arms, and pressed her to her loving heart. And the little sick one whispered: "Oh mamma, that is what I want. If Jesus will only take me in His arms and let me rest!" Dear friend, are you not tired and weary of sin? Are you not weary of the turmoil of life? You can end rest on the bosom of the Son of God. SEVEN "I WILLS" OF CHRIST. A man when he says "I will," may not mean much. We very often say "I will," when we don't mean to fulfil what we say; but when we come to the "I will" of Christ, He means to fulfil it. Everything He has promised to do, He is able and willing to accomplish; and He is going to do it. I cannot find any passage in Scripture in which He says "I will" do this, or "I will" do that, but it will be done. 1. The "I Will" of Salvation. The first "I will" to which I want to direct your attention, is to be found in John's gospel, sixth chapter and thirty-seventh verse: "_Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out._" I imagine someone will say, "Well, if I was what I ought to be, I would come; but when my mind goes over the past record of my life, it is too dark. I am not fit to come." You must bear in mind that Jesus Christ came to save not good people, not the upright and just, but sinners like you and me, who have gone astray, and sinned and come short of the glory of God. Listen to this "I will"--it goes right into the heart--"Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out." Surely that is broad enough--is it not? I don't care who the man or woman is; I don't care what their trials, what their troubles, what their sorrows, or what their sins are, if they will only come straight to the Master, He will not cast them out. Come then, poor sinner; come just as you are, and take Him at His word. He is so anxious to save sinners, He will take everyone who comes. He will take those who are so full of sin that they are despised by all who know them, who have been rejected by their fathers and mothers, who have been cast off by the wives of their bosoms. He will take those who have sunk so low that upon them no eye of pity is cast. His occupation is to hear and save. That is what He left heaven and came into the world for; that is what He left the throne of God for--to save sinners. "The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost." He did not come to condemn the world but that the world through Him might be saved. A wild and prodigal young man, who was running a headlong career to ruin came into one of our meetings in Chicago. The Spirit of God got hold of him. Whilst I was conversing with him, and endeavoring to bring him to Christ, I quoted this verse to him. I asked him: "Do you believe Christ said that?" "I suppose He did." "Suppose He did! do you believe it?" "I hope so." "Hope so! do you believe it? You do your work, and the Lord will do His. Just come as you are, and throw yourself upon His bosom, and He will not cast you out." This man thought it was too simple and easy. At last light seemed to break in upon him, and he seemed to find comfort from it. It was past midnight before he got down on his knees, but down he went, and was converted. I said: "Now, don't think you are going to get out of the devil's territory without trouble. The devil will come to you to-morrow morning, and say it was all feeling; that you only imagined you were accepted by God. When he does, don't fight him with your own opinions, but fight him with John 6:37: 'Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.' Let that be the 'sword of the Spirit.'" I don't believe that any man ever starts to go to Christ, but the devil strives somehow or other to meet him and trip him up. And even after he has come to Christ, the devil tries to assail him with doubts, and make him believe there is something wrong in it. The struggle came sooner than I thought in this man's case. When he was on his way home the devil assailed him. He used this text, but the devil put this thought into his mind: "How do you know Christ ever said that after all? Perhaps the translators made a mistake." Into darkness he went again. He was in trouble till about two in the morning. At last he came to this conclusion. Said he: "I will believe it anyway; and when I get to heaven, if it isn't true, I will just tell the Lord _I_ didn't make the mistake--the translators made it." The kings and princes of this world, when they issue invitations, call round them the rich, the mighty and powerful, the honorable and the wise; but the Lord, when He was on earth; called round Him the vilest of the vile. That was the principal fault the people found with Him. Those self-righteous Pharisees were not going to associate with harlots and publicans. The principal charge against Him was: "This man receiveth sinners and eateth with them." Who would have such a man around him as John Bunyan in his time? He, a Bedford tinker, couldn't get inside one of the princely castles. I was very much amused when I was over on the other side. They had erected a monument to John Bunyan, and it was unveiled by lords and dukes and great men. While he was on earth, they would not have allowed him inside the walls of their castles. Yet he was made one of the mightiest instruments in the spread of the Gospel. No book that has ever been written comes so near the Bible as John Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." And he was a poor Bedford tinker. So it is with God. He picks up some poor, lost tramp, and makes him an instrument to turn hundreds and thousands to Christ. George Whitefield, standing in his tabernacle in London, and with a multitude gathered about him, cried out: "The Lord Jesus will save the devil's castaways!" Two poor abandoned wretches standing outside in the street, heard him, as his silvery voice rang out on the air. Looking into each other's faces, they said: "That must mean you and me." They wept and rejoiced. They drew near and looked in at the door, at the face of the earnest messenger, the tears streaming from his eyes as he plead with the people to give their hearts to God. One of them wrote him a little note and sent it to him. Later that day, as he sat at the table of Lady Huntington, who was his special friend, someone present said: "Mr. Whitefield, did you not go a little too far to-day when you said that the Lord would save the devil's castaways?" Taking the note from his pocket he gave it to the lady, and said: "Will you read that note aloud?" She read: "Mr. Whitefield: Two poor lost women stood outside your tabernacle to-day, and heard you say that the Lord would save the devil's castaways. We seized upon that as our last hope, and we write you this to tell you that we rejoice now in believing in Him, and from this good hour we shall endeavor to serve Him, who has done so much for us." 2. The "I Will" of Cleansing. The next "I will" is found in Luke, fifth chapter. We read of a leper who came to Christ, and said: "Lord, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean." The Lord touched him, saying, "_I will: be thou clean_"; and immediately the leprosy left him. Now if any man or woman full of the leprosy of sin read this, if you will but go to the Master and tell all your case to Him, He will speak to you as He did to that poor leper and say. "I will: be thou clean," and the leprosy of your sins will flee away from you. It is the Lord, and the Lord alone, who can forgive sins. If you say to Him, "Lord, I am full of sin; Thou canst make me clean"; "Lord, I have a terrible temper; Thou canst make me clean"; "Lord, I have a deceitful heart. Cleanse me, O Lord; give me a new heart. O Lord, give me the power to overcome the flesh, and the snares of the devil!"; "Lord, I am full of unclean habits"; if you come to Him with a sincere spirit, you will hear the voice, "I will; be thou clean." It will be done. Do you think that the God who created the world out of nothing, who by a breath put life into the world--do you think that if He says, "Thou shalt be clean," you will not? Now, you can make a wonderful exchange to-day. You can have health in the place of sickness; you can get rid of everything that is vile and hateful in the sight of God. The Son of God comes down, and says, "I will take away your leprosy, and give you health in its stead. I will take away that terrible disease that is ruining your body and soul, and give you my righteousness in its stead. I will clothe you with the garments of salvation." Is it not wonderful? That's what He means when He says--_I will_. Oh, lay hold of this "I will!" 3. The "I Will" of Confession. Now turn to Matthew, tenth chapter, thirty-second verse: "_Whosoever therefore shall confess Me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven_." There's the "I will" of confession. Now, that's the next thing that takes place after a man is saved. When we have been washed in the blood of the Lamb, the next thing is to get our mouths opened. We have to confess Christ here in this dark world, and tell His love to others. We are not to be ashamed of the Son of God. A man thinks it a great honor when he has achieved a victory that causes his name to be mentioned in the English Parliament, or in the presence of the Queen and her court. How excited we used to be during the war, when some general did something extraordinary, and someone got up in Congress to confess his exploits; how the papers used to talk about it! In China, we read, the highest ambition of the successful soldier is to have his name written in the palace or temple of Confucius. But just think of having your name mentioned in the kingdom of heaven by the Prince of Glory, by the Son of God, because you confess Him here on earth! You confess Him here; He will confess you yonder. If you wish to be brought into the clear light of liberty, you must take your stand on Christ's side. I have known many Christians go groping about in darkness, and never get into the clear light of the kingdom, because they were ashamed to confess the Son of God. We are living in a day when men want a religion without the cross. They want the crown, but not the cross. But if we are to be disciples of Jesus Christ, we have to take up our crosses _daily_--not once a year, or on the Sabbath, but daily. And if we take up our crosses and follow Him, we shall be blessed in the very act. I remember a man in New York who used to come and pray with me. He had his cross. He was afraid to confess Christ. It seemed that down at the bottom of his trunk he had a Bible. He wanted to get it out and read it to the companion with whom he lived, but he was ashamed to do it. For a whole week that was his cross; and after he had carried the burden that long, and after a terrible struggle, he made up his mind. He said, "I will take my Bible out tonight and read it." He took it out, and soon he heard the footsteps of his mate coming upstairs. His first impulse was to put it away again, but then he thought he would not--he would face his companion with it. His mate came in, and seeing him at his Bible, said, "John, are you interested in these things?" "Yes," he replied. "How long has this been, then?" asked his companion. "Exactly a week," he answered; "for a whole week I have tried to get out my Bible to read to you, but I have never done so till now." "Well," said his friend, "it is a strange thing. _I was converted on the some night_, and I too was ashamed to take my Bible out." You are ashamed to take your Bible out and say, "I have lived a godless life for all these years, but I will commence now to live a life of righteousness." You are ashamed to open your Bible and read that blessed Psalm, "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want." You are ashamed to be seen on your knees. No man can be a disciple of Jesus Christ without bearing His cross. A great many people want to know how it is Jesus Christ has so few disciples, whilst Mahomet has so many. The reason is that Mahomet gives no cross to bear. There are so few men who will come out to take their stand. I was struck during the American war with the fact that there were so many men who could go to the cannon's mouth without trembling, but who had not courage to take up their Bibles to read them at night. They were ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which is the power of God unto salvation. "Whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before My Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny Me before men, him will I also deny before My Father which is in heaven." 4. The "I Will" of Service. The next _I will_ is the "I will" of service. There are a good many Christians who have been quickened and aroused to say, "I want to do some service for Christ." Well, Christ says, "_Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men_." There is no Christian who cannot help to bring someone to the Savior. Christ says, "And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto Me"; and our business is just to lift up Christ. Our Lord said, "Follow Me, Peter, and I will make you a fisher of men"; and Peter simply obeyed Him, and there, on that day of Pentecost, we see the result. Peter had a good haul on the day of Pentecost. I doubt if he ever caught so many fish in one day as he did men on that day. It would have broken every net they had on board, if they had had to drag up three thousand fishes. I read some time ago of a man who took passage in a stage coach. There were first, second and third-class passengers. But when he looked into the coach, he saw all the passengers sitting together without distinction. He could not understand it till by-and-by they came to a hill, and the coach stopped, and the driver called out, "First-class passengers keep their seats, second-class passengers get out and walk, third class passengers get behind and push." Now in the Church we have no room for first-class passengers--people who think that salvation means an easy ride all the way to heaven. We have no room for second class passengers--people who are carried most of the time, and who, when they must work out their own salvation, go trudging on giving never a thought to helping their fellows along. All church members ought to be third class passengers--ready to dismount and push all together, and push with a will. That was John Wesley's definition of a church--"All at it, and always at it." Every Christian ought to be a worker. He need not be a preacher, he need not be an evangelist, to be useful. He may be useful in business. See what power an employer has, if he likes! How he could labor with his employees, and in his business relations! Often a man can be far more useful in a business sphere than he could in another. There is one reason, and a great reason, why so many do not succeed. I have been asked by a great many good men, "Why is it we don't have any results? We work hard, pray hard, and preach hard, and yet the success does not come." I will tell you. It is because they spend all their time mending their nets. No wonder they never catch anything. The great matter is to hold inquiry meetings, and thus pull the net in, and see if you have caught anything. If you are always mending and setting the net, you won't catch many fish. Whoever heard of a man going out to fish, and setting his net, and then letting it stop there, and never pulling it in? Everybody would laugh at the man's folly. A minister in England came to me one day, and said, "I wish you would tell me why we ministers don't succeed better than we do." I brought before him this idea of pulling in the net, and I said, "You ought to pull in your nets. There are many ministers in Manchester who can preach much better than I can, but I pull in the net." Many people have objections to inquiry meetings, but I urged upon him the importance of them, and the minister said, "I never did pull in my net, but I will try next Sunday." He did so, and eight persons, anxious inquirers, went into his study. The next Sunday he came down to see me, and said he had never had such a Sunday in his life. He had met with marvelous blessing. The next time he drew the net there were forty, and when he came to see me later, he said to me joyfully, "Moody, I have had eight hundred conversions this last year! It is a great mistake I did not begin earlier to pull in the net." So, my friends, if you want to catch men, just pull in the net. If you only catch one, it will be something. It may be a little child, but I have known a little child to convert a whole family. You don't know what is in that little dull-headed boy in the inquiry-room; he may become a Martin Luther, a reformer that shall make the world tremble--you cannot tell. God uses the weak things of this world to confound the mighty. God's promise is as good as a bank note--"I promise to pay So-and-So," and here is one of Christ's promissory notes--"If you follow Me, I will make you fishers of men." Will you not lay hold of the promise, and trust it, and follow Him now? If a man preaches the Gospel, and preaches it faithfully, he ought to expect results then and there. I believe it is the privilege of God's children to reap the fruit of their labor three hundred and sixty five days in the year. "Well, but," say some, "is there not a sowing time as well as harvest?" Yes, it is true, there is; but then, you can sow with one hand, and reap with the other. What would you think of a farmer who went on sowing all the year round, and never thought of reaping? I repeat it, we want to sow with one hand, and reap with the other; and if we look for the fruit of our labors, we shall see it. "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto Me." We must lift Christ up, and then seek men out, and bring them to Him. You must use the right kind of bait. A good many don't do this, and then they wonder they are not successful. You see them getting up all kinds of entertainments with which to try and catch men. They go the wrong way to work. This perishing world wants Christ, and Him crucified. There's a void in every man's bosom that wants filling up, and if we only approach him with the right kind of bait, we shall catch him. This poor world needs a Savior; and if we are going to be successful in catching men, we must preach Christ crucified--not His life only but His death. And if we are only faithful in doing this, we shall succeed. And why? Because there is His promise: "If you follow Me, I will make you fishers of men." That promise holds just as good to you and me as it did to His disciples, and is as true now as it was in their time. Think of Paul up yonder. People are going up every day and every hour, men and women who have been brought to Christ through his writings. He set streams in motion that have flowed on for more than a thousand years. I can imagine men going up there, and saying, "Paul, I thank you for writing that letter to the Ephesians; I found Christ in that." "Paul, I thank you for writing that epistle to the Corinthians." "Paul, I found Christ in that epistle to the Philippians." "I thank you, Paul, for that epistle to the Galatians; I found Christ in that." And so, I suppose, they are going up still, thanking Paul all the while for what he had done. Ah, when Paul was put in prison he did not fold his hands and sit down in idleness! No, he began to write; and his epistles have come down through the long ages of time, and brought thousands on thousands to a knowledge of Christ crucified. Yes, Christ said to Paul, "I will make you a fisher of men if you will follow Me," and he has been fishing for souls ever since. The devil thought he had done a very wise thing when he got Paul into prison, but he was very much mistaken; he overdid it for once. I have no doubt Paul has thanked God ever since for that Philippian gaol, and his stripes and imprisonment there. I am sure the world has made more by it than we shall ever know till we get to heaven. 5. The "I Will" of Comfort. The next "I will" is in John, fourteenth chapter, verse eighteen: "_I will not leave you comfortless_." To me it is a sweet thought that Christ has not left us alone in this dark wilderness here below. Although He has gone up on high, and taken His seat by the Father's throne, He has not left us comfortless. The better translation is, "I will not leave you _orphans_." He did not leave Joseph when they cast him into prison. "God was with him." When Daniel was cast into the den of lions, they had to put the Almighty in with him. They were so bound together that they could not be separated, and so God went down into the den of lions with Daniel. If we have got Christ with us, we can do all things. Do not let us be thinking how weak we are. Let us lift up our eyes to Him, and think of Him as our Elder Brother, who has all power given to Him in heaven and on earth. He says: "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Some of our children and friends leave us, and it is a very sad hour. But, thank God, the believer and Christ shall never be separated! He is with us here, and we shall be with Him in person by and by, and shall see Him in His beauty. But not only is He with us, but He has sent us the Holy Ghost. Let us honor the Holy Ghost by acknowledging that He is here in our midst. He has power to give sight to the blind, liberty to the captive, and to open the ears of the deaf that they may hear the glorious words of the Gospel. 6. The "I Will" of Resurrection. Then there is another _I will_ in John, sixth chapter, verse forty; it occurs four times in the chapter: "_I will raise him up at the last day_." I rejoice to think that I have a Savior who has power over death. My blessed Master holds the keys him, and I got more comfort out of that promise "I will raise him up at the last day," than anything else in the Bible. How it cheered me! How it lighted up my path! And as I went into the room and looked upon the lovely face of that brother, how that passage ran through my soul: "Thy brother shall rise again." I said, "Thank God for that promise." It was worth more than the world to me. When we laid him in the grave, it seemed as if I could hear the voice of Jesus Christ saying, "Thy brother shall rise again." Blessed promise of the resurrection! Blessed "I will!" "I will raise him up at the last day." 7. The "I Will" of Glory. Now the next _I will_ is in John, seventeenth chapter, twenty-fourth verse: "_Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given Me, be with Me where I am_." This was in His last prayer in the guest-chamber, on the last night before He was crucified and died that terrible death on Calvary. Many a believer's countenance begins to light up at the thought that he shall see the King in His beauty by and by. Yes; there is a glorious day before us in the future. Some think that on the first day we are converted we have got everything. To be sure, we get salvation for the past and peace for the present; but then there is the glory for the future in store. That's what kept Paul rejoicing. He said, "These light afflictions, these few stripes, these few brickbats and stones that they throw at me--why, the glory that is beyond excels them so much that I count them as nothing, nothing at all, so that I may win Christ." And so, when things go against us, let us cheer up; let us remember that the night will soon pass away, and the morning dawn upon us. Death never comes there. It is banished from that heavenly land. Sickness, and pain, and sorrow, come not there to mar that grand and glorious home where we shall be by and by with the Master. God's family will be all together there. Glorious future, my friends! Yes, glorious day! and it may be a great deal nearer than many of us think. During these few days we are here let us stand steadfast and firm, and by and by we shall be in the unbroken circle in yon world of light, and have the King in our midst. THE RED LIBRARY 16MO, CLOTH, EACH NET. 30 CTS. Weighed and Wanting. Men of the Bible. Bible Characters. Select Sermons. Moody's Anecdotes. The Overcoming Life. The Way to God. Thoughts for the Quiet Hour. Moody's Latest Sermons Short Talks by D. L. Moody. Pleasure and Profit in Bible Study. Sowing and Reaping. Heaven. Moody's Stories. To the Work! Sovereign Grace. Prevailing Prayer. Secret Power. _The above eighteen volumes are all by D. L. Moody, and are published as "The Moody Library," in boxed set, net, $5.40_. The True Estimate of Life. By G. Campbell Morgan. All of Grace. By C. H. Spurgeon. According to Promise. BY C. H. Spurgeon. John Ploughman's Talks. By C. H. Spurgeon. John Ploughman's Pictures. By C. H. Spurgeon. Good Tidings. Recitation Poems. The Way of Life. Tales of Adventure from the Old Book. Resurrection. Select Poems for the Silent Hour. Up from Sin. The Revival of a Dead Church. Fleming H. Revell Company CHICAGO NEW YORK TORONTO PUBLISHERS OF EVANGELICAL LITERATURE 
33014	----	TO THE WORK TO THE WORK Exhortations to Christians BY D. L. MOODY Fleming H. Revell Company Chicago, New York & Toronto _Publishers of Evangelical Literature_ Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1884 BY F. H. REVELL, In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. _ALL RIGHTS RESERVED._ CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. "TAKE YE AWAY THE STONE" CHAPTER II. LOVE, THE MOTIVE POWER FOR SERVICE CHAPTER III. FAITH AND COURAGE CHAPTER IV. FAITH REWARDED CHAPTER V. ENTHUSIASM CHAPTER VI. THE POWER OF LITTLE THINGS CHAPTER VII. "SHE HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD" CHAPTER VIII. "WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR?" CHAPTER IX. "YE ARE THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD" "TO THE WORK! TO THE WORK!" CHAPTER I. TAKE YE AWAY THE STONE. In the gospel by John we read that at the tomb of Lazarus our Lord said to His disciples, "Take ye away the stone." Before the act of raising Lazarus could be performed, the disciples had their part to do. Christ could have removed the stone with a word. It would have been very easy for Him to have commanded it to roll away, and it would have obeyed His voice, as the dead Lazarus did when He called him back to life. But the Lord would have His children learn this lesson: that they have something to do towards raising the spiritually dead. The disciples had not only to take away the stone, but after Christ had raised Lazarus they had to "loose and let him go." It is a question if any man on the face of the earth has ever been converted, without God using some human instrument, in some way. God could easily convert men without us; but that is not His way. The stone I want to speak about to-day, that must be rolled away before any great work of God can be brought about, is the miserable stone of prejudice. Many people have a great prejudice against revivals; they hate the very word. I am sorry to say that this feeling is not confined to ungodly or careless people; there are not a few Christians who seem to cherish a strong dislike both to the word "Revival" and to the thing itself. What does "Revival" mean? It simply means a recalling from obscurity--a finding some hidden treasure and bringing it back to the light. I think every one of us must acknowledge that we are living in a time of need. I doubt if there is a family in the world that has not some relative whom they would like to see brought into the fold of God, and who needs salvation. Men are anxious for a revival in business. I am told that there is a widespread and general stagnation in business. People are very anxious that there should be a revival of trade this winter. There a great revival in politics just now. In all departments of life you find that men are very anxious for a revival in the things that concern them most. If this is legitimate--and I do not say but it is perfectly right in its place--should not every child of God be praying for and desiring a revival of godliness in the world at the present time. Do we not need a revival of downright honesty, of truthfulness, of uprightness, and of temperance? Are there not many who have become alienated from the Church of God and from the house of the Lord, who are forming an attachment to the saloon? Are not our sons being drawn away by hundreds and thousands, so that while you often find the churches empty, the liquor shops are crowded every Sabbath afternoon and evening. I am sure the saloon-keepers are glad if they can have a revival in their business; they do not object to sell more whisky and beer. Then surely every true Christian ought to desire that men who are in danger of perishing eternally should be saved and rescued. Some people seem to think that "Revivals" are a modern invention--that they have only been known within the last few years. But they are nothing new. If there is not Scriptural authority for revivals, then I cannot understand my Bible. For the first 2,000 years of the world's history they had no revival that we know of; probably, if they had, there would have been no Flood. The first real awakening, of which we read in the Old Testament, was when Moses was sent down to Egypt to bring his brethren out of the house of bondage. When Moses went down to Goshen, there must have been a great commotion there; many things were done out of the usual order. When three millions of Hebrews were put behind the Blood of the Slain Lamb, that was nothing but God reviving His work among them. Under Joshua there was a great revival; and again under the Judges. God was constantly reviving the Jewish nation in those olden times. Samuel brought the people to Mizpah, and told them to put away their strange gods. Then the Israelites went out and defeated the Philistines, so that they never came back in his day. Dr. Bonar says it may be that David and Jonathan were converted under that revival in the time of Samuel. What was it but a great revival in the days of Elijah? The people had turned away to idolatry, and the prophet summoned them to Mount Carmel. As the multitude stood there on the mountain, God answered by fire; the people fell on their faces and cried, "The Lord, He is the God." That was the nation turning back to God. No doubt there were men talking against the work, and saying it would not last. That is the cry of many to-day, and has been the cry for 4,000 years. Some old Carmelite very probably said in the days of Elijah: "This will not be permanent." So there are not a few in these days shaking their wise heads and saying the work will not last. When we come to New Testament times, we have the wonderful revival under John the Baptist. Was there ever a man who accomplished so much in a few months, except the Master Himself? The preaching of John was like the breath of spring after a long and dreary winter. For 400 long years there had been no prophet, and darkness had settled down on the nation. John's advent was like the flashing of a brilliant meteor that heralded the coming day. It was not in the temple or in any synagogue that he preached, but on the banks of the Jordan. Men, women, and children flocked to hear him. Almost any one can get an audience in a crowded city, but this was away out in the desert. No doubt there was great excitement. I suppose the towns and villages were nearly depopulated, as they flocked out to hear the preaching of John. People are so afraid of excitement. When I went over to England in 1867, I was asked to go and preach at the Derby race-course. I saw more excitement there in one day than I have seen at all the religious meetings I ever attended in my life put together. And yet I heard no one complaining of too much excitement. I heard of a minister, not long ago, who was present at a public dance till after five o'clock in the morning. The next Sabbath he preached against the excitement of revivals--the late hours, and so on. Very consistent kind of reasoning, was it not? Then look at Pentecost. The apostles preached, and you know what the result was. I suppose the worldly men of that day said it would all die away. Although they brought about the martyrdom of Stephen and of James, other men rose up to take possession of the field. From the very place where Stephen was slain, Saul took up the work, and it has been going on ever since. There are many professed Christians who are all the time finding fault and criticising. They criticise the preaching, or the singing. The prayers will be either too long or too short, too loud, or not loud enough. They will find fault with the reading of the Word of God, or will say it was not the right portion. They will criticise the preacher. "I do not like his style," they say. If you doubt what I say, listen to the people as they go out of a revival meeting, or any other religious gathering. "What did you think of the preacher?" says one. "Well, I must confess I was disappointed. I did not like his manner. He was not graceful in his actions." Another will say: "He was not logical; I like logic." Or another: "He did not preach enough about repentance." If a preacher does not go over every doctrine in every sermon people begin to find fault. They say: "There was too much repentance, and no Gospel; or, it was all Gospel, and no repentance." "He spoke a great deal abort justification, but he said nothing about sanctification." So if a man does not go right through the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, in one sermon, they at once proceed to criticise and find fault. "The fact is," says some one of this class, "the man did not touch my heart at all." Some one else will say, "He was all heart and no head. I like a man to preach to my intellect." Or, "He appeals too much to the will; he does not give enough prominence to the doctrine of election." Or, again, "There is no backbone in his preaching; he does not lay sufficient stress on doctrine." Or, "He is not eloquent;" and so on, and so on. You may find hundreds of such fault-finders among professed Christians; but all their criticism will not lead one solitary soul to Christ. I never preached a sermon yet that I could not pick to pieces and find fault with. I feel that Jesus Christ ought to have a far better representative than I am. But I have lived long enough to discover that there is nothing perfect in this world. If you are to wait until you can find a perfect preacher, or perfect meetings, I am afraid you will have to wait till the millennium arrives. What we want is to be looking right up to Him. Let us get done with fault-finding. When I hear people talk in the way I have described, I say to them, "Come and do better yourself. Step up here and try what you can do." My friends, it is so easy to find fault; it takes neither brains nor heart. Some years ago, a pastor of a little Church in a small town became exceedingly discouraged, and brooded over his trials to such an extent that he became an inveterate grumbler. He found fault with his brethren because he imagined they did not treat him well. A brother minister was invited to assist him a few days in a special service. At the close of the Sabbath morning service our unhappy brother invited the minister to his house to dinner. While they were waiting alone in the parlor, he began his doleful story by saying: "My brother, you have no idea of my troubles; and one of the greatest is, my brethren in the Church treat me very badly." The other propounded the following questions: "Did they ever spit in your face?" "No; they haven't come to that." "Did they ever smite you?" "No." "Did they ever crown you with thorns?" This last question he could not answer, but bowed his head thoughtfully. His brother replied: "Your Master and mine was thus treated, and all His disciples fled and left Him in the hands of the wicked. Yet He opened not His mouth." The effect of this conversation was wonderful. Both ministers bowed in prayer and earnestly sought to possess the mind which was in Christ Jesus. During the ten days' meetings the discontented pastor became wonderfully changed. He labored and prayed with his friend, and many souls were brought to Christ. Some weeks after, a deacon of the church wrote and said: "Your late visit and conversation with our pastor have had a wonderful influence for good. We never hear him complain now, and he labors more prayerfully and zealously." Another charge brought against revivals is that they are out of the regular order of things. Well, there is no doubt about that. But that does not prove that they are wrong. Eldad and Medad were out of the regular succession. Joshua wanted Moses to rebuke them. Instead of that he said: "Would God that all the Lord's people were prophets." Elijah and Elisha did not belong to the regular school of prophets, yet they exercised a mighty influence for good in their day. John the Baptist was not in the regular line. He got his theological training out in the desert. Jesus Christ Himself was out of the recognized order. When Philip told Nathaniel that he had found the Messiah, he said to him: "Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?" As we read the history of the past few centuries we find that God has frequently taken up those who were, so to speak, out of the regular line. Martin Luther had to break through the regular order of things in his day before he brought about the mighty Reformation. There are now some sixty millions of people who adhere to the Lutheran Church. Wesley and Whitefield were not exactly in the regular line, but see what a mighty work they accomplished! My friends, when God works many things will be done "out of the regular order." It seems to me that will be a good thing. There are a few who cannot be reached, apparently, through the regular channels, who will come to meetings like these out of the usual routine. We have got our churches, it is true, but we want to make an effort to reach the outlying masses who will not go to them. Many will come in to these meetings simply because they are to be held only for a few days. And so, if they are to come at all, they must come to a decision about it quickly. Others come out of idle curiosity, or a desire to know what is going on. And often at the first meeting something that is spoken or that is sung will touch them. They have come under the sound of the Gospel; probably they will become real Christians and useful members of society. You will sometimes hear people say, "We have our churches; if men will not come to them, let them keep out." That was not the spirit of the Master. When our Civil War broke out we had a very small standing army. Government asked for volunteers to enlist. Several hundreds of thousands of men came forward and joined the ranks of the regular army. There was plenty for every man to do. These volunteers were not so well trained and drilled as the older solders, but we could use the irregulars as well as the regulars. Many of the former soon became efficient soldiers, and these volunteers did great service in the cause of the nation. If the outlying masses of the people are to be reached we must have the regulars and the irregulars both. I remember hearing of a Sunday-school in our country where the teacher had got into ruts. A young man was placed in charge as Superintendent, and he wanted to re-arrange the seats. Some of the older members said the seats had been in their present position for so many years, that they could not be moved! There is a good deal of that kind of spirit nowadays. It seems to me that if one method is not successful we ought to give it up and try some other plan that may be more likely to succeed. If the people will not come to the "regular means of grace," let us adopt some means that will reach them and win them. Do not let us be finding fault because things are not done exactly as they have been done in the past, and as we think they ought to be done. I am sick and tired of those who are constantly complaining. Let us pay no heed to them, but let us go forward with the work that God has given us to do. Another very serious charge is brought against revivals. They say the work will not last. As I have said there were doubtless many at the day of Pentecost who said that. And when Stephen was stoned to death, James beheaded, and finally all the apostles put to death, no doubt they said that Pentecost was a stupendous failure. But was it a failure? Are not the fruits of that revival at Pentecost to be seen even in our time? In the sight of the world the mission of John the Baptist may have been thought to be a failure when he was beheaded by the command of Herod. But it was not a failure in the sight of heaven. The influence of this wilderness prophet is felt in the Church of God to-day. The world thought Christ's life was a failure as He hung on the Cross and expired. But in the sight of God it was altogether different. God made the wrath of men to praise Him. I have little sympathy with those pastors who, when God is reviving the Churches, begin to preach against revivals. There is not a denomination in Christendom to-day that has not sprung out of a revival. The Roman Catholics and the Episcopalians both claim to be apostolic in their origin; if they are, they sprang out of the revival at Pentecost. The Methodist body rose out of revivals under John Wesley and George Whitefield. Did not the Lutheran Church come from the great awakening that swept through Germany in the days of Luther? Was not Scotland stirred up through the preaching of John Knox? Where did the Quakers come from if not from the work of God under George Fox? Yet people are so afraid if the regular routine of things is going to be disturbed. Let us pray that God may raise up many who will be used by Him for the reviving of His Church in our day. I think the time has come when we need it. I remember we went into one place where one of the ministers found that his Church was opposed to his taking part in the meetings. He was told that if he identified himself with the movement he would alienate some of his congregation. He took the Church record and found that four-fifths of the members of the Church had been converted in times of revival, among others the Superintendent of the Sabbath-school, all the officers of the Church, and nearly every active member. The minister went into the Church the following Sabbath and preached a sermon on revivals, reminding them of what had taken place in the history of the congregation. You will find that many who talk against revivals have themselves been converted in such a time. Not long ago a very able minister preached a sermon against these awakenings; he did not believe in them. Some of his people searched the Church records to see how many during the previous twelve years had been added to the membership on profession of their faith; they found that not a single soul had joined the Church all these years on profession of faith. No wonder the minister of a Church like that preached against revivals! My experience has been that those who are converted in a time of special religious interest make even stronger Christians than those who were brought into the Church at ordinary times. One young convert helps another, and they get a better start in the Christian life when there are a good many together. People say the converts sill not hold out. Well, they did not all hold out under the preaching of Jesus Christ. "Many of His disciples went back and walked no more with Him." Paul mourned over the fact that some of those who made profession were walking as the enemies of the Cross of Christ. The Master taught in His wonderful parable that there are various kinds of hearers--those represented by the wayside hearers, the stony ground hearers, the thorny ground hearers, and the good ground hearers; they will remain to the end of time. I have a fruit tree at my home, and every year it has so many blossoms that if they should all produce apples the tree would break down. Nine-tenths, perhaps, of the blossoms will fall off, and yet I have a large number of apples. So there are many who make a profession of Christianity who fall away. It may be that those who seemed to promise the fairest turn out the worst, and those who did not promise so well turn out best in the end. God must prepare the ground and He must give the increase. I have often said that if I had to convict men of sin I would have given up the work long ago. That is the work of the Holy Ghost. What we have to do is to scatter the good seed of the Word, and expect that God will bless it to the saving of men's souls. Of course we cannot expect much help from those who are all the time talking against revivals. I believe many young disciples are chilled through by those who condemn these special efforts. If the professed converts sometimes do not hold out, it is not always their own fault. I was preaching in a certain city some time ago, and a minister said to me: "I hope this work will not turn out like the revival here five years ago. I took one hundred converts into the Church, and, with the exception of one or two, I do not know where they are today." This was discouraging. I mentioned it to another minister in the same city, and I said I would rather give up the work, and go back to business, if the work was not going to last. He said to me: "I took in one hundred converts at the same time, and I can lay my hand on ninety-eight out of the hundred. For five years I have watched them, and only two have fallen away." Then he asked me if his brother minister had told me what took place in his Church after they brought in those young converts. Some of them thought they ought to have a better Church, and they got divided among themselves; so nearly all the members left the Church. If anyone will but engage heartily in this work they will have enough to encourage them. It is very easy for men to talk against a work like this. But we generally find that such people not only do nothing at all themselves, but they know nothing about that which they are criticising. Surely it is hardly fair to condemn a work that we have not been at the trouble to become personally acquainted with. If, instead of sitting on the platform and simply looking on or criticising, such persons would get down among the people and talk to them about their souls, they would soon find out whether the work was real or not. I remember hearing of a man who returned from a residence in India. He was out at dinner one day with some friends, and he was asked about Missions; he said he had never seen a native convert all the time he was in India. A missionary who was present did not reply directly to the statement, but he quietly asked the sceptical Englishman if he had seen any tigers in India. The man rubbed his hands, as if the recollection gave him a good deal of pleasure, and said: "Tigers! Yes, I should think so. I have shot a good many of them." Said the missionary, "Well, I was in India for a number of years and never saw a tiger." The fact was that the one had been looking for converts and the other for tigers, and they both found what they looked for. If we look for converts we shall find them; there is no doubt about that. But the truth is that in almost every case those who talk against revivals know nothing whatever about it from personal contact and experience. Do you suppose that the young converts are going round to your house and knock at the door to tell you they have been converted? If you wish to find out the truth you must go among them in their homes and talk to them. I hope no one will be afraid of the Inquiry Room. At one of the places where I worked once I found a good many people who hated the very word "Inquiry Room." But I contend that it is a perfectly reasonable thing. When a boy is at school and cannot solve some problem in algebra, he asks help of some one who knows it. Here is the great problem of eternal life that has to be solved by each of us. Why should we not ask those who are more experienced than ourselves to help us if they can. If we have any difficulty we cannot overcome, probably we shall find some Godly man or woman who had the same difficulty twenty years ago; they will be glad to help us, and tell us how they were enabled to surmount it. Do not be afraid therefore to let them help you. I believe there is not a living soul who has a spiritual difficulty but there is some promise in the Word of God to meet that difficulty. But if you keep your feelings and your troubles all locked up, how are you to be helped? I might stand here and preach to you right on for thirty days and not touch your particular difficulty. But twenty minutes' private conversation may clear away all your doubts and troubles. There was a lady who worked in the Inquiry Room when we were in the south of London nine years ago. I saw her again a short time ago, and she told me that she had a list of thirty-five cases of those with whom she conversed, and who she thought were truly converted. She has written letters to them and sent them little gifts at Christmas, and she said to me that so far as she could judge not a single one of the thirty-five had wandered away. She has placed her life alongside of theirs all these years, and she has been able to be a blessing to them. If we had a thousand such persons, by the help of God we should see signs and wonders. There is no class of people, however hopeless or degraded, but can be reached, only we must lay ourselves out to reach them. Many Christians are asleep; we want to arouse them, so that they shall take a personal interest in those who are living in carelessness and sin. Let us lay aside all our prejudices. If God is working it matters little whether or not the work is done in the exact way that we would like to see it done, or in the way we have seen it done in the past. Let there be one united cry going up to God, that He will revive His work in our midst. Let the work of revival begin with us who are Christians. Let us remove all the hindrances that come from ourselves. Then, by the help of the Spirit, we shall be able to reach these non-church goers, and multitudes will be brought into the kingdom of God. CHAPTER II. LOVE, THE MOTIVE POWER FOR SERVICE. Let me call your attention to Paul's first letter to the Corinthians, thirteenth chapter: In reading this passage let us use the word "love" instead of "charity":--"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge: and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing." It is a great thing to be a prophet like Daniel, or Isaiah, or Elijah, or Elisha; but it is a greater thing, we are told here, to be full of love than to be filled with the spirit of prophecy. Mary of Bethany, who was so full of love, held a higher position than these great prophets did. "Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up; Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never faileth; but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease: whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." The enemy had got into that little Church at Corinth established by Paul, and there was strife among the disciples. One said, "I am of Apollos;" another, "I am of Cephas;" and another, "I am of Paul." Paul saw that this sectarian strife and want of love among God's dear people would be disastrous to the Church of God, and so he wrote this letter. I have often said that if every true believer could move into this chapter and live in the spirit of it for twelve months, the Church of God would double its numbers within that time. One of the great obstacles in the way of God's work to-day is this want of love among those who are the disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ. If we love a person we will not be pointing out his failings all the time. It is said: "Many rules of eloquence have been set forth, but, strange, to say, the first and most essential of all has been overlooked, namely, love. To address men well they must be loved much. Whatever they may be, be they ever so guilty, or indifferent, or ungrateful, or however deeply sunk in crime, before all, and above all, they must be loved. Love is the sap of the Gospel, the secret of lively and effectual preaching, the magic power of eloquence. The end of preaching is to reclaim the hearts of men to God, and nothing but love can find out the mysterious avenues which lead to the heart. If then you do not feel a fervent love and profound pity for humanity, be assured that the gift of Christian eloquence has been denied you. You will not win souls, neither will you acquire that most excellent of earthly sovereignties--sovereignty over human hearts. An Arab proverb runs thus--'The neck is bent by the sword, but heart is only bent by heart.' Love is irresistible." Look at these words: "Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not." How often it happens that if one outshines another there is apt to be envy in our hearts toward that one; we want a great deal of grace to keep it down. "Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up." One of the worst enemies that Christians have to contend with is this spirit of rivalry--this feeling, "Who shall be the greatest?" Some years ago I read a book that did me a great deal of good. It was entitled, "The Training of the Twelve." The writer said that Christ spent most of His time during the three years He was engaged publicly about His Father's business in training twelve men. The training He gave them was very different from the training of the schools at the present day. The world teaches men that they must seek to be great; Christ taught that His disciples must be little; that in honor they must prefer one another; that they are not to be puffed up, not to harbor feelings of envy, but to be full of meekness and gentleness, and lowliness of heart. When an eminent painter was requested to paint Alexander the Great so as to give a perfect likeness of the Macedonian conqueror, he felt a difficulty. Alexander, in his wars, had been struck by a sword, and across his forehead was an immense scar. The painter said: "If I retain the scar, it will be an offense to the admirers of the monarch, and if I omit it it will fail to be a perfect likeness. What shall I do?" He hit upon a happy expedient; he represented the Emperor leaning on his elbow, with his forefinger upon his brow, accidentally, as it seemed, covering the scar upon his forehead. Might not we represent each other with the finger of charity upon the scar, instead of representing the scar deeper and blacker than it really is? Christians may learn even from heathendom a lesson of charity, of human kindness and of love. This spirit of seeking to be the greatest has nearly ruined the Church of God at different times in its history. If the Church had not been Divine it would have gone to pieces long ago. There is hardly any movement of reform to-day that has not been in danger of being thwarted and destroyed through this miserable spirit of ambition and self-seeking. May God enable us to get above this, to cast away our conceit and pride, and take Christ as our teacher, that He may show us in what spirit His work ought to be done. One of the saddest things in the life of Christ was the working of this spirit among His disciples even in the last hours of His intercourse with them, and just before He was led away to be crucified. We read in the gospel by Luke: "But, behold, the hand of him that betrayeth Me is with Me on the table. And truly the Son of man goeth, as it was determined: but woe unto that man by whom He is betrayed! And they began to inquire among themselves, which of them it was that should do this thing. And there was also a strife among them which of them should be accounted the greatest. And He said unto them, "The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them; and they that exercise authority upon them are called benefactors. But ye shall not be so: but he that is greatest among you, let him be as the younger; and he that is chief, as he that doth serve. For whether is greater, he that sitteth at meat, or he that serveth? Is not he that sitteth at meat? But I am among you as He that serveth." Right there, on that memorable night when He had instituted the Last Supper, after they had been eating of the Passover Lamb, and the Saviour was on His way to the Cross,--even there this spirit arose among them: Who should be the greatest! There is a charming tradition connected with the site on which the temple of Solomon was erected. It is said to have been occupied in common by two brothers, one of whom had a family--the other had none. On this spot was sown a field of wheat. On the evening succeeding the harvest--the wheat having been gathered in separate shocks--the elder brother said to his wife: "My younger brother is unable to bear the burden and heat of the day, I will arise, take of my shocks, and place with his without his knowledge." The younger brother being actuated by the same benevolent motives, said within himself: "My elder brother has a family, and I have none. I will arise, take of my shocks, and place it with his." Judge of their mutual astonishment, when, on the following day, they found their respective shocks undiminished. This course of events transpired for several nights, when each resolved in his own mind to stand guard and solve the mystery. They did so; when, on the following night, they met each other half way between their respective shocks with their arms full. Upon ground hallowed by such associations as this was the temple of Solomon erected--so spacious and magnificent--the wonder and admiration of the world! Alas! in these days, how many would sooner steal their brother's whole shock than add to it a single sheaf! If we want to be wise in winning souls and to be vessels meet for the Master's use we must get rid of the accursed spirit of self-seeking. That is the meaning of this chapter in Paul's letter. He told these Corinthians that a man might be full of faith and zeal; he might be very benevolent; but if he had not love he was like sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. I believe many men might as well go into the pulpit and blow a tin horn Sabbath after Sabbath as go on preaching without love. A man may preach the truth; he may be perfectly sound in doctrine; but if there is no love in his heart going out to those whom he addresses, and if he is doing it professionally, the Apostle says he is only a sounding brass. It is not always _more_ work that we want so much as _a better motive_. Many of us do a good deal of work, but we must remember that God looks at the motive. The only tree on this earth that can produce fruit which is pleasing to God is the tree of love. Paul in writing to Titus says: "Speak thou the things which become sound doctrine: that the aged men be sober, grave, temperate, sound in faith, in charity, (or love) in patience." What is the worth of a sermon, however sound in doctrine it may be, if it be not sound in love and in patience? What are our prayers worth without the spirit of love? People say: "Why is it that there is no blessing? Our minister's sermons and prayers are very good." Most likely you will find it is because the whole thing is done professionally. The words glisten like icicles in the sun, and they are as cold. There is not a spark of love in them. If that is the case there will be very little power. You may have your prayer-meetings, your praise meetings, your faith and hope meetings; you may _talk_ about all these things; but if there is no love mingled with them, God says you are as sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. Now a man may be a very good doctor and yet have no love for his patients. He may be a very clever and successful lawyer and yet have no love for his clients. A merchant may prosper greatly in business without caring at all about his customers. A man may be able to explain the wonderful mysteries of science or theology without any love. But no man can be a true worker for God, and a successful winner of souls without love. He may be a great preacher in the eyes of the world and have crowds flocking to hear him, but if love to God and to souls is not the motive power, the effects will all pass away like the morning cloud and the early dew. It is said when the men of Athens went to hear Demosthenes they were always moved, and felt that they must go and fight Philip of Macedon. There was another orator of that day who could carry them away by his eloquence at the time, but when the oration was over, all the influence had gone; it was nothing but fine words. So a man may be very eloquent and have a great flow of language; he may sway the multitudes while they are under his influence; but if there is no love at the back of what he says, it will all go for nothing. It was Demosthenes' love for his country that stirred him, and then he stirred the people. When we get on to the higher plane of love it will not be hard for us to work for the Lord. We will be glad to do anything, however small. God hates the great things in which love is not the motive power; but He delights in the little things that are prompted by a feeling of love. A cup of cold water given to a disciple in the spirit of love, is of far more value in God's sight than the taking of a kingdom, done out of ambition and vain glory. I am getting sick and tired of hearing the word, _duty_, _duty_. You hear so many talk about it being their duty to do this and do that. My experience is that such Christians have very little success. Is there not a much higher platform than that of mere duty? Can we not engage in the service of Christ because we love Him? When that is the constraining power it is so easy to work. It is not hard for a mother to watch over a sick child. She does not look upon it as any hardship. You never hear Paul talking about what a hard time he had in his Master's service. He was constrained by love to Christ, and by the love of Christ to him. He counted it a joy to labor, and even to suffer, for his blessed Master. Perhaps you say I ought not to talk against duty; because a good deal of work would not be done at all if it were not done from a sense of duty. But I want you to see what a poor, low motive that is, and how you may reach a higher plane of service. I am thinking of going back to my home soon. I have in my mind an old, white-haired mother living on the banks of the Connecticut river, in the same little town where she has been for the last eighty years. Suppose when I return I take her some present, and when I give it to her I say: "You have been so very kind to me in the past that I thought it was my duty to bring you a present." What would she think? But how different it would be when I give it to her because of my strong love to her. How much more she would value it. So God wants His children to serve Him for something else than mere duty. He does not want us to feel that it is a hard thing to do His will. Take an army that fights because it is compelled to do so; they will not gain many victories. But how different when they are full of love for their country and for their commanders. Then nothing can stand before them. Do not think you can do any work for Christ and hope to succeed if you are not impelled by love. Napoleon tried to establish a kingdom by the force of arms. So did Alexander the Great, and Caesar, and other great warriors; but they utterly failed. Jesus founded His kingdom on love, and it is going to stand. When we get on to this plane of love, then all selfish and unworthy motives will disappear, and our work will stand the fire when God shall put it to the test. Another thing I want you to bear in mind. Love never looks to see what it is going to get in return. In the Gospel by Matthew we read of the parable of the man who went out to hire laborers that he might send them to work in his vineyard. After he had hired and sent out some in the morning, we are told that he found others standing idle later in the day, and he sent them also. It so happened that those who went out last got back first. Those that went out early in the morning supposed they would get more wages than those that went at the eleventh hour, and when they found they were only to get the same, they began to murmur and complain. But what was the good man's answer: "Friend, I do thee no wrong; didst not thou _agree_ with me for a penny? Take that thine is, and go thy way; I will give unto this last, even as unto thee. Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil, because I am good? So the last shall be first, and the first last." I have generally found that those workers who are all the time looking to see how much they are going to get from the Lord are never satisfied. But love does its work and makes no bargain. Let us make no bargains with the Lord, but be ready to go out and do whatever He appoints. I am sure if we go out cherishing love in our hearts for those we are going to try and reach, every barrier will be swept out of the way. Love begets love, just as hatred begets hatred. Love is the key to the human heart. Some one has said: "Light is for the mind, and love is for the heart." When you can reach men's hearts then you can turn them toward Christ. But we must first win them to ourselves. You may have heard of the boy whose home was near a wood. One day he was in the wood, and he thought he heard the voice of another boy not far off. He shouted, "Hallo, there!" and the voice shouted back, "Hallo, there!" He did not know that it was the echo of his own voice, and he shouted again: "You are a mean boy!" Again the cry came back, "You are a mean boy!" After some more of the same kind of thing he went into the house and told his mother that there was a bad boy in the wood. His mother, who understood how it was, said to him: "Oh, no! You speak kindly to him, and see if he does not speak kindly to you." He went to the wood again and shouted: "Hallo, there!" "Hallo, there!" "You are a good boy." Of course the reply came, "You are a good boy." "I love you." "I love you," said the other voice. You smile at that, but this little story explains the secret of the whole thing. Some of you perhaps think you have bad and disagreable neighbors; most likely the trouble is with yourself. If you love your neighbors they will love you. As I said before, love is the key that will unlock every human heart. There is no man or woman in all this land so low and so degraded but you can reach them with love, gentleness and kindness. It may take years to do it, but it can be done. Love must be active. As some one has said: "A man may hoard up his money; he may bury his talents in a napkin; but there is one thing he cannot hoard up, and that is love." You cannot bury it. It _must_ flow out. It cannot feed upon itself; it must have an object. I remember reading a few years ago of something that happened when we had the yellow fever in one of the Southern cities. There was a family there who lived in a strange neighborhood where they had just moved. The father was stricken down with the fever. There were so many fatal cases happening that the authorities of the city did not stop to give them a decent burial. The dead-cart used to go through the street where the poor lived, and the bodies were carried away for burial. The neighbors of this family were afraid, and no one would visit the house because of the fever. It was not long before the mother was stricken down. Before she died she called her boy to her, and said: "I will soon be gone, but when I am dead Jesus will come and take care of you." She had no one on earth to whom she could commit him. In a little while she, too, was gone, and they carried her body away to the cemetery. The little fellow followed her to the grave. He saw where they laid her, and then he came back to the house. But he found it very lonely, and when it grew dark he got afraid and could not stay in the house. He went out and sat down on the step and began to weep. Finally he went back to the cemetery, and finding the lot where his mother was buried, he laid down and wept himself to sleep. Next morning a stranger passing that way found him on the grave, still weeping. "What are you doing here, my boy?" "Waiting for the Savior." The man wanted to know what he meant, and the boy told the story of what his mother had said to him. It touched the heart of the stranger, and he said, "Well, my boy, Jesus has sent me to take care of you." The boy looked up and replied: "You have been a long while coming." If we had the love of our Master do you tell me that these outlying masses would not be reached? There is not a drunkard who would not be reached. There is not a poor fallen one, or a blasphemer, or an atheist, but would be influenced for good. The atheists cannot get over the power of love. It will upset atheism and every false system quicker than anything else. Nothing will break the stubborn heart so quickly as the love of Christ. I was in a certain home a few years ago; one of the household was a boy who, I noticed, was treated like one of the family, and yet he did not bear their name. One night I asked the lady of the house to explain to me what it meant. "I have noticed," I said, "that you treat him exactly like your own children, yet he is not your boy." "Oh no," she said, "he is not. It is quite true I treat him as my own child." She went on to tell me his story. His father and mother were American missionaries in India; they had five children. The time came when the children had to be sent away from India, as they could not be educated there. They were to be sent to America for that purpose. The father and mother had been very much blessed in India, but they felt as though they could not give up their children. They thought they would leave their work in the foreign field and go back to America. They were not blessed to the same extent in working at home as they had been in India. The natives were writing to them to return, and by and by they decided that the call was so loud the father must go back. The mother said to him: "I cannot let you go alone; I must go with you." "But how can you leave the children? You have never been separated from them." She said: "I can do it for Christ's sake." Thank God for such love as that. When it was known they wanted to leave their children in good homes, this lady with whom I was staying said to the mother if she left one of them with her she would treat the child as her own. The mother came and stayed a week in the house to see that everything was right. The last morning came. When the carriage drove up to the door the mother said: "I want to leave my boy without shedding a tear; I cannot bear to have him think that it costs me tears to do what God has for me to do." My friend saw that there was a great struggle going on. Her room was adjoining this lady's, who told me she heard the mother crying: "O God, give me strength for the hour; help me now." She came downstairs with a beautiful smile on her face. She took her boy to her bosom, kissed him, and left him without a tear. She left all her children, and went back to labor for Christ in India; and from the shores of India she went up, before very long, to be with her Master. That is what a weak woman can do when love to Christ is the motive power. Some time after that dear boy passed away to be with the mother. I was preaching in a certain city a few years ago, and I found a young man very active in bringing in the boys from the street into the meetings. If there was a hard case in the city he was sure to get hold of it. You would find him in the Inquiry Room with a whole crowd round him. I got to be very deeply interested in the young man and much attached to him. I found out that he was another son of that grand and glorious missionary. I found that all the sons were in training to go as foreign missionaries, to take the place of the mother and father, who had gone to their reward. It made such an impression on me that I could not shake it off. These boys have all gone to tell out among the heathen the story of Christ and His love. I am convinced of this: When these hard-hearted people who now reject the Savior are thoroughly awake to the fact that love is prompting our efforts on their behalf, the hardness will begin to soften, and their stubborn wills will begin to bend. This key of love will unlock their hearts. We can turn them, by God's help, from the darkness of this world to the light of the Gospel. Christ gave his disciples a badge. Some of you wear a blue ribbon and others wear a red ribbon, but the badge that Christ gave to his disciples was LOVE. "By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one toward another." Love not only for those who are Christians, but love for the fallen. The Good Samaritan had love for the poor man who had fallen among thieves. If we are filled with such love as that, the world will soon find out that we are the followers of the Lord Jesus Christ. It will do more to upset infidelity and rebellion against God than anything else. Speaking about hard cases being reached, reminds me that while I was in a home in London a young lady in that home felt that she was not doing as much for Christ as she would like, and she decided she would take a class of boys. She has now some fifteen or twenty of these lads, from thirteen to sixteen years of age--a very difficult age to deal with. This Christian young lady made up her mind that she would first try and win for herself the affection of these boys, and then seek to lead them to the Savior. It is a beautiful sight to see how she has won their young hearts for herself, and I believe she will win them all to a pure and Godly life. If we are willing to take up our work among the young with that spirit, these boys will be saved; and instead of helping to fill our prisons and poorhouses, they will become useful members of the Church of God, and a blessing to society. I have a friend who has a large Sabbath-school. He made up his mind when he began that if a boy did not have a good training in his own home, he could not get it anywhere else except in the Sabbath-school; and he resolved that, if possible, when a boy was refractory he would not turn him adrift. He had a boy come to the school whom no teacher seemed able to manage. One after another would come to the Superintendent and say: "You must take him out of my class; he is demoralizing all the others; he uses profane language, and he is doing more harm than all the good I can do." At last my friend made up his mind he would read the boy's name out and have him expelled publicly. He told a few of the teachers what he was going to do, but a wealthy young lady said: "I wish you would let me try the boy; I will do all I can to win him." My friend said to himself he was sure she would not have patience with him very long, but he put the boy in her class as she requested. The little fellow very soon broke the rules in the class, and she corrected him. He got so angry that he lost his temper and spat in her face. She quietly took a handkerchief and wiped her face. At the close of the lesson she asked him if he would walk home with her when school was over. No, he said, he didn't want to speak to her. He was not coming back to that old school any more. She asked if he would let her walk along with him. No, he wouldn't. Well, she said, she was sorry he was going, but if he would call at her house on Tuesday morning and ring the front door bell, there would be a little parcel waiting for him. She would not be at home herself, but if he asked the servant he would receive it. He replied: "You can keep your old parcel; I don't want it." However she thought he would be there. By Tuesday morning the little fellow had got over his mad fit. He came to the house and rang the door bell; the servant handed him the parcel. When he opened it he found it contained a little vest, a necktie, and, best of all, a note written by the teacher. She told him how every night and every morning since he had been in her class she had been praying for him. Now that he was going to leave her she wanted him to remember that as long as she lived she would pray for him, and she hoped he would grow up to be a good man. Next morning the little fellow was in the drawing-room waiting to see her before she came downstairs from her bedroom. She found him there crying as if his heart would break. She asked him kindly what was the trouble. "Oh," he said, "I have had no peace since I got your letter. You have been so kind to me and I have been so unkind to you; I wish you would forgive me." Said my friend, the Superintendent, "There are about eighteen hundred children in the school, and there is not a better boy among the whole of them." Can we not do the same as that young lady did? Shall we not reconsecrate ourselves now to God and to his service? Had I the tongues of Greeks and Jews, And nobler speech than angels use: If love be absent, I am found Like tinkling brass, an empty sound. Were I inspired to preach and tell All that is done in heaven and hell-- Or could my faith the world remove: Still I am nothing without love. Should I distribute all my store To feed the hungry, clothe the poor Or give my body to the flame, To gain a martyr's glorious name: If love to God and love to men Be absent, all my hopes are vain; Nor tongues, nor gifts, nor fiery zeal, The work of love can e'er fulfill. _Dr. Watts_ CHAPTER III. FAITH AND COURAGE. The key note of all our work for God should be FAITH. In all my life I have never seen men or women disappointed in receiving answers to their prayers, if those persons were full of faith, and had good grounds for their faith. Of course we must have a warrant in Scripture for what we expect. I am sure we have a good warrant in coming together to pray for a blessing on our friends and on our neighbors. Unbelief is as much an enemy to the Christian as it is to the unconverted. It will keep back the blessing now as much as it did in the days of Christ. We read that in one place Christ could not do many mighty works because of their unbelief. If Christ could not do this, how can we expect to accomplish anything if the people of God are unbelieving? I contend that God's children are alone able to hinder God's work. Infidels, atheists, and sceptics cannot do it. Where there is union, strong faith, and expectation among Christians, a mighty work is always done. In Hebrews we read that without faith it is impossible to please God. "For he that cometh to God must believe that He is, and that He is a Rewarder of them that diligently seek Him." That is addressed to us who are Christians as much as to those who are seeking God for the first time. We are all of us seeking a blessing on our friends. We want God to revive us, and also that the outlying masses may be reached. We read in this passage that God blesses those who "diligently seek Him." Let us diligently seek Him to-day; let us have great faith; and let our expectation be from God. I remember when I was a boy, in the spring of the year, when the snow had melted away on the New England hills where I lived, I used to take a certain kind of glass and hold it up to the warm rays of the sun. These would strike on it, and I would set the woods on fire. Faith is the glass that brings the fire of God out of heaven. It was faith that drew the fire down on Carmel and burned up Elijah's offering. We have the same God to-day, and the same faith. Some people seem to think that faith is getting old, and that the Bible is wearing out. But the Lord will revive his work now; and we shall be able to set the world on fire if each believer has a strong and simple faith. In the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews the writer brings up one worthy after another, and each of them was a man or a woman of faith; they made the world better by living in it. Listen to this description of what was accomplished by these men and women of faith: "Who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens. Women received their dead raised to life again; and others were tortured, not accepting deliverance; that they might obtain a better resurrection: and others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover, of bonds and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented (of whom the world was not worthy): they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth. And these all, having obtained a good report through faith, received not the promise: God having provided some better thing for us, that they without us should not be made perfect." Surely no child of God can read these words without being stirred. It is said that "women received their dead raised to life again." Many of you have children who have gone far astray, and have been taken captive by strong drink, or led away by their lusts and passions; and you have become greatly discouraged about them. But if you have faith in God they may be raised up as from the dead, and brought back again. The wanderers may be reclaimed; the drunkards and the harlots may be reached and saved. There is no man or woman, however low he or she may have sunk, but can be reached. We ought in these days to have far more faith than Abel, or Enoch, or Abraham had. They lived away on the other side of the Cross. We talk about the faith of Elijah, and the Patriarchs and Prophets; but they lived in the dim light of the past, while we are in the full blaze of Calvary, and the Resurrection. When we look back and think of what Christ did, how He poured out His blood that men might be saved, we ought to go forth in His strength and conquer the world. Our God is able to do great and mighty things. You remember that the Roman Centurion sent for Christ to heal his servant; when the Savior drew near, the Centurion sent to Him to say that He need not take the trouble to come into his house; all that was needed was that He should speak the word and his servant would live. Probably he thought that if Christ had the power to create worlds, to say "Let there be light," and there was light, to make the sea and the earth bring forth abundantly, He could easily say the word and raise up his sick servant. We are told that when Christ received the Roman soldier's message He marvelled at his faith. Dear friends, let us have faith at this moment that God will do great things in our midst. Caleb and Joshua were men of faith. They were worth more to Israel than all the camp of unbelievers and the other ten spies put together. We read that Moses sent out twelve men to spy out the land. Let me say that faith never sends out any spies. You may perhaps reply that Moses was commanded by God to send them out; but we read that it was because of the hardness of their hearts. If they had believed in God, they would have taken possession of the land at Kadesh Barnea. I suppose these twelve men were chosen because they were leading men and influential men in the twelve tribes. After they had been gone some thirty days they came back with what we might call a minority and a majority report. All the twelve admitted that the land was a good land, but the ten said, "We are not able to take it. We saw giants there--the sons of Anak." You can see these ten spies in camp the night they returned; great crowds are gathered around them listening to their reports. Probably there were very few gathered to hear Caleb and Joshua. It really seems sometimes that people are much more ready to believe a lie than to believe the truth. So these unbelieving men gathered around the ten spies. One of them is describing the giants in the land, and he says: "Why, I had to look right up in order to see their faces; they made the earth tremble at their tread. The mountains and valleys are full of them. Then we saw great walled cities. We are not able to take the land." But Caleb and Joshua had quite a different story to tell. Those mighty giants seemed to be as grasshoppers in their sight. These men of faith remembered how God had delivered them out of the hand of Pharaoh and brought them through the Red Sea; how He had given them bread from heaven to eat, and water to drink from the rock in the wilderness. If He marched with them surely they could go right up and take possession of the land. So they said: "Let us go up at once and possess it; we are well able to take it." What do we see in the Church of God to-day? About ten out of every twelve professed Christians are looking at the giants, at the walls, and at the difficulties in the way. They say: "We are not able to accomplish this work. We might do it if there were not so many drinking saloons, and so much drunkenness, and so many atheists and opposers." Let us not give head to these unbelieving professors. If we have faith in God we are well able to go up and possess the land for Christ. God always delights to honor faith. It may be some sainted weak woman, some bed-ridden one who is not able to attend the meetings, who will bring down the blessing. In the day when every man's work is tested, it may be seen that some hidden one who honored God by a simple faith was the one who caused such a blessing to descend upon our cities as shall shake the land from end to end. Again, in these Bible histories we find that faith is always followed by COURAGE. Caleb and Joshua were full of courage, because they were men of faith. Those who have been greatly used of God in all ages have been men of courage. If we are full of faith we shall not be full of fear, distrusting God all the while. That is the trouble with the Church of Christ to-day--there are so many who are fearful, because they do not believe that God is going to use them. What we need is to have the courage that will compel us to move forward. Perhaps if we do this we may have to go against the advice of lukewarm Christians. There are some who never seem to do anything but object, because the work is not always carried on exactly according to their ideas. They will say: "I do not think that is the best way to do things." They are very fruitful in raising objections to any plans that can be suggested. If any onward step is taken they are ready to throw cold water on it; they will suggest all kinds of difficulties. We want to have such faith and courage as shall enable us to move forward without waiting for these timid unbelievers. In the second book of Chronicles we read that King Asa had to go right against his father and mother; it took a good deal of courage to do that. He removed his mother from being queen, and cut down the idols and burnt them. There are times when we have to go against those who ought to be our best friends. Is it not time for us to launch out into the deep? I have never seen people go out into the lanes and alleys, into the hedges and highways, and try to bring the people in, but the Lord gave His blessing. If a man has the courage to go right to his neighbor and speak to him about his soul, God is sure to smile upon the effort. The person who is spoken to may wake up cross, but that is not always a bad sign. He may write a letter next day and apologize. At any rate it is better to wake him up in this way than that he should continue to slumber on to death and ruin. You notice when God was about to deliver Israel out of the hand of the Midianites, how he taught this lesson to Gideon. Gideon had gathered around him an army of thirty-two thousand men. He may probably have counted them, and when he knew that the Midianites had an army of a hundred and thirty-five thousand he said to himself: "My army is too small; I am afraid I shall not succeed." But the Lord's thoughts were different. He said to Gideon: "You have too many men." So He told him that all those among the thirty-two thousand who were fearful and afraid might go back to their own homes, to their wives and their mothers; let them step to the rear. No sooner had Gideon given this command than twenty-two thousand men wheeled out of line. It may be Gideon thought the Lord had made a mistake as he saw his army melt away. If two-thirds of a great audience were to rise and go out you would think they were all going. The Lord said: "Gideon, you have too many men yet. Take your men down to the brook and try them once more. All those who take the water up in their hands and drink as they pass by can stay; those who stoop down to drink can go back." Again he gave the word, and nine thousand seven hundred wheeled out of line and went to the rear, so that Gideon was left with three hundred men. But this handful of men whose hearts beat true to the God of heaven, and who were ready to go forward in His name, were worth more than all the others who were all the time sowing seeds of discontent and predicting defeat. Nothing will discourage an army like that. Nothing is more discouraging in a Church than to have a number of the people all the time expecting disaster and saying: "We do not think this effort will amount to anything; it is not according to our ideas." It would be a good thing for the Church of God if all the fearful and faithless ones were to step to the rear, and let those who are full of faith and courage take their empty pitchers and go forward against the enemy. This little band of three hundred men who were left with Gideon routed the Midianites; but it was not their own might that gave them the victory. It was "the sword of the Lord and of Gideon." If we go on in the Name of the Lord, and trusting to His might, we shall succeed. Before Moses went up to heaven he did all he could to encourage Joshua, to strengthen and cheer him. There was no sign of jealousy in the heart of Moses, although he was not permitted to go into the land. He went up to the top of Pisgah and saw that it was a good land; and he tried to encourage Joshua to go forward and take possession of it. After Moses had gone, we read that three times in one chapter God said to Joshua: "Be of good courage." God cheered his servant; "There shall not any man be able to stand before thee all the days of thy life." Soon after that Joshua took a walk around the walls of Jericho. As he walked around he saw a man stand before him with a drawn sword in his hand. Joshua was not afraid, but he said: "Art thou for us or for our adversaries?" His courage was rewarded, for the man replied: "As Captain of the host of the Lord am I now come." He had been sent to encourage him and to lead him on to victory. So you will find all through the Scriptures that God uses those who have courage, and not those who are looking for defeat. Another thought: I never knew a case where God used a discouraged man or woman to accomplish any great thing for Him. Let a minister go into the pulpit in a discouraged frame of mind and it becomes contagious. It will soon reach the pews, and the whole church will become discouraged. So with a Sabbath-school teacher; I never knew a worker of any kind who was full of discouragement and who met with success in the Lord's work. It seems as if God cannot make any use of such a man. I remember a man telling me he preached for a number of years without any result. He used to say to his wife as they went to church that he knew the people would not believe anything he said; and there was no blessing. At last he saw his error; he asked God to help him, and took courage, and then the blessing came. "According to your faith it shall be unto you." This man had expected nothing and he got just what he expected. Dear friends, let us expect that God is going to use us. Let us have courage and go forward, looking to God to do great things. Elijah on Mount Carmel was one man; Elijah under the juniper tree was quite another man. In the one case he was a giant, and nothing could stand before him. When he lost heart and got terrified at Jezebel's message, and wished himself dead, God could not use him. The Lord had to go to him and say: "What doest thou here, Elijah?" I wish God would speak to many professing Christians who have their harps on the willows, and are out of communion with Him, so that they are of no use in His cause. When Peter denied his Master he was a very different man from what he was on the day of Pentecost. He got out of communion with his Lord, and the word of a servant nearly frightened him out of his life. He denied his Master with oaths and cursing. How terribly a man falls when he loses faith and courage. But he was restored; look at him on the day of Pentecost. If that maid whose question made him tremble had been present, and heard him preach the marvellous sermon recorded in the Acts, I can imagine she would be the most amazed person in all Jerusalem, "Why," she says, "I saw him a few days ago, and he was terribly alarmed at being called a disciple of Christ; now he stands up boldly for this same Christ; he has no shame now." God used him mightily on the day of Pentecost, as he preached to that vast congregation, some of whom were the very murderers of his Lord and Master. But he could not use Peter till he had repented of his cowardice and had been restored to faith and courage. So when any man who is working for Christ loses heart and gets discouraged, the Lord has to lay him aside. I remember a number of years ago I got cast down for a good many weeks. One Sunday in particular I had preached and there did not seem to be any result. On the Monday I was very much cast down. I was sitting in my study and was looking at myself, brooding over my want of success. A young man called upon me, who had a Bible class of 100 adults in the Sabbath-school which I conducted. As he came in I could see he was away upon the mountain top, while I was down in the valley. Said he to me, "What kind of a day did you have yesterday?" "Very poor; I had no success, and I feel quite cast down. How did you get on?" "Oh, grandly; I never had a better day." "What was your subject?" "I had the life and character of Noah. Did you ever preach on Noah? Did you ever study up his life?" "Well, no; I do not know as ever I made it a special study." I thought I knew pretty well all there was about him in the Bible; you know all that is told us about him is contained in a few verses. "If you never studied it before, you had better do it now. It will do you good. Noah was a wonderful character." When the young man went out I got my Bible and some other books, and read all I could find about Noah, I had not been reading long before the thought came stealing over me: Here was a man who toiled on for a hundred and twenty years and never had a single convert outside of his own family. Yet he did not get discouraged. I closed up my Bible; the cloud had gone; I started out and went to the noon prayer-meeting. I had not been there long when a man got up and said he had come from a little town in Illinois. On the day before he had admitted a hundred young converts to Church membership. As he was speaking I said to myself: "I wonder what Noah would have given if he could have heard that. He never had any such result as that to his labors." Then in a little while a man who sat right behind me stood up. His hand was on the seat, and I felt it shake; I could realise that the man was trembling. He said: "I wish you would pray for me; I would like to become a Christian." Thought I to myself: "wonder what Noah would have given if he had heard that. He never heard a single soul asking God for mercy, yet he did not get discouraged." I have never hung my harp on the willows since that day. Let us ask God to take away the clouds of fear and unbelief; let us get out of Doubting Castle; let us move forward courageously in the name of our God and expect to see results. If you cannot engage in any active work yourselves you can do a good deal by cheering on others. Some people not only do nothing, but they are all the time throwing discouragement on others, in every forward step they take. If you meet with them they seem to chill you through and through. I think I would as soon face the east wind in Edinburgh in the month of March, as come in contact with some of these so-called Christians. Perhaps they are speaking about some effort that has been made, and they say: "Well, yes, a good deal of work was done, but then many were not reached at all." Such and such a thing ought to have been done in a different way, and I know not what. They are all the time looking at the dark side. Let us not give heed to these gloomy and discouraging remarks. In the name of our great Commander let us march on to battle and to victory. There are some generals whose name alone is worth more than a whole army of ten thousand men. In our army in the Civil War there were some whose presence sent a cheer all along the line. As they passed on cheer upon cheer went up. The men knew who was going to lead them, and they were sure of having success. "The boys" liked to fight under such generals as that. Let us encourage ourselves in the Lord, and encourage each other; then we shall have good success. We read in the book of First Chronicles that Joab cheered on those who were helping him in warfare. "Be of good courage, and let us behave ourselves valiantly for our people and for the cities of our God; and let the Lord do that which is good in His sight." Let us go forward in this spirit, and the Lord will make us to triumph over our foes. If we cannot be in the battle ourselves let us not seek to discourage others. A Highland chief of the M'Gregor clan fell wounded at the battle of Sheriff-Muir. Seeing their leader fall, the clan wavered, and gave the foe an advantage. The old chieftain, perceiving this, raised himself on his elbow, while the blood streamed from his wounds, and cried out, "I am not dead, my children; I am looking at you to see you do your duty." This roused them to new energy and almost superhuman effort. So, when our strength fails and our hearts sink within us, the Captain of our salvation cries: "Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the world. I will never leave nor forsake thee. Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." A friend of mine was telling me that a worker came to him very much cast down. Everything was going wrong, and he was greatly depressed. My friend turned upon him and said: "Do you have any doubt about the final result of things? Is Jesus Christ going to set up His Kingdom, and reign from the rivers to the ends of the earth? Is He going to succeed or not?" The man said that of course Christ was going to triumph; he had never thought of it in that light. If people would sometimes take a look into the future and remember the promises, they would not be cast down. Dear friends, Christ is going to reign. Let us go out and do the work He has given us to do. If it happens to be dark round about us, let us remember it is light somewhere else. If we are not succeeding just as we would like, others, it may be, are succeeding better. Think of the opportunities we have, compared with the early Christians. Look at the mighty obstacles they had to encounter--how they had often to seal their testimony with their blood. See what Peter had to fight against on the day of Pentecost, when the people looked on him with scorn. The disciples in those days had no committee to put up large buildings for their use, in which they could preach. They had no band of ministers sitting near by, to pray for them, and help them and cheer them on. Yet look at the wonderful results of Peter's preaching on the day of Pentecost. Look at the dense darkness that surrounded Martin Luther in Germany. Look at the difficulties that John Knox had to meet with in Scotland. Yet these men did a mighty and a lasting work for God in their day and generation; we are reaping the blessed fruits of their faithful labors even now. Look at the darkness that brooded over England in the days of Wesley and Whitefield. See how God blessed their efforts; and yet they had a great many obstacles to contend with that we do not have in these days. They went forward with strong and courageous hearts, and the Lord gave them success. I believe if our forefathers who lived in the last century could come back to this world in the flesh, they would be amazed to see the wonderful opportunities that we have. We have a great many advantages they did not possess, and probably did not dream of. We live in a grand and glorious day. It took John Wesley months to cross the Atlantic; now we can do it a few days. Think of the power of the printing press in these days; we can print and scatter sermons to all the corners of the earth. Look at the marvellous facilities that we have in the electric telegraph, Then we can take the railway train and go and preach at a distance of hundreds of miles in a few hours. Am I not right in saying that we live in a glorious day? Let us not be discouraged, but let us use all these wonderful opportunities, and honor God by expecting great things. If we do we will not be disappointed. God is ready and willing to work, if we are ready and willing to let Him, and to be used by Him. It may be that some are old and feeble, and are saying to themselves: "I wish I were young again; I would like to go out into the thick of the battle." But any one, young or old, can go into the homes of the people and invite them to come out to the meetings. There are large halls everywhere with plenty of room; there are many who will help sing the Gospel. The Gospel will also be preached, and there are many people who might be induced to come, who will not go out to the regular places of worship. If you are not able to go and invite the people, as I have said, you can give a word of cheer to others, and wish them Godspeed. Many a time when I have come down from the pulpit, some old man, trembling on the very verge of another world, living perhaps on borrowed time, has caught hold of my hand, and in a quavering voice said, "God bless you!" How the words have cheered and helped me. Many of you can speak a word of encouragement to the younger friends, if you are too feeble to work yourselves. Then again, you can pray that God will bless the words that are spoken and the efforts that are made. It is very easy to preach when others are all the time praying for you and sympathizing with you, instead of criticising and finding fault. You have heard the story, I suppose, of the child who was rescued from the fire that was raging in a house away up in the fourth story. The child came to the window, and as the flames were shooting up higher and higher it cried out for help. A fireman started up the ladder of the fire-escape to rescue the child from its dangerous position. The wind swept the flames near him, and it was getting so hot that he wavered, and it looked as if he would have to return without the child. Thousands looked on, and their hearts quaked at the thought of the child having to perish in the fire, as it must do if the fireman did not reach it. Some one in the crowd cried, "Give him a cheer!" Cheer after cheer went up, and as the man heard them he gathered fresh courage. Up he went into the midst of the smoke and the fire, and brought down the child in safety. If you cannot go and rescue the perishing yourselves, you can at least pray for those who do, and cheer them on. If you do, the Lord will bless the effort. "They helped every one his neighbor; and every one said to his brother, 'Be of good courage.'" We are living, we are dwelling In a grand and awful time, In an age on ages telling-- To be living is sublime. Oh, let all the soul within you For the truth's sake go abroad! Strike! let every nerve and sinew Tell on ages--tell for God! _Coxe_ CHAPTER IV. FAITH REWARDED. "And it came to pass on a certain day, as He was teaching, that there were Pharisees and doctors of the law sitting by, which were come out of every town of Galilee, and Judea and Jerusalem; and the power of the Lord was present to heal them. And, behold, men brought in a bed a man which was taken with a palsy; and they sought means to bring him in, and to lay him before Him. And when they could not find by what way they might bring him in, because of the multitude, they went upon the house-top, and let him down through the tiling with his couch into the midst before Jesus. And when He saw their faith, He said unto him, 'Man, thy sins are forgiven thee.'" All the three evangelists, Matthew, Mark and Luke, record this miracle. I have noticed that when any two or three of the Gospel writers record a miracle it is to bring out some important truth. It seems to me that the truth the Lord would teach us here is this: The honor He put upon the faith of these four men who brought the palsied man to him for healing. Whether the palsied man himself had any faith we are not told; it was when He saw "_their_ faith" that His power was put forth to cure the sick of the palsy. I want to say to all Christian workers, that if the Lord sees our faith for those whom we wish to be blessed, He will honor it. He has never disappointed the faith of any of His children yet. You cannot find an instance in the Bible, where any man or woman has exercised true faith in God, where it has not been honored. Nothing that the Savior found when He was on this sin-cursed earth pleased Him so much as to see the faith of His disciples; nothing refreshed His heart so much. We read in the Gospel narrative that there was a great stir in the town of Capernaum at this time. A few weeks before, the Savior had been cast out of his native town of Nazareth. He had come down to Capernaum, and the whole country was greatly moved. His star was just rising, and His fame was being spread abroad. Peter's wife's mother had been healed by a word. The servant of an officer in the Roman army had been raised up from a sick bed, and the Savior had performed many other wonderful miracles. Men had come to Capernaum from every town in Galilee, and Judaea, and from Jerusalem. They had gathered together to look into these wonderful events that were occurring. The voice of John the Baptist had been ringing through the land, proclaiming to the people that a Prophet would soon make His appearance, whose shoe latchet he was not worthy to unloose. While the Baptist was telling out this message the Prophet Himself made His appearance in the northern part of the country, and all these wonderful things were transpiring. The Pharisees and doctors of the law had come to Capernaum to look into the reports that were spread abroad. The house where they were gathered was filled to overflowing, and these wise men were listening to the Savior's teaching. Many of them hardly believed a word that He said. It may be there were some believing ones among these wise men. Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea may have been there: if so, they were not yet known as disciples of Jesus. The writer of the Gospel says: "The power of the Lord was present to heal them." We are not told, however, that one of them was healed. So it is very often now. The power of the Lord may be present to heal in these gatherings; yet many will come and go, wondering what it all means, and without being healed of their spiritual diseases. What we need is to have the power of God in our midst. A man came into one of our meetings in London. He got into a part of the hall where he could not hear a word of what was spoken or sung; he could not even hear the text or the portion of Scripture that was read. There he had to sit through the service, so to speak, shut up alone with himself. A little while after he told some one that as he sat there God had revealed Himself to him, and spoken peace to his soul. There is such a thing as the power of God being present to heal, though men may not hear the voice of their fellowman. These four men were real workers. They were worth more than a houseful of these Pharisees and doctors of the law who came merely to criticise and look on. I do not know who the four men were, but I have always had a great admiration for them. It may be one of them had been blind and the Lord had given him his sight. The other may have been lame from his birth; when the Master restored him to strength, he thought he would like to use it in bringing some one else to be healed. The third man may have been a cured leper, and he wished to help in getting some other afflicted one cured. Perhaps this palsied man was his next-door neighbor. The fourth man, it may be, had been deaf and dumb, and he thought he would employ his hearing and his speech in helping some one else. These four young converts said to themselves: "Let us bring our sick neighbor to Christ." The palsied man may have said he had no faith in Christ. But these four friends told him how they had been cured, and if the Master could heal them surely He could heal a palsied man. Now it seems to me nothing will wake up a man quicker than to have four persons after him in one day. People are sometimes afraid that they will entrench on each other's ground if more than one worker happens to call at the same house. For my part, I wish that every family had about forty invitations to each meeting. I lately heard of a man, a non-churchgoer, who did not believe in the Bible or religious things. Some one who was distributing tickets asked him if he would go to the meetings. He got quite angry. No, he would not go; he did not believe in the thing at all; he would not be seen in such a crowd. A second man came along, not knowing that any one had been before him, and asked if he would accept a ticket for the meetings. The man was still angry, and, as we would sometimes say, he "gave him a piece of his mind." He told him to keep his tickets. By-and-by a third man called and said: "Would you take a ticket for these meetings?" The man by this time had got thoroughly waked up, but yet he declined to receive the ticket. He went into a shop to buy something. The man in the shop put a ticket for the meetings into the packet; when the customer got home and opened it, lo and behold there was a ticket! He got so roused up that he went, not to our meeting, but to a neighboring church. I do not know that he has come clean out, but I believe he is, at any rate, in a hopeful condition. If one visit does not wake up a man whom you want to reach, send a second visitor after him; if that has no effect, send a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth, and a seventh; go on in that way day after day. It is a great thing to save one man, to get him out of the pit, to have his feet set fast on a rock, and a new song put in his mouth. Nothing will rouse an indifferent man quicker than to have a number of friends after him. If you cannot bring him yourself, get others to help you. These four men found an obstacle in the way. The door of the house was blocked, and they could not get near the Master. They may have asked some of these philosophers to stand aside; but no, they would not do that. They would not disturb themselves about a sick man. Many people will not go into the kingdom of God themselves, and they will throw obstacles in the way of others. After trying probably for some time to get in, these four men began to devise another plan. If it had been some of us, most likely we would have got quite discouraged, and carried the man back to his home. These men had faith, and perseverance too. They are going to get their friend to Christ some way. If they cannot get him through the door, they will find a way through the roof! "Zeal without knowledge," people say. I would a good deal rather have that than knowledge without zeal. You can see them pulling and tugging away at the burden. If you have ever tried to carry a wounded man up a flight of stairs you will know it is not an easy matter. But these four men were not to be defeated, and at last he is up there on the roof. Now, the question was, "How can we get him down?" They began to tear up the tiling. I can see those wise men looking up and saying to one another: "This is a strange performance; we have never seen anything like this in the temple or in any synagogue we were ever in. It is altogether out of the regular order. These men must be carried away with fanaticism. Why, they have made a hole large enough to let a man through. Suppose a sudden shower were to come, it would spoil the house." But these four workers were terribly in earnest. They let the bier, on which the man was lying, down into the room. They laid their friend right at the feet of Jesus Christ; a good place to lay him, was it not? Perhaps some of you have a sceptical son or an unbelieving husband, or some other member of your family, that scoffs at the Bible and sneers at Christianity. Lay them at the feet of Jesus, and He will honor your faith. "When He saw _their_ faith." I suppose these men were looking down to see what was about to take place Christ looked at them, and when He saw their faith He said to the palsied man: "Son, be of good cheer; thy sins are forgiven thee." That was more than they expected; they only thought of his body being made whole. So let us bring our friends to Christ, and we shall get more than we expect. The Lord met this man's deepest need first. It may be his sins had brought on the palsy, so the Lord forgave the man's sin first of all. The wise men began to reason within themselves: "Who is this that forgiveth sins?" The Master could read their thoughts as easily as we can read a book. "Is it easier to say, 'Thy sins be forgiven thee,' or 'Rise up and walk?' But that ye may know that the Son of Man hath power on earth to forgive sins, He said unto the sick of the palsy, 'I say unto thee, arise; take up thy bed and go into thine house.'" The man leaped to his feet, made whole. He rolled up the old bed, swung it across his shoulders, and went to his house. Depend upon it, these philosophers who would not make way in order to let him in stood aside pretty quick to let him go out. No need for him to go out by way of the roof; he went out by the door. Dear friends, let us have faith for those we bring to Christ. Let us believe for them if they will not believe for themselves. It may be there are those here who do not believe in the Bible, or in the Gospel of the Son of God. Let us bring them to Christ in the arms of our faith. He is unchangeable--"the same yesterday, today, and for ever." Let us look for great things. Let us expect the dead to be raised, the harlots reclaimed, the drunkards saved, and the devils cast out. I believe men are possessed of evil spirits now, just as much as when the Son of God was on earth. We want to bring them right to the Lord Jesus Christ, that He may heal and save them. Let this cursed unbelief be swept out of the way, and let us come to God as one man, looking for and expecting signs and wonders to be done in the name of Jesus. He can perform miracles to-day, and He will if we ask Him to fulfill His promises. "He is able to save to the uttermost." And let me say to any unsaved man that God has the power to save you from your sins to-day. If you want to be converted, come right to the Master as did the leper of old. He said, "Lord, if Thou wilt Thou canst make me clean." Christ honored his faith, and said, "I will; be thou clean." Notice--the man put "if" in the right place. "If Thou _will_." He did not doubt the power of the Son of God. The father who brought his son to Christ said, "If Thou _canst_, have compassion upon him." The Lord straightened out his theology then and there; "If _thou_ canst believe." Mother, can you believe for your boy? If you can, the Lord will speak the word, and it shall be done. It will be a good thing for us to get right down at the feet of the Master, like the poor woman who went to Elisha and told him of her dead child. He asked his servant to take his staff and lay it upon the dead child. But the mother would not leave the prophet. He wanted her to go with the servant, but she would not be satisfied with the prophet's staff, or even with his servant; she wanted the master himself. So Elisha went with her; it was a good thing he did, for the servant could not raise the child. We want to get beyond the staff and beyond the servant, right to the heart of the Master Himself. Let us bring our palsied friends to Him. It is said of Christ that in one place He could not do many mighty works there because of their unbelief. Let us ask Him to take away from us this cursed unbelief, that hinders the blessing from coming down, and prevents those who are sick of the palsy of sin from being saved. "The faith that works by love, And purifies the heart, A foretaste of the joys above To mortals can impart; It bears us through this earthly strife, And triumphs in immortal life." CHAPTER V. ENTHUSIASM. "Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light." I want to apply these words to the children of God. If the lost are to be reached by the Gospel of the Son of God, Christianity must be more aggressive than it has been in the past. We have been on the defensive long enough; the time has come for us to enter on a war of aggression. When we as children of God wake up and go to work in the vineyard, then those who are living in wickedness all about us will be reached; but not in any other way. You may go to mass meetings and discuss the question of "How to reach the masses," but when you have done with discussion you have to go back to personal effort. Every man and woman who loves the Lord Jesus Christ must wake up to the fact that he or she has a mission in the world, in this work of reaching the lost. A man may talk in his sleep, and it seems to me that there is a good deal of that kind of thing now in the Lord's work. A man may even preach in his sleep. A friend of mine sat up in his bed one night and preached a sermon right through. He was sound asleep all the time. Next morning his wife told him all about it. He preached the same sermon in his church the next Sabbath morning; I have it in print, and a good sermon it is. So a man may not only talk but actually preach in his sleep. There are many preachers in these days who are fast asleep. There is one thing, however, that we must remember; a man cannot _work_ in his sleep. There is no better way to wake up a Church than to set it to work. One man will wake up another in waking himself up. Of course the moment we begin a work of aggression, and declare war with the world, the flesh, and the devil, some wise head will begin to shake, and there will be the cry, "Zeal without knowledge!" I think I have heard that objection ever since I commenced the Christian life. I heard of some one who was speaking the other day of something that was to be done, and who said he hoped zeal would be tempered with moderation. Another friend very wisely replied that he hoped moderation would be tempered with zeal. If that were always the case, Christianity would be like a red hot ball rolling over the face of the earth. There is no power on earth that can stand before the onward march of God's people when they are in dead earnest. In all ages God has used those who were in earnest. Satan always calls idle men into his service. God calls active and earnest--not indolent men. When we are thoroughly aroused and ready for His work, then He will take us up and use us. You remember where Elijah found Elisha; he was ploughing in the field--he was at work. Gideon was at the threshing floor. Moses was away in Horeb looking after the sheep. None of these eminent servants of God were indolent men; what they did, they did with all their might. We want such men and women nowadays. If we cannot do God's work with all the knowledge we would like, let us at any rate do it with all the zeal that God has given us. Mr. Taylor says: "The zeal of the Apostles was seen in this--they preached publicly and privately; they prayed for all men; they wept to God for the hardness of men's hearts; they became all things to all men, that they might gain some; they traveled through deeps and deserts; they endured the heat of the Syrian sun and the violence of Euroclydon, winds and tempests, seas and prisons, mockings and scourgings, fastings and poverty, labor and watching; they endured of every man and wronged no man; they would do any good, and suffer any evil, if they could but hope to prevail upon a soul; they persuaded men meekly, they entreated them humbly, they convinced them powerfully; they watched for their good, but meddled not with their interest; and this is the Christian zeal--the zeal of meekness, the zeal of charity, the zeal of patience." A good many people are afraid of the word ENTHUSIASM. Do you know what the word means? It means "In God." The person who is "in God", will surely be fired with enthusiasm. When a man goes into business filled with fire and zeal, he will generally carry all before him. In the army a general who is full of enthusiasm will fire up his men, and will accomplish a great deal more than one who is not stirred with the same spirit. People say that if we go on in that way many mistakes will be made. Probably there will. You never saw any boy learning a trade who did not make a good many mistakes. If you do not go to work because you are afraid of making mistakes, you will probably make one great mistake--the greatest mistake of your life--that of doing nothing. If we all do what we can, then a good deal will be accomplished. How often do we find Sabbath-school teachers going into their work without any enthusiasm. I had just as soon have a lot of wooden teachers as some that I have known. If I were a carpenter I could manufacture any quantity of them. Take one of those teachers who has no heart, no fire, and no enthusiasm. He comes into the school-room perhaps a few minutes after the appointed time. He sits down, without speaking a word to any of the scholars, until the time comes for the lessons to begin. When the Superintendent says it is time to begin the teacher brings out a Question Book. He has not been at the trouble to look up the subject himself, so he gets what some one else has written about it. He takes care not only to get a Question Book, but an Answer Book. Such a teacher will take up the first book and he says: "John, who was the first man?" (looking at the book)--"Yes, that is the right question." John replies, "Adam." Looking at the Answer Book the teacher says: "Yes, that is right." He looks again at the Question Book and he says: "Charles, who was Lot?" "Abraham's nephew." "Yes, my boy, that is right." And so he goes on. You may say that this is an exaggerated description, and of course I do not mean to say it is literally true; but the picture is not so much overdrawn as you would suppose. Do you think a class of little boys full of life and fire is going to be reached in that way? I like to see a teacher come into the class and shake hands with the scholars all round. "Johnnie, how do you do? Charlie, I am glad to see you! How's the baby? How's your mother? How are all the folks at home?" That is the kind of a teacher I like to see. When he begins to open up the lesson all the scholars are interested in what he is going to say. He will be able to gain the attention of the whole class, and to train them for God and for eternity. You cannot find me a person in the world who has been greatly used of God, who has not been full of enthusiasm. When we enter on the work in this spirit it will begin to prosper, and God will give us success. As I was leaving New York to go to England in 1867, a friend said to me: "I hope you will go to Edinburgh and be at the General Assembly this year. When I was there a year ago I heard such a speech as I shall never forget. Dr. Duff made a speech that set me all on fire. I shall never forget the hour I spent in that meeting." Shortly after reaching England I went to Edinburgh and spent a week there, in hopes that I might hear that one man speak. I went to work to find the report of the speech that my friend had referred to, and it stirred me wonderfully. Dr. Duff had been out in India as a missionary. He had spent twenty-five years there preaching the Gospel and establishing schools. He came back with a broken-down constitution. He was permitted to address the General Assembly, in order to make an appeal for men to go into the mission field. After he had spoken for a considerable time, he became exhausted and fainted away. They carried him out of the hall into another room. The doctors worked over him for some time, and at last he began to recover. When he realized where he was, he roused himself and said: "I did not finish my speech; carry me back and let me finish it." They told him he could only do it at the peril of his life. Said he: "I will do it if I die." So they took him back to the hall. My friend said it was one of the most solemn scenes he ever witnessed in his life. They brought the white-haired man into the Assembly Hall, and as he appeared at the door every person sprang to his feet; the tears flowed freely as they looked upon the grand old veteran. With a trembling voice, he said: "Fathers and mothers of Scotland, is it true that you have no more sons to send to India to work for the Lord Jesus Christ? The call for help is growing louder and louder, but there are few coming forward to answer it. You have the money put away in the bank, but where are the laborers who shall go into the field? When Queen Victoria wants men to volunteer for her army in India, you freely give your sons. You do not talk about their losing their health, and about the trying climate. But when the Lord Jesus is calling for laborers, Scotland is saying: 'We have no more sons to give.'" Turning to the President of the Assembly, he said: "Mr. Moderator, if it is true that Scotland has no more sons to give to the service of the Lord Jesus Christ in India; although I have lost my health in that land, if there are none who will go and tell those heathen of Christ, then I will be off to-morrow, to let them know that there is one old Scotchman who is ready to die for them. I will go back to the shores of the Ganges, and there lay down my life as a witness for the Son of God." Thank God for such a man as that! We want men to-day who are willing, if need be, to lay down their lives for the Son of God. Then we shall be able to make an impression upon the world. When they see that we are in earnest, their hearts will be touched, and we shall be able to lead them to the Lord Jesus Christ. I did not agree with Garibaldi's judgement in all things, but I must confess I did admire his enthusiasm. I never saw his name in the papers, or in a book, but I read all I could find about him. There was something about him that fired me up. I remember reading of the time when he was on the way to Rome in 1867, and when he was cast into prison. I read the letter he sent to his comrades: "If fifty Garibaldis are thrown into prison, let Rome be free!" He did not care for his own comfort, so long as the cause of freedom in Italy was advanced. If we have such a love for our Master and His cause that we are ready to go out and do His work whatever it may cost us personally, depend upon it the Lord will use us in building up His kingdom. I have read of a man in the ninth century who came up against a king. The king had a force of thirty thousand men, and when he heard that this general had only five hundred men, he sent him a message that if he would surrender he would treat him and his followers mercifully. Turning to one of his followers, the man said: "Take that dagger and drive it to your heart." The man at once pressed the weapon to his bosom, and fell dead at the feet of his commander. Turning to another, he said: "Leap into yonder chasm." Into the jaws of death the man went; they saw him dashed to pieces at the bottom. Then turning to the king's messenger, the man said: "Go back to your king, and tell him that I have five hundred such men. Tell him that we may die but we never surrender. Tell him that I will have him chained with my dogs within forty-eight hours." When the king heard that he had such men arrayed against him, it struck terror to his heart. His forces were so demoralized that they were scattered like chaff before the wind. Within forty-eight hours the king was taken captive and chained with the dogs of his conqueror. When the people see that we are in earnest in all that we undertake for God, they will begin to tremble; men and women will be enquiring the way to Zion. A fearful storm was raging, when the cry was heard, "Man overboard!" A human form was seen manfully breasting the furious elements in the direction of the shore; but the raging waves bore the struggler rapidly outward, and, ere the boats could be lowered, a fearful space separated the victim from help. Above the shriek of the storm and roar of the waters rose his rending cry. It was an agonizing moment. With bated breath and blanched cheek, every eye was strained to the struggling man. Manfully did the brave rowers strain every nerve in that race of mercy; but all their efforts were in vain. One wild shriek of despair, and the victim went down. A piercing cry, "Save him, save him!" rang through the hushed crowd; and into their midst darted an agitated man, throwing his arms wildly in the air, shouting, "A thousand pounds for the man who saves his life!" but his starting eye rested only on the spot where the waves rolled remorselessly over the perished. He whose strong cry broke the stillness of the crowd was Captain of the ship from whence the drowned man fell, and was _his brother_. This is the feeling we want to have in the various ranks of those bearing commission under the great Captain of our salvation. "Save him! he is my brother." The fact is, men do not believe in Christianity because they think we are not in earnest about it. In this same Epistle to the Ephesians the Apostle says we are to be "living epistles of Christ, known and read of all men." I never knew a time when Christian people were ready to go forth and put in the sickle, but there was a great harvest. Wherever you put in the sickle you will find the fields white. The trouble is there are so few to reap. God wants men and women; that is something far better than institutions. If a man or a woman be really in earnest, they will not wait to be put on some committee. If I saw a man fall into the river, and he was in danger of drowning, I would not wait until I was placed on some committee before I tried to save him. Many people say they cannot work because they have not been formally appointed. They say: "It is not my parish." I asked a person one day, during our last visit to London, if he would go and work in the inquiry room. The reply was: "I do not belong to this part of London." Let us look on the whole world as our parish, as a great harvest field. If God puts any one within our influence, let us tell them of Christ and heaven. The world may rise up and say that we are mad. In my opinion no one is fit for God's service until he is willing to be considered mad by the world. They said Paul was mad. I wish we had many more who were bitten with the same kind of madness. As some one has said: "If we are mad, we have a good Keeper on the way and a good Asylum at the end of the road." One great trouble is that people come to special revival meetings, and for two or three weeks, perhaps, they will keep up the fire, but by and by it dies out. They are like a bundle of shavings with kerosene on the top--they blaze away for a little, but soon there is nothing left. We want to keep it all the time, morning, noon and night. I heard of a well once that was said to be very good, except that it had two faults. It _would_ freeze up in the winter, and it _would_ dry up in the summer. A most extraordinary well, but I am afraid there are many wells like it. There are many people who are good at certain times; as some one has expressed it, they seem to be good "in spots." What we want is to be red hot all the time. Do not wait till some one hunts you up. People talk about striking while the iron is hot. I believe it was Cromwell who said that he would rather strike the iron and make it hot. So let us keep at our post, and we will soon grow warm in the Lord's work. Let me say a few words specially to Sabbath-school teachers. Let me urge upon you not to be satisfied with merely pointing the children away to the Lord Jesus Christ. There are so many teachers who go on sowing the seed, and who think they will reap the harvest by and by; but they do not look for the harvest now. I began to work in that way, and it was years before I saw any conversions. I believe God's method is that we should sow with one hand and reap with the other. The two should go on side by side. The idea that children must grow into manhood and womanhood before they can be brought to Jesus Christ is a false one. They can be led to Christ now in the days of their youth, and they can be kept, so that they may become useful members of society, and be a blessing to their parents, to the Church of God, and to the world. If they are allowed to grow up to manhood and womanhood before they are led to Christ, many of them will be dragged into the dens of vice; and instead of being a blessing they will be a curse to society. What is the trouble throughout Christendom to-day, in connection with the Sabbath-school? It is that so many when they grow up to the age of sixteen or so, drop through the Sabbath-school net, and that is the last we see of them. There are many young men now in our prisons who have been Sabbath scholars. The cause of that is that so few teachers believe the children can be converted when they are young. They do not labor to bring them to a knowledge of Christ, but are content to go on sowing the seed. Let a teacher resolve that, God helping him, he will not rest until he sees his whole class brought into the kingdom of God; if he thus resolves he will see signs and wonders inside of thirty days. I well remember how I got waked up on this point. I had a large Sunday-school with a thousand children. I was very much pleased with the numbers. If they only kept up or exceeded that number I was delighted; if the attendance fell below a thousand I was very much troubled. I was all the time aiming simply at numbers. There was one class held in a corner of the large hall. It was made up of young women, and it was more trouble than any other in the school. There was but one man who could ever manage it and keep it in order. If he could manage to keep the class quiet I thought it was about as much as we could hope for. The idea of any of them being converted never entered my mind. One Sabbath this teacher was missing, and it was with difficulty that his substitute could keep order in the class. During the week the teacher came to my place of business. I noticed that he looked very pale, and I asked what was the trouble. "I have been bleeding at the lungs," he said, "and the doctor tells me I cannot live. I must give up my class and go back to my widowed mother in New York State." He fully believed he was going home to die. As he spoke to me his chin quivered, and the tears began to flow. I noticed this and said: "You are not afraid of death, are you?" "Oh, no, I am not afraid to die, but I will meet God, and not one of my Sabbath-school scholars is converted. What shall I say?" Ah, how different things looked when he felt he was going to render an account of his stewardship. I was speechless. It was something new to me to hear any one speak in that way. I said: "Suppose we go and see the scholars and tell them about Christ." "I am very weak," he said, "too weak to walk." I said I would take him in a carriage. We took a carriage and went round to the residence of every scholar. He would just be able to stagger across the sidewalk, sometimes leaning on my arm. Calling the young lady by name, he would pray with her and plead with her to come to Christ. It was a new experience for me. I got a new view of things. After he had used up all his strength I would take him home. Next day he would start again and visit others in the class. Sometimes he would go alone, and sometimes I would go with him. At the end of ten days he came to my place of business, his face beaming with joy, and said: "The last one has yielded her heart to Christ. I am going home now; I have done all I can do; my work is done." I asked when he was going, and he said: "To-morrow night." I said: "Suppose I ask these young friends to have a little gathering, to meet you once more before you go." He said he would be very glad. I sent out the invitations and they all came together. I had never spent such a night up to that time. I had never met such a large number of young converts, led to Christ by his influence and mine. We prayed for each member of the class, for the Superintendent, and for the teacher. Every one of them prayed; what a change had come over them in a short space of time. We tried to sing--but we did not get on very well-- "Blest be the tie that binds Our hearts in Christian love." We all bade him good-bye; but I felt as if I must go and see him once more. Next night, before the train started, I went to the station, and found that, without any concert of action, one and another of the class had come to bid him good-bye. They were all there on the platform. A few gathered around us--the fireman, engineer, brakesman, and conductor of the train, with the passengers. It was a beautiful summer night, and the sun was just going down behind the western prairies as we sang together-- "Here we meet to part again, But when we meet on Canaan's shore, There'll be no parting there." As the train moved out of the station, he stood on the outside platform, and, with his finger pointing heavenward, he said: "I will meet you yonder;" then he disappeared from our view. What a work was accomplished in those ten days! Some of the members of that class were among the most active Christians we had in the school for years after. Some of them are active workers to-day. I met one of them at work away out on the Pacific Coast, a few years ago. We had a blessed work of grace in the school that summer; it took me out of my business and sent me into the Lord's work. If it had not been for the work of those ten days, probably I should not have been an evangelist to-day. Let me again urge on Sunday-school teachers to seek the salvation of your scholars. Make up your mind that within the next ten days you will do all you can to lead your class to Christ. Fathers, mothers, let there be no rest till you see all your family brought into the kingdom of God. Do you say that He will not bless such consecrated effort? What we want to-day is the spirit of consecration and concentration. May God pour out His Spirit upon us, and fill us with a holy enthusiasm. CHAPTER VI. THE POWER OF LITTLE THINGS. In the twenty-fifth chapter of Exodus we read: "And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying: 'Speak unto the children of Israel, that they bring Me an offering: of every man that giveth it willingly with his heart ye shall take my offering. And this is the offering which ye shall take of them: gold, and silver, and brass, and blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine linen, and goats' hair, and rams' skins dyed red, and badgers' skins, and shittim wood, oil for the light, spices for anointing oil and for sweet incense, onyx stones, and stones to be set in the ephod and in the breastplate. And let them make Me a sanctuary; that I may dwell among them. According to all that I show thee, after the pattern of the tabernacle, and the pattern of all the instruments thereof, even so shall ye make it.'" I am glad this has been recorded for our instruction. How it ought to encourage us all to believe that we may each have a part in building up the walls of the heavenly Zion. In all ages God has delighted to use the weak things. In his letter to the Corinthians Paul speaks of five things that God uses: "God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence." You notice there are five things mentioned that God uses--foolish things, weak things, base things, despised things, and things which are not. What for? "That no flesh should glory in His presence." When we are weak then we are strong. People often think they have not strength enough; the fact is we have too much strength. It is when we feel that we have no strength of our own, that we are willing God should use us, and work through us. If we are leaning on God's strength, we have more than all the strength of the world. This world is not going to be reached by mere human intellectual power. When we realize that we have no strength, then all the fulness of God will flow in upon us. Then we shall have power with God and with man. In Revelation we read that John on one occasion wept much at a sight he beheld in heaven. He saw a sealed book; and no one was found that could break the seal and open the book. Abel, that holy man of God, was not worthy to open it. Enoch, who had been translated to heaven without tasting death; Elijah, who had gone up in a chariot of fire; even Moses, that great law-giver; or Isaiah, or any of the prophets--none was found worthy to open the book. As he saw this John wept much. As he wept one touched him, and said: "Weep not; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of David, hath prevailed to open the Book, and to loose the seven seals thereof." When he looked to see who was the Lion of the tribe of Judah, whom did he see! Lo, the Lion was a Lamb! God's Lion is a Lamb! When we are like lambs God can use us, and we are strong in His service. We can all be weak can we not? Then let us lean on the mighty power of God. Notice that all the men whom Christ called around Him were weak men in a worldly sense. They were all men without rank, without title, without position, without wealth or culture. Nearly all of them were fishermen and unlettered men; yet Christ chose them to build up His kingdom. When God wanted to bring the children of Israel out of bondage, He did not send an army; He sent one solitary man. So in all ages God has used the weak things of the world to accomplish His purposes. I read an incident some time ago that illustrates the power of a simple tract. A society was some years ago established to distribute tracts by mail in the higher circles. One of these tracts, entitled, "Prepare to meet thy God," was enclosed in an envelope, and sent by post to a gentleman well known for his ungodly life and his reckless impiety. He was in his study when he read this letter among others. "What's that," said he. "'Prepare to meet thy God.' Who has had the impudence to send me this cant?" And, with an imprecation on his unknown correspondent, he arose to put the paper in the fire. "No; I won't do that." he said to himself; "On second thoughts, I know what I will do. I'll send it to my friend B--; it will be a good joke to hear what he'll say about it." So saying, he enclosed the tract in a fresh envelope, and, in a feigned hand, directed it to his boon companion. Mr. B-- was a man of his own stamp, and received the tract, as his friend had done, with an oath at the Methodistical humbug, which his first impulse was to tear in pieces. "I'll not tear it either," said he to himself. "Prepare to meet thy God" at once arrested his attention, and smote his conscience. The arrow of conviction entered his heart as he read, and he was converted. Almost his first thought was for his ungodly associates. "Have I received such blessed light and truth, and shall I not strive to communicate it to others?" He again folded the tract, and enclosed and directed it to one of his companions in sin. Wonderful to say, the little arrow hit the mark. His friend read. He also was converted; and both are now walking as the Lord's redeemed ones. In Matthew we read: "For the kingdom of heaven is as a man travelling into a far country, who called his own servants, and delivered unto them his goods. And unto one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one; to every man according to his several ability; and straightway took his journey." Observe, he gave to every man "according to his several ability." He gave to each servant just the number of talents that he could take care of and use. Some people complain that they have not more talents; but we have each the number of talents that we can properly employ. If we take good care of what we have, God will give us more. There were eight talents to be distributed among three persons; the master gave to one five; to a second, two; and to another, one. The man went away; and the servants fully understood that he expected them to improve their talents and trade with them. God is not unreasonable; He does not ask us to do what we cannot do; but He gives us according to our several ability, and He expects us to use the talents we have. We read: "He that had received the five talents went and traded with the same, and made them other five talents. And likewise he that had received two, he also gained other two. But he that had received one went and digged in the earth, and hid his lord's money." Notice that the man who had the two talents got exactly the same commendation as the man who had the five. The one who got five doubled them, and his lord said to him: "Well done, good and faithful servant." The one who had two also doubled them, and so had four talents; to him also the lord said: "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy lord." If the man who had the one talent had traded with it, he would have received exactly the same approval as the others. But what did he do? He put it into a napkin and buried it. He thought he would take care of it in that way. After the lord of these servants had been gone a long while he returned to reckon with them. What does he find in the case of the third servant? He has the one talent; but that is all. I read of a man who had a thousand dollars. He hid it away, thinking he would in that way take care of it, and that when he was an old man he would have something to fall back upon. After keeping the money for twenty years he took it to a bank and got just one thousand dollars for it. If he had put it at interest, in the usual way, he might have had three times the amount. He made the mistake that a great many people are making to-day throughout Christendom, of not trading with his talents. My experience has been as I have gone about in the world and mingled with professing Christians, that those who find most fault with others are those who themselves have nothing to do. If a person is busy improving the talents that God has given him he will have too much to do to find fault and complain about others. God has given us many opportunities of serving Him, and He expects that we should use them. People think that their time and property are their own. What saying is more frequent than this? "I have a right to do what I will with my own." On one occasion a friend was beside the dying bed of a military man who had held an important command in successful Indian wars. He asked if he were afraid to die. He at once said: "I am not." "Why?" He said: "I have never done any harm." The other replied: "If you were going to be tried by a court-martial as an officer and a gentleman, I suppose you would expect an honorable acquittal?" The dying old man lifted himself up, and with an energy which his illness seemed to render impossible, exclaimed, "That I should!" "But you are not going to a court-martial; you are going to Christ; and when Christ asks you, 'What have you done for me?' what will you say?" His countenance changed, and earnestly gazing on his friend, with agonized feelings he answered: "_Nothing!_--I have never done _anything_ for Christ!" His friend pointed out the awful mistake of habitually living in the sense of our relations one with another, and forgetting our relation to Christ and to God; therefore the error of supposing that doing no harm, or even doing good to those around, will serve as a substitute for _living to God. What have you done for Christ?_ is the great question. After some days, he called again on the old man, who said: "Well, sir, what do you think now?" He replied: "Ah! I am a poor sinner." He pointed him to the Savior of sinners; and not long afterward he departed this life as a repentant sinner, resting in Christ. What an awful end would have come to the false peace in which he was found! And yet it is the peace of the multitudes, only to be undeceived at the judgment seat of Christ. If this world is going to be reached, I am convinced it must be done by men and women of average talent. After all there are comparatively few people in the world who have great talents. Here is a man with one talent; there is another with three; perhaps I may have only half a talent. But if we all go to work and trade with the gifts we have the Lord will prosper us; and we may double or treble our talents. What we need is to be up and about our Master's work, every man building against his own house. The more we use the means and opportunities we have, the more will our ability and our opportunities be increased. An Eastern allegory runs thus: A merchant, going abroad for a time, gave respectively to two of his friends two sacks of wheat each, to take care of against his return. Years passed; he came back, and applied for them again. The first took him into a storehouse, and showed them his sacks; but they were mildewed and worthless. The other led him out into the open country, and pointed to field after field of waving corn, the produce of the two sacks given him. Said the merchant: "You have been a faithful friend. Give me two sacks of that wheat; the rest shall be thine." I heard a person once say that she wanted assurance. I asked how long she had been a Christian; and she replied she had been one for a number of years. I said: "What are you doing for Christ?" "I do not know that I have the opportunity of doing anything," she replied. I pity the person who professes to be a Christian in this day, and who says he can find no opportunities of doing any work for Christ. I cannot imagine where his lot must be cast. The idea of any one knowing the Lord Jesus Christ in this nineteenth century, and saying he has no opportunities of testifying for Him. Surely no one need look far to find plenty of opportunities for speaking and working for the Master, if he only has the desire to do it. "Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest." If you cannot do some great thing, you can do some little thing. A man sent me a tract a little while ago, entitled, "WHAT IS THAT IN THINE HAND?" and I am very thankful he sent it. These words were spoken by God to Moses when He called him to go down to Egypt, and bring the children of Israel out of the house of bondage. You remember how Moses tried to excuse himself. He said he was not eloquent; he was not this and that; and he could not go. Like Isaiah he wanted the Lord to send some one else. At last the Lord said to Moses, "What is that in thine hand?" He had a rod in his hand. It may be that a few days before he wanted something to drive the sheep with, and he may have cut this wand for that purpose. He could probably have got a hundred better rods any day. Yet with that he was to deliver the children of Israel. God was to link His almighty power with that rod; and that was enough. I can imagine that as Moses was on his way down to Egypt he may have met one of the philosophers or free-thinkers of his day, who might have asked him where he was going. "Down to Egypt." "Indeed! are you going down there again to live?" "No, I am going to bring my people out of the house of bondage." "What! you are going to deliver them from the hand of Pharaoh, the mightiest monarch now living? You think you are going to free three millions of slaves from the power of the Egyptians?" "Yes." "How are you going to do it?" "With this rod." What a contemptible thing the rod must have been in the eyes of that Egyptian freethinker; the idea of delivering three millions of slaves with a rod! We had three millions of slaves in this country, and before they could be set free half a million of men had to lay down their lives. The flower of the nation marched to its grave before our slaves gained their deliverance. Here was a weak and solitary man going down to Egypt, to meet a monarch who had the power of life and death. And all he had with which to deliver the people from bondage was this rod! Yet see how famous that rod became. When Moses wanted to bring up the plagues on the people he had only to stretch out his rod, and they covered the land. He had but to stretch it out, and the water of the country was turned into blood. Then when the people came to the Red Sea and they wanted to go across, he had only to lift up the rod and the waters separated, so that the people could pass through dry-shod. When they were in the desert and wanted water to drink, again he lifted this rod and struck the flinty rock, when the water burst forth, and they drank and were refreshed. That contemptible rod became mighty indeed. But it was not the rod; it was the God of Moses, who condescended to use it. Let us learn a lesson from this history. We are required to use what we have, not what we have not. Whatever gifts or talents you have, take and lay them at the Master's feet. Moses took what he had; and we see how much he accomplished. If we are ready to say: "Here am I, ready and willing to be used," the Lord will use us; He will link His mighty power with our weakness, and we shall be able to do great things for Him. Look again, and see Joshua as he goes up to the walls of Jericho. If you had asked what they had with which to bring down the walls of that city, all you would have seen would have been a few rams' horns. They must have looked very mean and contemptible in the eyes of the men of Jericho. Perhaps the city contained some men who were giants; as they looked over the walls and saw the Israelites marching around the city blowing these horns, they must have appeared very insignificant. But God can use the base things, the despised things. However contemptible an instrument a ram's horn may have appeared in the sight of man, the people went on blowing them as they were commanded; and at the appointed time down came the walls, and the city was taken. The Israelites had no battering rams; no great armor or mighty weapons of any kind. They simply took what they had, and God used it to do the work. Look at Samson going out to meet a thousand Philistines. What has he with him? Only the jawbone of an ass! If God could use that, surely He can use us, can he not? Do you tell me He cannot use this woman, that little boy? There is not one whom He cannot use, if we are willing to be used. I remember hearing a Scotchman say, when I was in Great Britain ten years ago, that there was probably not a man in all Saul's army but believed that God _could_ use him to go out and slay the giant of Gath. But there was only one solitary man who believed that God _would_ use him. David went out to meet Goliath and we know the result. We all believe that God _can_ use us; we want to take a step further and believe that He _will_ use us. If we are willing to be used, He is willing to use us in His service. How contemptible these smooth stones that David took out of the brook would have appeared to Goliath! Even Saul wanted David to take his armor, and put it on. He was on the point of yielding; but he took his sling and the five smooth stones and went out. The giant of Gath fell before him. Let us go forth in the name of the God of hosts, using what we have, and He will give us the victory. When I was in Glasgow a few years ago, a friend was telling me about an open-air preacher who died there some years before. This man was preaching one Sabbath morning on Shamgar. He said: "I can imagine that when he was ploughing in the field a man came running over the hill all out of breath, and shouted: 'Shamgar! Shamgar! There are six hundred Philistines coming toward you.' Shamgar quietly said: 'You pass on; I can take care of them, they are four hundred short.' So he took an ox goad and slew the whole of them. He routed them hip and high. And the Israelites had again fulfilled before their eyes the words: 'One shall chase a thousand and two shall put ten thousand to flight.'" Now-a-days it takes about a thousand to chase one, because we do not realize that we are weak in ourselves and that our strength is in God. We want to remember that it is true to-day as ever it was that "One shall chase a thousand." What we need is Holy Ghost power that can take up the weakest child here and make him mighty in God's hand. There is a mountain to be threshed; there lies a bar of iron, and a little weak worm. God puts aside the iron, and takes up the worm to thresh the mountain. That is God's way. His thoughts are not our thoughts; His plans are not ours. We say: "If such and such a man were only converted--that rich man or that wealthy lady--how much good would be done!" Very true; but it may be that God will pass them by and take up some poor tramp, and make him the greatest instrument for good in all the land. John Bunyan, the poor Bedford tinker, was worth more than all the nobility of his day. God took him in hand, and he became mighty. He wrote that wonderful book that has gone marching through the nations, lifting up many a weary heart, cheering many a discouraged and disheartened one. Let us remember that if we are willing to be used, God is willing and waiting to use us. I once heard an Englishman speak about Christ feeding the five thousand with the five barley loaves and the two small fishes. He said that Christ may have taken one of the loaves and broken off a piece and given it to one of the disciples to divide. When the disciple began to pass it round he only gave a very small piece to the first, because he was afraid it would not hold out. But after he had given the first piece it did not seem to grow any the less; so the next time he gave a larger piece, and still the bread was not exhausted. The more he gave, the more the bread increased, until all had plenty. At the first all could be carried in one basket; but when the whole multitude had been satisfied the disciples gathered up twelve baskets full of fragments. They had a good deal more when they stopped than when they began. Let us bring our little barley loaves to the Master that He may multiply them. You say you have not got much; well, you can use what you have. The longer I work in Christ's vineyard the more convinced I am that a good many are kept out of the service of Christ, deprived of the luxury of working for God, because they are trying to do some great thing. Let us be willing to do little things. And let us remember that nothing is small in which God is. Elijah's servant came to him and told him he saw a cloud not larger than a man's hand. That was enough for Elijah. He said to his servant, "Go, tell Ahab to make haste; there is the sound of abundance of rain." Elijah knew that the small cloud would bring rain. Nothing that we do for God is small. I remember holding meetings some years ago at a certain place, and I met a young lady at the house where I was staying. She told me she had a Sunday afternoon class in a mission-school. At one of our afternoon meetings I saw this lady sitting right in front; she must have been there early to get a good seat. After the service I met her, and I said: "I saw you at the meeting to-day; I thought you had a class." "So I have." "Did you get some one to take it for you?" "No." "Did you tell the Superintendent you were not to be there?" "No." "Do you know who had the class?" "No." "Do you know if any one was there to take it?" "I am afraid there was nobody; for I saw a good many of the teachers of the school at your meeting." "Is that the way you do the Lord's work?" "Well, you know, I have only five little boys. I thought it would not make any difference." Only five little boys! Why, there might have been a John Knox, or a Wesley, or a Whitefield, or a Bunyan there. You cannot tell what these boys might become. One of them might become another Martin Luther; there might be a second Reformation slumbering in one of these five little boys. It is a great thing for any one to take "five little boys" and train them for God and for eternity. You may set a stream in motion that will flow on after you are dead and gone. Little did the mothers of the Wesleys know what would be the result, when she trained her boys for God and for His kingdom. See what mighty results have flowed from that one source. It is estimated that there are to-day 25,000,000 adherents of the Methodist faith, and over 5,000,000 communicants. It is estimated there are 110,000 regular and local preachers in the United States alone. Two new churches are being built every day in the year; and the work of the Methodist Church is spreading over this great Republic. And all this has been done in about a hundred and fifty years. Let not mothers think that their work of training children for God is a small one. In the sight of God it is very great; many may rise up in eternity to call them blessed. I have now in my mind a mother who has had twelve boys. They have all grown up to be active Christians. A number of them are preachers of the Gospel; and all of them are true to the Son of God. There are very few women in our country who have done more for the nation than that mother. It is a great thing to be permitted to touch God's work, and to be a co-worker with Him. There is a bridge over the Niagara River. It is one of the great highways of the nation; trains pass over it every few minutes of the day. When they began to make the bridge, the first thing they did was to take a boy's kite and send a little thread across the stream. It seemed a very small thing, but it was the beginning of a great work. So if we only lead one soul to Christ, eternity alone may tell what the result will be. You may be the means of saving some one who may become one of the most eminent men in the service of God that the world has ever seen. We may not be able to do any great thing; but if each of us will do _something_, however small it may be, a goof deal will be accomplished for God. For a good many years I have made it a rule not to let any day pass without speaking to some one about eternal things. I commenced it away back years ago, and if I live the life allotted to man, there will be 18,250 persons who will have been spoken to personally by me. That of course does not take into account those to whom I speak publicly. How often we as Christians meet with people, when we might turn the conversation into a channel that will lead them up to Christ. There are many burdened hearts all around us; can we not help to remove these burdens? Some one has represented this world as two great mountains--a mountain of sorrow and a mountain of joy. If we can each day take something from the mountain of sorrow and add it to the mountain of joy, a good deal will be accomplished in the course of a year. I remember Mr. Spurgeon making this remark a few days ago: When Moses went to tell the king of Egypt that he would call up the plague of frogs upon the land, the king may have said: "Your God is the God of frogs, is He? I am not afraid of them; bring them on, I do not care for the frogs!" Says Moses: "But there are a good many of them, O king." And he found that out. So we may be weak and contemptible individually, but there a good many Christians scattered all over the land, and we can accomplish a great deal between us. Supposing each one who loves the Lord Jesus were to resolve to-day, by God's help, to try and lead one soul to Christ this week. Is there a professing Christian who cannot lead some soul into the kingdom of God? If you cannot I want to tell you that there is something wrong in your life; you had better have it straightened out at once. If you have not an influence for good over some one of your friends or neighbors, there is something in your life that needs to be put right. May God show it to you to-day! I have little sympathy with the idea that a Christian man or woman has to live for years before they can have the privilege of leading anyone out of the darkness of this world into the kingdom of God. I do not believe, either, that all God's work is going to be done by ministers, and other officers in the Churches. This lost world will never be reached and brought back to loyalty to God, until the children of God wake up to the fact that they have a mission in the world. If we are true Christians we should all be missionaries. Christ came down from heaven on a mission, and if we have His Spirit in us we will be missionaries too. If we have no desire to see the world discipled, to see man brought back to God, there is something very far wrong in our religion. If you cannot work among the elder people you can go to work among the children. Let Christians speak kindly to these boys and girls about their souls; they will remember it all their lives. They may forget the sermon, but if some one speaks to them personally, they will say: "That man or woman must be greatly interested in me or they would not have been at the trouble to speak to me." They may wake up to the fact that they have immortal souls, and even if the preaching goes right over their heads, a little personal effort may be a means of blessing to them. This personal and individual dealing is perfectly Scriptural. Philip was called away from a great work in Samaria to go and speak to one man in the desert. Christ's great sermon on Regeneration was addressed to one man; and that wonderful discourse by our Lord on the Water of Life was spoken to one poor sinful woman. I pity those Christians who are not willing to speak to one soul; they are not fit for God's service. We shall not accomplish much for God in the world, if we are not willing to speak to the ones and twos. Another thing: Do not let Satan make you believe that the children are too young to be saved. Of course you cannot put old heads on young shoulders. You cannot make them into deacons and elders all at once. But they can give their young hearts to Christ. A good many years ago I had a mission school in Chicago. The children were mostly those of ungodly parents. I only had them about an hour out of the week, and it seemed as if any good they got was wiped out during the week. I used to think that if ever I became a public speaker I would go up and down the world and beseech parents to consider the importance of training their children for God and eternity. On one of the first Sabbaths I went out of Chicago I impressed this on the congregation. When I had finished my address an old white-haired man got up. I was all in a tremble, thinking he was going to criticise what I had said. Instead of that he said: "I want to indorse all that this young man has spoken. Sixteen years ago I was in a heathen country. My wife died and left me with three motherless children. The first Sabbath after her death my eldest girl, ten years old, said: 'Papa, may I take the children into the bedroom and pray with them as mother used to do on the Sabbath?' I said she might. When they came out of the room after a time I saw that my eldest daughter had been weeping. I called her to me, and said: 'Nellie, what is the trouble?' 'Oh, father,' she said, 'after we went into the room I made the prayer that mother taught me to make.' Then, naming her little brother, He made the prayer that mother taught him. Little Susie didn't use to pray when mother took us in there because mother thought she was too young. But when we got through she made a prayer of her own. I could not but weep when I heard her pray. She put her little hands together and closed her eyes and said: 'O God, you have taken away my dear mamma, and I have no mamma now to pray for me. Won't you bless me and make me good just as mamma was, for Jesus Christ's sake, Amen.'" "Little Susie gave evidence of having given her young heart to God before she was four years old. For sixteen years she has been at work as a missionary among the heathen." Let us remember that God can use these little children. Dr. Milnor was brought up a Quaker, became a distinguished lawyer in Philadelphia, and was a member of Congress for three successive terms. Returning to his home on a visit during his last Congressional session, his little daughter rushed upon him exclaiming. "Papa! papa! do you know I can read?" "No?" he said, "let me hear you!" She opened her little Bible and read, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart." It was an arrow in her father's heart, It came to him as a solemn admonition. "Out of the mouth of babes," God's Spirit moved within him. He was driven to his closet, and a friend calling upon him found he had been weeping over the _Dairyman's Daughter_. Although only forty years of age, he abandoned politics and law for the ministry of the Gospel. For thirty years he was the beloved rector of St. George's Church, in Philadelphia, the predecessor of the venerated Dr. Tyng. Dear mothers and fathers, let us in simple faith bring our children to Christ. He is the same to-day as when He took them in His arms and said: "Suffer the little children to come unto Me and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." I may not do much with all my care, But I surely may bless a few; The loving Jesus will give to me, Some work of love to do; I may wipe the tears from some weeping eyes, I may bring the smile again To a face that is weary and worn with care, To a heart that is full of pain. I may speak His name to the sorrowful, As I journey by their side; To the sinful and despairing ones I may preach of the Crucified. I may drop some little gentle word In the midst of some scene of strife; I may comfort the sick and the dying With a thought of eternal life. _Marianne Farningham_ CHAPTER VII. "SHE HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD." In the gospel by Mark we read: "After two days was the feast of the Passover, and of unleavened bread: and the Chief Priests and the Scribes sought how they might take Him by craft, and put Him to death. But they said, not on the feast day, lest there be an uproar of the people. And being in Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as He sat at meat, there came a woman having an alabaster box of ointment of spikenard, very precious; and she brake the box, and poured it on His head. And there were some that had indignation within themselves, and said, Why was this waste of the ointment made? For it might have been sold for more than three hundred pence, and have been given to the poor. And they murmured against her. And Jesus said, 'Let her alone; why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good work for Me. For ye have the poor with you always, and whensoever ye will ye may do them good; but Me ye have not always. She hath done what she could; she is come aforehand to anoint My body to the burying. Verily I say unto you, wheresoever this Gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.'" John tells us in his Gospel who this woman was. "Then Jesus six days before the Passover came to Bethany, where Lazarus was which had been dead, whom He raised from the dead. There they made Him a supper, and Martha served; but Lazarus was one of them that sat at the table with him. Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair; and the house was filled with the odor of the ointment. Then saith one of His disciples, Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, which should betray Him: 'Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor?' This he said, not that he cared for the poor; but because he was a thief, and had the bag, and bare what was put therein. Then said Jesus, 'Let her alone: against the day of My burying hath she kept this. For the poor always ye have with you; but Me ye have not always.'" This is the last time we have a glimpse of the family at Bethany. It was Christ's last week there, and here we have the last recorded interview between Christ and that lovely family. Speaking of Martha and Mary some one has said: "They were both dear to Jesus and they both loved Him, but they were different. The eye of one saw His weariness and would give to Him; the faith of the other apprehended His fulness and would draw from Him; Martha's service was acceptable to the Lord and was acknowledged by Him, but He would not allow it to disturb Mary's communion. Mary knew his mind; she had deeper fellowship with Him; her heart clung to Himself." I want to call your attention specially to one clause from this fourteenth chapter of Mark, "She hath done what she could." If some one had reported in Jerusalem that something was going to happen at Bethany on that memorable day, that should outlive the Roman Empire, and all the monarchs that had ever existed or would exist, there would have been great excitement in the city. A good many people would have gone down to Bethany that day to see the thing that was going to happen, and that was to live so long. Little did Mary think that she was going to erect a monument which would outlive empires and kingdoms. She never thought of herself. Love does not think of itself. What does Christ say: "Wheresoever this Gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her." This one story has already been put into three hundred and fifty different languages, and it is now in circulation in every nation under heaven. Day by day this story is being printed and published. One society in London alone prints, every working hour of the day, five hundred records of this act that took place at Bethany. It is being spread abroad in all the corners of the earth. It will be told out as long as the Church of God exists. Matthew speaks of it; so does John; and so does Mark. Men seek to erect some monument that will live after they are dead and gone. This woman never thought to erect a monument; she simply wanted to lavish her love upon Christ. But the act has lived and will continue to live while the Church is on earth. It is as fresh to-day as it was a hundred years ago: it is fresher than it was five hundred years ago. In fact there never was a time when it was so well known as to-day. Although Mary was herself unknown outside of Bethany when she performed the act, now it is known over all the world. Kings have come and gone; empires have risen and crumbled. Egypt, with its ancient glories, has passed away. Greece, with its wise men and its mighty philosophers and its warriors, has been almost forgotten. The great Roman empire has passed away. We do not know the names of those who are buried in the Pyramids, or of those who were embalmed in Egypt, with so much care and trouble, but the record of this humble life continues to be an inspiration to others. Here is a woman whose memory has outlived Caesar, Alexander, Cyrus, and all the great warriors of the ancient world. We do not know that she was wealthy, or beautiful, or gifted, or great in the eye of the world. What we do know is that she loved the Savior. She took this box of precious ointment and broke it over the body of Christ. Some one has said it was the only thing He ever received that He did not give away. It was a small thing in the sight of the world. If there had been daily papers in those days, and some Jerusalem reporter had been looking out for items of news that would interest the inhabitants, I suppose he would not have thought it worth putting into his paper. Yet it has outlived all that happened in that century, except, of course, the sayings, and the other events connected with the life of Christ. Mary had Christ in her heart as well as in her creed. She loved Him and she showed her love in acts. Thank God, everyone of us can love Christ, and we can all do something for Him. It may be a small thing; but whatever it is it shall be lasting; it will outlive all the monuments on earth. The iron and the granite will rust and crumble and fade away, but anything done for Christ will never fade. It will be more lasting than time itself. Christ says: "Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My word shall not pass away." Look again and see that woman in the temple. Christ stood there as the people passed by and cast their offerings into the treasury. The widow had but two mites and she cast it all in. The Lord saw that her heart was in it, and so He commended her. If some nobleman had cast in a thousand dollars Christ would probably not have noticed it, unless his heart had gone with it. Gold is of little value in heaven. It is so plentiful there that they use it to pave the streets with; and it is transparent gold, much better gold than we have in this world. It is when the heart goes with the offering that it is accepted of Christ. So He said of this woman: "She hath cast in more than they all." She had done all she could. I think this is the lesson we are to learn from these Scripture incidents. The Lord expects us to do what we can. We can all do something. In one of our Southern cities a few Christian people gathered together at the beginning of the war to see what could be done about building a church in a part of the city where the poor were very much neglected. After they had discussed the matter they wanted to see how much could be raised out of the congregation. One said he would give so much; others said they would give so much. They only got about half the amount that was needed, and it was thought they would have to abandon the project. Away back in the meeting there sat a washerwoman. She rose and said her little boy had died a week before. All he had was a gold dollar. She said: "It is all I have, but I will give the dollar to the cause." Her words touched the hearts of many of those who heard them. Rich men were ashamed at what they had given. The whole sum was raised within a very short time. I have spoken in that church, and I know it to be a centre of influence in one of our great cities. This poor woman did what she could; perhaps she gave more in proportion than anyone in the city. When we were in London eight years ago, we wanted the city to be canvassed; we called for volunteers to go and visit the people in their own homes and invite them to come to the meetings. Among those who came forward was an old woman, eighty-five years of age. She said she wanted to do a little more for the Master before she went home. She took a district and went from house to house, delivering the messages of invitation and the tracts to the people. I suppose she has now gone to her reward, but I shall never forget her. She wanted to do what she could. If every Christian man and woman will do what Mary did, multitudes will be reached and blessed. Years ago, when Illinois was but a young State, there were only a few settlers here and there throughout a large portion. One of these was a man who used to spend his Sundays in hunting and fishing. He was a profane and notoriously wicked man. His little girl went to the Sabbath-school at the log school-house. There she was taught the way into the kingdom of God. When she was converted the teacher tried to tell her how she might be used of God in doing good to others. She thought she would begin with her father. Others had tried to reach him and had failed to do it, but his own child had more influence with him. It is written, "A little child shall lead them." She got him to promise to go to the meeting. He came to the door, but at first he would not go in. He had gone to the school when he was young, but one day the boys laughed at him because he had a little impediment in his speech. He would not go back, and so he had never learned to read. However he was at last induced to go to the Sabbath-school. There he heard of Christ, and he was converted to God. His little child helped him and others helped him, and he soon learned to read. This man has since been called to his reward, but about two years ago when I saw him last, if I remember well, that man had established on the Western prairies between 1,100 and 1,200 Sunday-schools. In addition to all these school-houses, scattered about over the country, churches have sprung up. There are now hundreds of flourishing churches that have grown out of these little mission schools that he planted. He used to have a Sunday-school horse, a "Robert Raikes" horse he called him, on which he traveled up and down the country, going into many outlying districts where nothing was being done for Christ. He used to gather the parents into the log school-houses and tell how his little girl led him to Christ. I have heard a great many orators, but I never heard any who could move an audience as he could. There was no impediment in his speech when he began to speak for Christ; he seemed to have all the eloquence and fire of heaven. That little girl did what she could. She did a good day's work when she led her father to the Savior. Every one of us may do something. If we are only willing to do what we can, the Lord will condescend to use us; and it will be a great thing to be instruments in His hand that He may do with us what He will. I remember reading in the papers that when the theatre in Vienna was on fire a few years ago, a man in one of the corridors was hurrying out. Many others of the people were trying to find their way out so as to escape from the fire. It was dark, but this man had a single match in his pocket. He struck it, and by doing so he was able to save twenty lives. He did what he could. You think you cannot do much. If you are the means of saving one soul, he may be instrumental in saving a hundred more. I remember when we were in England ten years ago, there was a woman in the city where we labored who got stirred up. I do not know but it was this very text that moved her, "She hath done what she could." She had been a nominal Christian for a good many years, but she had not thought that she had any particular mission in the world. I am afraid that is the condition of many professedly Christian men and women. Now she began to look about her to see what she could do. She thought she would try and do something for her fallen sisters in that town. She went out and began to talk kindly to those she met on the street. She hired a house and invited them to come and meet her there. When we went back to that city about a year or so ago, she had rescued over three hundred of these fallen ones, and had restored them to their parents and homes. She is now corresponding with many of them. Think of more than three hundred of these sisters reclaimed from sin and death, through the efforts of one woman. She did what she could. What a grand harvest there will be, and how she will rejoice when she hears the Master say: "Well done, good and faithful servant." I remember hearing of a man in one of the hospitals who received a bouquet of flowers from the Flower Mission. He looked at the beautiful bouquet and said: "Well, if I had known that a bunch of flowers could do a fellow so much good, I would have sent some myself when I was well." If people only knew how they might cheer some lonely heart and lift up some drooping spirit, or speak some word that shall be lasting in its effects for all coming time, they would be up and about it. If the Gospel is ever to be carried into the lanes and alleys, up to the attics and down into the cellars, we must all of us be about it. As I have said, if each of us will do what we can, a great multitude will be gathered into the kingdom of God. Rev. Dr. Willets, of Philadelphia, in illustrating the blessedness of cultivating a liberal spirit, uses this beautiful figure-- "See that little fountain yonder--away yonder in the distant mountain, shining like a thread of silver through the thick copse, and sparkling like a diamond in its healthful activity. It is hurrying on with tinkling feet to bear its tribute to the river. See, it passes a stagnant pool, and the pool hails it: 'Whither away, master streamlet?' 'I am going to the river to bear this cup of water God has given me.' 'Ah, you are very foolish for that: you'll need it before the summer's over. It has been a backward spring, and we shall have a hot summer to pay for it--you will dry up then.' 'Well,' said the streamlet, 'if I am to die so soon, I had better work while the day lasts. If I am likely to lose this treasure from the heat, I had better do good with it while I have it.' So on it went, blessing and rejoicing in its course. The pool smiled complacently at its own superior foresight, and husbanded all its resources, letting not a drop steal away. Soon the midsummer heat came down, and it fell upon the little stream. But the trees crowded to its brink, and threw out their sheltering branches over it in the day of adversity, for it brought refreshment and life to them, and the sun peeped through the branches and smiled complacently upon its dimpled face, and seemed to say, 'It's not in my heart to harm you;' and the birds sipped the silver tide, and sung its praises; the flowers breathed their perfume upon its bosom; the husbandman's eye always sparkled with joy, as he looked upon the line of verdant beauty that marked its course through his fields and meadows; and so on it went, blessing and blessed of all! And where was the prudent pool? Alas! in its glorious inactivity it grew sickly and pestilential. The beasts of the field put their lips to it, but turned away without drinking; the breeze stopped and kissed it by _mistake_, but shrunk chilled away. It caught the malaria in the contact, and carried the ague through the region; the inhabitants caught it and had to move away; and at last, the very frogs cast their venom upon the pool and deserted it, and heaven, in mercy to man, smote it with a hotter breath and dried it up! But did not the little stream exhaust itself? Oh, no? God saw to that. It emptied its full cup into the river, and the river bore it on to the sea, and the sea welcomed it, and the sun smiled upon the sea, and the sea sent up its incense to greet the sun, and the clouds caught in their capacious bosoms the incense from the sea, and the winds, like waiting steeds, caught the chariots of the clouds and bore them away--away to the very mountain that gave the little fountain birth, and there they tipped the brimming cup, and poured the grateful baptism down; and so God saw to it that the little fountain, though it gave so fully and so freely, never ran dry. And if God so blessed the fountain, will He not bless you, my friends, if, as ye have freely received, ye also freely give? Be assured He will." A young lady belonging to a wealthy family in our country was sent to a fashionable boarding-school. In the school Christ had a true witness in one of the teachers. She was watching for an opportunity of reaching some of the pupils. When this young lady of wealth and position came, the teacher set her heart upon winning her to Christ. The first thing she did was to gain her affections. Let me say right here that we shall not do much toward reaching the people until we make them love us. This teacher, having won the heart of her pupil, began to talk to her about Christ, and she soon won her heart for the Savior. Then instead of dropping her as so many do, she began to show her the luxury of working for God. They worked together, and were successful in winning a good many of the young ladies in the school to Christ. When the pupil got a taste of work, that spoiled the world for her. Let me say to any Christian who is holding on to the world: Get into the Lord's work, and the world will soon leave you. You will not leave it, you will have something better. I pity those Christians who are all the time asking if they have to give up this thing and that thing. You won't be asking that when you get a taste of the Lord's work; you will then have something that the world cannot give you. When this young lady went back to her home the parents were anxious that she should go out into worldly society. They gave a great many parties, but, to their great amazement, they could not get her interested. She was hungering for something else. She went to the Sabbath-school in connection with the church she attended, and asked the Superintendent to give her a class. He said there were really more teachers than he needed. She tried for weeks to find something to do for Christ. One day as she was walking down the street, she saw a little boy coming out of a shoemaker's shop. The man had a wooden last in his hand, and he was running as fast as he could after the boy. When he found he could not overtake him, he hurled the last at him and hit him in the back. When the shoemaker had picked up his last and gone back to his shop, the boy stopped running and began to cry. The scene touched the heart of this young lady. When she got up to him she stopped and spoke to him kindly. "Do you go to the Sabbath-school?" "No." "Do you go to the day-school?" "No." "What makes you cry?" He thought she was going to make sport of him, so he said it was none of her business. "But I am your friend," she said. He was not in the habit of having a young lady like that speak to him; at first he was afraid of her, but at last she won his confidence. Finally, she asked him to come to the Sabbath-school, and be in her class. No, he said, he didn't like study; he would not come. She said she would not ask him to study; she would tell him beautiful stories and there would be nice singing. At last he promised that he would come. He was to meet her on Sabbath morning, at the corner of a certain street. She was not sure that he would keep his promise, but she was there at the appointed time, and he was there too. She took him to the school and said to the Superintendent: "Can you give me a place where I can teach this boy?" He had not combed his hair, and he was barefooted. They did not have any of that kind of children in the school, so the Superintendent looked at him, and said he did not know just where to put him. Finally he put him away in a corner, as far as he could from the others. There this young lady commenced her work--work that the angels would have been glad to do. He went home and told his mother he thought he had been among the angels. When the mother found he was going to a Protestant school she told him he must not go again. When the father got to know it, he said he would flog him every time he went to the school. However, the boy went again the next Sabbath, and the father flogged him; every time he went he gave the poor boy a flogging. At last he said to his father: "I wish you would flog me before I go, and then I won't be thinking about it all the time I am at the school." You laugh at it, but, dear friends, let us remember that gentleness and love will break down the opposition in the hardest heart. These little diamonds will sparkle in the Savior's crown, if we will but search them out and polish them. We cannot make diamonds, but we can polish them if we will. Finding that the flogging did not stop the boy from going to the school, the father said: "If you will give up the Sabbath-school, I will give you every Saturday afternoon to play, or you can have all you make by peddling." The boy went to his teacher and said: "I have been thinking that if you could meet me on the Saturday afternoon we would have longer time together than on the Sabbath." I wonder if there is a wealthy young lady reading this book who would give up her Saturday afternoons to teach a poor little boy the way into the kingdom of God. She said she would gladly do it; if any callers came she was always engaged on Saturdays. It was not long before the light broke into the darkened mind of the boy, and a change came into his life. She got him some good clothes and took an interest in him; she was a guardian angel to him. One day he was down at the railway station peddling. He was standing on the platform of the carriage, when the engine gave a sudden start; the little fellow was leaning on the edge, and his foot slipped so that he fell down and the train passed over his legs. When the doctor came, the first thing he said was: "Doctor, will I live to get home?" "No, my boy, you are dying." "Will you tell my father and mother that I died a Christian?" Did not the teacher get well paid for her work? She will be no stranger when she goes to the better land. That little boy will be waiting to give her a welcome. It is a great thing to lead one soul from the darkness of sin into the glorious light of the Gospel. I believe if an angel were to wing his way from earth up to heaven, and were to say that there was one poor, ragged boy, without father or mother, with no one to care for him and teach him the way of life; and if God were to ask who among them was willing to come down to this earth and live here for fifty years and lead that one to Jesus Christ, every angel in heaven would volunteer to go. Even Gabriel, who stands in the presence of the Almighty, would say: "Let me leave my high and lofty position, and let me have the luxury of leading one soul to Jesus Christ." There is no greater honor than to be the instrument in God's hand of leading one person out of the kingdom of Satan into the glorious light of heaven. I have this motto in my Bible, and I commend it to you: "Do all the good you can; to all the people you can; in all the ways you can; and as long as ever you can." If each of us will at once set about some work for God, and will keep at it 365 days in the year, then a good deal will be accomplished. Let us so live that it may be truthfully said of us: We have done what we could. CHAPTER VIII. "WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR?" You have no doubt frequently read the story of the good Samaritan. In this parable Christ brings before us four men. He draws the picture so vividly that the world will never forget it. Too often when we read the Scripture narratives they do not come home to our hearts, and it is not long before we forget the lesson that the Master would have us to learn and to remember. We find that when Christ was on the earth there was a class of people who gathered round Him and were continually finding fault with everything He said and did. We read that on this occasion a lawyer came asking Him what he could do to inherit eternal life. Our Lord told him to keep the commandments--to love the Lord with all his heart, and his neighbor as himself. The lawyer then wanted to know who was his neighbor. In this narrative Christ told him who his neighbor was, and what it was to love him. It seems to me that we have been a long while in finding out who is our neighbor. I think in the parable of the good Samaritan Christ has taught us very clearly that any man or woman who is in need of our love and our help--whether temporal or spiritual--is our neighbor. If we can render them any service we are to do it in the name of our Master. Here we have brought before us two men, each of whom passed by one who was in great need--one who had fallen among the thieves, who had been stripped, wounded, and left there to die. The first that came down that road from Jerusalem to Jericho was a priest. As he went along the highway he heard a cry of distress, and he looked to see who was the unfortunate man. He could see that the poor sufferer was a Jew; it may be that he had seen him in the temple on the Sabbath day. But then he was not in his own parish now. His work was in the temple, and it was over for the present. He was a professional man, and he had gone through all that was required of him. He was in a great hurry to get down to Jericho. It may be they were going to open a new synagogue there, and he was to dedicate it. A very important business, and of course he could not stop to help this poor, wounded, fallen man. So he passed on. It may be, as he went along, he reasoned with himself somewhat in this way: "I wonder why God ever permitted sin to enter the world at all. It is very strange that man should be in this fallen state." Or his thoughts may have taken another turn, and he said to himself that when he got down to Jericho he would form a committee to look after these unfortunate brethren. He would give something toward the expenses. Or he would try and get a policeman to go and look after those thieves who had stripped him. He did not think that all the while this poor wounded man was dying. Most likely he was now crying for water, and it might be that there was a brook running by, within a few rods of the spot where he lay. Yet this priest never stopped to give him a drink. All his religion was in his head: it had never reached his heart. The one thought in his mind was duty, duty; and when he had got through that which he considered his duty, he fancied his work was done. God wants heart service; if we do not give Him that, we can render to Him no service at all. We read that a Levite next came along the highway where this wounded man was lying in his helplessness. As he passed along he also heard the man's cry of distress. He turned aside for a moment to look at the poor fellow, and he could see that he was a son of Abraham--a brother Jew. But he also must hasten on to Jericho. Possibly he had to help in the ceremony of opening the new synagogue. Perhaps there was going to be a convention down there, on "How to reach the masses," and he was going to help discuss the point. I have noticed that many men now-a-days will go to a conference and talk for hours on that subject, but they will not themselves lift a hand to reach the masses. The Levite's thoughts probably took another turn, and he said to himself: "I will see if I can't get a bill through the Legislature to prevent those thieves from robbing and wounding people." There are some now who think they can legislate men back to God--that they can prevent sin by legislation. Like the priest, this Levite never stopped to give the poor fellow a drop of water to quench his thirst; he never attempted to bind up his wounds or to help him in any way. He passed along the highway, doubtless, saying to himself, "I pity that poor fellow." There is a good deal of that kind of pity now-a-days; but it comes only from the lips, not from the heart. The next one to come along that road was a Samaritan. Now it was notorious that in those days a Jew would not speak to a Samaritan; the very presence of the latter was pollution to an orthodox Jew. No Jew ever entered the habitation of the hated Samaritan; he would not eat at his table or drink from his well. Neither would he allow a Samaritan to come under his roof. No religious Jew would even buy from a Samaritan, or sell to him. You know a Jew must have a very poor opinion of a man if he will not do business with him, when there is a prospect of making something out of him. Not only was this the case, but the Jews considered that the Samaritans had no souls; that when they died they would be annihilated. Their graves would be so deep that not even the sound of Gabriel's trump would wake them on the resurrection morning. He was the only man under heaven who could not become a proselyte to the Jewish faith, and become a member of the Jewish family. Repentance was denied him in this life and the life to come. He might profess the Jewish religion; they would have nothing to do with him. That was the way in which they looked upon these men; yet Christ used the despised Samaritan to teach these bitter Jews the lesson of love to their neighbor. The Samaritan came that way. It says in the narrative that the priest came down that way "by chance;" but we are not told that the Samaritan came by chance. He represents our Lord and Master. We are told that he came to where the poor wounded man was; he got off the beast on which he was riding and stooped right down there by the side of the sick man. He looked at him and saw that he was a Jew. If he had been like the Jews themselves, he would most likely have said, "Serve you right. I only wish the thieves had killed you outright. I would not lift a finger to help you, you poor wretched Samaritan." But no! not a word of condemnation or blame did he utter. Let us learn a lesson from this. Do you think these drunkards need anyone to condemn them? There is no one in the wide world who can condemn them as they condemn themselves. What they need is sympathy--tenderness, gentleness and kindness. This Samaritan did not pull a manuscript out of his pocket, and begin to read a long sermon to the wounded man. Some people seem to think that all the world needs is a lot of sermons. Why, the people of this land have been almost preached to death. What we want is to preach more sermons with our hands and feet--to carry the Gospel to the people by acts of kindness. Neither did he read this poor Jew a long lecture, endeavoring to prove that science was better than religion. He did not give him a long address on geology; what could that do for him? What the poor man needed was sympathy and help. So the first thing the good Samaritan did was to pour oil into his wounds. How many wounded men there are in our midst who have need of the oil of pity and sympathy. A good many Christians seem always to carry about with them a bottle of vinegar, which they bring out on all occasions. The Samaritan might have said to the man: "Why did you not stay at Jerusalem? What business had you to come down this road, any way, giving all this trouble?" So people will sometimes say to a young man who has come to the city and got into trouble: "Why did you ever leave your home and come to this wicked city?" They begin to scold and upbraid. You are never going to reach men and do them good in that way; or by putting yourself on a high platform; you have to come down to them and enter into their sorrows and troubles. See how this Samaritan "came to where he was," and instead of lecturing him, poured the healing oil into his wounds. You observe there are twelve things mentioned in the narrative that the Samaritan did. We can dismiss in a word all that the priest and the Levite did--they did _nothing_. (1.) He "came to where he was." (2.) He "saw him;" he did not, like the priest, pass by on the other side. (3.) He "had compassion on him." If we would be successful winners of souls we, too, must be moved with compassion for the lost and the perishing. We must sympathize with men in their sorrows and troubles, if we would hope to gain their affections and to do them good. (4.) He "went to him." The Levite went _toward_ him, but we are told that he, as well as the priest, "passed by on the other side." (5.) He "bound up his wounds." Perhaps he had to tear up his own garments in order to bind them up. (6.) He poured in oil and gave some wine to the fainting man. (7.) He "set him on his own beast." Do you not think that this poor Jew must have looked with gratitude and tenderness on the Samaritan, as he was placed on the beast, while his deliverer walked by his side? All the prejudice in his heart must have disappeared long before they got to the end of their journey. (8.) He "brought him to an inn." (9.) He "took care of him." I was greatly touched at hearing of a Christian worker in one of the districts in London where we were, who met with a drinking man at the meeting. He saw that the man was in drink, so he took him home and stayed all night with him; then, when he got sober the next morning, he talked with him. Many are willing enough to talk with drunkards when they are sober, but how few there are who will go and hunt them up when they are in their fallen condition, and stay with them till they can be reasoned with about their salvation. (10.) When he departed on the morrow, the good Samaritan asked the host to care for him. (11.) He gave him some money to pay the bill. (12.) He said: "Whatever thou spendest more, when I come again I will repay thee." There is nothing I think in all the teachings of Christ that brings out the whole Gospel better than this parable. It is a perfect picture of Christ coming down to this world to seek and save the lost. (1.) He came to this world of sin and sorrow where we were, laying by His glory for the time, that He might assume our human nature, and put Himself on a level with those He came to save. (2.) He mingled with the poor and needy so that He might see their condition. (3.) He was "moved with compassion" for the multitudes; how often this is recorded in the Gospels. We are told, on more than one occasion, that He wept as He thought of all the woe and distress that sin had brought upon the human family. (4.) Wherever Jesus Christ heard of a case of sorrow or need He went at once. No cry of distress ever reached His ears in vain. (5.) On one occasion He read from the prophets concerning Himself, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me . . . . because the Lord hath . . . . sent me to bind up the broken-hearted." He Himself was wounded, that the wounds which sin had made in us might be bound up and healed. (6.) He not only comforted the sorrowing, but gave the promise of the Holy Spirit, Who was to bring comfort and strength to His redeemed people. (7.) As the good Samaritan set the wounded man on his own beast, so the Savior gives us the unfailing promise of His word on which we may rest during our pilgrim journey. He Himself has promised to be with us in spirit by the way. (8.) He brings us to the place of rest--rest in His love, in His willingness to save, in His power to keep. At the last He will bring us to the home of everlasting rest. (9.) When He was on the earth He took a personal interest in all that concerned His disciples, and (10.) When He had gone up on high He sent another Comforter who should abide with the Church. (11.) He has furnished the Church with all that is needful for her support and growth in grace. (12.) He will come again and reward His servants for all their faithful service. Do you want to know how you can reach the masses? Go to their homes and enter into sympathy with them; tell them you have come to do them good, and let them see that you have a heart to feel for them. When they find out that you really love them, all those things that are in their hearts against God and against Christianity will be swept out of the way. Atheists may tell them that you only want to get their money, and that you do not really care for their happiness. We have to contradict that lie by our lives, and send it back to the pit where it came from. We are not going to do it unless we go personally to them and prove that we really love them. There are hundreds and thousands of families that could easily be reached if we had thousands of Christians going to them and entering into sympathy with their sorrows. That is what they want. This poor world is groaning and sighing for sympathy--human sympathy. I am quite sure it was that in Christ's life which touched the hearts of the common people. He made Himself one with them. He who was rich for our sakes became poor. He was born in the manger so that He might put himself on a level with the lowest of the low. I think that in this matter He teaches His disciples a lesson. He wants us to convince the world that He is their friend. They do not believe it. If once the world were to grasp this thought, that Jesus Christ is the Friend of the sinner, they would soon flock to Him. I am sure that ninety-nine in every hundred of those out of Christ think that, instead of loving them, God hates them. How are they to find out their mistake? They do not attend our churches; and if they did there are many places where they would not hear it. Do you think that if those poor harlots walking the streets of our cities really believed that Jesus Christ loved them and wanted to be their friend--that if He were here in person He would not condemn them, but would take sides with them, and try to lift them up--they would go on in their sins? Do you think the poor drunkard who reels along the street really believes that Christ is his friend and loves him? The Scripture plainly teaches that though Christ hates sin He loves the sinner. This story of the good Samaritan is given to teach us this lesson. Let us publish abroad the good news that Christ loves sinners, and came into the world that He might save them. There was a man who lived in one of our large cities. He died quite suddenly, and it was not long before his wife followed him to the grave. They left two boys, and there was a wealthy citizen who took the more promising of the boys and adopted him. The other boy was placed in the orphan asylum. He had never been away from his father and mother during their lives, and he had not been separated from his brother before. Every night he would go to sleep crying for his brother. One night they could not find him. Next morning he was found under the steps of the house of the wealthy banker who had adopted his little brother. When they asked him why he had left a good comfortable bed at the orphan home and stayed out there all night in the cold, he said he wanted to get near Charlie. He knew that if he rang the bell and they found him at the door they would send him hack, and it was a comfort to him to be near Charlie, even if he had to pass the night out there. His young heart was craving for sympathy, and he knew that Charlie loved him as no one else in the world did. If we can only convince these poor lost ones that some one loves them, then their hearts will be moved. During the war a little boy, Frankie Bragg, was placed in one of the hospitals. He said it was so hard to be there away from all those who loved him. The nurse who was attending him, bent down and kissed him, and said she loved him. "Do you love me?" he said; "kiss me again; that was like my sister's kiss?" The nurse kissed him again, and he said with a smile: "It is not hard for me to die now, when I know that some one loves me." If we had more of this sympathy for the lost and the sorrowing, the world would soon feel our influence. Shall we not learn a lesson from the good Samaritan? Let us hear the voice of the Master saying: "Go thou and do likewise." We can all do something. If we cannot reach the older people, let us try and win the young. It is a blessed privilege to be used of God to bring one little lamb into the kingdom. If we are only the means of saving one child our life will not be a failure; we shall hear the Master's "Well done, good and faithful servant." A lady started a hospital for sick crippled children in Edinburgh two years ago. I was asking her if she had been blessed in the work. I shall not forget how her face lit up. She was in one of our recent meetings in London, and her face was beaming. She was telling of some very interesting cases of conversion among the children. What a privilege it is to lead these afflicted ones into the kingdom of God. A little boy was brought to Edinburgh from Fife. There was no room in the children's hospital, and he was taken to the general hospital. He was only six years old; his father was dead; his mother was sick, so that she could not take care of him, and he had to be brought to the hospital in Edinburgh. My friend, Rev. George Wilson, went in one day and sat at the bedside of the little sufferer. He was telling him that the doctor was coming on Thursday to take off his little leg. You parents can imagine, if one of your children, six years old, away from home, and in a hospital, were told that the doctor was coming on a certain day to take his leg off, how he would suffer at the thought. The little fellow, of course, was in great trouble about it. The minister wanted to know about his mother; she was sick and his father was dead. The minister wished to comfort him, and he said: "The nurse is such a good woman; she will help you." "Yes," said the boy, "and perhaps Jesus will be with me." Do you have any doubt of it? Next Friday the man of God went to the hospital, but he found the cot was empty. The poor boy was gone; the Savior had come and taken him to His bosom. In our great cities are there not hundreds and thousands who are in some need of human sympathy? That will speak to their hearts a good deal louder than eloquent sermons. Many will not be moved by eloquent sermons, who would yield to tenderness and gentleness and sympathy. Said the great Dr. Chalmers: "The little that I have seen in the world, and know of the history of mankind, teaches me to look upon their errors in sorrow, not in anger. When I take the one poor heart that has sinned and suffered, and represent to myself the struggles and temptations it has passed through; the brief pulsation of joy; the tears of regret; the feebleness of purpose; the scorn of the world that has little charity; the desolation of the soul's sanctuary and threatening voices within; health gone--happiness gone--I would fain leave the erring soul of my fellowman with Him from whose hands it came." Some of you may say: "How am I to get into sympathy with those who are in sorrow?" That is a very important question. Many people go to work for God, but they seem to do it in such a professional way. I will tell you how you can be brought into sympathy. I have found this rule to be of great help to me. Put yourself in the place of the sorrowing and afflicted ones, with whom you want to sympathize. If you do that you will soon gain their affections and be able to help them. God taught me a lesson a few years ago that I shall never forget. I was Superintendent of a Sunday-school in Chicago with over 1,500 scholars. In the months of July and August many deaths took place among the children, and as most of the ministers were out of the city I had to attend a great many funerals. Sometimes I had to be at four or five in one day. I was so accustomed to it that I got to do it almost mechanically. I could see the mother take her last look at the child, and see the coffin lid closed without being moved by it. One day when I came home my wife told me that one of the Sunday-school children had been drowned, and the mother wanted to see me. I took my little daughter with me and we went to the house. I found the father in one corner of the room drunk. The mother told me that she took in washing in order to get a living for herself and her children, as her husband drank up all his wages. Little Adelaide used to go to the river and gather the floating wood for the fire. That day she had gone as usual; she saw a piece of wood out a little way from the bank; in stretching out to reach it she slipped, and fell into the water and was drowned. The mother told me her sad story; how she had no money to buy the shroud and the coffin, and she wanted me to help her. I took out my note-book and put down her name and address, and took the measure of the coffin, in order to send it to the undertakers. The poor mother was much distressed, but it did not seem to move me. I told her I would be at the funeral, and then I left. As my little girl walked by my side she said to me: "Papa, suppose we were very poor, and mamma had to wash for a living, and I had to go to the river to get sticks to make a fire; if I were to fall into the water and get drowned would you feel bad?" "Feel bad! Why, my child, I do not know what I should do. You are my only daughter, and if you were taken from me I think it would break my heart." And I took her to my bosom and kissed her. "Then did you feel bad for that mother?" How that question cut me to the heart. I went back to the house, and took out my Bible and read to the mother the fourteenth chapter of John. Then I prayed with her and endeavored to comfort her. When the day for the funeral arrived I attended it. I had not been to the cemetery for a good many years; I had thought my time was too precious, as it was some miles away. I found the father was still drunk. I had got a lot in the strangers' field for little Adelaide. As we were laying the coffin in the grave another funeral procession came up, and the corpse was going to be laid near by. Adelaide's mother said, as we were covering up the coffin: "Mr. Moody, it is very hard to lay her away among strangers. I have been moving about a good deal, and have lived among strangers, and I have never had a burying-lot. It is very hard to place my firstborn among strangers." I said to myself that it would be pretty hard to have to bury my child in the strangers' field. I had got into full sympathy with the poor mother by this time. Next Sabbath I told the children in the Sunday-school what had taken place. I suggested that we should buy a Sunday-school lot, and when any of the children attending the school died, they would not be laid in the strangers' field, but would be put in our own lot. Before we could get the title made out, a mother came and wanted to know if her little girl who had just died could be buried in the lot. I told her I would give permission. I went to the funeral, and as we were lowering the little coffin I asked what was the name. She said it was Emma. That was the name of my own little girl, and I could not help but weep as I thought of how I would feel if it were my own Emma. Do you tell me I could not sympathize with that bereaved mother? Very soon afterward, another mother came and wished to have her dead child buried in our lot. She told me his name was Willie. At that time that was the name of my only boy, and I thought how it would be with me if it were my Willie who was dead. So the first children buried there bore the names of my two children. I tried to put myself in the places of these sorrowing mothers, and then it was easy for me to sympathize with them in their grief, and point them to Him who "shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." About the first thing I did when I returned to Chicago nine years ago, was to drive up to and see our children's lot. I thought it would last a good many years, but it was about full, for many of my old Sabbath-school scholars had gone while I had been away, and their bodies were resting in this lot till the great day. I understood, however, that the children of the Sabbath-school were about to purchase another and a larger lot which would suffice for many years under ordinary circumstances. Many little ones are laid there, waiting for the resurrection, and I would like to be buried beside them, it would be so sweet to be in their company when we rise and meet our Lord. Dear friends, if you would get into full sympathy with others put yourself in their places. May God fill our hearts with the spirit of the good Samaritan, so that we may be filled with tenderness and love and compassion. I want to give you a motto that has been a great help to me. It was a Quaker's motto: "I expect to pass through this world but once. If, therefore, if there be any kindness I can show or any good thing I can do to any fellow human being let me do it now; let me not defer nor neglect it, for I will not pass this way again." CHAPTER IX. "YE ARE THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD." "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever." That is the testimony of an old man, and one who had the richest and deepest experience of any man living on the face of the earth at the time. He was taken down to Babylon when a young man; some Bible students think he was not more than twenty years of age. If any one had said, when this young Hebrew was carried away into captivity, that he would outrank all the mighty men of that day--that all the generals who had been victorious in almost every nation at that time were going to be eclipsed by this young slave--probably no one would have believed it. Yet for five hundred years no man whose life is recorded in history shone as did this man. He outshone Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar, Cyrus, Darius, and all the princes and mighty monarchs of his day. We are not told when he was converted to a knowledge of the true God, but I think we have good reason to believe that he had been brought under the influence of Jeremiah the prophet. Evidently some earnest, Godly man, and no worldly professor, had made a deep impression upon him. Some had at any rate taught him how he was to serve God. We hear people nowadays talking about the hardness of the field where they labor; they say their position is a very peculiar one. Think of the field in which Daniel had to work. He was not only a slave, but he was held captive by a nation that detested the Hebrews. The language was unknown to him. There he was among idolaters; yet he commenced at once to shine. He took his stand for God from the very first, and so he went on through his whole life. He gave the dew of his youth to God, and he continued faithful right on till his pilgrimage was ended. Notice that all those who have made a deep impression on the world, and have shone most brightly, have been men who lived in a dark day. Look at Joseph; he was sold as a slave into Egypt by the Ishmaelites; yet he took his God with him into captivity, as Daniel afterward did. And he remained true to the last; he did not give up his faith because he had been taken away from home and placed among idolaters. He stood firm, and God stood by him. Look at Moses, who turned his back upon the gilded palaces of Egypt, and identified himself with his despised and down-trodden nation. If a man ever had a hard field it was Moses; yet he shone brightly, and never proved unfaithful to his God. Elijah lived in a far darker day than we do. The whole nation was going over to idolatry. Ahab, and his queen, and all the royal court were throwing their influence against the worship of the true God. Yet Elijah stood firm, and shone brightly in that dark and evil day. How his name stands out on the page of history! Look at John the Baptist. I used to think I would like to live in the days of the prophets; but I have given up that idea. You may be sure that when a prophet appears on the scene, everything is dark, and the professing Church of God has gone over to the service of the god of this world. So it was when John the Baptist made his appearance. See how his name shines out to-day! Eighteen centuries have rolled away, and yet the fame of that wilderness preacher shines brighter than ever. He was looked down upon in his day and generation, but he has outlived all his enemies; his name will be reverenced and his work remembered as long as the Church is on the earth. Talk about your field being a hard one! See how Paul shone for God as he went out, the first missionary to the heathen, telling them of the God whom he served, and Who had sent His Son to die a cruel death in order to save the world. Men reviled him and his teachings; they laughed him to scorn when he spoke of the Crucified One. But he went on preaching the Gospel of the Son of God. He was regarded as a poor tent-maker by the great and mighty ones of his day; but no one can now tell the name of any of his persecutors, or of those who lived at that time, unless their names happen to be associated with his, and they were brought into contact with him. Now the fact is, all men like to shine. We may as well acknowledge it at once. You go into business circles and see how men struggle to get into the front rank. Every one wants to outshine his neighbor and to stand at the head of his profession. Go into the political world and see how there is a struggle going on as to who shall be the greatest. If you go into a school you find that there is a rivalry among the boys and girls. They all want to stand at the top of the class. When a boy does reach this position and outranks all the rest the mother is very proud of it. She will manage to tell all the neighbors how Johnnie has got on, and what a number of prizes he has gained. You go into the army and you find the same thing--one trying to outstrip the other; every one is very anxious to shine and rise above his comrades. Go among the young men in their games and see how anxious the one is to outdo the other. So we have all that desire in us; we like to shine above our fellows. And yet there are very few who can really shine in the world. Once in a while one man will outstrip all his competitors. Every four years what a struggle goes on throughout our country as to who shall be the President of the United States, the battle raging for six months or a year. Yet only one man can get the prize. There a good many struggling to get the place, but many are disappointed, because only one can attain the coveted prize. But in the kingdom of God the very least and the very weakest may shine if they will. Not only can _one_ obtain the prize, but _all_ may have it if they will. It does not say in this passage that the Statesmen are going to shine as the brightness of the firmament. The Statesmen of Babylon are gone; their very names are forgotten. It does not say that the nobility are going to shine. Earth's nobility are soon forgotten. John Bunyan, the Bedford tinker, has outlived the whole crowd of those who were the nobility in his day. They lived for self, and their memory is blotted out. He lived for God and for souls, and his name is as fragrant as ever it was. We are not told that the merchants are going to shine. Who can tell the name of any of the millionaires of Daniel's day? They were all buried in oblivion a few years after their death. Who were the mighty conquerors of that day? But few can tell. It is true that we hear of Nebuchadnezzar, but probably we should not have known very much about him but for his relations to the prophet Daniel. How different with this faithful prophet of the Lord. Twenty-five centuries have passed away, and his name shines on, and on, and on, brighter and brighter. And it is going to shine while the Church of God exists. "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever." How quickly the glory of this world fades away! Seventy-five years ago the great Napoleon almost made the earth to tremble. How he blazed and shone as an earthly warrior for a little while! A few years passed, and a little island held that once proud and mighty conqueror; he died as a poor broken-hearted prisoner. Where is he to-day? Almost forgotten. Who in all the world will say that Napoleon lives in their heart's affections? But look at this despised and hated Hebrew prophet. They wanted to put him into the lions' den because he was too sanctimonious and too religious. Yet see how green his memory is to-day! How his name is loved and honored for his faithfulness to his God. Seventeen years ago I was in Paris at the time of the Great Exhibition. Napoleon the Third was then in his glory. Cheer after cheer would rise up as he drove along the streets of the city. A few short years and he fell from his lofty estate. He died an exile from his country and his throne, and where is his name today? Very few think about him at all, and if his name is mentioned it is not with love and esteem. How empty and short-lived are the glory and the pride of this world! if we are wise we will live for God and eternity; we will get outside of ourselves, and will care nothing for the honor and glory of this world. In Proverbs we read: "He that winneth souls is wise." If any man, woman, or child by a Godly life and example can win one soul to God, their life will not have been a failure. They will have outshone all the mighty men of their day, because they will have set a stream in motion that will flow on and on for ever and ever. That little boy may shine in God's kingdom if he will. God has left us down here to shine. We are not here to buy and sell and get gain, to accumulate wealth, to acquire worldly position. This earth, if we are Christians, is not our home; it is up yonder. God has sent us into the world to shine for Him--to light up this dark world. Christ came to be the Light of the world, but men put out that light. They took it to Calvary and blew it out. Before Christ went up on high He said to His disciples: "Ye are the light of the world. Ye are my witnesses. Go forth and carry the Gospel to the perishing nations of the earth." So God has called us to shine, just as much as Daniel was sent into Babylon to shine. Let no man of woman say that they cannot shine because they have not so much influence as some others may have. What God wants you to do is to use the influence you have. Daniel probably did not have much influence down in Babylon at first, but God soon gave him more, because he was faithful and used what he had. Remember a small light will do a good deal when it is in a very dark place. You put one little tallow candle in the middle of a large hall, and it will give a good deal of light. Away out in the prairie regions, when meetings are held at night in the log school-houses, the announcement of the meeting is given out in this way: "A meeting will be held by early candle-light." The first man who comes brings a tallow-dip with him. It is perhaps all he has; but he brings it and sets it on the desk. It does not light the building much; but it is better than none at all. The next man brings his candle; and the next family bring their candles. By the time the house is full, there is plenty of light. So if we all shine a little, there will be a good deal of light. That is what God wants us to do. If we cannot all be lighthouses, any one of us can at any rate be a tallow candle. A little light will sometimes do a great deal. The city of Chicago was set on fire by a cow kicking over a lamp, and a hundred thousand people were burnt out of house and home. Do not let Satan get the advantage of you, and make you think that because you cannot do any great thing you cannot do anything at all. Then we must remember that we are to _let_ our light shine. It does not say, "_Make_ your light shine." You do not have to _make_ light to shine; all you have to do is to _let_ it shine. I remember hearing of a man at sea who was very sea-sick. If there is a time when a man feels that he cannot do any work for the Lord it is then--in my opinion. While this man was sick he heard that a man had fallen overboard. He was wondering if he could do anything to help to save the man. He laid hold of a light and held it up to the port-hole. The drowning man was saved. When this man got over his attack of sickness he got up on deck one day, and was talking with the man who was rescued. The saved man gave this testimony. He said he had gone down the second time, and was just going down again for the last time, when he put out his hand. Just then, he said, some one held a light at the port-hole, and the light fell on his hand. A man caught him by the hand and pulled him into the lifeboat. It seemed a small thing to do to hold up the light; yet it saved the man's life. If you cannot do some great thing you can hold the light for some poor, perishing drunkard, who may be won to Christ and delivered from destruction. Let us take the torch of salvation and go into these dark homes, and hold up Christ to the people as the Savior of the world. If these perishing masses are to be reached we must lay our lives right alongside theirs, and pray with them and labor for them. I would not give much for a man's Christianity, if he is saved himself and is not willing to try and save others. It seems to me the basest ingratitude if we do not reach out the hand to others who are down in the same pit from which we were delivered. Who is able to reach and help these drinking men like those who have themselves been slaves to the intoxicating cup? Will you not go out this very day and seek to rescue these men? If we were all to do what we can we should soon empty the drinking saloons. I remember reading of a blind man who was found sitting at the corner of a street in a great city with a lantern beside him. Some one went up to him and asked what he had the lantern there for, seeing that he was blind, and the light was the same to him as the darkness. The blind man replied: "I have it so that no one may stumble over me." Dear friends, let us think of that. Where one man reads the Bible, a hundred read you and me. That is what Paul meant when he said we were to be living epistles of Christ, known and read of all men. I would not give much for all that can be done by sermons, if we do not preach Christ by our lives. If we do not commend the Gospel to people by our holy walk and conversation, we shall not win them to Christ. Some little act of kindness will perhaps do more to influence them than any number of long sermons. A vessel was caught in a storm on Lake Erie, and they were trying to make for the harbor of Cleveland. At the entrance of that port they had what are called the upper lights and the lower lights. Away back on the bluffs were the upper lights burning brightly enough; but when they came near the harbor they could not see the lights showing the entrance to it. The pilot said he thought they had better get back on the lake again. The Captain said he was sure they would go down if they went back, and he urged the pilot to do what he could to gain the harbor. The pilot said there was very little hope of making for the harbor, as he had nothing to guide him as to how he should steer the ship. They tried all they could to get her into the harbor. She rode on the top of the waves, and then into the trough of the sea, and at last they found themselves stranded on the beach, where the vessel was dashed to pieces. Some one had neglected the lower lights and they had gone out. Let us take warning. God keeps the upper lights burning as brightly as ever, but He has left us down here to keep the lower lights burning. We are to represent Him here, as Christ represents us up yonder. I sometimes think if we had as poor a representative in the courts above as God has down here on earth, we would have a pretty poor chance of heaven. Let us have our loins girt and our lights brightly burning, so that others may see the way and not walk in darkness. In the book of Revelation we read: "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors; and their works do follow them." There are many mentioned in the Scriptures of whom we read that they lived so many years and then they died. The cradle and the grave are brought close together: they lived and they died, and that is all we know about them. So in these days you could write on the tombstone of a great many professing Christians that they were born on such a day and they died on such a day; there is nothing whatever between. But there is one thing you cannot bury with a good man; his influence still lives. They have not buried Daniel yet; his influence is as great to-day as ever it was. Do you tell me that Joseph is dead? His influence still lives and will continue to live on and on. You may bury the frail tenement of clay that a good man lives in, but you cannot get rid of his influence and example. Paul was never more powerful than he is to-day. Do you tell me that John Howard, who went into so many of the dark prisons in Europe, is dead? Is Henry Martyn, or Wilberforce, or John Bunyan dead? Go into the Southern States and there you will find from three to four millions of men and women who once were slaves. You mention to any of them the name of Wilberforce, and see how quickly the eye will light up. He lived for something else besides himself, and his memory will never die out of the hearts of those for whom he lived and labored. Is Wesley or Whitefield dead? The names of those great evangelists were never more honored than they are now. Is John Knox dead? You can go to any part of Scotland to-day and you will feel the power of his influence. I will not tell you who are dead. The enemies of these servants of God--those who persecuted them and told lies about them. But the men themselves have outlived all the lies that were uttered concerning them. Not only that; they will shine in another world. How true are the words of the old Book: "They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever." Let us go on turning as many as we can to righteousness. Let us be dead to the world, to its lies, its pleasures, and its ambitions. Let us live for God, continually going forth to win souls for Him. Let me quote a few words by Dr. Chalmers. "Thousands of men breathe, move and live, pass off the stage of life, and are heard of no more--Why? They do not partake of good in the world, and none were blessed by them; none could point to them as the means of their redemption; not a line they wrote, not a word they spoke could be recalled; and so they perished; their light went out in darkness, and they were not remembered more than insects of yesterday. Will you thus live and die, O man immortal? Live for something. Do good, and leave behind you a monument of virtue that the storm of time can never destroy. Write your name in kindness, love and mercy, on the hearts of the thousands you come in contact with year by year; you will never be forgotten. No, your name, your deeds will be as legible on the hearts you leave behind as the stars on the brow of evening. Good deeds will shine as the stars of heaven." 
14578	----	FROM DEATH TO LIFE: Twenty Years of My Ministry. BY Rev. William Haslam, (Late Incumbent of Curzon Chapel, Mayfair) Reprinted by Rev. W. J. Watchorn. This edition completes 130,000 copies. Standard Book Room, Brockville, Ontario CONTENTS CHAPTER 1 The Broken Nest, 1841. CHAPTER 2 Religious Life. CHAPTER 3 Ordination. CHAPTER 4 Antiquarian Researches and Ministry, 1843-46. CHAPTER 5 The New Parish, 1846. CHAPTER 6 The Awakening, 1848-51. CHAPTER 7 Conversion, 1851. CHAPTER 8 The Awakening, 1848-51. CHAPTER 9 The Visitor, 1851. CHAPTER 10 The First Christmas, 1851-52. CHAPTER 11 Dreams and Visions, 1851-4. CHAPTER 12 Billy Bray, 1852. CHAPTER 13 Cottage Meetings, 1852. CHAPTER 14 Open-Air Services, 1852. CHAPTER 15 Drawing-Room Meetings, 1852-53. CHAPTER 16 Opposition, 1853. CHAPTER 17 Individual Cases, 1853. CHAPTER 18 A Visit to Veryan, 1853. CHAPTER 19 A Mission in the "Shires." 1853. CHAPTER 20 A Stranger from London, 1853. CHAPTER 21 Golant Mission, 1854. CHAPTER 22 The High Church Rector, 1854. CHAPTER 23 A Mission in Staffordshire, 1854. CHAPTER 24 Sanctification. CHAPTER 25 The Removal, 1855 CHAPTER 26 Plymouth, 1855 CHAPTER 27 Devonport, 1855 CHAPTER 28 A Mission to the North, 1855 CHAPTER 29 Tregoney, 1855 CHAPTER 30 Secessions, 1856 CHAPTER 31 Hayle, 1857-58 CHAPTER 32 Bible Readings, 1858-59 CHAPTER 33 The Work Continued, 1859 CHAPTER 34 The Dismissal, 1860-61 INTRODUCTION This volume is not so much a history of my own life, as of the Lord's dealings with me; setting forth how He wrought in and by me during the space of twenty years. It will be observed that this is not, as biographies generally are, an account of life on to death; but rather the other way--a narrative of transition from death into life, and that in more senses than one. I had been given over by three physicians to die, but it pleased the Lord, in answer to prayer, to raise me up again. My restored health and strength I thankfully devoted to a religious and earnest life. In the height and seeming prosperity of this, the Lord awakened me to see that I was dead in trespasses and sins; still far from Him; resting on my own works; and going about to establish my own righteousness, instead of submitting to the righteousness of God. Then He quickened me by the Holy Ghost, and raised me up into a new and spiritual life. In this volume the reader will meet with the respective results of (what I have called) the Religious, as distinguished from the Spiritual, life. The former produced only outward and ecclesiastical effects, while the latter brought forth fruit in the salvation of souls, to the praise and glory of God. One object in writing this book is to warn and instruct earnest-minded souls, who are, as I was once, strangers to the experience of salvation, seeking rest where I am sure they can never find it, and labouring to do good to others when they have not yet received that good themselves. They are vainly "building from the top;" trying to live before they are born; to become holy before they have become justified; and to lead others to conversion before they have been converted themselves. A second object is--to draw the attention of every earnest, seeking, or anxious soul, to consider the Lord's marvellous goodness in first bearing with me in my religious wanderings, and then using me for His glory in the salvation of hundreds. Another desire I have is--to cheer the hearts of believers who are working for God, by relating to them what He has done through me, and can do again, by the simple preaching of the Gospel. Here the reader will meet with narratives of the Lord's work in individual cases, in congregations, and in parishes--wonderful things which are worthy of record. I have not shunned to tell of the mistakes I fell into after my conversion, hoping that others may take heed and profit by them; and then I shall not have written in vain. CHAPTER 1 The Broken Nest, 1841. At the time in which this history begins, I had, in the providence of God, a very happy nest; and as far as temporal prospects were concerned, I was provided for to my liking, and, though not rich, was content. I had taken my degree; was about to be ordained; and, what is more, was engaged to be married; in order, as I thought, to settle down as an efficient country parson. With this bright future before me, I went on very happily; when, one evening, after a hard and tiring day, just as I was sitting down to rest, a letter was put into my hand which had been following me for several days. "Most urgent" was written on the outside. It told me of the alarming illness of the lady to whom I was engaged, and went on to say that if I wished to see her alive I must set off with all haste. It took me a very short time to pack my bag and get my travelling coats and rugs together, so that I was all ready to start by the night mail. At eight o'clock punctually I left London for the journey of two hundred and eighty miles. All that night I sat outside the coach; all the next day; and part of the following night. I shall never forget the misery of mind and body that I experienced, for I was tired before starting; and the fatigue of sitting up all night, together with the intense cold of the small hours of the morning, were almost beyond endurance. With the morning, however, came a warm and bright sunshine, which in some degree helped to cheer me; but my bodily suffering was so great that I could never have held up had it not been for the mental eagerness with which I longed to get forward. It was quite consonant with my feelings when the horses were put into full gallop, especially when they were tearing down one hill to get an impetus to mount another. At length, the long, long journey was over; and about thirty hours after starting, I found myself staggering along to the well-known house. As I approached the door was softly opened by a relative who for several days had been anxiously watching my arrival. She at once conducted me upstairs, to what I expected was a sick chamber, when, to my horror, the first thing I saw was the lid of a coffin standing up against the wall, and in the middle of the room was the coffin, with candles burning on either side. I nearly fell to the ground with this tremendous shock and surprise. There was the dear face, but it seemed absorbed in itself, and to have lost all regard for me. It no longer turned to welcome me, nor was the hand stretched out, as theretofore, to meet mine. All was still; there was no smile--no voice--no welcome-nothing but the silence of death to greet me. The sight of that coffin, with its quiet inmate, did not awaken sorrow so much as surprise; and with that, something like anger and rebellion. I was weak and exhausted in body, but strong in wilful insubordination. Murmuring and complaining, I spoke unadvisedly with my lips. A gentle voice upbraided me, adding, that I had far better kneel down in submission to God, and say "Thy will be done!" This, however, was not so easy, for the demon of rebellion had seized me, and kept me for three hours in a tempest of anger, filling my mind with hard thoughts against God. I walked about the room in the most perturbed state of mind, so much so, that I grieved my friends, who came repeatedly to ask me to kneel down and say, "Thy will be done!" "Kneel down--just kneel down!" At length I did so, and while some one was praying, my tears began to flow, and I said the words, "Thy will be done!" Immediately the spell was broken and I was enabled to say from my heart, again and again, "Thy will be done!" After this I was conscious of a marvellous change in mind; rebellion was gone, and resignation had come in its place. More than that, the dear face in the coffin seemed to lie smiling in peace, so calm and so lovely, that I felt I would not recall the spirit that was fled, even if it bad been possible. There was wrought in me something more than submission, even a lifting-up of my will to the will of God; and withal, such a love towards Him that I wondered at myself. God had been, as it were, a stranger to me before. Now I felt as though I knew and loved Him, and could kiss His hand, though my tears flowed freely. The funeral took place the same morning: it was a time of great emotion; sorrow and joy met, and flowed together. I thought of the dear one I had lost, but yet more of the God of love I had found; and to remember that she was with Him was an additional comfort to me. The funeral service was soothing and elevating beyond expression; and yet, when it was all over, such a sense of desolation came upon me, that I felt utterly forlorn and truly sad. My nest was now completely stirred up; but instead of bemoaning its broken state, I could see the eagle fluttering over her young ones (Deut. 32:1). I was conscious that God was looking on, and that He had not forsaken me in this great wreck. The strain and excitement I had undergone naturally brought on an illness. I was seized with inflammation of the lungs, and was dangerously ill. From this, and other complications which supervened, the doctor pronounced that I could not recover, and bade me prepare for eternity. Judges and doctors, when they pass sentence of death, seem to regard religion as necessary preparation for it. Too common, also, is this idea, even among those who do not belong to these respected professions. My own opinion was much the same at that time. Having received this solemn warning, I took down the Prayer-book, and religiously read over the office for the Visitation of the Sick. I became so interested in this exercise, that I determined to read it three times a day. The prayer for a sick child especially commended itself to my mind, so that, by changing a few words, I made it applicable to my own case, and used it not only three, but even seven, times a day. In substance, it petitioned that I might be taken to heaven if I died; or that, if it should please God to restore my health, He would let me live to His glory. I did not at that time expect my days would be prolonged, nor had I any wish to live, for the world was now perfectly blank and desolate to me. I felt as if I could never be happy again; to be with God would be far better! I little dreamed that if I had died in that unpardoned and Christless state, I should have been lost forever; for I was profoundly ignorant of the necessity of change of heart--perfectly unconscious that I must be born again of the Spirit. This vital truth had never come to my mind; I felt a love for God, and in my ignorance I wished to die. One morning the thought came to me, as I was sitting all alone by the fire, "What have I been praying for?--that the Lord would take me to heaven if I died; or, if I lived, that He would let me live to His glory?" Why, this is heaven both ways!--heaven in heaven, or heaven on earth--whichever way it pleases God to answer my prayer. Somehow I felt certain that He would answer it. I was exceedingly happy, and could not help thanking Him. From that day I began to feel better, and became impressed with the idea that I was to live, and not die. The doctor smiled at me when I told him so, for he did not believe it. He, and two other physicians, had told me that my lungs were diseased; indeed, six months afterwards, all three sounded me, and declared that one lung was inoperative, and the other much affected. Yet, notwithstanding the doctor's discouraging announcement--for he told me, also, that "it was one of the fatal signs of consumption for the patient to feel or think he was getting better"--I had a certain conviction that I was to recover. As soon as the medical man had gone, I put on my coat and hat and went out for a walk. I trembled much from weakness, and found it necessary to move very slowly and stop often; but under the shelter of a wall, courting the warmth of the bright-shining sun, I managed to make my way to the churchyard. While I was sitting there alone, the great bell struck out unexpectedly, and caused me to shake all over; for I was in a very weak condition. It was the sexton tolling to announce the departure of the soul of some villager from the world. Having done this, he came out with his boards and tools to dig the grave. He did not observe me sitting by; so he at once commenced, and went on diligently with his work. The ground had so often been broken before that it did not take him long to accomplish his task; he gradually got deeper and deeper into the ground, till he disappeared altogether from my sight. I crept to the edge of the narrow pit in which he was, and looking into it, I could not help thinking of those words of Kirke White-- "Cold grave, methinks, 'twere sweet to rest Within thy calm and hallowed breast!" I had no fear of death, but rather felt that I should welcome it even more than restoration to health. I have even now a most vivid remembrance of this, and place it on record to show how delusive' are our feelings: because I did not feel any danger, I took it for granted that there really was none. That day, however, was an eventful one in my life; for, in the gladness of my heart, I gave myself to God, to live for Him. I had given my will before, and now I gave my life, and was happy in the deed. I did not know at that time that faith does not consist in believing that I have given myself, even if I meant it ever so sincerely; but in believing that God has taken or accepted me. At the outset, I began with the former--a merely human faith--and its result was consequently imperfect. I was spiritually dead, and did not know it. Alas! What multitudes there are who are utterly unconscious of the fact of this spiritual death, though there are few things more plainly declared and revealed in the Word of God. The full meaning of the word death is too often misunderstood and overlooked. There are three kinds referred to in the Word of God--spiritual, natural, and everlasting. The first is a separation of the soul from God; the second, that of the body from the soul; and the last, that of the unbelieving man, body and soul, from God forever. It will be seen that there is one characteristic which is common to all three kinds--that is, separation; and that there is no idea of finality--death is not the end. When the Lord God created man, we suppose that He made him not merely in the form of a body, but a man with body and soul complete; and afterwards that He breathed into this living man the Spirit, and he became a living soul. As such, he communed with the eternal God, who is a Spirit. In this spiritual state he could walk and converse with God in the garden of Eden. When, however, he disobeyed the command which had been given to him, he incurred the tremendous penalty. The Lord God had said, "In the day that you eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, you shall surely die." He did eat, and he died there and then; that is, he forfeited that 'Spirit which had quickened his soul, and thus became a dead soul; though, as we know, he remained a living man for nine hundred years before his body returned to its dust. By his one act of disobedience, Adam opened in an instant (as an earthquake opens a deep chasm) the great gulf, the impassable gulf of separation which is fixed between us and God. By nature, as the children of Adam, we are all on the side which is away from God; and we are become subject also to the sentence pronounced against the life of the body. We know and understand that we are mortal, and that it is appointed unto men once to die; but we do not seem to be aware of the more important fact of the death of our souls. Satan, who said to our first parents, "Ye shall not surely die," employs himself now in deceiving men by saying, "Ye are not dead;" and multitudes believe him, and take it for granted that it is actually true. Thus they go on unconcerned about this awful and stupendous reality. CHAPTER 2 Religious Life. With returning health and strength, I did not think of going back into the world, but rather gave myself more fully to the purpose for which I supposed that my life had been restored. I felt a thankfulness and joy in my recovery, which confirmed me more and more in my determination to live to the glory of God. When I was able to return to the South, I did so by easy stages till I got back to the neighbourhood of London; and there it was ordered that I should be shut up for the remainder of the winter. During this season of retirement, I spent my time most happily in reading and prayer, and found great delight in this occupation. I was able to say, with the Psalmist, "I love the Lord, because He has heard my voice and my supplication;" and, like him, I could say, "I will call upon Him as long as I live; I will walk before Him in the land of the living; and I will take the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord." That is, in secret or private life; in social intercourse with my fellow-men; and in the worship of the sanctuary, I will seek the glory of God. I used to have much pleasure every day in asking God to give me a deeper sense of His love, that I might unfeignedly thank Him, and show forth His praise with my life as well as my lips. All this, be it observed, was because God had saved not my soul, but my life; for as yet I had not, like the Psalmist, felt any trouble about my soul. I knew nothing of what he describes as the "sorrows of death and the pains of hell." I had not been awakened by the Spirit to know the danger and sorrow of being separated from God (which is spiritual death). I was perfectly unconscious that between God and myself there was the "impassable gulf" I have already referred to, and consequently I had not experienced such overwhelming anxiety as made the Psalmist cry out, "O Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul." I knew nothing of the necessity of passing from death to life, and therefore I could not say, "The Lord has delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling." The only thing I knew was that God was good to me, and therefore I loved Him, and was thankful, not for the sake of getting His favour, but because I thought I had it. I turned over a new leaf, and 'therewith covered up the blotted page of my past life. On this new path I endeavoured to walk as earnestly in a religious way, as I had before lived in a worldly one. This mistake into which I fell was natural enough and common as it is natural; but for all this it was very serious, and might have been fatal to me, as it has proved to multitudes. I did not see then, as I have since that turning over a new leaf to cover the past, is not by any means the same thing as turning back the old leaves, and getting them washed in the blood of the Lamb. I have said before that I did not know any better; nor was I likely to see matters in a clearer light from the line of study in which I was chiefly occupied. I was absorbed for the time, not so much in the Bible as in the "Tracts for the Times"--a publication which was engaging much attention. These Oxford tracts suited me exactly, and fitted my tone of mind to a nicety. Their object was the restoration of the Church of England from a cold, formal condition, into something like reality--from a secular to a religious state; this also was my own present object for myself. I read these writings with avidity, and formed from them certain ecclesiastical proclivities which carried me on with renewed zeal. I suppose I learned from the perusal of them to interpret the Bible by the Prayer-book, and to regard the former as a book which no one could understand without the interpretation of the Fathers. Certain it is, that I did not look to the Bible, but to the Church, for teaching, for I was led to consider that private judgment on the subject of Scripture statements was very presumptuous. I got, moreover, into a legal state, and thought my acceptance with God depended upon my works, and that His future favour would result upon my faithfulness and attention to works of righteousness which I was doing. This made me very diligent in prayer, fasting, and almsdeeds; and I often sat and dreamed about the works of mercy and devotion which I would do when I was permitted to go out again. Like persons in this state of mind, I also relied on ordinances, and was subject to them. I took it for granted that I was a child of God, because I had been baptized and brought into the Church; and having been confirmed and admitted to the Lord's Table, I concluded that I was safely on the way to Heaven. I see now the error of this very earnest devotion, and that I was going about to establish my own righteousness instead of submitting to the righteousness of God. I like to remember these days and tell of them, not because I am proud of them-far otherwise; but because they show the kind forbearance and patience of God towards me, and, besides this, they give me a clearer idea of the state of very many earnest people I meet with, who enter upon a religious path in much the same way. Such persons make the two mistakes already referred to. They start with believing in their surrender of themselves, instead of God's acceptance of it; and secondly, they make their continuance therein depend upon their repeated acts of devotion. They live and walk by their own works, not by faith in the finished work of Christ. What shall I say to these things? Shall I denounce them as delusions, or superstitious legality? No. I would far rather that people should be even thus religious than be without religious observances--far rather that they should be subject to the Prayer-book teaching than be the sport of their own vain imaginings. If men have not given their hearts to God and received forgiveness of sins, it is better that they should give themselves to a Church than yield themselves to the world and its vanities. If I had to go over the ground again under the same circumstances, I do not think I could take a better path. Church teaching by itself, with all its legalities, is superior to a man's own inventions; and the form of godliness required by it, even without spiritual power, is better than no form or profession of religion. To say the least, Church teachings, when it is correctly followed, instructs the conscience, restrains and guides the will, and imparts a practical morality which we do not find in any other system. I have more hope of people who rest in some distinctive and positive dogmas than of those who merely deal with negations. The former may be reached by spiritual teaching; the latter are but shadowy adversaries with whom it is impossible to engage. Therefore, when I see a man, for conscience towards God, giving up the world, and taking up with reverential worship, with even superstitious veneration for ecclesiastical things, because they are so--when I see a man, who was careless before, become conscientious and true in all his outward dealings, very particular in his observance of private and public prayer, exercising self-denial, living for others rather than himself, bearing and forbearing in all quietness and meekness--I cannot do otherwise than admire him. This, surely, is far more lovely and admirable than the opposite of these things. Instead of joining in the outcry against such persons, I feel rather in sympathy, and have a desire in my heart to win them to still better things, and to show them "the way of God more perfectly." I feel that they are stirred as I was, and are struggling in self-righteousness, not because they wilfully prefer it to God's righteousness, but because they are yearning for true and spiritual reality. They are in a transition state, and the more restless they are, the more assured I am that they will never attain real rest and satisfaction to their souls till they have found God, and are found of Him in Christ Jesus. But the question may be asked, "Is it possible for unsaved people (spiritually dead) to be so good and religious? Is not such a state an indication of spiritual vitality?" I answer, without hesitation, that it is possible. Religion by itself, irrespective of the subject-matter of a creed, may have a quieting and controlling effect upon the soul. The Hindoo, the Moslem, the Jew, the Romanist, as well as the Protestant, may each and all be wonderfully self-possessed, zealous, devout, or teachable, or even all these together, and yet remain dead souls. As a boy in India, I remember being greatly struck with the calmness of the Hindoos, as contrasted with the impatience and angry spirit of the English. On one occasion I observed one of the former at his devotions. He, with others, had been carrying me about in a palankeen all day in the hot sun. In the evening, he most reverently took from his girdle a piece of mud of the sacred river Ganges, or Gunga, as they call it, and dissolving this in water, he washed a piece of ground, then, having washed his feet and hands, he stepped on this sacred spot, and began to cook his food. While it was preparing, he was bowed to the ground, with his face between his knees, worshipping towards the setting sun. A boy who was standing by me said, "If you touch that man he will not eat his dinner." In a thoughtless moment I did so with my hand, and immediately he rose from his devotions; but, instead of threatening and swearing at me, as some might have done who belong to another religion, he only looked reproachfully, and said, "Ah, Master William!" and then emptying out the rice which was on the fire, he began his ceremony all over again. It was quite dark before he had finished his "poojah," or worship, and his meal. This man's religious self-possession made a greater impression on me than if he had abused or even struck me, for hindering his dinner. I thought to myself, "I will be a Hindoo when I grow up!" And truly I kept my word, though not in the same form; for what else was I in my earnest, religious days! This is an important question to settle, and, therefore, I will give three examples from Scripture. No one can doubt the zeal of Saul of Tarsus. This was no easy-going, charitable creed, which supposes all good men are right. He was sure that if he was right, as a natural consequence Stephen was wrong, even blasphemous, and as such worthy of death. Therefore, he had no scruples about instigating the death of such a one. Notwithstanding all this uncompromising and straightforward religiousness, he needed to be brought from death to life. Again: look at Cornelius, who was "a devout man that feared God with all his house, which gave much alms to the people, and prayed to God alway" (Acts 10:2). There can be no mistake about this man with such a testimony; and yet he also needed to hear words whereby he and all his house should be saved (Acts 11:14). Next: Nicodemus, I suppose it will be admitted, was an earnest and religious man. Evidently, he was one of those who "believed in the name of Jesus, because he saw the miracles which He did" (John 2:23). This man, humble and teachable as he was, came to Jesus, and said, "Rabbi, we know that Thou art a teacher come from God, for no man can do these miracles that Thou doest, except God be with him." Yet he was told, "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." "Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again" (John 3). As surely as all mankind are dead in Adam, so surely every man needs spiritual life. In this respect it was no new thing which the Lord Jesus propounded to Nicodemus. The spiritual change of heart he referred to has always been the one condition of intercourse with God. All God's saints, even in the Old Testament times, had experienced 'this. Hence the Lord's exclamation, "Art thou a master of Israel, and knowest not these things?" It may be urged that these three men were not in the Christian dispensation. Let this be granted; but the point at hand is that they needed spiritual life, though they were such good religious men. It will not be very hard to prove that even baptized men in the Christian dispensation need to be raised from death unto life just as much as any other children of Adam. It is clear, both from Scripture and experience, that baptism, whatever else it imparts, does not give spiritual vitality. St. Peter's testimony is this, "Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation he that feareth Him and worketh righteousness is accepted with Him" (Acts 10: 34, 35). Accepted to be saved, not because there is any merit in his works, but because God sees that there is real sincerity in his living up to the light he has. The heathen who know there is a God, and do not worship His as God, are given over to idolatry (Rom.1); but, on the other hand, those who do worship Him, and give Him thanks, are taken in hand to be guided into life and truth. Therefore are we justified in hoping that earnest and religious men, though they be dead, if their religion is really towards God, will be brought to spiritual life. It was a happy winter to me, however, notwithstanding my spiritual deficiencies; and the recollection of it still abides in my memory. I had now no desire for the world and its pleasures. My mind had quite gone from such empty amusements and frivolities; even the taste I used to have for these things was completely taken away. I was happier now than ever I had been before, so that I am convinced from personal experience that even a religious life may be one of joy, though by no means so satisfying and abiding as a truly spiritual one. I was happy, as I have already said, and longed for the time when I could be ordained, and devote my energies to work for God in the ministry. CHAPTER 3 Ordination and First Parish, 1842. On the returning spring, as I was feeling so much stronger, and altogether better, I thought I would go and see the physician who had sounded me some months before. He, after a careful examination, still adhered to his previous opinion, and gave very little hope of my recovery, but suggested that if I went to the north coast of Cornwall there might be a chance for me. On my return home, I took up an "Ecclesiastical Gazette," though it was three months old, and looked over the advertisements. There I observed one which invited a curate for a church in that very neighbourhood. It was a sole charge; but, strange to say, a title for holy orders was offered also. In reply to this I wrote a letter, asking for particulars, in which I stated my Church views, and that I was ordered to that part of the country for the benefit of my health. The Vicar, who resided in another parish, thirty miles off, was so eager to get help for this one, that he wrote back to say he had sent my letter to the Bishop, with one from himself, and that I should hear from his lordship in a few days. I was surprised at this precipitation of affairs, and all the more so when I received a note from the Bishop of Exeter (Phillpotts), bidding me come to him immediately, that I might be in time for the Lent ordination. Accordingly, I started westward, and having passed my examination, I was sent with letters dimissory to the Bishop of Salisbury (Denison), to whom I was also sent, a year afterwards, for priest's orders. I was very weak, and much exhausted with travelling, but still went on, though I know not how. The long-desired day at length arrived, and I was duly ordained; but instead of being full of joy, I became much depressed in mind and body, and could not rouse myself from dwelling upon the Bishop's address, which was very solemn. He told us that we were going to take charge of the souls of our parishioners, and that God would require them at our hands; we must take heed how we tended the Lord's flock. Altogether, it was more than I had calculated upon; and feeling very ill that afternoon, I thought that I had undertaken a burden which would certainly be my ruin. "What could I do with souls?" My idea of ordination was to be a clergyman, read the prayers, preach sermons, and do all I could to bring people to church; but how could I answer for souls which had to live for ever? and what was I to do with them? In the evening, I so far roused myself as to go amongst the other candidates, to sound them, and ascertain what were their feelings with regard to the Bishop's solemn address! They merely thought that it was very beautiful, and that he was a holy man; and then some of them proposed that we should all go in a riding party, to see Stonehenge, the next day. It was especially thought that a drive on the Wiltshire plains could do me a great deal of good, if I did not feel strong enough to ride on horseback. I agreed to this, and went with them to see this famous temple of Druidical worship; and after that set off for Plymouth, on my way to the far west. But, alas! the charm of ordination had fled, and I was more than half sorry that I had undertaken so much. It had been done so precipitately too, for even now it was only ten days since I had seen the physician. After resting a day, I proceeded to Truro, and then took a post-chaise and drove out to my first parish, called Perranzabuloe, which was situated about eight miles from Truro, on the north coast of Cornwall. I alighted at an old manor house, where I was to have apartments with a farmer and his family. Being much fatigued, I soon retired to bed, anything but happy, or pleased with the bleak and' rough-looking place to which I had come. I slept well, however, and the next morning felt considerably better, and was revived in spirits. After making many inquiries about things in general, I obtained the keys, and made my way to the parish church, which was about ten minutes' walk from the house. Here, again, I was greatly grieved and disappointed to see such a neglected churchyard and dilapidated church; and when I went inside, my heart sank, for I had never seen a place of worship in such a miserable condition. Moreover, I was told that the parish was seven miles long, and that its large population of three thousand souls was scattered on all sides, excepting round the church. I had left my friends a long way off, and was alone in a strange place, with an amount of work and responsibility for which I knew I was thoroughly unprepared and unfit. However, I sauntered back to my lodgings, and began to ruminate as to what was to be done. I had now sole charge of this extensive parish, for the duties of which I was to receive the very moderate stipend of forty pounds a year; but of this I did not complain, for my board and lodging, with washing, and the keep of a horse included, was only twelve shillings a week, leaving me a margin of nearly ten pounds for my personal expenses. The questions that troubled me were--what was I to do with three thousand people? And how was I to reach them? In due course Sunday morning arrived, and with the help of a neighbouring clergyman, who kindly came over, as he said, "to put me in the way," I got through the service (being the only one for the day at that time), having about a score of listless people, lounging in different parts of the church, for a congregation. This was my first Sunday in my first parish. Just at this time a book was sent me by a kind friend, entitled "The Bishopric of Souls," which terrified me even more than the Bishop's charge had done; for I felt that, notwithstanding my ardent desire to serve and glorify God, I had not the remotest conception how to do it, as regards winning souls. The author of this book took it for granted that every one who had the office of a pastor, had also the spiritual qualification for it; but experience proves that this is by no means the case. My ordination gave me an ecclesiastical position in the parish; the law maintained me in it; and the people expected me to do the duties of it: but how to carry all this out, except in a dry and formal way, I did not know. As time went on, my parochial duties increased. I had to baptize the children, marry the young, visit the sick, and bury the dead; but I could not help feeling how different was this in action, to what it was in theory. I had had a kind of dreamland parish in my head, with daily service, beautiful music, and an assembly of worshipping people; but instead of this, I found a small, unsympathizing congregation, who merely looked upon these sacred things as duties to be done, and upon me as the proper person to do them. When I went to visit the sick I had nothing to say to them; so I read a few Collects, and sometimes gave them a little temporal relief, for which they thanked me; but I came out dissatisfied with myself, and longed for something more, though I did not know what. Notwithstanding all these trials and disappointments, my health was gradually improving. I found that the air of this place was like meat and drink, and gave me an appetite for something more substantial. I very often frequented the beach, with its beautiful cliffs, and was much exhilarated by the bracing sea air; indeed, I had, and still retain, quite a love for the place. As my strength and energy increased, I rode about the parish all day, making the acquaintance of the people, and inviting them to come to church. During my visits, I found out that the church warden was a good musician, and that he knew others in the parish who were able to play on various instruments; so in order to improve the services, and make them more attractive, I urged him to invite these musical people to his house to practise; and in due course we had a clarionet, two fiddles, and his bass viol, with a few singers to form a choir. We tried over some metrical psalms (for there were no hymn-books in those days), and soon succeeded in learning them. This musical performance drew many people to church. The singers were undeniably the great attraction, and they knew it; consequently I was somewhat in their power, and had to submit to various anthems and pieces, such as "Vital Spark." "Angels Ever Bright and Fair," and others, not altogether to my taste, but which they evidently performed to their own praise and satisfaction. Finding that the people were beginning to frequent the church, I thought it was time to consider what steps should be taken about its restoration, and made it the subject of conversation with the farmers. It awakened and alarmed many of them when I said that the church must be restored, and that we must have a church rate. The chief farmer shook his head, saying, "You cannot carry that;" but I replied, "According to law, you are bound to keep up the fabric, and it ought to be done. I will write to the Vicar at once about it." He was a non-resident pluralist. The farmer smiled at that, and said, laughing, "I will pledge myself that we will do as much as he does." It so happened that the Vicar, equally incredulous about the farmers doing anything, promised that he would do one half, if they would do the other. Having ascertained this to my satisfaction, I immediately sent for the mason of the village, who played the clarionet in the church, also his son, who was "one of the of the fiddles," and consulted with them as to how this matter was to be accomplished. They, being in want of work at the time, readily advised me in favour of restoration. The churchwarden (the "bass viol") said "that he had no objection to this proceeding, but that he would not be responsible. In two months," he added, "would be the annual vestry meeting." "That will do," I said, interrupting him; and I made up my mind that I would at once restore the church, and let the parishioners come and see it at that time. Having made all necessary preparations, we commenced one fine Monday morning with repairing the roof and walls; and while the men were employed outside, we took out the windows and opened all the doors, to let the wind blow through, that the interior of the building might be thoroughly dried. This done, we next coloured the walls, also the stone arches and pillars (they were far too much broken to display them); and having cleaned the seats and front of the gallery, we stained and varnished them, matted the floor, carpeted the sacrarium, and procured a new cloth for the Communion Table, and also for the 'pulpit and reading-desk. All this being completed, I painted texts with my own hands on the walls, in old English characters. I had great joy in writing these, for I felt as if it was to the Lord Himself, and for His name, and finished with Nehemiah's prayer, "Remember me, O my God, concerning this; and wipe not out my good deeds that I have done for the house of my God, and for the offices thereof" (Neh. 13:14). Altogether, it was a pretty church now, and a pretty sum was to be paid for it. I told the vestry that I alone was responsible, but that the Vicar had promised to pay one half if the vestry would pay the other. It seemed to be such a joy to them to get anything out of him, that they made a rate at once; and upon the Vicar's letter, raised the money and paid off the debt. The people were much pleased with their church in its new aspect, and brought their friends and neighbours to see it. Besides this, I observed something which gratified me very much. It was that when they entered the church they did so with reverence, taking off their hats and walking softly, in place of stamping with their heels and coming in with their hats on, as they too often had previously done, without any respect or concern whatever. A neglected place of worship does not command reverence. My church now began to be the talk of the neighbourhood. Numbers of people came to see it, and among them several clergymen, who asked me to come and restore their churches. There were many places where the people could not afford to rebuild the structure. In such, I was invited to exercise my skill in repairing, as I had done with my own; in others, I was asked to give designs for restoring portions of the edifice; and in some, for rebuilding altogether. In this district, schools were not built nor parsonage-houses enlarged without sending for me. For several years I was looked upon as an authority in architectural matters. I rode about all over the county from north to west, restoring churches and designing schools, and was accounted the busiest man alive; and my horse, my dog, and myself, the "three leanest things in creation," we were to be seen flying along the roads, day and night, in one part or another. The Bishop of Exeter, who at that time presided over Cornwall, appointed me to make new "Peel" districts.* I designed nineteen, and made all the maps myself, calling on the Vicars and Rectors for their approbation. I was at this time a very popular man, and it was said that "the Bishop's best living" would be given to me in due time. _____________ * The "Peel" districts were the new ecclesiastical districts created under the Church Extension Act, introduced by Sir Robert Peel. _____________ CHAPTER 4 Antiquarian Researches and Ministry, 1843-6. Another thing which raised my name in and beyond the county was the "Lost Church" at Perranzabuloe. There was an old British church existing in some sand-hills in the parish, and it was said to be entire as far as the four walls. The hill under which it was buried was easily known by the bones and teeth which covered it. The legend said that the patron saint, St. Piran, was buried under the altar, and that close by the little church was a cell in which he lived and died. This was enough. I got men, and set to work to dig it up. After some days' labour we came to the floor, where we discovered the stone seats, and on the plaster of the wall the greasy marks of the heads and shoulders of persons who had sat there many centuries ago. We found the chancel step, and also the altar tomb (which was built east and west, not north and south). It was fallen, but enough remained to show the original shape and height of it. I put a notice in the newspapers, inviting people to come and see the old church which had been buried for fifteen hundred years. In the presence of many visitors, clerical and lay, we removed the stones of the altar, and found the skeleton of St. Piran, which was identified in three ways. The legend said that he was a man seven feet high; the skeleton measured six feet from the shoulder-bones to the heel Again, another legend said that his heart was enshrined in a church forty miles away; the skeleton corresponded with this, for it was headless. Moreover, it was said that his mother and a friend were buried on either side of him; we also found skeletons of a male and female in these positions. Being satisfied on this point, we set the masons to work to rebuild the altar tomb in its original shape and size, using the same stones as far as they would go. We made up the deficiency with a heavy granite slab. On this I traced with my finger, in rude Roman letters, "SANCTUS PIRANUS." The mason would not cut those crooked letters unless I consented for him to put his name in better ones in the corner. I could not agree to this, so his apprentice and I, between us, picked out the rude letters, which have since (I have heard) been copied for a veritable Roman inscription. My name was now up as an antiquary, and I was asked to be the secretary (for the West of England) to the Archaeological Society. I was supposed to be an old gentleman, and heard myself quoted as the "venerable and respected Haslam," whose word was considered enough to settle a knotty point beyond doubt. I was invited to give a lecture on the old Perran Church, at the Royal Institution, Truro, which I did; illustrating it with sketches of the building, and exhibiting some rude remains of carving, which are now preserved in the museum there. The audience requested me (through their chairman) to print my lecture. This I undertook also; but being very young in literary enterprises, I added a great deal of other matter to the manuscript which I was preparing for the press. There was much in the book * about early Christianity and ecclesiastical antiquities. I imagined that this parish was, in British and Druidic times, a populous place, and somewhat important. There was a "Round," or amphitheatre, for public games, and four British castles; also a great many sepulchral mounds on the hills, the burial-place of chieftains. I supposed that St. Piran came here among these rude natives (perhaps painted savages) to preach the Gospel, and then built himself a cell by the sea-shore,+ near a spring or well, where he baptized his converts. Close by, he built this little church, in which he worshipped God and prayed for the people. ________________________________ * "The Church of St. Piran." Published by Van Voorst. + This little building still remains entire, under the sand. Some pieces of British pottery and limpet-shells were found outside the door. ________________________________ The words of the poet Spenser do not inaptly describe this scene of other days:-- A little, lowly hermitage it was, Downe in a dale-- Far from resort of people, that did pas In treveill to and fro: a litle wyde There was a holy chappell edifyde, Wherein the hermite dewly wont to say His holy things each morn and eventyde; Thereby a crystall streame did gently play, Which, from a sacred fountaine welled forth away. Here then, more than fourteen centuries ago, people called upon God; and when their little sanctuary was overwhelmed with the sand, they removed to the other side of the river, and built themselves another church; but they still continued to bury their dead around and above the oratory and resting-place of St. Piran. When my book was published, there ensued a hot controversy about the subject of it; and some who came to see the "Lost Church" for themselves, declared that it was nothing more than "a modern cowshed;" others would not believe in the antiquity I claimed for it: one of these even ventured to assert his opinion in print, that "it was at least eight centuries later than the date I had fixed;" another asked in a newspaper letter, "How is it, if this is a church, that there are no others of the same period on record?" This roused me to make further research; and I was soon rewarded by finding in the registry at Exeter a list of ninety-two churches existing in Cornwall alone in the time of Edward the Confessor, of which Lam-piran was one. With the help of another antiquary, I discovered nine in one week, in the west part of the county, with foundation walls and altar tombs, of which I published an account in the "Archaeological Journal." This paper set other persons to work, who discovered similar remains in various parts of the country; and thus it was proved to demonstration that we had more ecclesiastical antiquities, and of earlier date, than we were aware of. Next, my attention was directed to Cornish crosses; about which I also sent a paper, with illustrations, as a good secretary and correspondent to the same Journal. My researches on this subject took me back to a very remote time. I found crosses among Roman remains, with inscriptions, something like those in the Catacombs near Rome--these were evidently Christian; but I found crosses also among Druidic antiquities. I could not help inquiring, "Where did the Druids get this sign?" From the Phoenicians. "Where did they get it?" From the Egyptians. "Where did they get it?" Then I discovered that the cross had come to Egypt with traditions about a garden, a woman, a child, and a serpent, and that the cross was always represented in the hand of the second person of their trinity of gods. This personage had a human mother, and slew the serpent which had persecuted her.* _______________________ * These traditions came to the Egyptians from an ancestor who had come over the flood with seven others. _______________________ Here was a wonderful discovery! The mythology of Egypt was based on original tradition, handed down from Antediluvian times! From further investigation, it was evident that the substance of Hindoo mythology came from the same source; as also that of the Greeks, Chinese, Mexicans, and Scandinavians. This is how the Druids got the cross also: it was in the hand of their demi-god Thor, the second person of their triad, who slew the great serpent with his famous hammer, which he bequeathed to his followers. I was beside myself with excitement, and walked bout the room in a most agitated state. I then made a table or harmony of these various mythologies, and when placed side by side, it was quite clear that they were just one and the same story, though dressed up in a variety of mythological forms, and that the story was none other than that of the Bible. In my architectural journeys I used to entertain, people with these wondrous subjects; and one evening I had the honour of agitating even the Bishop of Exeter himself, who, in his enthusiasm, bade me write a book, and dedicate it to him. I did so. "The Cross and the Serpent" is the title of it, and it was duly inscribed to his lordship. It excites me even now to think about it, though it is thirty-five years since I made these discoveries. The old librarian at Oxford declared that I was mad, and yet he could not keep away from the subject, and he was never weary of hearing something more about it. This reverend Doctor said, "If you are right, then all the great antiquaries are wrong." I suggested that they had not had the advantage I possessed of placing their various theories side by side, or of making their observations from my point of view. Notwithstanding all these external labours, which engrossed my earnest and deep attention, I did not neglect my parish. I felt, however, that my parishioners did not know anything about ecclesiastical antiquities or architectural science; and that they knew nothing, and cared less, about Church teaching. They did not believe, with me, that in order to be saved hereafter, they ought to be in the Church, and receive the Holy Communion--that there is no salvation out of the Church, and no Church without a Bishop. They were utterly careless about these things and from the first had been an unsympathetic and unteachable people. I feel sure that had it not been for other interesting occupations which engaged my mind, I should have been altogether discouraged with them. I tried to stir them up to a zeal worthy of their ancestors, who were such good and loyal Churchmen, that King Charles the First wrote them a letter of Commendation, and commanded that it should be put up in all the churches. I had a copy of this letter well painted, framed, and placed in a conspicuous part of my church. Then I prepared an original sermon, which I preached, or rather read, to inaugurate the royal letter. My text was taken from Heb. 12:22-24, "Ye are come unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the first-born, which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel." I applied these words to the Church of England, and rather reproached the Cornish people for not being more loyal and scriptural! I think I was more roused by my sermon than any one else; and no one asked me to print it, but I did for all that, with a copy of the king's letter. I am sorry to say that the public did not care sufficiently about it to buy copies enough even to pay for printing. It fell very flat, but I attributed that to the degeneracy of the times, and of Cornish people in particular. The fact was, they understood that text far better than I did, and knew that "the Church of the first-born" was something more spiritual than I had any conception of. From the commencement of my ministry I did not, as a general rule, preach my own sermons, but Newman's, which I abridged and simplified, for in that day I thought them most sound in doctrine, practical and full of good common sense. Indeed, as far as Church teaching went, they were, to my mind, perfect. They stated doctrines and drew manifest conclusions; but my people were not satisfied with them then; and I can see now, thank God! that, with all their excellences, they were utterly deficient in spiritual vitality. Their author was one whom I personally admired very much, but by his own showing, in his "Apologia." he was a man who was searching not for God, but for a Church. At length, when he grasped the ideal of what a Church ought to be, he tried by the Oxford Tracts, especially No. XC, to raise the Church of England to his standard; and failing in that, he became dissatisfied, and went over to the Church of Rome. Once, when I arrived at a friend's house in the Lake district, I was told that there was a most beautiful view of distant mountains to be seen from my window. In the morning I lifted the blind to look, but only saw an ordinary view of green fields, hedges, trees and a lake. There was nothing else whatever to be seen. In the course of the day, a heavy mist which had been hanging over the lake was dispersed, and then I saw the beautiful mountains which before had been so completely veiled that it was difficult to believe in their existence. So it was with me. I could see ecclesiastical things, but the more glorious view of spiritual realities beyond them, in all their full and vast expanse, was as yet hidden. Whether my extracts from Newman's Sermons were more pointed, or whether I became more impatient with my congregation, I cannot tell, but it was very evident that my words were beginning to take effect at last; for as I went on preaching and protesting against the people and against schism, my "bass viol" called on me one day, and said, "If you go on preaching that doctrine, you will drive away the best part of your congregation." "Excuse me," I answered, "not the best part; you mean the worse part." "Well," ho said, "you will see." On the following Sunday, I gave out my text, and had scarcely read three pages of my manuscript when I heard a voice say, "Now we will go." With this, the "bass viol," the other fiddles, the clarionet, the ophicleide, and the choir, came stumping down the gallery stairs, and marched out. Some of the congregation followed their example, with the determination never to come back to the Church again. I waited till the noise was over, and then went on with my sermon meekly, and thought myself a martyr for Church principles. I little thought that the people were being martyred; yet they were right, and enlightened in the truth, while I was altogether in the dark, and knew nothing about it. From this time there was a constant feud between the parishioners and myself. I thought that they were schismatics; and they knew that I was unconverted, and did not preach the Gospel. One day, a Dissenter called to pay a burial fee for the funeral of his child, which he had purposely omitted paying at the proper time because he wished to tell me a piece of his mind. I was absent on the occasion on some architectural or archaeological business, which was to me all important. "I know," he said, "why you went away and would not bury my child." "Do you?" I asked. "Yes; it was because I am a Dissenter." "Oh!" I said, "I would bury you all to-morrow if I could; for you are no good, and can do none either." This went round the parish like wildfire, and did not advance my popularity or do my cause any good. Seriously at this time I thought that separation from the Church of England was a most deadly sin--it was schism. Idolatry and murder were sins against the Mosaic law; but this was a sin against the Church. I little dreamt then that many of the people with whom I thus contended, and whom I grieved so much, were real spiritual members of Christ, and had only ceased to be members of the Church of England because I did not preach the Gospel; that, in fact, I was the cause of their leaving the services; that I was the schismatic, for I was separated from Christ: they only, and that for a good reason, had separated from the communion of the Church of England, which I misrepresented. The Church of England's teaching since the Reformation, like that of the primitive Church, is based not on baptism, but conversion. Baptism was intended according to the Lord's commandment (Matt 28:19), for the purpose of making disciples*--that is, to graft members into the body of Christ's Church outwardly. Whatever special grace is given to infants and others at baptism, is given upon the condition of personal faith and repentance. Until a baptized person has been enabled by the Holy Ghost to repent and believe the Gospel, he is not really a new-born child of God, or raised from death into life, though nominally, in the words of the Catechism, he has "been made a child of God." __________________ * See Greek ___________________ Since the feuds and dissensions in my parish, the church was almost deserted, and left chiefly to myself, my clerk, and a few poor people, who, for the most part, were in ill favour in the chapels. One day I was absorbed in writing, or rather rewriting, a text over the porch door of the church. It was, "This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." A man who was standing at the foot of the ladder said, "Heaven is a long way from that gate, I reckon." I pretended not to hear him, but his speech stuck to me. I knew only too well from this, and many other indications, that the people had no respect for the church under my ministrations. CHAPTER 5 The New Parish, 1846. About this time the news reached us that the Vicar was dead; and thus ended my connection with Perranzabuloe. As the Dean and Chapter would not appoint me to succeed, I had no alternative but to make arrangements for my departure. In one sense I was not sorry to go; but for various other reasons I much regretted having to leave a place where my health had been so wonderfully restored and sustained, and in which I had received so many tokens of God's favour. It is true that my labours were of an external character; but these I thought most important, and did them with all my might as unto the Lord. I took the work as from Him, and did it all to Him, and for Him, thanking Him for any token of success or commendation which I received. I also regretted leaving the place before I had done any good to the people; for, with all my endeavours, I had not succeeded in persuading them to receive my idea of salvation by churchmanship. However, the door was shut behind me; and this crisis happened at the exact time of another important event in my life. I was just engaged to be married, and therefore had an additional interest in looking for a sphere of labour which would suit me, and also the partner of my choice, who was in every respect likely to be an effectual helpmeet This was soon found and we agreed together to give ourselves to the Lord's work (as we thought) in it. One of the "Peel" districts in the neighbourhood of Truro, which I had designed, called Baldhu, was on the Earl of Falmouth's estate: it came to his Lordship's mind to take an interest in this desolate spot; so he bought the patronage from the commissioners, and then offered it to me, to Be made into a new parish. This I accepted, with many thanks, and began immediately to dream about my plans for the future. It was a time of great distress in that place amongst the tenants, on account of the failure of the potato crop; so his lordship employed some hundreds of the men in breaking up the barren croft for planting trees; there he gave me a good central site for a church. Now I made up my mind to have everything perfect, and with my own rules and regulations, my surpliced choir, churchwardens, and frequent services, all after my own heart, it could scarcely fall to be otherwise. I thought that having free scope, mine should be a model place. The district was in a barren part of a large palish; three thousand souls had been assigned to me; and I was to go and civilize them, build my church, school-house, and, indeed, establish everything that was necessary. To begin with, I took a room which was used for a village school in the week, and for a service on Sunday. This succeeded so well, that in a few months I determined to enlarge the building in which we assembled, as speedily as possible. Having made all necessary plans, and procured stones, timber, and slate, we commenced operations at five o'clock one Monday morning, and by Saturday night had a chancel (which I thought most necessary) ready for Sunday use! All the world came to see this sudden erection. This temporary church now held three hundred people; and with the addition of a new choir and hearty service, it was a great success, or, at least, so I imagined, for in those days I did not look for more. I entered upon my work here with renewed energy and sanguine hope. I had, of course, gained more experience in the various duties of my ministry, and had, moreover, a clearer perception, as I thought, how sacramental teaching, under the authority of the Church, ought to work. I preached on holy living, not conversion, for as yet I knew nothing about the latter. In 1847, I went on a visit to a very remarkable man, who had a great effect upon me in many ways. He was the Rev. Robert Hawker, of Morwenstow, in the extreme north of Cornwall.* ____________________ * See his "LIFE," by Rev. Baring Gould. ____________________ This friend was a poet, and a High Churchman, from whom I learned many practical lessons. He was a man who prayed, and expected an answer; he had a wonderful perception for realizing unseen things, and took Scripture literally, with startling effect. He certainly was most eccentric in many of his ways; but there was a reality and straightforwardness about him which charmed me very much; and I was the more drawn to him, from the interest he took in me and my work. He knew many legends of holy men of old, and said that the patron saints of West Cornwall were in the calendar of the Eastern Church, and those in the north of Cornwall belonged to the Western. His own patron saint, Morwenna, was a Saxon, and his church a Saxon fane. He talked of these saints as if he knew all about them, and wrote of them in a volume of poems thus:-- "They had their lodges in the wilderness, And built them cells along the shadowy sea; And there they dwelt with angels like a dream, And filled the field of the evangelists With thoughts as sweet as flowers." He used to give most thrilling and grand descriptions of the storms of the Atlantic, which broke upon the rocky coast with gigantic force, and tell thrilling stories of shipwrecks; how he saved the lives of some of the sailors, and how he recovered the bodies of others he could not save. Then in the churchyard he would show you--there, a broken boat turned over the resting-place of some; here, two oars set up crosswise over several others; and in another part the figure-head of a ship, to mark the spot where the body of a captain was buried. The Vicarage house was as original as himself. Over the door was inscribed-- "A house, a glebe, a pound a day; A pleasant place to watch and pray. Be true to Church, be kind to poor, O minister, for evermore!" The interior was furnished with old-fashioned heavy furniture and the outside was conspicuous for its remarkable chimneys, which were finished off as models of the towers of churches where he had served. The kitchen chimney, which was oblong, perplexed him very much, till (as he said) "I bethought me of my mother's tomb; and there it is, in its exact shape and dimensions!" He had daily service in his church, generally by himself, when he prayed for the people. "I did not want them there." he said. "God hears me; and they know when I am praying for them, for I ring the bell." He had much influence in his parish, chiefly amongst the poor, and declared that his people did whatever he told them. They used to bring a bunch of flowers or evergreens every Sunday morning, and set them up in their pew ends, where a proper place was made to hold them. The whole church was seated with carved oak benches, which he had bought from time to time from other churches, when they were re-pewed with "deal boxes!" On the Sunday, I was asked to help him in the service, and for this purpose was arrayed in an alb, plain, which was just like a cassock in white linen. As I walked about in this garb, I asked a friend, "How do you like it?" In an instant I was pounced upon, and grasped sternly on the arm by the Vicar. "'Like' has nothing to do with it; is it right?" He himself wore over his alb a chasuble, which was amber on one side and green on the other, and was turned to suit the Church seasons; also a pair of crimson-colored gloves, which, he contended, were the proper sacrificial colour for a priest. I had very little to do in the service but to witness his proceedings, which I observed with great attention, and even admiration. His preaching struck me very much; he used to select the subject of his sermon from the Gospel of the day all through the year. This happened to be "Good Samaritan Sunday," so we had a discourse upon the "certain man who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho," in which he told us that "the poor wounded man was Adam's race; the priest who went by was the Patriarchal dispensation; the Levite, the Mosaic; and the good Samaritan represented Christ; the inn was the Church; and the twopence, the Sacraments." He held his manuscript before his face, and read it out boldly, because he "hated," as he said, "those fellows who read their sermons, and all the time pretend to preach them;" and he especially abhorred those who secreted notes in their Bibles: "Either have a book, sir, or none!" He had a great aversion to Low Church clergymen, and told me that his stag Robin, who ranged on the lawn, had the same; and that once he pinned one of them to the ground between his horns. The poor man cried out in great fear; so he told Robin to let him go, which he did, but stood and looked at the obnoxious individual as if he would like to have him down again and frighten him, though he would not hurt him--"Robin was kind-hearted." "This Evangelical," he continued, "had a tail coat; he was dressed like an undertaker, sir. Once upon a time there was one like him travelling in Egypt, with a similar coat and a tall hat; and the Arabs pursued him, calling him the 'father of saucepans, with a slit tail.'" This part of his speech was evidently meant for me, for I wore a hat and coat of this description, finding it more convenient for the saddle, and for dining out when I alighted. He persuaded me to wear a priestly garb like his, and gave me one of his old cassocks for a pattern; this I succeeded in getting made to my satisfaction, after considerable difficulty. I came back to my work full of new thoughts and plans, determined to do what was "right" and this in spite of all fears, whether my own, or those of others. I now began to think more of the reality of prayer, and of the meaning of the services of the Church; I emphasized my words, and insisted upon proper teaching. I also paid more attention to my sermons, having hitherto disregarded them; for, as I said, "the Druids never preached; they only worshipped." I help up my manuscript and read my sermon, like Mr. Hawker; and I wore a square cap and cassock, instead of the "saucepan" and the "tails." This costume I continued to wear for several years, though I was frequently laughed at, and often pursued by boys, which was not agreeable to flesh and blood; but it helped to separate me from the world, and to make me feel that I was set apart as a priest to offer sacrifice for the people. In course of time I began to make preparations for my permanent church. I drew the designs for it, passed them, and obtained money enough to begin to build. There was a grand ceremony at the stone-laying, and a long procession. We had banners, chanting, and a number of surpliced clergy, besides a large congregation. The Earl of Falmouth, who laid the stone, contributed a thousand pounds towards the edifice; his mother gave three hundred pounds for a peal of bells; and others of the gentry who were present contributed; so that upwards of eighteen hundred pounds was promised that day. Just twelve months after, July 20, 1848, the same company, with many others, and the Bishop of Exeter (Phillpotts) came to consecrate the "beautiful church." In the meantime, between the stone-laying and the consecration, the Parsonage house had been built, and, more than that, it was even papered, furnished, and inhabited! Besides all this, there was a garden made, and a doorway, after an ecclesiastical mode, leading into the churchyard, with this inscription over it:-- "Be true to Church, Be kind to poor, O minister, for evermore." In this church there were super-altars, candles, triptych, and also a painted window; organ, choir, and six bells; so that for those days it was considered a very complete thing. "The priest of Baldhu," with his cassock and square cap, was quite a character in his small way. He preached in a surplice, of course, and propounded Church tactics, firmly contending for the Church teaching. The Wesleyans and others had their distinctive tenets, the Church must have hers: they had their members enrolled, the Church must have hers; therefore he would have a "guild," with the view of keeping his people together. Outwardly there was an esprit de corps, and the parishioners came to church, and took an interest in the proceedings; but it was easy to see that their hearts were elsewhere. Still I went on, hoping against hope, "building from the top" without any foundation, teaching people to live before they were born! CHAPTER 6 The Awakening, 1848-51. He more earnestly I wrought among the people, and the better I knew them, the more I saw that the mere attachment to the Church, and punctual attendance at the services or frequency of Communion, was not sufficient. I wanted something deeper. I wanted to reach their hearts in order to do them good. Whether this desire sprang up in the ordinary progress by which God was imperceptibly leading me, or from a story I heard at a clerical meeting, I know not--perhaps from both. My mind was evidently as ground prepared to receive the warning. The story was about a dream a clergyman had. He thought the Judgment day was come, and that there was, as it were, a great visitation--greater than the Bishop's. The clergy were mustering, and appeared in their gowns, but instead of being alone, they had part of their congregations with them. Some had a few followers, others had more, and some a great many; and ail these received a gracious smile from the Judge when their names were called. The clergyman who dreamed was waiting, as he supposed, with a large number of people at his back When his turn came he went forward; but, as he approached, he saw that the Judge's countenance was sad and dark. In a sudden impulse of suspicion he looked back; and lo! there was no one behind him. He stopped, not daring to go any further, and turning to look at the Judge, saw that His countenance was full of wrath. This dream had such an effect upon him that he began to attend to his parish and care for the souls of his people. I also was beginning to see that I ought to care for the souls of my people-at least, as much as I did for the services Of the Church. As a priest, I had the power (so I thought) to give them absolution; and yet none, alas! availed themselves of the opportunity. How could they have forgiveness if they did not come to me? This absolution I believed to be needful before coming to Holy Communion, and that it was, indeed, the true preparation for that sacred ordinance. I used to speak privately to the members of the Church Guild about this, and persuaded some of them to come to me for confession and absolution: but I was restless, and felt that I was doing good by stealth. Besides this, those whom I thus absolved were not satisfied, for they said they could not rejoice in the forgiveness of their sins as the Methodists did, or say that they were pardoned. In this respect I was working upon most tender ground, but I did not know what else to do. I used to spend hours and hours in my church alone in meditation and prayer; and, while thinking, employed my hands in writing texts over the windows and on the walls, and in painting ornamental borders above the arches. I remember writing over the chancel arch, with much interest and exultation, "Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of His Christ." (Rev. 12:10). I imagined, in my sanguine hope, that the kingdom of Christ was come, and that the "accuser of the brethren" was cast down. I thought I saw, in the power of Christ given to His priests, such victory that nothing could stand against it. So much for dwelling on a theory, right or wrong, till it fills the mind. Yet I cannot say that all this was without prayer. I did wait upon God, and thought my answers were from Him; but I see now that I went to the Lord with an idol in my heart, and that He answered me according to it (Ezek. 14:3). One day I saw a picture in a friend's house which attracted me during the time I was waiting for him. It was nothing artistic, nor was it over well drawn, but still it engaged my attention in a way for which I could not account. When my friend came down we talked about other things; but even after I left the house this picture haunted me. At night I lay awake thinking about it--so much so, that I rose early the next morning, and went to a bookseller's shop, where I bought a large sheet of tracing-paper and pencil, and sent them out by the postman, with a note to my friend, begging him to give me a tracing of the picture in question. I had to wait for more than a fortnight before it arrived, and then how great was my joy! I remember spreading a white cloth on my table, and opening out the tracing-paper upon it; and there was the veritable picture of the Good Shepherd! His countenance was loving and kind. With one hand He was pushing aside the branch of a tree, though a great thorn went right through it; and with the other He was extricating a sheep which was entangled in the thorns. The poor thing was looking up in helplessness, all spotted over with marks of its own blood, for it was wounded in struggling to escape. Another thing which struck me in this picture was that the tree was growing on the edge of a precipice, and had it not been for it (the tree), with all the cruel wounds it inflicted, the sheep would have gone over and perished. After considering this picture for a long time, I painted it in a larger size on the wall of my church, just opposite the entrance door, so that every one who came in might see it. I cannot describe the interest with which I employed myself about this work; and when it was done, finding that it wanted a good bold foreground, I selected a short text-"He came to seek and to save that which was lost." God was speaking to me all this time about the Good Shepherd who gave His life for me; but I did not hear Him, or suspect that I was lost, or caught in any thorns, or hanging over a precipice; therefore, I did not apply the subject to myself. Certainly, I remember that my thoughts dwelt very much on forgiveness and salvation, but I preached that these were to be had in and by the Church, which was as the Ark in which Noah was saved. Baptism was the door of this Ark, and Holy Communion the token of abiding in it; and all who were not inside were lost. What would become of those outside the Church was a matter which greatly perplexed me. I could not dare to say they would be lost forever; but where could they be now? and what would become of them hereafter? I longed to save John Bunyan; but he was such a determined schismatic that it was impossible to make out a hope for him! Sometimes I was cheered by the thought that he had been duly baptized in infancy, and that his after-life was one of ignorance; but this opened the door too wide, and made my theory of salvation by the Church a very vague and uncertain thing. So deeply was the thought ingrained in my mind that one day I baptized myself conditionally in the Church, for fear that I had not been properly baptized in infancy, and consequently should be lost hereafter. I had no idea that I was lost now; far from that, I thought I was as safe as the Church herself, and that the gates of hell could not prevail against me. I had many conversations with the earnest people in my parish, but they were evidently resting, not where I was, but on something I did not know. One very happy woman told me, "Ah! you went to college to larn the Latin; but though I don't know a letter in the Book, yet I can read my title clear to mansions in the skies." Another woman, whenever I went to see her, made me read the story of her conversion, which was written out in a copy-book. Several other, men and women, talked to me continually about their "conversion." I often wondered what that was; but, as I did not see much self-denial among these converted ones, and observed that they did not attend God's House nor ever come to the Lord's table. I thought conversion could not be of much consequence, or anything to be desired. I little knew that I was the cause of their remaining away from church, and from the Lord's table. One thoughtful man told me, "Cornish people are too enlightened to go to church! A man must give up religion to go there; only unconverted people and backsliders go to such a place!" Yet this was a prayerful man. What did he mean? At various clerical meetings I used to repeat these things, but still obtained no information or satisfaction. I made it a rule to visit every house in my parish once a week, taking from twelve to twenty each day, when I sought to enlighten the people by leaving Church tracts, and even wrote some myself; but they would not do. I found that the Religious Tract Society's publications were more acceptable. To my great disappointment, I discovered too, that Evangelical sermons drew the people, while sacramental topics did not interest them. So, in my ardent desire to reach and do them good, I procured several volumes of Evangelical sermons, and copied them, putting in sometimes a negative to their statements, to make them, as I thought, right. Now I began to see and feel that there was some good in preaching, and used the pulpit intentionally, in order to communicate with my people, carefully writing or compiling my sermons. But I must confess that I was very nervous in my delivery, and frequently lost my place--sometimes even myself; and this to the great confusion of the congregation. I will tell how it pleased the Lord to deliver me from this bondage of nervousness, and enable me to open my lips so as to plainly speak out my meaning. One day, a friend with whom I was staying was very late in coming down to breakfast; so, while I was waiting, I employed myself in reading the "Life of Bishop Shirley," of Sodor and Man. My eyes happened to fall on a passage, describing a difficulty into which he fell by losing his sermon on his way to a country church. When the prayers were over, and the psalm was nearly sung, he put his hand into his pocket for his manuscript, and, to his dismay, it was gone. There was no time to continue his search; so he gave out a text, and preached, as he said, in dependence upon God, and never wrote a sermon afterwards. When my friend came to breakfast, he asked me what I had been doing all the morning. I told him. "Ah!" he said, quietly. "Why do you not preach in dependence upon God and go without a book like that good man? .... I preach like that!" I said in amazement, terrified at the very thought. "Yes." he answered, mischievously, "You. Who needs to depend upon God for this more than you do?" Seeing that I was perturbed at his suggestion, he went on teasing me all breakfast time, and at last said, "Well, what is your decision? Do you mean to preach in future in dependence upon God?" I said, "Yes; I have made up my mind to begin next Sunday." Now it was his turn to be terrified, and he did all he could to dissuade me, saying, "You will make a fool of yourself!" "No fear of that," I replied; "I do it already; I cannot be worse. No; I will begin next Sunday!" I came back with the determination to keep my promise, but must confess that I grew more and more uneasy as the time approached. However, on Sunday, I went up into the pulpit, and spoke as well as I could, without any notes, and found it far easier than I had feared. In the evening it was still easier; and so I continued, week by week, gaining more confidence, and have never written a sermon since that day--that is, to preach it. Once I was tempted to take a book up into the pulpit, feeling I had nothing to say, when something said to me, "Is that the way you depend upon God?" Immediately I put the volume on the floor, and standing on it, gave out my text, and preached without hesitation. This going forward in dependence upon God has been a deliverance to me from many a difficulty besides this one, and that through many years. One day I went, in my cassock and cap, to the shop of a man whom I regarded as a dreadful schismatic. He sold the publications of the Religious Tract Society. On entering, he appeared greatly pleased to see me, and took unusual interest and pains in selecting tracts, giving me a double portion for my money. His kindness was very embarrassing; and when, on leaving, he followed me to the door, and said "God bless you!" it gave me a great turn. A schismatic blessing a priest! This, indeed, was an anomaly. I was ashamed to be seen coming out of the shop, and the more so, because I had this large Evangelical parcel in my hand, I felt as though everybody was looking at me. However, the tracts were very acceptable at home, and in the parish. I even began to think there was something good in them. So I cent for more. Three men, one after another, told me that they had been converted through reading them. One of these said that "the tract I had given him ought to be written in letters of gold;" and a few months after this same man died most happily, rejoicing in the Lord, and leaving a bright testimony behind. I mentioned the conversion of these three men to many of my friends, and asked them for some explanation, but got none. Still, the thought continually haunted me---What can this "conversion" be? I had made it a custom to pray about what I had to do, and anything I could not understand; therefore I prayed about this. Just then (I believe, in answer to prayer) a friend offered to lend me Southey's "Life of Wesley," and said, "You will find it all about conversion;" and a few days after came a tract, "John Berridge's Great Error Detected." This tract was carefully marked in pencil, and had several questions written in the margin. I found out that it came from a person to whom I had given it, and who was anxious to know its meaning. I read it with much interest, for I saw that the first portion of the history of Berridge corresponded with mine; but as I went on reading, I wondered what he could mean by "Justification." What was that wonderful thing which God did for him and for the souls of his people? What could he mean by having his eyes opened to see himself a wretched, lost man? What was "seeing the way of salvation"? He said that he had preached for six years, and never brought a single soul to Christ; and for two years more in another place, and had no success; but now, when he preached Christ instead of the Church, people came from all parts, far and near, to hear the sound of the glorious Gospel; and believers were added to the Church continually. I grappled with this subject; but I could not, by searching, find out anything, for I was in the dark, and knew not as yet that I was blind, and needed the power of the Holy Spirit to awaken and bring me to see myself a lost sinner. My soul was now all a stir on this subject; but, as far as I can remember, I wanted the information-not for myself; but because I thought I should then get hold of the secret by which the Wesleyans and others caught and kept their people, or rather my people. Soon after, my gardener, a good Churchman, and duly despised by his neighbours for attaching himself to me and my teaching, fell seriously ill. I sent him at once to the doctor, who pronounced him to be in a miner's consumption, and gave no hope of his recovery. No sooner did he realize his position, and see eternity before him, than all the Church teaching I had given him failed to console or satisfy, and his heart sank within him at the near prospect of death. In his distress of mind, he did not send for me to come and pray with him, but actually sent for a converted man, who lived in the next row of cottages. This man, instead of building him up as I had done, went to work in the opposite direction-to break him down; that was, to show my servant that he was a lost sinner, and needed to come to Jesus just as he was, for pardon and salvation. He was brought under deep conviction of sin, and eventually found peace through the precious blood of Jesus. Immediately it spread all over the parish that "the parson's servant was converted." The news soon reached me, but, instead of giving joy, brought the most bitter disappointment and sorrow to my heart. Such was the profound ignorance I was in! The poor man sent for me several times, but I could not make up my mind to go near him. I felt far too much hurt to think that after all I had taught him against schism, he should fall into so great an error. However, he sent again and again, till at last his entreaties prevailed, and I went. Instead of lying on his bed, a dying man, as I expected to find him, he was walking about the room in a most joyful and ecstatic state. "Oh, dear master!" he exclaimed, "I am so glad you are come! I am so happy! My soul is saved, glory be to God!" "Come, John," I said, "sit down and be quiet, and I will have a talk with you, and tell you what I think." But John knew my thoughts quite well enough, so he burst out, "Oh master! I am sure you do not know about this, or you would have told me. I am quite sure you love me, and I love you--that I do! but, dear master, you do not know this--I am praying for the Lord to show it to you. I mean to pray till I die, and after that if I can, till you are converted." He looked at me so lovingly, and seemed so truly happy, that it was more than I could stand. Almost involuntarily, I made for the door, and escaped before he could stop me. I went home greatly disturbed in my mind--altogether disappointed and disgusted with my work among these Cornish people. "It is no use; they never will be Churchmen!" I was as hopeless and miserable as I could be. I felt that my superior teaching and practice had failed, and that the inferior and, as I believed, unscriptural dogmas had prevailed. My favourite and most promising Churchman had fallen, and was happy in his fall; more than that, he was actually praying that I might fall too! I felt very jealous for the Church, and therefore felt deeply the conversion of my gardener. Like the elder brother of the Prodigal Son, I was grieved, and even angry, because he was restored to favour and joy. The remonstrance of the father prevailed nothing to mollify his feelings; in like manner, nothing seemed to give me any rest in this crisis of my parochial work. I thought I would give up my parish and church, and go and work in some more congenial soil; or else that I would preach a set of sermons on the subject of schism, for perhaps I had not sufficiently taught my people the danger of this great sin! Every parishioner I passed seemed to look at me as if he said, "So much for your teaching! You will never convince us!" CHAPTER 7 Conversion, 1851. This was a time of great disappointment and discouragement. Everything had turned out so different to the expectation I had formed and cherished on first coming to this place. I was then full of hope and intended to carry all before me with great success, and I thought I did; but, alas! there was a mistake somewhere, something was wrong. In those days, when I was building my new church, and talking about the tower and spire we were going to erect, an elderly Christian lady who was sitting in her wheel-chair, calmly listening to our conversation, said, "Will you begin to build your spire from the top?"* It was a strange question, but she evidently meant something, and looked for an answer. I gave it, saying, "No, madam, not from the top, but from the foundation." She replied, "That is right--that is right," and went on with her knitting. _______________________ * See Tract, "Building from the Top," by Rev. W. Haslam _______________________ This question was not asked in jest or in ignorance; it was like a riddle. What did she mean? In a few years this lady passed away, but her enigmatic words remained. No doubt she thought to herself that I was beginning at the wrong end, while I went on talking of the choir, organ, happy worship, and all the things that we were going to attempt in the new church; that I was aiming at sanctification, without justification; intending to teach people to be holy before they were saved and pardoned. This is exactly what I was doing. I had planted the boards of my tabernacle of worship, not in silver sockets (the silver of which had been paid for redemption), but in the sand of the wilderness. In other words, I was teaching people to worship God, who is a Spirit, not for love of Him who gave His Son to die for them, but in the fervour and enthusiasm of human nature. My superstructure was built on sand; and hence the continual disappointment, and that last discouraging overthrow. No wonder that my life was a failure, and my labours ineffectual, inasmuch as my efforts were not put forth in faith. My work was not done as a thank-offering, but rather as a meritorious effort to obtain favour from God. Repentance towards God, however earnest and sincere, without faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ, is not complete or satisfying. There may be a change of mind and will, producing a change of actions, which are done in order to pacify conscience, and to obtain God's favour in return; but this is not enough. It is like preparing the Found without sowing seed, and then being disappointed that there is no harvest. A garden is not complete or successful unless the Found has been properly prepared, nor unless flourishing plants are growing in it. Repentance with Faith, the two together, constitute the fullness of God's religion. We have to believe, not in the fact that we have given ourselves--we know this in our own consciousness--but in the fact that God, who is more willing to take than we to give, has accepted us. We rejoice and work, not as persons who have surrendered ourselves to God, but out of loving gratitude, as those who have been changed by Him to this end. I will go on now to tell how I was brought at this critical period of my life to real faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ. This was done in a way I knew not, and moreover, in a way I little expected. I had promised a visit to Mr. Aitken, of Pendeen, to advise him about his church, which was then building; and now, in order to divert my thoughts, I made up my mind to go to him at once. Soon after my arrival, as we were seated comfortably by the fire, he asked me (as he very commonly did) how the parish prospered. He said, "I often take shame to myself when I think of all your work. But, my brother, are you satisfied?" I said, "No, I am not satisfied."* "Why not?" "Because I am making a rope of sand, which looks very well till I pull, and then, when I expect it to hold, it gives way." "What do you mean?" "Why," I replied, "these Cornish people are ingrained schismatics." I then told him of my gardener's conversion, and my great disappointment. "Well," he said, "if I were taken ill, I certainly would not send for you. I am sure you could not do me any good, for you are not converted yourself." "Not converted!" I exclaimed. "How can you tell?" He said, quietly, "I am sure of it, or you would not have come here to complain of your gardener. If you had been converted, you would have remained at home to rejoice with him. It is very clear you are not converted!" ____________________________ * See Tract, "Are You Satisfied?" by Rev. W. Haslam. ___________________________ I was vexed with him for saying that, and attempted to dispute the point; but he was calm and confident; while I, on the other hand, was uneasy, and trying to justify myself. In the course of our conversation, he said, "You do not seem to know the difference between the natural conscience and the work of the Spirit." Here he had me, for I only knew of one thing, and he referred to two. However, we battled on till nearly two o'clock in the morning, and then he showed me to my bed-room. Pointing to the bed, he said (in a voice full of meaning), "Ah! a very holy man of God died there a short time since." This did not add to my comfort or induce sleep, for I was already much disturbed by the conversation we had had, and did not enjoy the idea of going to bed and sleeping where one had so lately died--even though he was a holy man. Resolving to sit up, I looked round the room, and seeing some books on the table, took up one, which happened to be Hare's "Mission of the Comforter." Almost the first page I glanced at told the difference between the natural conscience and the work of the Spirit. This I read and re-read till I understood its meaning. The next morning as soon as breakfast was finished, I resumed the conversation of the previous night with the additional light I had gained on the subject. We had not talked long before Mr. Aitken said, "Ah, my brother, you have changed your ground since last night!" I at once confessed that I had been reading Hare's book, which he did not know was in my room, nor even in the house. He was curious to see it. He then challenged me on another point, and said, "Have you peace with God?" I answered, without hesitation, "Yes,"---for, for eight years or more I had regarded God as my Friend. Mr. A. went on to ask me, "How did you get peace?" "Oh," I said, "I have it continually. I get it at the Daily Service, I get it through prayer and reading, and especially at the Holy Communion. I have made it a rule to carry my sins there every Sunday, and have often come away from that holy sacrament feeling as happy and free as a bird." My friend looked surprised, but did not dispute this part of my experience. He contented himself by asking me quietly, "And how long does your peace last?" This question made me think. I said, "I suppose, not a week, for I have to do the same thing every Sunday." He replied, "I thought so." Opening the Bible, he found the fourth chapter of St. John, and read, "'Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again.' The woman of Samaria drew water for herself at Jacob's well, and quenched her thirst; but she had to come again and again to the same well. She had no idea of getting water, except by drawing, any more than you have of getting peace excepting through the means you use. The Lord said to her, 'If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water,' which would be 'a well of water springing up into everlasting life'" (John 4:10-14). My friend pointed out the difference between getting water by drawing from a well, and having a living well within you springing up. I said, "I never heard of such a thing." "I suppose not," he answered. "Have you this living water?" I continued. "Yes, thank God, I have had it for the last thirty years." "How did you get it?" "Look here," he said, pointing to the tenth verse: "You wouldest have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water." "Shall we ask Him?" I said. He answered, "With all my heart;" and immediately pushing back his chair, knelt down at his round table, and I knelt on the opposite side. What he prayed for I do not know. I was completely overcome, and melted to tears. I sat down on the ground, sobbing, while he shouted aloud, praising God. As soon as I could get up, I made for the door, and taking my hat, coat, and umbrella, said that "I was really afraid to stay any longer." With this I took my departure, leaving my carpet-bag behind. It was seven miles to Penzance, but in my excitement I walked and ran all the way, and arrived there before the coach, which was to have called for me, but brought my carpet-bag instead. In the meantime, while I was waiting for it, I saw a pamphlet, by Mr. Aitken, in a shop window, which I bought, and got into the train to return to Baldhu. My mind was in such a distracted state, that I sought relief in reading. I had not long been doing so, when I came to a paragraph in italics: "Then shall He say unto them, Depart from Me; I never knew you." The question arrested me, "What if He says that to you? Ah, that is not likely. But, what if He does? It cannot be. I have given up the world; I love God; I visit the sick; I have daily service and weekly communion. But, what if He does?--what if He does? I could not bear the thought; it seemed to overwhelm me." As I read the pamphlet, I saw that the words were spoken to persons who were taken by surprise. So should I be. They were able to say, "We have eaten and drunk in Thy presence, and Thou has taught in our streets: in Thy name we have cast out devils, and done many wonderful works." Yet, with all this, He replied, "Depart from Me, I never knew you." I did not see how I could escape, if such men as these were to be rejected. Conviction was laying hold upon me, and the circle was becoming narrower. The thought pressed heavily upon me, "What a dreadful thing, if I am wrong!" Added to this, I trembled to think of those I had misled. "Can it be true? Is it so?" I remembered some I had watched over most zealously, lest the Dissenters should come and pray with them. I had sent them out of the world resting upon a false hope, administering the sacrament to them for want of knowing any other way of bringing them into God's favour. I used to grieve over any parishioner who died without the last sacrament, and often wondered how it would fare with Dissenters! My mind was in a revolution. I do not remember how I got home. I felt as if I were out on the dark, boundless ocean, without light, or oar, or rudder. I endured the greatest agony of mind for the souls I had misled, though I had done it ignorantly. "They are gone, and lost forever!" I justly deserved to go also. My distress seemed greater than I could bear. A tremendous storm of wind, rain and thunder, which was raining at the time, was quite in sympathy with my feelings. I could not rest. Looking at the graves of some of my faithful Churchmen, I wondered, "Is it really true that they are now cursing me for having misled them?" Thursday. Friday, and Saturday passed by, each day and night more dark and despairing than the preceding one. On the Sunday, I was so ill that I was quite unfit to take the service. Mr. Aitken had said to me, "If I were you, I would shut the church, and say to the congregation, 'I will not preach again till I am converted. Pray for me!'" Shall I do this? The sun was shining brightly, and before I could make up my mind to put off the service, the bells struck out a merry peal, and sent their summons far away over the hills. Now the thought came to me that I would go to church and read the morning prayers and after that dismiss the people. There was no preparation for the Holy Communion that day, and I had deputed the clerk to select the hymns, for I was far too ill to attend to anything myself. The psalms and hymns were especially applicable to my case, and seemed to help me, so that I thought I would go on and read the ante-communion service, and then dismiss the people. And while I was reading the Gospel, I thought, well, I will just say a few words in explanation of this, and then I will dismiss them. So I went up into the pulpit and gave out my text. I took it from the gospel of the day--"What think ye of Christ?" (Matt. 22:42). As I went on to explain the passage, I saw that the Pharisees and scribes did not know that Christ was the Son of God, or that He was come to save them. They were looking for a king, the son of David, to reign over them as they were. Something was telling me, all the time, "You are no better than the Pharisees yourself-you do not believe that He is the Son of God, and that He is come to save you, any more than they did." I do not remember all I said, but I felt a wonderful light and joy coming into my soul, and I was beginning to see what the Pharisees did not. Whether it was something in my words, or my manner, or my look, I know not; but all of a sudden a local preacher, who happened to be in the congregation, stood up, and putting up his arms, shouted out in a Cornish manner, "The parson is converted! The parson is converted! Hallelujah!" and in another moment his voice was lost in the shouts and praises of three or four hundred of the congregation. Instead of rebuking this extraordinary "brawling," as I should have done in a former time, I joined in the outburst of praise; and to make it more orderly, I gave out the Doxology--"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow"--and the people sang it with heart and voice, over and over again. My Churchmen were dismayed, and many of them fled precipitately from the place. Still the voice of praise went on, and was swelled by numbers of passers-by, who came into the church, greatly surprised to hear and see what was going on. When this subsided, I found at least twenty people crying for mercy, whose voices had not been heard in the excitement and noise of thanksgiving. They all professed to find peace and joy in believing. Amongst this number there were three from my own house; and we returned home praising God. The news spread in all directions that "the parson was converted," and that by his own sermon, in his own pulpit to. The church would not hold the crowds who came in the evening. I cannot exactly remember what I preached about on that occasion; but one thing I said was, "that if I had died last week I should have been lost for ever." I felt it was true. So clear and vivid was the conviction through which I had passed, and so distinct was the light into which the Lord had brought me, that I knew and was sure that He had "brought me up out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a Rock, and put a new song into my mouth" (Ps. 40). He had "quickened" me, who was before "dead in trespasses and sins," (Eph. 2:1). I felt sure, as I said, that if I had died last week I should have been lost for ever. This was a startling and an alarming word to many of my earnest people, who said, "What then will become of us?" I replied, "You will be lost for a certainty if you do not give your hearts to God." At the end of this great and eventful day of my life--my spiritual birthday, on which I passed from death to life by being "born from above"--I could scarcely sleep for joy. I awoke early the next morning, with the impression on my mind that I must get up and go to a village a mile off to tell James B---- of my conversion. He was a good and holy man, who had often spoken to me about my soul; and had been praying for three years or more on my behalf. I had scarcely gone half-way before I met him coming towards me: he seemed as much surprised to see me as I was to meet him. He looked at me in a strange way, and then, leaning his back against a stone fence, he said, "Are you converted?" "Why do you ask me?" I replied. "I am just on my way to your house, to tell you the good news--that I have found peace. My soul is saved." The dear man said, "Thank God!" and it came from the very depths of his heart. Shedding tears of joy, he went on to say, 'This night I woke up thinking of you; you were so strongly in my mind, that I got up and began to pray for you; but I could not 'get hold;' I wrestled and cried aloud, but it was all of no avail; I begged the Lord not to give you up; but it seemed I could not pray. After trying for more than two hours, it came to my mind that perhaps you were converted. This thought made me so happy, that I began to praise the Lord; and then I had liberty, and shouted so loud that it roused up the whole house, and they came rushing into my room to know what ever was the matter with me. 'I am praising God,' I said; 'praising God--the parson is converted!--I feel sure he is. Glory be to God! Glory be to God!' They said, 'You must be dreaming; you had better lie down again, and be quiet.' But it was of no use, I could not sleep; and so soon as the light began to break, I dressed myself, and have come out to see whether it is true," "Yes," I said, "it is true; the Lord has saved my soul; I am happy!" I thanked him then and there for all the help he had been, and for the patience he had so long exercised towards me. We spent a happy time together, thanking and praising God, and then he returned home to tell his friends and neighbours the news. After breakfast a visitor arrived, who was on an errand of quite another kind. The report had by this time spread far and wide, that I was converted in my own pulpit, and by means of my own sermon; also, that I had said, "If I had died last week, I should have been lost for ever!" My friend having heard this, immediately mounted his horse and rode over to see me about it. He at once put the question, "Did you say, last night, in your pulpit, that you were saved; and that if you had died last week you would have been lost for ever?" I answered, "Yes, indeed, I did; and I meant it." He looked quite bewildered, and stood for a long time arguing with me; then taking a chair he sat down, and began to sympathize and pity me, saying how grieved he was, for he could see madness in my eyes. He tried to divert my thoughts, and begged that I would go out for a ride with him. Seeing that he made no impression by his various arguments, and that he could not prevail upon me to recall my words, he ordered his horse; but before mounting he said, "I cannot agree with you, and will oppose you as hard as I can." "Very well," I replied; "but let us shake hands over it: there is no need that we should be angry with one another." Then mounting, he started off, and had not gone more than a few yards, when, suddenly pulling up, he turned, and placing his hand on the back of his horse, called out, "Haslam, God stop the man who is wrong!" I answered, "Amen," and off he trotted. On the Friday following he broke a blood-vessel in his throat or chest, and has never preached since. His life was in danger for Several weeks, though in course of time he recovered, but I have heard that he has never been able to speak above a whisper. God has most undoubtedly stopped him; while He has permitted me to preach for the last nine-and-twenty years, on the average more than six hundred times a year. From that time I began to preach the Gospel, and was not ashamed to declare everywhere what the Lord had done for my soul. Thus from personal experience I have been enabled to proclaim the Word, both as a "witness" and a "minister." I, who before that time used to be so weak, that I could not preach for more than fifteen or twenty minutes for three consecutive Sundays without breaking down, was now able to do so each day, often more than once, and three times every Sunday. CHAPTER 8 The Revival, 1851-54. In the providence of God, my conversion was the beginning of a great revival work in my parish, which continued without much interruption for nearly three years. At some periods during that time there was a greater power of the divine presence, and consequently more manifest results, than at others; but all along there were conversions of sinners or restoration of backsliders every week--indeed, almost every day. I was carried along with the torrent of the work, far over and beyond several barriers of prejudice which had been in my mind. For instance, I made a resolution that if I ever had a work of God in my parish, it should be according to rule, and that the people should not be excited into making a noise, as if God were deaf or afar off; also, that I would prevent their throwing themselves into extraordinary states of mind and body, as though it were necessary that they should do so in order to obtain a blessing. I intended to have everything in most beautiful and exemplary order, and that all should be done as quietly and with as much precision as the working of a machine. No shouting of praises, no loud praying, no hearty responding; and, above all, no extravagant crying for mercy, such as I had witnessed in Mr. Aitken's parish. But notwithstanding my prudence and judicious resolutions, "the wind blew as it listed; we heard the sound thereof, but could not tell whence it came, or whither it went" (John 3: 8). In spite of all my prejudices, souls were quickened and born of the Spirit. I was filled with rejoicing, and my heart overflowed with joy to see something doing for the Lord. Anything is better than the stillness of death, however aesthetic and beautiful, however reverential and devout a mere outward ceremonial may appear. Imposing pageants and religious displays may excite enthusiastic religiosity or devotionism; but they do not, and never can, promote spiritual vitality. Far from this, they draw the heart and mind into a channel of human religion, where it can sometimes over-flow to its own satisfaction; but they never bring a sinner to see himself lost, or, unworthy by nature to be a worshipper, and consequently, as such, utterly unfit to take any part in religious ceremonies. On the Monday after my conversion we had our first week-day revival service in the church, which was filled to excess. In the sermon, I told them once more that God had "brought me up out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon the Rock, and... put a new song in my mouth" (Ps. 40:2-3). I had not spoken long, when some one in the congregation gave a shriek, and then began to cry aloud for mercy. This was quickly followed by cries from another and another, until preaching was altogether hopeless. We then commenced praying for those who were in distress, and some experienced men who were present dealt with the anxious. I cannot tell how many people cried for mercy, or how many found peace that night; but there was great rejoicing. I, who was still in my grave-clothes, though out of the grave, was sorely offended at people praying and praising God so heartily and so loudly in the church. I thought that if this was to become a regular thing, it would be akin to "brawling," and quite out of order. Practising singing and rehearsing anthems in the church, I did not think much about; but somehow, for people to cry out in distress of soul, and to praise God out of the abundance of their hearts, was too much for me. I was sadly perplexed! At the close of the service, I told the people I would have a short one again the next evening, in the church, and that after that we would go into the schoolroom for the prayer-meeting. Thus ended the second day of my spiritual life. On Tuesday evening we assembled in the church, and then went to the schoolroom for the after-meeting. There the people had full liberty to sing, praise, and shout too, if they desired, to their hearts' content, and truly many availed themselves of the opportunity. In Cornwall, at the time I speak of (now twenty-nine years ago), Cornish folk did not think much of a meeting unless it was an exciting and noisy one. In this schoolroom, evening by evening, the Lord wrought a great work, and showed forth His power in saving many souls. I have seldom read of any remarkable manifestations in revivals the counterpart of which I did not witness in that room; and I saw some things there which I have never heard of as taking place anywhere else. I was by this time not afraid of a little, or even much noise, so long as the power of the Lord's presence was evident. The shouts of the people did not hinder me, of their loud praying, or their hearty responses. There were some subjects on which it was impossible to venture without eliciting vehement demonstrations. A friend of mine, who had come from some distance on a visit, went with me on one occasion to an afternoon Bible class. I asked him to address the people, and in a quiet way he proceeded to talk about heaven. As he described the city of gold, with its pearly gates, its walls of jasper, its foundations of sapphire and precious stones, and to tell them that "the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof" (Rev. 21:2-3), I began to feel somewhat uneasy, and feared that he was venturing on tender ground, when all at once there was heard a shriek of joy, and in a moment almost the whole class was in an ecstasy of praise. My friend was greatly dismayed, and also frightened at the noise, and seizing his hat, he made hastily for the door. "Stop! stop!" I said; "you must stand fire better than that." I quietly gave out a hymn, and asked some of them to help me sing, and then we knelt down to pray. I prayed in a low voice, and soon all was still again, excepting the responsive "Amens," and the gaspings of those who had been thus excited. It may be asked, why did I permit such things? I lived amongst a people who were accustomed to outward demonstrations; and by descending to them in their ways I was enabled to lead many of them to higher things, and to teach them to rest not so much on their feelings, as on the facts and truth revealed in the Word of God. But theorize as we would, it was just a question, in many cases, of no work, or of decided manifestation. We could not help people being stricken down, neither could they help it themselves; often the most unlikely persons were overcome and became excited, and persons naturally quiet and retiring proved the most noisy and demonstrative. However, it was our joy to see permanent results afterwards, which more than reconciled us for any amount of inconvenience we had felt at the time. When the power of God is manifestly present, the persons who hear the noise, as well as those who make it, are both under the same influence, and are in sympathy with one another. An outsider, who does not understand it, and is not in sympathy, might complain, and be greatly scandalized. For my own part, I was intensely happy in those meetings, and had become so accustomed to the loud "Amens," that I found it very dull to preach when there was no response. Prayer meetings which were carried on in a quiet and formal manner seemed to me cold and heartless. "They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; these see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep" (Ps. 107:23, 24). Some spiritual mariners never venture out of a calm millpond, and rejoice in very quiet proceedings; they do not look like rejoicing at all. They resemble the people who are going through a formal duty, and, "like a painted ship upon a painted ocean," they are never tossed. Most undeniable it is that many trying things happen in the excitement of a storm. I was hardened against criticism, and only wished that my criticizing friends could show me a more effectual way of working, and a way in which God's glory might be advanced, without giving offence. The very remembrance of these times warms my heart as I write; and though I do not know whether I am still young enough to enter into such things in the same way, yet I am sure that the manifest presence of the Lord, under any circumstances, would still stir and rejoice my spirit. My friend Mr. Aitken used to rise above it all most majestically, and shout as loud as the loudest. It was grand to see his great soul at full liberty rejoicing in the Lord. He was quite at home in the noisiest and stormiest meetings, and no doubt he thought me a promising disciple, and a very happy one, too. Oh, what tremendous scenes we witnessed whenever Mr. Aitken came to preach at Baldhu. The church, which was built to hold six hundred, used to have as many as fifteen hundred packed into it. Not only were the wide passages crowded, and the chancel filled, even up to the communion table, but there were two rows of occupants in every pew. The Feat man was king over their souls, for at times he seemed as if he was endued with power whereby he could make them shout for joy, or howl for misery, or cry aloud for mercy. He was by far the most effective preacher I ever heard, or ever expect to hear. Souls were awakened by scores whenever he preached, and sometimes the meetings continued far into the night, and occasionally even to the daylight of the next morning. To the cool, dispassionate outside observers and the newspaper reporters, all this vehement stir was very extravagant and incomprehensible, and no doubt they thought it was done for excitement; certainly they gave us credit for that, and a great deal more. They did not esteem us better than themselves and consequently we had the full benefit of their sarcasm and invective. Cornish revivals were things by themselves. I have read of such stirring movements occurring occasionally in different places elsewhere, but in Cornwall they were frequent. Every year, in one part or another, a revival would spring up, during which believers were refreshed and sinners awakened. It is sometimes suggested that there is a great deal of the flesh in these things--more of this than of the Spirit. I am sure this is a mistake, for I am quite satisfied that neither Cornish nor any other people could produce revivals without the power of the Spirit, for they would never be without them if they could raise them at pleasure. But, as a fact, it is well known that revivals begin and continue for a time, and that they cease as mysteriously as they began. Sometimes I have known the children of the school commence crying for no ostensible reason; when a few words about the love of God in giving His Son, or the love of Christ in laying down His life, would prove enough to kindle a flame, and they would begin to cry aloud for mercy forthwith. I have seen a whole school of more than a hundred children like this at the same time. An awakening of such a character was generally a token of the beginning of a work of God, which would last in power for four or five weeks, if not more; then the quiet, ordinary work would go on as before. Sometimes, for no accountable reason, we saw the church thronged with a multitude of people from various parts, having no connection with one another, all equally surprised to see each other; and the regular congregation more surprised still to see the unexpected rush of strangers. After a time or two we began to know the cause, and understood that the coming together of the people was by the Spirit of the Lord, and so we prepared accordingly, expecting a revival to follow. On these occasions it was very easy to preach, or pray, or sing; we had only to say, "Stay here, or go to the schoolroom;" "Stand and sing;" or, "Kneel and pray;" and it was done at once: such was the power of the Spirit in melting the hears of the people into entire submission for the time. CHAPTER 9 The Visitor, 1851. In the midst of these things, we had a scene quite characteristic of Cornwall, which was the funeral of my late gardener and friend, John Gill. This man's conversion, it will be remembered, was the event by which it pleased God to bring my religious state to a crisis. After my sudden exit from John's cottage, which I have already described, he continued to pray for me, as he said he would, until the following Sunday, when he heard of my conversion. Then he praised God, and that with amazing power of mind and body for a dying man. Day by day, as his life was prolonged, he was eager to hear of the progress of the work. At last the day of his departure arrived, and he was quite content and happy to go. A large concourse of people assembled at the funeral, dressed in their Sunday best. They gathered by hundreds in front of John's cottage, several hours before the time fixed for the service. During this interval they sang hymns, which were given out two lines at a time. Then they set out for the church, singing as they went along. In the West it is not the custom to carry the coffin on the shoulders, but by hand, which office is performed by friends, who continually relieve one another, that all may take part in this last mark of respect to the deceased. At length, they arrived at the "lych" gate, and setting the coffin upon the lych stone (a heavy slab of granite, put there for the purpose), they sang their final hymn. At the conclusion of this, I came out with my clerk to receive the funeral party and to conduct them into the church. After the service I was about to give an address, when I was told that there were more people outside than within the church. In order, therefore, not to disappoint them, we came to the grave-side in the churchyard, and from thence I addressed a great concourse of people. I told them of dear John's conversion, and of my disappointment and distress on account of it; then of my own conversion, and John's unbounded joy; taking the opportunity to enforce the absolute necessity of this spiritual change, and the certain damnation of those who die without it. This funeral caused a solemn feeling, and as the people lingered about, we re-entered the church, and further improved the occasion. Then we went to the schoolroom for a prayer-meeting, and many souls were added to the number of the saved. Among the strangers present was a gentleman who had come all the way from Plymouth, in order to witness for himself the wonderful work, of which he had read an account in the newspaper. After attending several of our services, he came up to speak to me, and said that he had seen an account of "the fall of a High Churchman into Dissent," which was regarded as a very extraordinary thing, for at that time some Dissenters were becoming High Churchmen, or what used to be called then "Puseyites." Having seen me, and heard for himself of my conversion, and my adherence to the Church, he was satisfied, and asked me to spare time for a little conversation with him. He came to my house the next morning, and commenced by asking, "Do you really think you would have been lost for ever, if you had died before you were converted?" This he said looking me full in the face, as if to see whether I flinched from my position. I answered, "Most certainly; without a doubt." "Remember," he said, calmly, "you have been baptized and confirmed; you are a communicant, and have been ordained; do you really think that all this goes for nothing?" "Most assuredly, all these things are good in their place, and fully avail for their respective purposes, but they have nothing whatever to do with a sinner's salvation." "Do you mean to say," he continued, "that the Church is not the very ark of salvation?" "I used to think so," I replied, "and to say that 'there was no Church without a Bishop, and no salvation out of the Church;' but now I am sure that I was mistaken. The outward Church is a fold for protecting the sheep; but the Church is not the Shepherd who seeks and finds the lost sheep." "Well," he said, "but think of all the good men you condemn if you take that position so absolutely." Seeing that I hesitated, he went on to say that he "knew many very good men, in and out of the Church of England, who did not think much of conversion, or believe in the necessity of it." "I am very sorry for them," I replied; "but I cannot go back from the position into which, I thank God, He has brought me. It is burned into me that, except a man is converted, he will and must be lost for ever." "Come, come, my young friend," he said, shifting his chair, and then sitting down to another onslaught, "do you mean to say that a man will go to hell if he is not converted, as you call it?" "Yes, I do; and I am quite sure that if I had died in an unconverted state I should have gone there; and this compels me to believe, also, that what the Scripture says about it is true for every one." "But what does the Scripture say?" he interposed. "It says that 'he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed' (John 3:18); and in another place, 'tie that believeth not shall be damned' (Mark 16:16). As surely as the believer is saved and goes to heaven, as surely the unbeliever is lost and must So to hell." "Do you mean Gehenna, the place of torment?" "Yes, I do." "This is very dreadful." "More dreadful still." I said, "must be the solemn reality; and therefore, instead of shrinking from the thought and putting it off, I rather let it stir and rouse me to warn unbelievers, so that I may, by any means, stop them on their dangerous path. I think this is the only true and faithful way of showing kindness; and that, on the other hand, it is the most selfish, heartless, and cruel unkindness to let sinners, whether they are religious, moral, reformed, or otherwise, to go on in an unconverted state, and perish." "Do you believe, then," said my visitor, "in the fire of hell? Do you think it is a material fire?" "I do not know; I do not wish to know anything about it. I suppose material fire, like every other material thing, is but a shadow of something real. Is it not a fire which shall burn the soul--a fire that never will be quenched--where the worm will never die?" "Do you really believe all this?" "Yes," I said, "and I have reason to do so." I remembered the anguish of soul I passed through when I was under conviction, and the terrible distress I felt for others whom I had misled. "When our blessed Lord was speaking to the Jews, and warning them against their unbelief and its fearful consequences, He did not allow any 'charitable hopes' to hinder Him from speaking the whole truth. He told them of Lazarus, who died, and went to Paradise, or Abraham's bosom; and of Dives, who died, and went to Hell, the place of torment" (Luke 16). "But," he said, interrupting me, "that is only a parable, or figure of speech." "Figure of speech!" I repeated. "Is it a figure of speech that the rich man fared sumptuously, that he died, that he was buried? Is not that literal? Why, then, is it a figure of speech that he lifted up his eyes in torment, and said, 'I am tormented in this flame'(Luke 16:24). My dear friend, be sure that there is an awful reality in that story--a most solemn reality in the fact of the impassable gulf. If here we do not believe in this gulf, we shall have to know of it hereafter. I never saw and felt," I continued, "as I do now, that every man is lost, even while on earth, until he is saved, and that if he dies in that unsaved state he will be lost for ever." My unknown visitor remained silent for a little time, and I could see that he was in tears. At last he burst out and said, "I am sure you are right. I came to try you upon the three great "R's"--'Ruin,' 'Redemption,' and 'Regeneration,' and to see if you really meant what you preached. Now I feel more confirmed in the truth and reality of the Scriptures." I thought I had been contending with an unbeliever all along, but instead of this I found that he was a man who scarcely ventured to think out what he believed to its ultimate result--he believed God's Word, but, like too many, alas! held it loosely. This gentleman had experienced the truth of the three "R's"--that is to say, he had been awakened to know himself to be lost and ruined by the fall, redeemed by the blood of Christ, and regenerated by the Holy Ghost. In other words, he had been converted, and he knew it. I found out that at the time of his conversion he was a beneficed clergyman, and that, as such, not being responsible to any rector or vicar, he began to preach boldly the things he had seen. His changed preaching produced a manifest result, and the people were awakened, even startled, and it would appear he was startled too. Instead of thanking God and taking courage, he became alarmed at the disturbance amongst his congregation, and finding that his preaching made him very unpopular, he was weak enough to change his tone, and speak smooth things. Thus he made peace with his congregation, and gained their treacherous good will; but as a living soul he could not be satisfied with this state of things. He knew that he was not faithful to God or to his people; so being a man of competent means, he resigned his living, and retired into private life--"beloved and respected," as they said, for being a good and peaceable man. At this distance of time I continue to thank God for his visit to me; it helped to fix the truth more firmly in my own soul, and to confirm me in the course in which I was working, and even contending, in the face of much opposition. I must say that I have had no reason to waver in my conviction, and still feel that I would not, for ten times that man's wealth, and twenty times the amount of good-will which he enjoyed (if he did enjoy it), stand in his place. After long observation, I perceive that it is not the sword of the Word which offends congregations, for preachers are commended and promoted for declaring the whole truth, so long as it is judiciously put, and with "much discretion," so as not to wound the prejudices of the people. The majority of congregations rather like to see the sword drawn out to its full length and flashed with dexterity, and they do not always object to being hit with it, and even hit hard, so long as it is done with the flat of the sword; but they very quickly resent a touch with its edge, and more a thrust with its point. They admire sheet lightning, which is beautiful, as it is harmless; but forked lightning is something to be dreaded and avoided. For instance, a man may preach most eloquently and acceptably on the three "R's" if he does not apply the subject too pointedly, by telling the people, both in the pulpit and out of it, that they are now ruined and lost; and that, having been redeemed, they are responsible before God; and that, if they will not be regenerated by the Spirit, they will be damned. They do not object to your laying, "You hath He quickened," but to turn these same words into a personal question is too often considered impertinent; though, indeed, it is the sincerest kindness and truest Christian love. "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners" (1 Tim. 1:15). He came, and is spiritually present now, everywhere, for this purpose. His real presence with power is particularly promised to the preacher of the Gospel (Matt. 28:20). The Lord Jesus is ever present to take especial interest in the result of preaching. How disappointing then must it be to Him, to find His servants so often spending their time and energies upon other objects, however great or good they may be! When they do preach the Gospel, it must grieve Him to see that their object is too often not the same as His; and when He does apply the Word by the power of the Spirit, it must also grieve Him to see that they are afraid of the result. Gospel preaching should not be to entertain people, nor even to instruct them; but first to awaken them to see their danger, and to bring them from death into life, which is manifestly the Lord's chief desire. This was the definite object of my work: I preached for and aimed at it; and nothing short of this could or would satisfy my longings. In the church, in the school-room, or in the cottages, we prayed that the Holy Spirit would bring conviction upon sinners, and then we sought to lead them to conversion with the clear ringing testimony, "You must be born again, or die to all eternity." CHAPTER 10 The First Christmas, 1851-52. The first Christmas-day, during the revival, was a wonderful time. The people had never realized before what this festival was, beyond regarding it as a season for domestic rejoicing. It surprised many to see that their past Christmases were a true representation of their past lives that they had cheered and tried to make themselves happy without Christ, leaving Him out of their consideration in His own world, as they had on His own birthday. What a Christless and hopeless life it had been! What a Christless religion! Now we praised the Lord together for His marvellous goodness to us, and desired that we might henceforth live unto Him, singing in heart and life, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will towards men." When New Year's eve arrived we had a midnight gathering, and dedicated ourselves afresh to God's service. It was a blessed season, and several hundreds were there, who, together with myself, were the fruits of the revival during the previous two months. The new year opened upon us with fresh manifestations of divine power and larger blessings. I endeavoured to show the people that the Lord was called Jesus, not that He might save us from hell or death, but from our sins; and this while we lived on earth--that our heart and all our members being mortified from all carnal lusts, we might live to His glory; that Christ's religion was not intended for a death-bed, but for a happy and effectual Christian life---a life showing forth the power of His grace. After the Christmas holidays, our schoolmaster and his wife returned. They came back full of disdain and prejudice against the work, and even put themselves out of the way to go from house to house, in order to set the people against me and my preaching. They said that they could bring a hundred clergymen to prove that I was wrong; but their efforts had just the contrary effect to what they expected. It stirred the people to come more frequently to hear, and contend more zealously for what they knew to be right. The master was particularly set against "excitement" and noise. He said, "It was so very much more reverent to be still in prayer, and orderly in praise; it was not necessary to make such an unseemly uproar!" I had, however, discovered, long before this time, that the people who most objected to noise had nothing yet to make a noise about; and that when they had, they generally made as much or more noise than others. If a house is seen to be on fire, people cannot hello making an outcry; which they do not, when they only read about it. Witnessing a danger stirs the heart; and when people's eyes are open to see souls in eternal danger, they cannot help being stirred up, and crying out. I am sometimes asked, "Is there not such a thing as a feeling which is too deep for expression?" It may be that at times people are so surprised and astonished at some sudden announcement of good or bad news, that they are stunned, and for a time unable to give vent to their joy or grief; but soon there is a reaction, and then expression is given. Generally speaking, these so-called "deep feelings" are only deep in the way of being low down in the vessel--that is to say, very shallow, and by no means sufficient to overflow. We read that "the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice, and praise God with a loud voice, for all the mighty works that they had seen" (Luke 19:37). And we are told, over and over again, in the Psalms, to "praise God with a loud voice," and to "shout." When we lift up our voice, the Lord can stir our hearts; and surely the things of the Lord have more right, and ought to have more power, to stir and arouse the soul of man, than a boat-race, or a horserace, or a fictitious scene on the stage. I think people would be all the better for letting out their hearts in praise to God. It may lie it is trying and exciting to some, but perhaps they are the very ones who need such a stimulus, and this may be the best way of bringing it out. Notwithstanding the schoolmaster's opposition, he still came to church, and was very attentive to the sermons, taking copious notes. One Sunday, when I had been preaching on the text, "Cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground?" he was heard to say, "Thank God, I am not cut done yet;" and then he proceeded for the first time to the after-meeting in the school-room. When I entered I saw him low down on his knees, and said how happy I was to see him there. "Oh," he cried, "I fear there is no mercy--the sentence is surely gone forth against me, 'Cut him down! cut him down!'" And then the poor man howled aloud in his distress. The people prayed for him with shouts of thanksgiving, while he threw himself about in agony of mind, and made a great noise, which only drew still louder acclamations from the people. In the midst of this tremendous din he found peace, and rejoiced with the others in unmistakable accents, and as loud as the loudest. Evidently he was not ashamed or afraid of excitement and noise now. While he was thus engaged I went round to his house to see his wife, and tell her the news. I found her sitting on the stairs in profound dismay, as if some dreadful calamity had happened. She was literally dumb with fear and astonishment. When she could speak, she said, "What will happen to him now? Will he die? What will become of us?" When I assured her that her husband was only just beginning to live, she said, "Must we be Dissenters now? Oh, what will become of us?" Her sister, who was staying with her, became very angry at hearing of the master's conversion. Finding that I could not do much with these two, I left them, and returned to the schoolroom, where the people were even more uproarious and happy than before; several others having also found pardon and peace. The Sunday after, the master was seen moving out of church as quickly as he could; and when he reached the churchyard he was observed to run, and then leap over a wall, and next over a hedge into a field. They could not hear him, but he was shouting all the time as well as running. He afterwards said that the Prayer-book was full of meaning; it was like a new book to him; and that if he had stayed in church, he should have disturbed the whole congregation. He became a very earnest Christian, and took much pains and interest in the religious instruction of the children. There were several revivals in the school while he was there, and many of the children were converted. It was not long before he was able to rejoice over the conversion of his wife, and her sister also. I had been anxious about my clerk for some time; he was a good man in his way, and most attentive to his work in and out of church; he was also a regular communicant, and exemplary in his life; but with all this, he was unconverted. I often warned him of his danger; and one day it came to my mind to tell him of the man who went in to the marriage supper without the wedding garment. I said, no doubt he thought himself as good as others, but when the King came in to see the guests, he was speechless; and because he was so, and had not on the wedding garment, the King commanded that he should be bound hand and foot, and put into outer darkness. Now, I continued, the King has often come in to see us, and we have rejoiced before Him; but you have never spoken to Him, or asked for mercy. It is a very hardening thing to hear so much as you do and remain unsaved; and a very deadening thing to come to the Lord's table as you do, going through the form without any real meaning. You receive the bread and wine in remembrance that Christ died for you, and yet you do not believe enough to thank Him. I was led to say, "I must forbid your coming to the Lord's table till you have given your heart to God. You know it is right to do it, and that you ought to be converted. I will not have you come here again till you are." The man looked at me as if to see whether I meant it, and then appeared so sorrowful that I nearly relented. All through the service he was low and dejected, and went away at the time of the administration of the ordinance, and sat at the other end of the church. My heart ached for him, for I had never seen him so touched about anything. Afterwards, when he came into the vestry, I could see that he had been crying. "Ah, friend," I said, "it is bad to be left out from the Lord's table here; what will it be to be left out of heaven?" In the evening he was more miserable than ever, and at the close of the service came into the school-room, where he broke down, and asked the people to pray for him, for he was a hard-hearted, miserable sinner. "Pray the Lord to melt my heart." We did so: and soon the poor broken-hearted man sobbed and cried aloud for mercy; and it was not long before, to our great joy, he found peace. He afterwards told us that he had been getting hardened by forms ever since he had been clerk, reading solemn words without any meaning, which at first he trembled at doing. He was right; it is good to hear the Gospel, good to attend the means of grace, good to assemble in the company of God's people; but to rest in the habit of doing these good things, without conversion, is most dangerous, and calculated to deaden the heart. He said that he felt it very much when 'master' was converted (meaning myself), and was also dreadfully condemned; for he had believed in the necessity of conversion all his life; and though he knew that I was unconverted, yet he never told me, but rather encouraged me to go on as I was. He said that he had had many sleepless nights about it; "but now, thank God" he added, "it is all right; my feet are on the Rock, my soul is saved. I can praise the Lord in the congregation." The clerk's conversion did not stop with himself, for it was a call to some of the ringers; they were still outside and unsaved, though they knew, as well as he did, that they ought to be otherwise. One of these men began to attend the meetings regularly, but we could not get him to pray, or speak a word. I said to him one evening, "You will never have a sound from the bell till you move it or its tongue; in like manner, you must move your tongue, for you will have nothing until you speak, nor get an answer until you pray." Still he remained silent, and shut up to himself; till one night, as we were putting out the lights at ten o'clock, the meeting being over, I said to him as he stood by, "James, I wonder when you will ever give your heart to God?" He looked at me and said, "Now." "That is right," I replied; "thank God! let it be so." I at once stopped the extinguishing of the lights, and invited him to pray with me, but he took no heed. It was evident he had deliberately made up his mind what he would do, for he took off his coat, undid his neck-tie, turned back his shirt-sleeves, and then, setting a form about nine or ten feet long, square with the room, he knelt down and began to say, "Lord, have mercy upon me!" "Lord, have mercy upon me!" This he repeated with every returning breath, faster and louder as he went on, till at last he worked himself up into a condition of frenzy. He went on without cessation for two hours, and then stopped in an exhausted state, gasping for breath. I pointed him to the cross, and told him of God's mercy in giving His Son to die for sinners; but he was quite absent, and did not appear to hear me, or take the least notice. After a little rest, he commenced again praying as before, and got into terrible distress. What with his noise, and the energy he put forth, it was frightful to see the struggle. He cried, and beat the form till I thought his arms would be black and blue; then he took up the form and beat the floor with it, till I expected every moment it would come to pieces. The noise he made brought some of the neighbours out of their beds in a fright to see what was the matter. At two o'clock in the morning, four hours after he began, he laid himself across the form, and begged with tears that the Lord would not cast him off. I told him that the Lord was actually waiting for him. At last he found peace, or felt something, and, springing up, he began to shout and praise God; and we all joined with him. When this was done, he put on his coat and neck-tie, and saying "Good night," went home. From this time he became a changed man, and an earnest and steadfast believer. CHAPTER 11 Dreams and Visions, 1851-4. During the revival, the outpouring of the Spirit of God was very manifest and unmistakable, and was seen in various ways. It was not, of course, by power or might of men, but by divine influence, that souls were awakened to see themselves in their true condition. The candle of the Lord was lighted, and there was a searching of and for immortal souls, as typified by our blessed Lord in the parable of the lost piece of silver. We read that the woman with her lighted candle discovered her treasure; so the Divine Spirit, by awakening and searching hearts, found souls, though they had been buried under sins, worldliness, and neglect, and that for many years. It was astonishing to hear persons who had been dull and silent before, break out into full and free expression of spiritual truth; and their liberty and power in prayer were not less remarkable. It was truly an opening of eyes to see, and ears to hear, and hearts to understand--a raising of the dead to spiritual life and animation. It was as wonderful as the speaking of tongues on the day of Pentecost, with this difference--that those people spoke what they knew, in tongues they had not known; and these, in their own speech, declared things which they had never seen or known before. We had another distinctive sign of Pentecost, which was, that while believers rejoiced with overflowing joy, and sinners were pricked to the heart, and cried out, "What must I do to be saved?" there were those who mocked, saying, "These men are mad, or drunk." But, as St. Peter testified long ago, these men, women, and children were not drunk, but under the influence and power of the Holy Ghost. We had yet another sign. The prophet Joel predicted, "It shall come to pass that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions; and also upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my Spirit" (Joel 2:28, 29). And I think my narrative would be very incomplete, and I should be holding back the truth, if I did not tell of some of the dreams and visions which continually happened at this time amongst us. Every week, almost every day, we heard of some remarkable dream or striking vision. Such things may be called "superstitious" by incredulous people, but I merely state what actually took place without attempting to explain or account for it. My own feeling is that I would rather be among the superstitious than the incredulous; for I think that the former lose nothing by believing, and the latter gain nothing by their unbelief. Among the people who are alive to spiritual realities these remarkable tokens are not suspected or doubted. To believe nothing but what you can understand or account for, is to believe nothing at all. Cornish people at that time--and they may still be the same--lived in a spiritual atmosphere, at least in their own county; so much so, that I have often heard them complain, when they returned from the "shires," of the dryness and deadness they felt there. I can certainly set my seal to this testimony, and declare that those of us who had visions in Cornwall have not had them in the same way out of that district. I will give a few specimens, but only one of a kind, for it would fill the volume if I told all; the reader can judge if there was meaning or import in some of them or not. At one time, when there was a depression or check in the congregation, and preaching was hard, praying formal, and singing flat, I invited the people to join with me in prayer, that the Lord would show us what was the hindrance in the way of the work. They prayed with one accord and without consulting one another, almost in the same words, whether in the school-room or in the cottages; the substance of their petition was, that we might know and put away the obstacle to spiritual blessing, whatever that obstacle might be. One night I dreamt that I was in the church, feeling very desolate and forsaken; there were very few people there, but soon my eyes lighted on an ugly-looking stranger, who tried to evade me. He was a very disagreeable, sullen-looking man. When I spoke to him he gnashed his teeth, and as I approached he drew out a knife and held it out before me. I pursued him notwithstanding, when he backed towards the door and went out. I followed him through the churchyard till he was outside the lych-gate. As soon as he was gone, I saw a troop of happy people, all dressed in white, come in at the same gate, leaping and running like so many joyful children, and swinging their arms for gladness: they went into the church and began to sing. The dream was as vivid to me as a daylight scene. I went out the next evening, intending to tell it at the school-room meeting; but before I began to do so, I observed that the people sang more freely than usual, and I also noticed that two men who prayed omitted to offer the usual request for hindrances to be removed. When I told my dream, a man arose and said, "I know all about that; there has been one among us whom we thought was a good man, but instead of this we have discovered that he was most immoral and deceitful, doing a deal of mischief, secretly undermining the faith of some, and misleading others; he has been detected, and is gone." Sure enough our old happy freedom returned, and there was liberty in preaching, praying and singing, and souls were saved. Another time, when I was getting a little impatient with the people, I took a leaf out of my Scripture-reader's book, and preached a furious sermon about "damnation," representing God as pursuing the sinner to cut him down, if he did not repent there and then. I thought I had done it well, and went home rather satisfied with myself, supposing that I now knew how to make the congregation feel. The next morning, a yeoman called to me as I was passing her cottage, and said, "Master, what d'yer think? I dreamt last night that the devil was a-preaching in your pulpit, and that you were delighted at it!" A sudden fear fell upon me--so much so, that I returned to the church, and shutting the door, begged God's forgiveness; and thanking Him for this warning, asked that I might remember it, and never transgress again. As my Scripture-reader continued to denounce wrath and vengeance, instead of preaching the Gospel, I parted with him. Next, let me tell of a vision which refers to others. My sister came to me one morning, and said, "William, I had a vision last night of a young man in a tall hat, with a green-and-red carpet-bag in his hand. I saw him so plainly, that I should know him again anywhere. He was walking up the road when you met him, shook hands, and returned with him to the house. Then you and F---- brought him in at the glass door. On the hall table there stood a basket containing four beautiful and fragrant fruits. You took up the basket and offered it to the visitor, who, putting his hand upon one, said, 'Oh, thank you!' Then touching the three others in order, said, 'That is for mother, and that for sister, and that for --.' I could not hear who. You may smile," she continued, "but I heard that, and saw it all as plainly as I see you now." I was accustomed to hear such things, and consequently thought no more about it, but went on to speak of other subjects. In the course of the afternoon, as I was going out, I met a relative coming along the road, and took him back with me to the house; there my wife came out to him, and we led him in through the glass door. When he had sat some time and had had some luncheon, my wife said, "I wonder whether this is the young man we heard about this morning? .... What young man?" asked our visitor, hastily; "What young man do you mean? .... I should not wonder if it is," I replied; "We will see presently." He seemed very suspicious, having heard before he came that some mysterious change had taken place in us, and so looked again and again to see if he could detect anything different. "Come and see my sister," I said; to which he assented, and we went across to her house. As soon as we entered her room, she said, "How do you do? I saw you last night." "What do you mean ?" he replied, withdrawing his hand. "Why, I was on board the steamer last night." "That may be," she said, "but you are the gentleman I saw. Have you not a green-and-red carpet-bag? and did not William meet you on the road?" Poor young man! he looked dreadfully perplexed. "Never mind her," I said; "sit down and tell us about your journey." After we had talked of this and other subjects, we return home. I then told him that we were converted and asked if he had given his heart to God. He said he had. Not being satisfied, I put the question in another form, and yet remained unsatisfied with his answer. "Do you doubt me?" he asked: "I will prove it to you." He then went up to his room for a little while, and returned with a paper in his hand, in which was a dedication of himself to God, duly signed and sealed. I had never seen an instrument of this kind before, and asked if he really believed in it? "Yes, certainly," he replied; "and I mean it, too." "But," I said, "do you not see that faith does not consist in believing what you write, but in what God has written? The Word says that God is more willing to take than you are to give: you believe you have given; but do you believe that God has taken? He is far more ready to take your heart than you to give it; as surely as you have given, so surely He has taken. Cannot you see that?" He replied, "I knew that there was something wrong about this, but I did not know what. Thank you! thank you!" Then thoughtfully folding up the paper, he went out of the room. The bell was rung for dinner, but he did not appear; and then for tea, but he declined taking any. After we had gone to church, he found his way down and followed us there; and when the service was over he returned again to his room. I was detained at the schoolroom that night, and until two o'clock in the morning, praying and talking with anxious souls, and returned home very tired. Going up to bed I saw a light shining under my visitor's door, and hesitating there a few moments, I heard him pleading earnestly for mercy. I had a great mind to knock, but was afraid of disturbing him; so I prayed for him, and went to bed. In the morning he came down smiling. "Thank God," he said, "it is all right now; I am saved." In his hand he held three letters--one to his mother, one to his sister, and the other to a cousin, in which he invited them earnestly to come to Jesus. Within the week all four were in our house, praising God for salvation. As the vision indicated, we had nothing to do but hold the basket to him. He accepted it, and the fruit for himself and his relatives. Amongst other people and characters I met with at this time was a good, respectable man, who had a remarkable dream. He came to me one day, after I had been speaking about Jacob's ladder, and said that my sermon had reminded him of his dream. I begged him to sit down and tell it to me. He said, "I dreamt that I and nineteen other young men were living in a beautiful house and place, where we had everything provided fer us, and were free to enjoy ourselves as much as we pleased. We all understood that the premises belonged to Satan and that we were his guests. As such, we were permitted to take our pleasure upon two conditions--one was, that we were not to pray; and the other that we were not to go away. We smiled at this, and said it was not likely we should do the former, for we were not the praying kind; and less likely that we should do the latter, for why should we be such fools as to forego or give up our enjoyments?" I thought to myself, What a wonderful dream that is and how true to reality! What numbers of young men there are, and young women too, besides: many other people, who hold their worldly happiness on this tenure, and of course from the same master. Well, to continue the story of the dream, he said, "In the course of time we all became heartily tired of the place and its pleasures, and longed to get away, but we could not. One of us made an attempt to do so, but he was captured and brought back, and made more of a slave than ever. At last, I and a few others agreed to pray at a stated time in different places, in the hope that if one was caught, yet the rest might escape. Upon a set day and time we began praying, each in his appointed place. I had fixed upon a dark corner in a large deserted room, where we had stowed away bales and bales of goods we did not care to open. Climbing over the top of these stores, I landed on the other side, and went to the spot I had chosen. I had not prayed long before I heard master coming, cracking his whip, and saying, 'I'll teach you to pray.' This made me tremble exceedingly, and pray all the harder; but hearing that he was very near and coming after me, I opened my eyes, and to my surprise there was a beautiful silver ladder before me. As quick as thought, I sprang with hands and feet upon it, and began to climb for dear life. 'Ha!' said master, 'I'll teach you to climb.' Then I felt the ladder shaking under me, and knew that he was coming up. I expected every moment to be seized and dragged back, so I climbed all the faster, and looked up to see how much farther I had to go. Oh, it was such a long way, and there was only a very small hole to get to at last. My heart began to fail me, so that I almost let go my hold, till I felt the master's sulphurous breath on the back of my neck, which made me rush forward more vehemently. At last I reached the top, and thrust my arm through the hole, then my head, and then my other arm; thus I got through altogether, leaving my old enemy blaspheming and cursing down below. It was a most beautiful place that I was now in, and angels were flying about, just as the birds do in this world. I saw the Lord Himself, and fell down before Him to give Him thanks. As I remained a long time prostrate. He said to me. 'What is thy petition?' I answered, 'Lord, grant that that hole may be made larger, for I have nineteen friends down there in the power of the cruel master.' The Lord smiled, and said, 'That hole is quite large enough.' So I awoke." Where there is a will, there is always a way of some kind; and if worldlings are really tired of Satan's service, they can easily call upon God to deliver them, and He will most surely do so when He sees they are in earnest. This dream had the effect of spiritually awakening the man who had it, and of bringing him to the foot of the cross for mercy and salvation. I noticed that in dreams and visions in Cornwall the Lord Jesus very often appears, and the devil also; these are real persons to the Cornish mind, and their power is respectively acknowledged. During the summer, a young gentleman, whom we invited to our house in the hope of reaching his soul, came to stay with us; and this in spite of his avowed prejudice against us and our proceedings. I took this as a token of encouragement, for I was sure that the devil would have hindered his coming, unless the young man had been constrained by a higher power. He spent his time in riding about or smoking, and made great fun of our meetings and services, though I observed that he was very attentive to hear the sermon whenever he did come. One week-day evening, while we were sitting in the drawing room, and little expecting it, he burst into tears and cried out, "I don't know what to do; I shall be lost for ever!" We immediately sprang up to his help, always delighted at such opportunities of working for the Lord. We knelt down to pray, and as we continued to do so, he fell into great distress, and even agony of soul; he literally writhed as if in excessive pain, too great for utterance, and looked as if he was fainting with the struggle. We called all the servants into the room to help in prayer, and while I was praying by the side of my young friend, and pointing him to Christ, one of the servants rose up and walked straight across the room, and, with a firm hand pushing me aside, said, "The Lord is here Himself." I rose instantly and moved out of the way, while she stood with her hands together, adoring. She afterwards told us that she saw the Lord stoop down to the low chair where my young friend was kneeling, and putting His hand on his head, He said something, and then stood up. Immediately upon this she saw the verandah crowded with ugly-looking devils, all with their eyes fixed on the young man as he knelt. The Lord then waved His hand, and the ugly company vanished. At that instant the young man lifted up his head, and turning towards the side on which she had discerned the Lord as standing, said, "Lord, I thank Thee," and then fainted away. When the vision was over, the servant came, with tears in her eyes, to ask pardon for so rudely pushing me aside, but said that while the Lord was there she could not help herself: "Oh, He is so beautiful, so grand!" The young man was soon restored to animation, and began to speak in a voice and tone very different to his former utterance. He was altogether a remarkable instance of a change of heart and life. A careless, worldly man in my parish dreamt one night that he was in the market hall of a certain town. He was surprised to see, in a wall, a doorway, which he had never noticed before--so much so, that he went forward to examine it, and found that it really was a door, and that it opened to his touch. He went inside, and there he saw an impressive and strange scene. There were a number of men and women walking about, who appeared to be very woeful, end in great agony of pain. They were too distressed to speak, but he recognized most of them as persons who had been dead some time. They looked mournfully at him, as if sorry that he had come there, but did not speak. He was much alarmed, and made his way back to the door to escape, but was stopped by a stern, sullen-looking' porter, who said, in a sepulchral voice, "You cannot pass." He said, "I came in this way, and I want to go out." "You cannot," said the solemn voice. "Look, the door opens only one way; you may come in by it, but you cannot go out." It was so, and his heart sank within him as he looked at that mysterious portal. At last the porter relented, and as a special favour let him go forth for eight days. He was so glad at his release that he awoke. When he told me the dream I warned him, and begged him to give his heart to God. "You may die," I said, "before the eighth day." He laughed at the idea, and said he was "not going to be frightened by a dream." "When I am converted," he continued, "I hope I shall be able to say that I was drawn by love and not driven by fear." "But what," I said, "if you have been neglecting and slighting God's love for a long time, and He is now moving you with fear to return to Him?" Nothing would do; he turned a deaf ear to every entreaty. When the eighth day arrived, being market day, he went to the hall as usual, and looked at the wall of which he had dreamed with particular interest, but seeing no door there, he exclaimed, "It's all right; now I will go and have a good dinner over it, with a bottle of wine!" Whether he stopped at one bottle or not, I cannot tell; but late on Saturday night, as he was going home, he was thrown from his horse and killed. That was at the end of the eighth day. Whether these dreams and visions were the cause or effect of the people's sensitive state, I do not know; but certainly they were very impressible, and even the cold and hardened amongst them were ready to hear about the mysteries of the unseen world. I attributed this to the spiritual atmosphere in which they were then living. CHAPTER 12 Billy Bray, 1852. After the events narrated in Chapter 10, and when all the people who dwelt on the hill on which the church was built were converted, there came upon the scene a very remarkable person, who had evidently been kept back for a purpose. This was none other than the veritable and well known "Billy Bray."* One morning, while we were sitting at breakfast, I heard some one walking about in the hall with a heavy step, saying, "Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!" On opening the door, I beheld a happy-looking little man, in a black Quaker-cut coat, which it was very evident had not been made for him, but for some much larger body. "Well, my friend," I said, "who are you?" __________________________ * See "The King's Son; or, Life of Billy Bray," by F. W. Bourne. ___________________________ "I am Billy Bray," he replied, looking steadily at me with his twinkling eyes; "and be you the parson?" "Yes, I am." "Thank the Lord! Converted, are ye?" "Yes, thank God." "And the missus inside" (pointing to the dining-room), "be she converted?" "Yes, she is." "Thank the dear Lord!" he said, moving forward. I made way for him, and he came stepping into the room; then making a profound bow to the said "missus," he asked, "Be there any maidens (servants)?" "Yes, there are three in the kitchen." "Be they converted too?" I was able to answer in the affirmative; and as I pointed towards the kitchen door when I mentioned it, he made off in that direction, and soon we heard them all shouting and praising God together. When we went in, there was Billy Bray, very joyful, singing, "Canaan is a happy place; I am bound for the land of Canaan." We then returned to the dining-room with our strange guest, when he suddenly caught me up in his arms and carried me around the room. I was so taken by surprise, that it was as much as I could do to keep myself in an upright position, till he had accomplished the circuit. Then he set me in my chair and rolling on the ground for joy, said that he "was as happy as he could live." When this performance was at an end, he rose up with a face that denoted the fact, for it was beaming all over. I invited him to take some breakfast with us, to which he assented with thanks. He chose bread and milk, for he said, "I am only a child." I asked him to be seated, and gave him a chair; but he preferred walking about, and went on talking all the time. He told us that twenty years ago, as he was walking over this very hill on which my church and house were built (it was a barren old place then), the Lord said to him, "I will give thee all that dwell in this mountain." Immediately he fell down on his knees and thanked the Lord, and then ran to the nearest cottage. There he talked and prayed with the people, and was enabled to bring them to Christ; then he went to the next cottage, and got the same blessing; and then to a third, where he was equally successful. Then he told "Father" that there were only three "housen" in this mountain, and prayed that more might be built. That prayer remained with him, and he never ceased to make it for years. The neighbours, who heard his prayer from time to time, wondered why he should ask for "housen" to be built in such an "ungain" place. At last, after sixteen years, he received a letter from his brother James, to say that they were hacking up the "croft" to plant trees, and that they were going to build a church on the hill. He was "fine and glad," and praised the Lord. Again he did so, when his brother wrote to say there was a vicarage to be built on the same hill, and a schoolroom also. He was almost beside himself with joy and thankfulness for all this. In the year 1848, when the church was completed and opened, he came on a visit to Baldhu, and was greatly surprised to see what a change had taken place. There was a beautiful church, a parsonage, with a flourishing garden, and also a schoolroom, with a large plantation and fields round them. He was quite "'mazed," for he never thought that the old hill could be made so grand as that! However, when he went to the service in the church, his joy was over; he came out "checkfallen," and quite disappointed. He told "Father" that that was nothing but an "old Pusey" He had got there, and that he was no good. While he was praying that afternoon, "Father" gave him to understand that he had no business there yet, and that he had come too soon, and without permission. So he went back to his place at once, near Bodmin, and continued to pray for the hill. After three years his brother James wrote again; 'and this time it was to tell him that the parson and all his family were converted, and that there was a great revival at the church. Now poor Billy was most eager to come and see this for himself, but he obtained no permission, though he asked and looked for it every day for more than three months. At last, one wintry and frosty night in January, about half-past eleven o'clock, just as he was getting into bed, "Father" told him that he might go to Baldhu. He was so overjoyed, that he did not wait till the morning, but immediately "put up" his clothes again, "hitched in" the donkey, and set out in his slow-going little cart. He came along singing all the way, nearly thirty miles and arrived early in the morning. Having put up his donkey in my stable, he came into the house, and presented himself, as I have already stated, in the hall, praising God. We were a long time over breakfast that morning, for the happy man went on from one thing to another, "telling of the Lord," as he called it, assuring us again and again that he was "fine and glad, and very happy"--indeed, he looked so. He said there was one thing more he must tell us; it was this--that he had a "preaching-house" (what we should now call a mission-room), which he had built years ago. He had often prayed there for "this old mountain," and now he should dearly love to see me in the pulpit of that place, and said that he would let me have it for my work. He went on to say that he had built it by prayer and faith, as "Father" sent him help, and that he and another man had built it with their own hands. One day he was short of money to buy timber to finish the roof; his mate said it would take two pounds' worth; so he asked the Lord for this sum, and wondered why the money did not come, for he felt sure that he was to have it. A farmer happened to look in the next morning, and Billy thought he had come with the money, but he merely asked them what they were doing, and then took his departure, without giving them help. All that day they waited in expectation, and went home in the evening without having done any work. The next morning the same farmer appeared again, and said, "What do you want two pounds for?" "Oh," said Billy, "you are come, are you? We want that money for the roof yonder." The farmer then went on to say, "Two days ago it came to my mind to give two pounds for the preaching house, but as I was coming down the hill on yesterday morning, something said to me, 'if you give one pound it will be handsome; then I thought I would give only half-a-sovereign; and then that I would give nothing. Why should I? But the Lord laid it on my mind last night that I must give you two pounds. There it is!" "Thank the Lord!" said Billy, and proceeded immediately to get the required timber. In answer to prayer he also obtained "reed" for thatching the roof, and by the same means timber for the forms and seats. It was all done in a humble manner, so that he did not dream of buying any pulpit; but one day, as he was passing along the road, he saw that they were going to have a sale at the "count-house" of an old mine. He went in, and the first thing which met his eye was a strong oak cupboard, with a cornice around the top. It struck him that it would make a grand pulpit, if only it was-strong enough: on examination, he found it all he could desire in this respect. He thought if he could take off the top and make a "plat" to stand upon, it would do "first-rate." He "told Father" so, and wondered how he could get it. He asked a stranger who was there, walking about, what he thought that old cupboard would go for? "Oh, for about five or six shillings," was the reply. And while Billy was pondering how to "rise" six shillings, the same man came up and said, "What do you want that cupboard for, Billy?" He did not care to tell him, for he was thinking and praying about it. The man said, "There are six shillings for you; buy it if you will." Billy took the money, thanking the Lord. and impatiently waited for the sale. No sooner was the cupboard put up, than he called out, "Here, maister, here's six shillin's for un," and he put the money down on the table. "Six shillings bid," said the auctioneer--"six shillings--thank you; seven shillings; any more for that good old cupboard? Seven shillings. Going--going--gone!" And it was knocked down to another man. Poor Billy was much disappointed and perplexed at this, and could not understand it at all. He looked about for the man who had given him the six shillings, but in vain--he was not there. The auctioneer told him to take up his money out of the way. He complied, but did not know what to do with it. He went over a hedge into a field by himself, and told "Father" about it; but it was all clear--"Father" was not angry about anything. He remained there an hour, and then went homewards. As he was going along, much troubled in his mind as to this experience (for he still felt so sure he was to have that cupboard for a pulpit), he came upon a cart standing outside a public-house with the very cupboard upon it, and some men were measuring it with a foot rule. As he came up, he heard them say, "It is too large to go in at the door, or the window either." The publican who had bought it said, "I wish I had not bid for the old thing at all; it is too good to 'scat' up for firewood." At that instant it came to Billy's mind to say, "Here, I'll give you six shillings for un." "Very well," said the man, taking the money; "you can have him." Then Billy began to praise the Lord, and went on to say, "'Father' as good as told me that I was to have that cupboard, and He knew I could not carry him home on my back, so He found a horse and cart for me. Bless the Lord!" Promising to bring it back very soon, he led the horse down the hill, and put the old cupboard into the preaching-house. "There it is!" he exclaimed, "and a fine pulpit he does make, sure enough! Now," said Billy, "I want to see thee in it. When will you come?" I could not fix for that day, or the next, trot made arrangements to conduct a series of services the next week, and promised to have them in that place. Before he left us, he made a particular inquiry about the two other houses which had been built, who lived in them, and especially if all the "dwellers were converted." Then he declared his intention to go and see the parties, and rejoice with them, and testify how fully the Lord had accomplished the promise He gave him upon that very hill, twenty years before. According to promise, I went to Billy Bray's preaching-house, or mission-hall. It was the first time that I had preached anywhere outside my church and schoolroom since my conversion. There it pleased the Lord to give me much help, and a great work followed, such as Billy had never seen in that place before. Several times we were detained there all night through, with penitents crying aloud for mercy, and believers rejoicing. As a rule, the Cornish man would remain at a meeting for hours, and come again the next day, and the day after, if needful, till he felt that he could cry for mercy, and then he would begin and continue crying until he felt he could believe. At the conclusion of these services we returned to the schoolroom, where our meetings were continued. Our friend Billy remained with us at Baldhu, and was very useful. He spoke in the schoolroom with much acceptance and power in the simplicity of his faith, and souls were added to the Lord continually. At this time he was very anxious for a cousin of his, a man somewhat older than himself, of the same name. This Billy was as famous for his drunkenness and dissolute habits, as the other Billy was for his faith and joy. The former used to go by the name of the "lost soul." The very children in the lanes called after him, "Ah, Billy, you are a lost soul," and laughed at him. I was then in the freshness and power of my first love, and could not help regarding this pitiable object, and considering his case; for I could not imagine why any man should remain unsaved and without Christ. Accordingly, one wet morning, when I felt pretty sure that old Billy would not be out working in the field, I made my way down to his house. As I expected, he was at home in his chimney comer; so setting down my dripping umbrella, I told him how glad I was to find him there, for I wanted to have a talk with him. "Ah, it's all very well for you gentlemen, who have none else to do but to go about and talk; but we poor men must work." So saying, he rose up from his "settle" and went to the door. "But, Billy, it is raining quite hard; you cannot work in rain like that." "Can't help it; we must do our work," and so he slammed the door after him and departed. His wife made all kinds of apologies for him, because "he was a very singular kind of man; he did not mean bad--he was 'that curious,' that he said and did curious things, and that I must not mind him." I confess I was much disappointed at his abrupt departure from the house, but I remained a little longer, till the worst of the storm was over. After the lapse of nearly a quarter of an hour, Billy crept back to the door, and lifting the latch quietly, whispered to his wife, "Is the passon gone?" "No, Billy," I said, "here I am. Come in out of the wet. I am so glad you have come back." "What d'yer want with me?" he inquired. "I want to talk to you about your soul. I have been thinking much about you lately, Billy. They call you a 'lost soul.'" "What's that to you?" "Ah, a great deal," I said, "because I have a message for lost people. I am not a doctor for the body; my business is about the soul." "I ain't so bad as all that yet," he replied. "But you are bad enough, Billy--bad enough." "Yes, indeed," interposed his wife. "You hold yer tongue; you're no better." I beckoned to her to be still, and went on to say, "You are bad enough, Billy, for an old man. How old are you?" "Up seventy years." "Seventy years!" I repeated. "Well, now, that's a great age--that's the age of man. Threescore years and ten! It is like giving you notice to give up the keys of the old tabernacle. I wonder why God spares your life? I am afraid you have been a cumberer of the ground all this time, Billy. Do you know why the good Lord has spared you for so long?" "I can't tell," he said, getting more and more impatient. "Well, do you know, I think I can tell you. He is such a loving and merciful God, He wants to have mercy on you. You could not have greater proof of it, could you? You set a horribly bad example; you do nothing but drink, and smoke, and swear. You have asked God to damn your soul over and over again, and yet here you are still. Why is this?" He did not answer, but seemed interested; so I went on to speak of the forbearance of God towards him. I said, "Billy, do you know that I think the Lord wants to have mercy on you? He wants to save you!" As he listened, I went on to tell him that God loved him, and gave His Son to die for him. Then I proceeded to speak of the wonderful patience and long-suffering of God--a kind of crown upon His love; and what a shame it was to sin against such love as this. Poor Billy looked at me with tears in his eyes, and said, "You are a dear man!" "Dear man!" I answered. "What, then, is God, if I am 'dear' only for telling you of His love? Ah, Billy, take and give your heart to God at once. He is waiting for you. It is a shame to refuse such a God." I knelt down and began to pray for him. He soon fell on his knees too, and sobbed aloud; then he commenced to pray in his own way. He needed much teaching, so when he rose from his knees I said to him, "Now, Billy, I have been to see you; it is your turn to some and see me next. When will you come?" "This afternoon," he said. "Very good; come this afternoon." And he did. More than that, this poor "lost soul" found peace in my study, to his great joy; and he was not ashamed to acknowledge it openly, nor afraid to praise God for His great goodness. The same evening he stood up in the schoolroom meeting, and told the people what the Lord had done for his soul. There was great excitement that night, and well there might be, for every one knew what a daring and wicked man he had been. One man said that "if a corpse had come out of the churchyard and spoken, he could not have been more frightened" (more surprised, he meant). Old Billy's conversion gave a new and fresh impetus to the work, and many more souls were added to the Lord. This dear man lived for three months after this, verifying the words I was led to say to him at the beginning of our intercourse--that the Lord was keeping him alive in order to have mercy upon him. At the end of this time, his daughter came to me one morning in great haste, and said, "Father is dying, and does so want to see you. Will you come?" I went immediately. On reaching his house and entering: his bedroom, his wife said, "You are too late; he is dead!" Softly I moved forward to the bed, and looking on that face once more, I thought that I could still see signs of life. Pressing his cold hand, I spoke a few words about the loving kindness of the Lord. He knew me, and a smile brightened his face at the precious name of Jesus. While we stood silently round his dying bed, he said (evidently in reference to what he had heard), "not dead; just beginning to live." Thus, with a sweet, triumphant smile, he departed. CHAPTER 13 Cottage Meetings, 1852. Our steps were now directed to another part of the parish, where we commenced a series of cottage meetings in alternation with services in the church. These meetings were inaugurated in a very remarkable manner, in the house of a man named "Frank," who was well known as an exceedingly wicked and careless fellow. His wife was among the fruits of the revival, and prayed much for him; but the more she did so, the worse he became. I used to try and comfort her with the thought that if he did not give himself to God to be made better, it was well that he got worse, for it was a proof that her prayers were telling; total indifference would have been a far more discouraging sign. This was poor comfort to her, however, for he came home night after night drunk; or if not so, swearing about the revival in the church, and her praying. He often declared that if he ever caught me in his house, he would "give me something for myself." He was at all times a very irascible man, and being troubled with a wooden leg, it made him worse. As he was unable to work in the mine, he was dependent for his support on the parish authorities, who employed him to break stones on the road. Notwithstanding his bad temper and ill-feeling towards me, I always stopped at his heap of stones when passing, and talked to him either about the weather or some other trivial subject, being quite satisfied that he knew the plan of salvation, as I had spoken to him about his soul at the time of his wife's conversion. One day, when coming along, I observed Frank before me in the road, busy, as usual, breaking stones, and began to think what I would speak to him about, having no particular news to communicate. While I was thus pondering, I came to his place, when, to my great astonishment, he was not there. I looked around on all sides, and called, "Frank--Frank!" but in vain--no one answered. There was no hedge or tree within sight for him to hide behind; where could he be? All at once, I remembered that there was a small gravel-pit about twenty-five or thirty yards from the spot, but scarcely thought it possible he could be there. I went towards it, however, still calling, "Frank--Frank!" and yet received no answer. On looking in, sure enough, there was my man, lying down in the pit, close up to the side, with his face to the ground. I said, "Frank, is that you? What are you doing there? Are you ill?" "No," he replied, "I'm not. What d'yer want with me?" "Nothing in particular," I said; "but to tell the truth, I was so surprised at your disappearance, that I could not pass on without looking for you. I was so sure that I saw you in the distance, sitting in your place; and then, when I came up, you were not there. I wondered whether I had seen your ghost instead of you, and whether you were dead or what. Are you hiding away from me?" Rising up, he said, "I had a terrible dream last night which frightened me very much. A voice said, 'Go and see Mr. Haslam about your soul.' I said, 'I will, I will, the first thing in the morning.' When the morning came, I thought the evening would do; and when I saw you coming, it made me tremble so, that I got up and hid myself here." I said, "Frank, it is no use for you to fight against God, or to stand out against your wife's prayers. You had far better give in." He then told me that his dream referred to something in his past life, and sitting down on the bank or side of the gravel pit, he said, 'When I was ill with my leg (which was taken off), the doctor told me what I should die. I then cried to the Lord to have mercy on me, and said that if He would raise me up, I would give my heart to Him. I began to recover from that day, and kept on intending and intending to give my heart to God; but I never did it. I got quite well in health, but ever since that time I have been getting worse and worse in mind. When my wife was converted, it seemed as if the devil took possession of me altogether, and the Lord warned me again last night." "Come now," I said, "you had better kneel down here and give up." It was a lonely road on a bare common. "Kneel down," I repeated, "and let us pray." He did so, and after prayer he said, "By God's help. I will give up." "No," I replied, "that will not do. Say, 'Lord, take my heart. I do'--not 'I will'--give up.'" After a short pause, he solemnly said, "I do; Lord, take my heart!" and then began to cry. I gave him the text, "God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life" (John 3:16). "Think over that," I said, "and come to the schoolroom to-night." He did so, and was saved, to the great joy of his soul. After the meeting was over, he remained behind a long time, and gave vent to his feelings with tears, when he remembered the goodness of God to him. "This wooden leg of mine," he said, "is a monument of God's mercy!" "How is that?" I inquired. "Several years ago," he said, "I was playing cards for money in a public-house, and was cheating in order to win, when the man I was playing with said, 'You would not have won that money if you had not cheated.' I swore at him, and said, 'God strike my limbs if I did so!' I knew I had; and the man would not believe that I had not. So we parted." "The next morning, I was working in the mine, close to a very large piece of rock, which had been loosened with the blasting, when it slipped from its place, and carried me along with it into the shaft. As the heavy end was uppermost, it turned with its own weight, and fell across the shaft, pinning me against the side. This rock was not less than two or three tons weight. Notwithstanding the fearful shock, I retained my senses; but one leg was smashed, and the other severely wounded. 'God struck my limbs!' I cried for help; and when the men who were attracted by my screams found me, they saw at once that it was impossible to extricate me without moving the rock. There I remained for more than two hours, till they had put a sling around my body. Having done that, they adjusted a strong chain to the rock and lifted the end. As soon as they succeeded in raising it, down it went, carrying plate, ladders, and all before it, to the bottom of the shaft, which was many fathoms deep, whilst I was left hanging in the sling. They then drew me up, and took me to the hospital, where one leg was taken off and the other set; but I was very ill for a long time. Oh, just think, if that rock had not pinned my legs to the wall of the shaft, I should have been in hell now! The Lord saved my life then--and has saved my soul now!" Dear Frank became a very zealous Christian, and for many years preached the Gospel with much power and acceptance. After his conversion, he came one morning to beg my pardon for having forbidden me his house, and to ask if I would come and hold a meeting there for his neighbours. I did; and there was such a crowd inside, and also outside the house, and so much blessing, that I was not satisfied with one visit, but went again and again. The place was most inconveniently full; they turned out the chairs and tables to make standing-room inside, and opened the windows and doors for the people to hear outside; and sometimes, before the address was over, men and women cried aloud for mercy. We could not kneel down to pray--praying, singing, and hearing was done standing, and, that very close together. The house was so uncomfortably thronged, that a miller in the neighbourhood, who had a large room in the mill, begged me to come and preach there instead. I accepted his invitation, and we went; but, alas! there was no power there; it was hard to pray or preach; and the people were not even attentive. Thus it was clearly seen that it is not by might or by power of men, but by the Spirit of the Lord; and that if the Lord was not present to work, no work was done. We went back to Frank's cottage, and there again the manifest presence of God was discernible; and every time we did so souls were saved. Next door to Frank lived a tall, gaunt, gipsy kind of woman, whom they called "the wise woman." She had a marvellous gift of healing, and other knowledge, which made people quite afraid of her. This woman took a great interest in me and my work, and often came to church, besides attending the meetings at Frank's house. One day, during these services, she paid a visit to the Parsonage, and said, "My dear, have you a lemon in the house?" I went to inquire and found that we had not. "Well, then," she said, "get one, and some honey and vinegar, and mix them all together. You will want it. Mind you do, now," she said, drawing herself up to her full height; "mind you do, you will want it!" Then she put the bowl of her pipe into the kitchen fire, and having ignited the tobacco, went away smoking. The servants were very much frightened by her manner and her warning, and begged of me to get the lemon, saying, "It was about you, master; it was about you that she came." I did not know where to get a lemon within three miles, but it so happened that a man came to the door with a net full, for sale, that same afternoon. We bought two, just to pacify the servants, and let them make the mixture, thinking nothing more about it. In the course of the afternoon a very heavy thunder-storm fell upon us, deluging the roads and lanes; and before it ceased I had to go to the meeting. I took the precaution to put on thick shoes, and then set off and walked through the rain. When I arrived at the cottage, I thought my feet felt wet; but they were not cold, so that I soon forgot all about them, and went on with the meeting, which lasted till ten o'clock; then I returned home. On taking off my shoes, I was surprised to see how wet and muddy my socks were. I had been standing with wet feet all the evening. To guard against any ill effects, I put my feet in hot water before going to bed. However, at three o'clock in the morning I awoke, nearly choked with a severe fit of bronchitis; the thick, hard phlegm in my throat almost suffocated me; I had to struggle for breath and life. After an hour or more of the most acute suffering, my dear wife remembered the lemon mixture, and called the servant to get up and bring it. It was just in time. I was black in the face with suffocation; but this compound relieved, and, in fact, restored me. I was greatly exhausted with the effort and struggle for life, and after two hours I fell asleep. I was able to rise in the morning and breathe freely, though my chest was very sore. After breakfast, the "wise woman" appeared, standing outside the window of the drawing-room, where I was lying on the sofa. "Ah, my dear," she said, "you were nearly gone at three o'clock this morning. I had a hard wrestle for you, sure enough. If you had not had that lemon, you know, you would have been a dead man by this time!" That mysterious creature, what with her healing art, together with the prayer of faith and the marvellous foresight she had, was quite a terror to the people. One day she came, and bade me go to a man who was very worldly and careless, and tell him that he would die before Sunday. I said, "You go, if you have received the message." She looked sternly at me, and said, "You go! that's the message--you go!" I went. The man laughed at me, and said, "That old hag ought to be hanged." I urged him to give his heart to God, and prayed with him, but to no effect. He was thrown from his cart, and killed the following Saturday, coming home from market. Her sayings and doings would fill a book; but who would believe the things? She was not always a bird of evil omen, for sometimes she brought me good news as well as bad. One day she said, "There is a clergyman coming to see you, who used to be a great friend of yours, but since your conversion he has been afraid of you. He is coming; you must allow him to preach; he will be converted before long!" Sure enough, my old friend W.B.--, came as she predicted. He preached, and in due time was converted, and his wife also; but his story shall come in its own place. The work at Frank's cottage stopped as suddenly as it began. I cannot theorize about the subject; I merely state that so it was. It began, it continued, and continued only in that house, and then it stopped. Another remarkable thing may here be observed--that on visiting the cottages within a limited distance round Frank's house, people were softened, and it was easy to persuade them to yield themselves to Christ. They appeared to be quite ripe and ready. Just beyond this limit the people were as hard and careless as ever. It seemed as if the power of God overshadowed only a certain spot, and that all within that were under Divine influence for the time, though all were not converted. They acknowledged, however, that they felt the Spirit's power striving with them, and they knew afterwards that it was withdrawn. "The wind bloweth where it listeth." CHAPTER 14 Open-Air Services, 1852. 1. PERRANZABULOE AS the summer advanced, it was laid on heart to go and preach in the parish of Perranzabuloe, where I had ministered in my unconverted days. The vicar, would not consent to my having the church; but told me, in writing, that he could not prevent my preaching on the common or the beach. I thanked him for his suggestion as to the latter. As soon I was able I made arrangements, and giving due notice, went down to the old familiar place; but this time on a new errand, and it was to me a fresh start in my work. I took my gown for this first open-air service; and on arriving, found many hundreds of people already assembled at the appointed place, on Perran beach. After giving out a hymn, which was most heartily sung, I prayed, thanking God for the change He had wrought in my soul, and begging Him to show that He had forgiven the past, by bestowing a manifest blessing upon the present service. All this was loudly responded to, in Cornish fashion, with hearty "Amens" and various other ejaculations to which I was well accustomed. Then I read the beginning of the fifth chapter of St. Luke, taking for my text the words, "Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught." Having reminded the people how hard I had worked amongst them for four years without seeing any conversions, I went on to show them, by way of parallel, that Simon Peter had toiled all night and taken nothing, but that when he went forth at the Lord's command, he enclosed a great multitude of fishes. "Here," I said, "is encouragement for us to expect a blessing now. Why did Simon Peter fail at first? and why did he subsequently succeed? Why did he fail?--1. Because he went out in the night. 2. At his own desire. 3. In the wisdom of men. Why did I fail?--1. Because I preached and laboured in the night of my unconverted state. 2. I laboured at the bidding of the Church. And, 3. According to the wisdom and tradition of the fathers. Why did Peter succeed?--Because, 1. He went out in the morning. 2. At the Lord's bidding. 3. With the Lord's presence. "I am come (I was thankful to be able to say) in the bright sunshine of my first love. Jesus, the Saviour, is the 'Sun of my soul, my Saviour dear.'" The people cheered me so much with their responding, that I felt as happy as they. The opening heaven seemed to shine around us, indeed, "with beams of sacred bliss." They shouted again and again, "Glory to God! Glory to God! Hallelujah! .... I am come now," I continued, "to tell you from my own personal experience, about salvation and the forgiveness of sins." "Yes, yes!" "Thank the Lord!" "Bless Him!" "I am come, dear friends, at the Lord's bidding. I feel sure that He put it into my heart to do so. Oh, how much I longed to do you good when I was your minister; but I could not, for I knew nothing about the Way myself. Now, that I do, I am constrained to tell you. The love of God within, and the Word of God without, compel me. "I feel I have the Lord's presence, for He not only promised it where two or three are gathered together in His name; but also to those who preach the Gospel, He said, 'Lo, I am with you alway!' His presence is power. It is His word I bring you, not mine; I merely deliver it. He is here. And be sure He loves you, and, what is more, takes a deeper interest in this preaching than we can. He died for you, and shed His blood for your forgiveness; how, then, can He do otherwise than take an interest in the delivery of His message, and, more, in the result which is to follow? "When Simon Peter let down his net, he was astonished; mark, it was a net he let down into the deep, something which enclosed the fish, in order that he might bring them out of their native element, the water. So I preach the Gospel, not merely for the sake of preaching, but to bring you from the power of Satan, in which we all are by nature, to God, that you may receive the forgiveness of your sins. "We read that he enclosed a great multitude of fishes; I have faith to believe that the Lord will bring many to Himself to-night." With shouting and praise the address was concluded and prayer was offered. At the close, we found at least fifty people in that great throng on their knees, crying for mercy. It was a most triumphant and joyful time, and the people were loth to separate. We slept that night at Porth, as that part of the village is called. The next morning two fishermen came to my lodging, bringing a large basket of fish as a present. Their hearts had been cheered the preceding night, and taking my word in a natural as well as a spiritual sense, they went out once again and let down their nets. They had gone out many nights before and taken nothing; but this time their venture was crowned with success, and they came back rejoicing ill the Lord, who had shown them that temporal as well as spiritual blessings come from Him. The basket of fish they brought me was an acknowledgment of their heartfelt gratitude. After breakfast, as we were walking on the seashore, under the majestic cliffs which have stood as a wall against the Atlantic waves for centuries, we heard our good-natured Newfoundland dog barking at something on the rocks; we looked up, and behold! There was an exquisitely graceful fawn-coloured kid, with a scarlet collar and bells, bounding about playfully on the narrow ledges of the rocks. It seemed to us to be leaping about on the face of the cliff, for we could not see the little ledges on which it picked its way. It was quite out of the dog's reach, and appeared to know it, judging from the coquettish and defiant manner in which it was jumping about, in high glee at its independence. While we were standing watching the pretty and graceful creature, a young lady came out from behind other rocks, and called to her pet, which arched its little neck and looked at her, then at the dog, as if it would say, "How can I come down?" I walked towards her, and on speaking, found that she knew me, and that I had seen her when she was a child. After a little talk about the playful kid, I asked her if she had been to the meeting; she said "she had, and she had not!" I waited silently for an explanation. Presently, she said that her mamma had forbidden her to go to "such wild meetings," but that her father had asked her to walk with him under a wall in the garden, there they could and did hear every word; and she added, "I think papa has found peace--he is so very happy'." "And have not you also?" I asked. "Ah," she replied, "I wish I could." The more I talked with her, the more convinced I felt she was in earnest, but that something stood in the way. She said she did not know what it was--that she really wished for salvation, and was willing to give up everything. I said, "Do you think your mother would let you return with us on a short visit? We are just going back to Baldhu." She said, "Mamma is not at home: she has gone away for three days; but I think papa would let me go. Shall I ask him?" She did; and soon returned, saying that she might do so if we could promise to bring her back in two days. This being settled, she hastened to get her things ready, and sent her maid to fetch home the pet kid, which she bade her take great care of during her absence: then we set off. On arriving at our house she went straight to her bedroom, and there on her knees implored God's mercy, and remained pleading and praying for five hours, before she found peace. Then she came down among us, rejoicing in the Lord. That evening she spent at the meeting, and the next day in visiting among the cottages. On the third day, after a happy visit, we took her home to her father, rejoicing in the liberty of the children of God. Her mother returned the day after, and when she was told of the change in her husband and her daughter Lucy, she became exceedingly angry, and wrote, not to thank, but to forbid us the house; also prohibiting further intercourse. At the same time she declared her intention to get all that nonsense out of her daughter's head as soon as possible. She dragged this poor girl out to parties and amusements of every kind, against her will, which had the effect of making her dislike them the more, and caused her to cleave steadfastly to the Lord in prayer. Six months later, she was taken ill, and after a few weeks' suffering she died, rejoicing that her sins were pardoned, and that she was going home. It was evident that God would not trust that mother with a daughter whose soul she was determined to injure. He took His child away to Himself. 2. ROSE-IN-VALE The open-air preaching at Perran led to many similar services there, and at other places. I will tell of two only, to prevent sameness, and for fear of tiring the reader. The former of these, was at a place called Rose-in-vale, in the same parish, on the lawn of the chief parishioner. He was an uneducated man, who had risen from the rank of a common miner to that of a mine captain. Being very shrewd and clever, he had succeeded in accumulating a considerable sum of money; and though he and his wife had a very large house, they chiefly occupied two of the smallest rooms. "Them fine things up in the parlours," he said, he "made no 'count of;" indeed he was anything but comfortable or easy in his state apartments. Being the wealthy man of the parish, he sat on Sunday in the large square pew; but beyond giving personal attendance, and that very regularly, I do not know what other heed he gave, either to the service or the sermon. During this summer he invited me to give "a preaching" in his garden. Accordingly, on a fixed day, I went, and tried to speak, but found it most difficult to do so. I know not why; but again and again I felt as though I had lost the thread of my discourse and was rambling--that I was at a loss for words, and could not hold the attention of the people. Perplexed, and greatly discouraged, I was not sorry when the time came to conclude; therefore I did not invite the people to remain for an after-meeting for prayer. Several persons came up and asked me why I had dismissed the assembly. "Ah!" I replied, "because there is no power. I could not get on at all!" They were surprised, and said they thought that I had been helped more than usual, and were quite sure that the Lord was working among the people. However, the congregation had gone now, and could not be recalled. This only made me feel more distressed than before. The feeling was very strong with which I had been so burdened while speaking; and, to add to my perplexity, I observed three coast-guard men, who had come some five or six miles, behaving badly, and laughing all the time (as I thought) at my discourse, to the great discomfiture of my preaching. Open-air addresses were not common in those days, and for a man to set up (as some said) and pretend to be a second Whitfield or Wesley, was bad enough, but to fail was most humiliating! Three years after this, I was travelling outside a coach, when a rough sailor-looking man came climbing up to the top, although he was told that there was no room. "Never mind," he said; "I will sit on the boxes. I want to talk to this here gentleman." So saying, he perched himself on the luggage, and offered to shake hands with me. "Do you know me?" I asked. "Oh yes, bless you, of course I do! Don't you remember three coast-guard men at Captain O--'s garden?" "Yes," I said, "indeed I do, and am not likely to forget them easily; they behaved so badly, and disturbed me so much." "Well," he continued, "I'm one o' them. I don't know why we laughed and made fun, for we all on us felt your words deeply, and went home to pray; and a few days afterwards we were all three converted--that we were. Praise the Lord! After that, we volunteered for the navy, to go to the Crimea war. I've been in some hot scenes, sure enough. One day we got a little too near the Russian battery, and they peppered us brave--no mistake, I assure you; they cut our masts and rigging to pieces, and ploughed up our deck with their shots. Men were being killed on every side of me. I thought, now I shall see the King in His glory. My soul was so happy, I expected every moment to be cut down and sent into His presence; but not a shot touched me! I had not even a scratch; and here I be, safe and sound, all through mercy!" Thus, these three men, who made me at the time so unhappy, and disturbed me to such a degree, turned out well, after all. Since then, on several occasions, I have felt as discouraged in preaching as I was that day; and though again and again I have said that I will not heed it, I have nevertheless found it difficult to be unmoved under this mysterious influence. I write this for the comfort and consolation of others who are afflicted under similar circumstances, that they may not be cast down by their feelings. 3. Mount Hawke The next occasion was very different, and quite a contrast in results. I was invited to a neighbouring parish, which formerly used to be united with Perran at the time when I had sole charge of it. Here, on the appointed Saturday afternoon, I found not fewer than three thousand people assembled on the common. They had erected a kind of platform, with a canvas awning, to shelter me from the wind, which always blows with more or less violence in Cornwall, even when it is not raining. There I stood and beheld this concourse of people, evidently full of large expectation. I gave out the hymn-- "Oh for a thousand tongues, to sing My great Redeemer's praise!" This was heartily sung; and after prayer for a blessing, I announced my text, and spoke from the fact, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. Upon enforcing this as worthy of all acceptation, I pressed the thought, that the Lord Jesus came more than eighteen hundred years ago, and that is present still, and able to work greater than He wrought then; for indeed He only began then to do and to teach what He is doing and teaching continuously now. A mighty power of the Spirit of the Lord came on the people, and several hundreds fell upon their knees simultaneously, and many began to cry aloud for mercy. The strange part was, that the power of the Lord appeared to pass diagonally through the crowd, so that there was a lane of people on their knees six or eight feet deep, banked up on either side by others standing. It extended from the left-hand corner near me, to the right-hand corner in the distance. It was quite impossible to go on preaching, so I gave out a hymn, and then went in among "the slain of the Lord." After about an hour, some one suggested that we should go to the school-room; as it was getting dark. The clergyman of the parish was on horseback in the lane close by, watching proceedings. I asked him if we could have the use of the school-room. "Oh yes," he said; "yes, certainly--certainly--anything." He seemed very frightened. The men and women in distress of soul were led to the room, crying and praying as they went. When I reached the place, I found it impossible to get in, far it was already full, besides a throng standing at the door. I was taken to a window at last, and getting in through that, I stood on the schoolmaster's table, which was near. Against the wall the men had, in miners' fashion, set up with clay some candles, which were beginning to bend over with the heat of the room. The place was densely packed, and the noise of the people praying for mercy was excessive. I could do no more than speak to those who were near me round the table. As they found peace one by one and were able to praise God, we asked them to go out and let others come. In this way the meeting went on till ten o'clock, when I left; and it continued to go on all night and all the next day without cessation. It will scarcely be credited, but that same meeting was prolonged by successive persons without any intermission, day and night, till the evening of Sunday, the eighth day after it began. This kind of thing was not unusual in Cornwall, for we had the same in our school-room at Baldhu for three days and nights; but eight days is the longest period of which I have any personal knowledge. I went again and again to see how they were going on; but the people were too absorbed to heed my presence; and those who were then seeking mercy were strangers to me, and had not been present at the service on the previous Saturday. CHAPTER 15 Drawing-Room Meetings, 1852-53. From that time I did not confine myself so much to my own church, but frequently went out to preach in other places, as opportunities occurred; and these were, for the most part, brought about by remarkable and unsought-for incidents. One Sunday a lady and gentleman came to my church from one of the neighbouring towns; they were professors of religion, and members of some Dissenting body. My sermon that evening was upon wheat and chaff--the former was to be gathered into the garner, the latter burned with fire unquenchable. I said that we were all either one or the other--to be gathered or burned. They went away very angry, and complained one to another of my want of charity; they also remarked that I took good care to let the people know that I was not amongst the chaff which was to be burned. The arrows of the Lord had evidently found them, and had pierced the joints in their harness. They could not sleep all night for anger and distress. In the morning the gentleman rose early, and before breakfast had his horse out, and galloped over eight miles to see me. He came with the intention of finding fault, but instead of this he burst into tears, and told me that he was the greatest of sinners. He was in sore distress, which increased all the more as he gave vent to his feelings. I could not help rejoicing, and told him that God had wounded him, but that He only wounds to heal, and kills to make alive. "Ah," he said, "that is the first thought of comfort I have had; it is like balm to my soul." We knelt down and prayed; then I had the privilege of leading him to Christ, and we praised God together. I gave him some breakfast, and after that rode back with him to see his wife, whom he had left in the morning in great trouble of mind. We found her up, and rejoicing. It was most touching to witness the mutual surprise and joy of these two loving ones, when they discovered that they were now united in the Lord. She told us, that after her husband's departure she was in such terrible trouble that she got up to pray, and that while she was on her knees she saw a vision on the bed-cover. Before her was printed, in large visible letters, "Thy sins be forgiven thee;" she could scarcely believe her eyes, but with her own finger she traced the letters, and was sure they were there. Taking them as a message from Christ, she rose and thanked Him, and now felt quite sure she was saved. I could not help telling her not to believe in her eyes or her visions, but in Jesus, and the fact that He had died for her. Having thanked God together, they next began to think of their servants; so we sent for them, and both master and mistress told them what the Lord had done for their souls; and while we were praying, they all three cried aloud for mercy, and found peace. This was the commencement of a good work in that town by drawing-room meetings, and many were gathered to the Lord. Amongst the number was the mayor of the town, who in his turn wished to have a meeting at his house. As soon as I was able to fix the day, he invited his friends, but on finding that so many more desired to come than he could accommodate, he announced that the meeting would be held at the Town Hall. Great interest was excited, and it was soon evident that even this building would not be large enough, so it ended in the Temperance Hall being selected. The vicar hearing about it, wrote to protest, and asked me to call on him before I went to the place of meeting. He said it was bad enough for me to come to his parish to private houses, but to come to a public room, and that a large one, was quite out of the question. I endeavoured to show him that the lecture or address I had come to give was not an official or ministerial act; but he would not see that. I also suggested that there was no law against it. He, begging my pardon, said "The 'Conventicle Act' had not been repealed yet, and that no one could lawfully hold a meeting of more than twenty persons." "But surely," I replied, "that is virtually repealed by the 'Toleration Act.' A clergyman ought not to be in greater bondage in England than a layman, or more restricted. Anybody else can come and preach the Gospel in your parish, and you cannot hinder it. Do not hinder me. It will do you no harm." He said, "I cannot conscientiously allow it. It is against the Canons." "Which Canon is it against?" I asked. He took down a book and showed it me, but casting my eyes on the one before, and another which followed, I found that we neither of us observed the one or the other. Why, then, be so zealous about this? "Besides," I said, "you are not responsible; you have not asked me, nor have I asked your consent. Your conscience need not be troubled about the matter." "But," he said, impatiently, "I am determined that you shall not preach in this parish. I will inform the Bishop." I replied, that "the Bishop had not any jurisdiction in this case; there is no law on the subject. The Conventicle Act only refers to worship, not to service or preaching." He said, that he "could see no difference whatever between worship and service." "But," I said, "I am sure the Bishop knows, and will acknowledge, the great difference between these two." Then, changing his tone, he said, "Now, come, there's a good fellow, don't preach at the Town Hall." "My dear man," I answered, "I am not a 'good fellow' at all I cannot give it up." "Then," he said, "at least please to defer your address for a week, till we can get the Bishop's decision." He asked so kindly and earnestly, and made such a point of it, that I consented to wait for the Bishop's answer, and defer the preaching for a week. He was very pleased, and said that I was indeed a 'good fellow', but the praise I got from him barely satisfied my conscience, and I was ashamed to meet my friends. I had not gone far before my courage failed; so, going back, I said that "I must withdraw my consent to defer the meeting. I will take the consequences and responsibilities, and go on." "No, no." cried the vicar, "I will arrange for the Postponement of your meeting. Look here, I have written out a notice for the crier; he shall go round the town at once, and tell the people that the meeting is unavoidably deferred for a week." I was very reluctantly persuaded to yield, and then went to my friend and told him what I had done. He was very much vexed with me, and said, "Then we must go at once and tell the mayor before he hears the crier." We did so, and found that this personage was disappointed too, and advised me to go away out of sight of the people. Accordingly, my friend and I went to a house which commanded a good view of the town and principal streets, from whence we could see the people assembling and dispersing. A large gang of them stood opposite my friend's house, and asked if I would not preach to them in the open air; and when they ascertained that the vicar had hindered the preaching, they were much exasperated. In the evening I went back to my own parish, and had the usual service, which I found very refreshing after so much bickering about technicalities. The Bishop's letter arrived in due time. In it his lordship said, that he "always had entertained a great esteem for me and my obedience to authority, and highly commended me for postponing or giving up my service at the above town." As he did not say a single word of prohibition, I immediately wrote to the mayor to expect me on the following Tuesday, "For the Bishop had not forbidden me," and I also wrote to the vicar to the same effect. Large bills, with large letters on them, announced that "the Rev. William Haslam will positively preach in the Temperance Hall at three o'clock on Tuesday next." The churchwardens of the parish were requested to attend the meeting, and protest, on behalf of the vicar, and also to present the archdeacon's monition. They stood beside me all the time, and after the service was concluded they showed me the archidiaconal instrument, with a great seal appended to it. They said that they "dared not stop that preaching," and so they took their monition back. This gave rise to a long correspondence in the newspapers, some taking part on my side, and some against me. Thus the question was ventilated, and finally concluded, by a letter from some one, who said, "The Bishop of Exeter is one of the greatest ecclesiastical lawyers we have, and if he cannot stop Mr. Haslam, the question is settled; for be sure his lordship has all the will to stop this preaching, and would do so if he had the power." From that time I never hesitated to preach the Gospel in any parish or diocese where I was invited. So few of the clergy asked me, that I was obliged to go out in spite of them, or, at any rate, without asking their consent, and in consequence of this, I am afraid I became obnoxious to many of my clerical brethren. Since then things are much changed. The Earl of Shaftesbury has succeeded in getting an Act passed through both Houses of Parliament, to settle the question about such services. Now any clergyman may preach in Exeter Hall, or any other public non-ecclesiastical building, without consulting the vicar of the parish. Besides this, a general disposition has arisen amongst the clergy, from one end of the land to the other, to have "missions," so that there is no need to work independently of clergymen, but with them, and very cheering it is to be thus employed. It was not pleasant to witness the scowl and the frown, nor to get the cold shoulder. Thank God, times are changed now; but I must needs tell of some of the scenes I was in, and the opposition I had to encounter, during the years that are gone by. CHAPTER 16 Opposition, 1853. I have been telling hitherto of blessing and prosperity in the Lord's work. Many more cases might have been mentioned, and many other things of not less moment and interest; but enough has been said, I hope, to show the character of the work, and give some idea of the amount of blessing which attended it. But it must not be supposed that the offence of the cross had ceased, or that the enmity of the carnal mind was never stirred; indeed, I always doubt the reality of a work which moves on without opposition. On the day of Pentecost, when the Holy Ghost was first given, while believers were rejoicing, and sinners were pricked to the heart, and some mocked, there arose the opposition of others, who resisted the influence of the Spirit; and being "cut to the heart," they gnashed with their teeth, and went forward in furious contention against the Lord's work. So it was with us. The opposition ran very high, but I do not think it was of malice or hatred, but rather "righteous indignation." The instigators of it were serious and earnest persons, who verily thought they were doing right. They tried first to save me from what they considered was my infatuation; and failing that, did all they could to save others from my bad influence. "I bear them record, that they had a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge." It was just such a zeal as I had before I was converted; therefore my heart's desire was drawn out towards them, and I made continual efforts to win them. One dear friend of old time said he felt "so hurt" because I was changed, and often wondered why "God did not strike me dead for all the harm I had done to the Church." Another said that he "should not be surprised if the very ground opened and swallowed me up for my fraternizing with schismatics. The sin of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram was nothing to mine." At the Clerical Meeting, which I attended notwithstanding all this stir against me, I was beset on every side with something more than loving reproaches; for evidently my old friends were very much grieved, and could not forgive me for what they considered the betrayal of Church principles. A special meeting or synod of the clergy was convened by the Rural Dean, to take into consideration among other things, my defection, and to decide what public notice should be taken on the subject of this great scandal. I also attended this meeting, and found my brethren in a very angry and excited state. One after another got up and made grievous charges against me, about the proceedings in my church and parish. The burden of their distress, however, seemed to be noise and excitement. They said that "There was brawling in my church, and howling in my schoolroom, women fainting and men shouting in a most fanatical manner. They had not witnessed these scenes themselves, but they were credibly informed of them. Moreover, they asserted, on good authority, that I preached a very different doctrine to that which was authorized by the Church. I had declared that there was no salvation by the Church and Sacraments, but by simple faith in Christ; that any man--it did not matter what his previous life had been--if he only came to my preaching, and did as I told him, would be saved." These, and many other such charges, were made and supported by shouts of "Hear! hear!" and cries of "Shame!" The Rural Dean said he was glad Mr. Haslam was present to answer for himself; he had observed that I had sat very quietly to hear others; and he now hoped that a patient hearing would be given to me. I rose, and said I was very thankful to be there, and to have this opportunity of testifying before them all that the Lord had converted my soul! There was a little interruption here, but after a time I was permitted to go on. I said that before I was converted, I was even more zealous than any of them against this change, and greatly prejudiced against it. I actually flogged a big boy in my school for going to a chapel and professing to be converted; this I did before all the children, and he promised that he would "never be converted any more." I could, therefore, well understand their present feelings, and said that I was not angry with them, but rather prayed that they might, in their turn, be enabled to see these things as I now saw them, and be saved as I was. Upon this, there arose a great disturbance. The Rural Dean gave me credit for candour, and said he thought I meant well, but that I implied too much against my brethren; however, he had said before, and would repeat it, that I had listened quietly' to what others had said, and that now I was entitled to a patient hearing a little longer. But this could not be, for I was stopped at every Fresh statement I made, and had so many questions put to me, that I begged for only one at a time. I was enabled to stand my ground calmly, and endeavoured to answer the charges in order as they were brought out. To all appearances, I had to stand quite alone in that tumultuous party. We had met at twelve o'clock, and after four hours were still in the heat of conflict. At last, to conclude this extraordinary meeting, one of the Clergy rose and said that he felt it was his painful yet necessary duty to propose that "a vote of censure be passed on Mr. Haslam." It was not seconded, and so fell to the ground. Whereupon, another rose '"to record a protest against revival meetings, as contrary to the usage of the Church." This also failed; and as no one else had anything to say, the conclave of divines broke up. What they would have said or done, if I had not attended to be torn to pieces by them, I know not; all I can say is, that they separated without eating me up. Some of them came to me afterwards and seemed pleased that I had stood my ground so good-naturedly, and thought that I had had a great badgering. The opposition did not stop there--sermons were preached in several of the neighbouring churches, and people earnestly warned against attending certain services, and told not to countenance them by their presence. The newspapers also took up the matter, and public report was not behind in its usual exaggeration. I give here an extract from a Letter I thought it necessary to write at this time, on "RELIGIOUS EXCITEMENT": "My Dear Sir,--I have been seriously considering, for some time, the necessity of making a public statement respecting the work of God in this place; with a view partly of drawing attention to an all-important, though very neglected subject; and partly with a view of giving some definite and authoritative form to the various and varied reports which are in circulation. It is vain to pretend to know nothing about them, and it is equally vain to suppose that reports about our proceedings are likely to lose less by repetition, than those on other subjects of less moment. "I embrace, therefore, the opportunity which your Sermon on RELIGIOUS EXCITEMENT offers, to make a statement. "I do remonstrate against your publishing to the world a sermon avowedly against 'proceedings connected with a neighbouring church;' and that instead of encouragement, counsel, and cooperation in what I know is the work of God, I receive this public rebuke. I make this remonstrance the more earnestly, because several of the opinions you have expressed, are not, as I believe, consistent with the teaching of our Church; and lastly, I venture to be the remonstrant, because I am the person, and mine the church, which are the objects of your animadversions. "You hold deservedly a high position among us in respect of rank and esteem for your piety and learning; but at the hazard of incurring the imputation of arrogance, I cannot, I must not, and I will not be unfaithful to the light in which I walk, by the grace of God; and therefore I do simply and plainly protest, in the first place, against the supposition that Excitement is a means which I am using, or an end I have in view; secondly, against the supposition that conversion is a gradual work, which is to be worked out by Sacraments and Means of Grace; and thirdly, against a teaching which supposes and actually declares that a Person may believe, may be pardoned, may be cleansed from sin, yet not know it." "In the sense in which you censure Religious Excitement, namely, as a means to 'force, as it were, the Spirit of the Lord,' and 'for the purpose of strongly working on the animal feelings, etc.,' it may be justly censurable. Those who make excitement the end and object of their endeavours in a religious movement, must soon find the emptiness of it; they throw dust into their own eyes, and will ever verify your words that 'excitement lifts up for a moment and then lets fall again,' and that 'like dram-drinking, it leaves those that indulge in it weaker than before.' "Those who really are engaged in the work of God, and especially conversion work, must meet with 'excitement.' It is impossible for a sinner, under connection of sin, to remain in a calm imperturbable state: or when the despairing sinner comes to a knowledge of that Saviour who made Atonement for him, to help being excited with joy. Noble or peasant, gentle or uneducated, I am sure there will be excitement, and overflowing joy and gladness. "A man who never felt himself a lost sinner, and never knew his need of the Saviour, may reason gravely of the impropriety of 'excitement,' and the man who has never experienced the liberty of deliverance from the 'horrible pit, and the mire and clay,' may seem to be wise on the subject of Christian joy; but he knows it not. The outburst of joy in the newly born child of God, is as undiscriminating as the joyous mirth of children. But it becomes more subdued as the child grows on to 'the conquering young man,' and more chastened still when the 'young man' attains to that state which St. John terms 'father.' This I have no doubt is the kind of Christian joy you expect to see, and without which you are not satisfied.* But, dear friend, remember the perfect Temple was not built in one, but three days. ____________________________________________ * "I write unto you, little children, because your sins are forgiven you for His name's sake. I write unto you, fathers, because ye have known Him that is from the beginning. I write unto you, young men, because ye have overcome the Wicked One."--1 John 2:12, 13. ________________________________________ "We are at foundation work; and you rebuke us for an unfinished temple! Your rebuke is not undeserved in one sense: we ought to have attained to great advancements, and to have begun long ago; but God has had patience with us. In this beginning' there seems to be confusion to superficial observers, and there must be 'excitement;' but this, as I said, is not the end in view, or the means we use. It is not long since I could reason a against 'excitement,' and thought as many do now, that in connection With religion it is irreverent, and unbecoming. "Oh, what a snare is this unfeeling 'propriety!' It is really a dislike of being aroused from sleep; a fearful hugging of oneself into apathetic security, and lying down in the arms of the Wicked One for a fatal slumber. Oh that I could 'excite' such persons! that I could arouse them! that by any means I could awaken these souls from the sleep of death! I would glory in the censure and rejoice in the blame. Would that I could reach your heart and the hearts of many of my other brethren; that we might unite together and raise a louder call! There should be a more excited blast, as from a trumpet, to stir the masses of those who come duly and regularly 'to hear us every Sunday,' a louder, stronger, and more urgent and thrilling cry, Repent! Repent! We want more fearless plain speaking, more personal appeal. It is not refined to preach of the grave and death, judgment and hell,--it is 'ranting:' but nevertheless let us 'rant;' let us be faithful; let us tell the sinner that he must die; and that he will die in his sins and perish for ever, except he repent and be converted that his sins may be blotted out. Let us tell him that he 'is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the Name of the only-begotten Son of God' (John 3:18): that 'the wrath of God abideth on him' (verse 35). Instead of arguments against 'excitement,' let us have a united cry against sin and frivolity wherever it is. There is excitement against 'excitement' now; let there be excitement, if you will, against indifference, and neglect of religion." Many of the proceedings in our parish were, I confess, more tumultuous than I could justify, more noisy and exciting than I thought needful; but I could not control the people. If they had been educated to ideas of propriety and self-control, the impulse of Divine power, which really then filled them, might have found expression in a more quiet and orderly manner. To hinder their rejoicings therefore, though they were considered so obnoxious, would have been to withstand the Spirit of God. As the people had not been taught better, I could not interfere with them; I would rather bear the obloquy of men. For instance, one day, by way of change, I had a meeting for the Bible Society, and invited some of the clergy who sympathized with its object. They attended, and others came out of curiosity "to see these revival people." We had a large gathering, and everything began smoothly. 'My Scripture-reader, who was naturally a most excitable and noisy man, tried to do his best before the clergy; he spoke of the sweet words which they had heard from the reverend speakers; it was charming, he said, to hear of a good cause supported in such "mellifluous accents," and so forth. He got a little wild towards the end, but on the whole he was to be praised for his kind efforts to give a quiet tone to the meeting'. By this time, our friend "Billy Bray" had appeared on the scene, and gave us chapter and verse from one end of the Bible to the other, on the subject of "dancing for joy." He propounded his theory, that if a man did not praise God, he would not rise in the resurrection; if he only praised God with his mouth, he would rise like those things carved on the tombstones, with swelling cheeks and wings; if he clapped his hands (suiting his actions to the words) he would have a pair of hands as well at the resurrection; and if he danced with his feet, he would rise complete. He hoped to rise like that, to sing, to clap his hands, dance, and jump too. The worst of jumping in this world, he said, was that he had to come down again, but even in heaven he supposed the higher he danced and jumped, the higher he would be; walking in heaven, to his mind, was praising God, one foot said "Glory," and the other "Hallelujah." Under Billy's original theories the people were warming up, and becoming a little responsive, and "Billy" himself was getting excited. In reference to some remarks which had been made by a previous speaker about Samson, he said that he felt as happy and strong as Samson; then suddenly he put his arms round me, as I was standing gesticulating and making signs to the people to be still, and taking me up as he had done once before, he carried me down the schoolroom, crying out, "Here go the postes! Glory! hallelujah!" It was useless to resist, for he held me with an iron grasp; so I remained still, hoping at every step that he would put me down. I suppose he imagined himself to be Samson carrying off the gates of Gaza. 'The people got what they called "happy," and shouted and praised God most vociferously. I gave out a hymn, but the joy of the Cornish people could not be restrained within the bounds of a tune, or form of words. Some of them became very excited and unmanageable; only those who have witnessed such scenes can understand what I mean. The power of God was great, though the demonstrations were very human. My visitors trembled with fear, and made their escape as precipitately as they possibly could. To those who are not in the power of the Spirit such rejoicings are unintelligible; lookers-on are stumbled or offended because they only see and feel the human manifestation, and not the Divine power; they are like people who get all the smoke, and none of the warmth of the fire. I made up my mind for the worst, for we had a reporter there, and some others who were only too ready to make the most of such a scene. Nevertheless I would rather have the same thing over and over again, than have the most stately and orderly ceremonials conjoined with spiritual death. These things, with all their proprieties, are very chilling to living souls, and all the more hurtful because dead souls are satisfied by them instead of being disturbed. Dear Mr. Aitken was very angry with us, when he heard the things which were reported; and, like a good spiritual father, he came over to teach us better. He preached one of his own strong sermons, on the difference between emotion and principle, and after beating us down very hard, his dear heart relented, and he tried to cheer and lift us up. This last is always an easy thing to do in Cornwall. The people soon responded to his efforts, and began to praise God; and then he took fire, and praised too. Mutually exciting and being excited, his powerful voice could be heard above the din of hundreds of shouting voices. The dear man was happy in his soul, and so was I, and we did not care a halfpenny for the outside world, newspapers, or anything else. We had obloquy with opposition; and even to my personal friends I could not give satisfactory explanations of these things. One suggested that I should read a paper at the next Clerical Meeting, and give a statement in exposition of my views and practices. This I consented to do, and Mr. Aitken kindly helped me to write it. On the appointed day I undertook to read it, on condition that no one interrupted me till I had finished. It was a hard task for them to sit still, but they managed to do so; and at the end, burst out upon me in a volley of censure and disapprobation. I was obliged to tell them that they were not converted, and therefore could not understand these things. I wrote a pamphlet to show that the Church of England's teaching was based on conversion, and not on baptism; and that the Reformation was to the Church of England what Conversion was to the individual reformers. Taking my own change as an illustration, I said, that I used to rest on Baptism and the Church, and that now I was standing on the Rock, Christ Jesus. Once I worked for life, and now I worked from life; that is, because I possessed it. I declared that this was the characteristic difference between the Church of England as it is, and as it was when connected with the Church of Rome. This pamphlet would not satisfy them. I then wrote and published a letter to the Archdeacon, in which, in my young zeal, I charged the clergy with being unconverted, and doing the devil's work of hindering the salvation of souls, and that they seemed to stand on their parish boundaries and say, "This is my parish, and you shall not come here to disturb the sleep of death which now reigns." This poured no oil upon the waters. I then wrote another pamphlet upon which I spent much time, thought, and prayer. I took the manuscript and read it to Mr. Aitken. He walked up and down in his large room, while I was reading, and ejaculated, as only he could, "Bless God! Glory be to God!" When I finished, I said, "Shall I print it?" He said, "It is worth printing, but it will do no good. It is like a little doggie barking at a dead elephant. We shall never convert the. Church as a body: we must try and get at individuals. I am quite convinced we shall not succeed unless we work in this, way." CHAPTER 17 Individual Cases, 1853. An Archbishop of Canterbury, in old times, contrasted public preaching with personal dealing in this way: When we preach, it is like dashing water from a bucket upon so many vessels which are arranged before us-some drops fall into one, and some into another, while others remain empty; but when we speak to individuals, it is like pouring water into the neck of a vessel. I gave up writing and printing pamphlets, and went on as quietly as I could with my own work, looking out for individual cases as they presented themselves in the providence of God. In this way, without fermenting controversy or keeping up public excitement, I was able more effectually to impart my meaning, than by printed statements, which I found were misunderstood or distorted; and what is more, I was able to apply the truth with an individual "Have you?" It would take more space than I can afford to tell of the souls which were gained in this way. I will give here only a few instances, which are interesting, and which will sustain the thread of my narrative. The first was in the case of one who began an argument on Baptismal Grace. I asked him what it was. "I know what converting or saving' grace is; but what is this?" He did not say more, than that in Baptism he was made a member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven. "But," I asked, "suppose you have not repented and believed, what then?" Receiving no answer, I continued, "Then, nothing; but the responsibility and the name." A few days afterwards he came to me, saying that I had made him quite miserable, and asked me whether I meant to deny the necessity of baptism. I said, "Certainly not, but the condition of faith and repentance must be fulfilled. Whatever Baptismal Regeneration may be, Spiritual Regeneration is the work of the Spirit in those who believe in Christ Jesus." After a long talk and prayer, he appeared to understand that a conscious change should be wrought in him, and a spiritual faculty imparted, by which he could "see the kingdom of God." He remained for the evening service and meeting in the schoolroom and was much impressed with what he witnessed. Instead of going away, he stayed with me till after midnight, when he found peace with God (as he said) in the church where we had been praying. Then he ordered his horse and rode home; but before he set out, he exacted a promise from me that I would not mention his conversion to any one. I consented to this, on the condition that he announce the change which had been wrought in him, from his pulpit on the following Sunday. A few days afterwards my friend came to me in a great rage, and charged me with announcing his conversion all over the town. I told him that I was not sure enough of it myself to say anything about it, and that I had not spoken to a single person on the subject. Still he seemed to doubt me, for he said his brother had been with him, and had told him that it was known all over the town that he had been to Baldhu, and that he was converted. Upon inquiry, I found out that my servant, who sat up till after mid-night to get his horse, had overheard our conversation, and was the offending party. I am always afraid of persons who are ashamed to acknowledge their conversion. My friend, I am sorry to say, made no announcement, but went on preaching as if he had always been the same, and consequently never came out to be of any use or help in the work. His testimony was indistinct also, and without any power. He became a very popular preacher afterwards, which was his great ambition, for he cared more for a large congregation than for Wining Souls. Soon after this, I fell across another of my old friends in the street. He tried to avoid me, but I went up and shook hands with him. At first he would not look at me, and said he was afraid of me because I had changed my views. I assured him that I had not changed anything, but that I had myself been changed. As he was listening, I went on to tell him that I had long tried to make myself good enough for God's acceptance, but finding that Christ would not receive reformed characters, I came to Him as a poor lost sinner, and He saved me. Seeing that he continued attentive, I was proceeding to make my meaning plainer, when he turned round, and looking sternly at me, said, "If I understand you, I am to cry for mercy as 'a common sinner.'" "Yes," I replied, being very pleased to find that he had understood me so well. "Then." he said, "I will do no such thing." With this, he turned away and departed. When he saw that I was following him, he said, "I desire you will not speak to me any more. I do not agree with you." One morning, a short time after, I was praying and meditating in the church, when it came to my mind forcibly that I must go to this man's parish. I rose from my knees forthwith, saying to myself that I would go; but immediately the thought came to me, "This suggestion is not from God, for He must know that my horse has lost two shoes, and could not go all that distance." However, I returned home, and went to the stable to inquire, when, to my surprise, I found that my man had taken the horse out very early in the morning, and had got him properly shod. "He is all right for a long journey, master," he said, "if you want to go." "Well," I said, "put on the saddle, and be ready in half-an-hour." I went in to prepare, and started in due time. On the way I was thinking what I would say, and how I would begin the conversation, for as yet I did not know the particular message I was to take. When I arrived at my friend's gate, I saw the marks of his horse's feet, as if he had just gone out. However, I rode up to the front door, and rang the bell. His wife appeared, and said that her husband had gone out, and would not be back before six o'clock; she added, "You look disappointed"; and so I was, for I thought the Lord had sent me with some message to him. The lady kindly asked me to put up my horse, saying, "Perhaps he may return sooner; you had better rest a little." I thanked her, and doing so, went in. As soon as we were seated, the lady said, "I have been wishing to see you for a long time; we have started more than once to visit you, when my husband's courage has failed him, and we have returned. He says that he loves you still; but, somehow, he is very much afraid of you." Then she went on to tell me that when they were removing from their late parish to where they now were, having sent all their furniture on, they were driving in their own carriage; and that coming along ever a bleak and desolate moor, the horse took fright at something, they knew not what, and ran away. Because it could not get along fast enough from its imaginary object of fear, it began to kick, and breaking the carriage in pieces, made its escape, leaving her and her husband on the ground. He was not much hurt, and soon rose, and came to help her. She was severely bruised, and her leg was broken besides. He managed to drag her gently to the side of the road, where there was a little bank, and, colleting some of the broken pieces of the carriage, he placed them round her for protection, and hurried off in order to get assistance. He had to go two miles and was absent nearly three hours. During that time she suffered great pain, but it came to her mind all at once that her sins were pardoned; she was exceedingly happy, and could not help thanking and praising God. In this state her husband found her when he returned, and on hearing her talk, became very unhappy, because he thought that besides her leg, her head was broken too; and that she was going out of her mind. She assured him over and over again that she was wonderfully well, and really happy; but he could not bear to hear her talk like that, and said that he should go mad also, if she did not stop. During the six weeks she was laid up, he continually brought doctors and clergymen to talk her out of her delusion as he thought it, but without avail. Her happiness continued for several months, and then gradually died away. She asked me, "Can you tell me the meaning of this?" I was deeply interested with her experience, and told her that I had read of a similar one only a few days before. My heart now began to cheer up, for I saw why I had been sent to this place. I at once pointed her to passages of Scripture, where we are told that we have forgiveness of sins through the blood of Jesus, and I put Christ crucified before her as the object of faith. I told her, that as certainly as the blood Jesus had been shed, there was mercy and forgiveness for her. I said, "I believe it, and have forgiveness: and you may have it too; not because you feel happy, but because Jesus died." She did believe, and we rejoiced together. She exclaimed, "Oh that the Lord would change my husband's heart, and bring you here for a revival!" "Very well," I said, "let us ask Him," and we did so. I then rode home raising God. Before leaving, I promised to come again on the following Wednesday. I kept my word, and had an interview with her husband; but it was not encouraging. He said he could not agree to ask for mercy as a sinner, because he had been baptized. Some months afterwards his manservant came to me on horseback at three o'clock in the morning, to say that his master was very bad, and would I come as soon as possible and see him. I asked, "What is the matter?" "Oh, bless the Lord," said the man, "it'll all about his soul! ....That is right" I replied, thanking God; "I will go with you at once," and immediately I saddled my horse, and rode back with him. I found my friend was under deep conviction, and in the greatest misery; he now thought that he was a most "uncommon sinner," and that there was no mercy for him, there could not be any! After a time he acknowledged the power of God to forgive sin, and declared that he believed in Christ, and I was led to say "he that believeth hath everlasting life." Upon this text he found peace, and we all praised God together. The Sunday following, he asked the congregation to thank God with him for having saved his soul; and in his sermon told them something of his experience. Subsequently his church became the centre of a work of God, as Mr. Aitken's church and mine were in our respective neighbourhoods. The power of the Lord overshadowed the place, and there was as usual a simultaneous melting of hearts all over the parish, and a running together of the people to hear the Word, and what is better to obey it. Then followed a true Cornish revival with full manifestations, and Mr. Aitken came to preach. The fire was burning and shining before; but when this mighty man stirred it, it rose to a tremendous height. The excitement of the parson and people was intense, and hundreds of souls were added to the Church, who had been brought from the death of sin into the life of righteousness which all the previous preaching on Baptism and the Lord's Supper had failed to produce. CHAPTER 18 A Visit to Veryan, 1853. Next, I will tell of a clergyman who was altogether different to the others I have mentioned. He was one to whom I was much attached, although we were diametrically opposed to one another, especially in my Puseyite days. He was Evangelical; I was High Church; consequently, we fell out more or less, at every meeting, though we never really quarrelled. After my conversion I made sure this friend would sympathize with me; but I found to my disappointment he was in reality more opposed now than before, because I had become, as he called it, "a dissenter." He would scarcely speak to me, and said, he was not so sure of my conversion as I was, that he would give me seven years to prove it, and then pronounce. I said, "You are an old bachelor, and know nothing about the treatment of babies; we do not put our babies out on the lawn for seven days before we decide whether they are born or not!" He could not resist joining in the laugh against his inexperience in this respect, although he was not over-pleased. With all his head-knowledge of Gospel truth, he had not seen anything of the work of the Spirit, and moreover, like too many others, could not distinguish between death and grave-clothes. Because I announced some sacramental views after my conversion, he fancied that I must be dead still; whereas these were only the grave-clothes in which I used to be wrapped. We shall speak more of this hereafter. One day, he came to me and said, "I have been thinking for some time that I should like to come to your church one Sunday, and see your work." I agreed to this with thanks, as the first sign of sympathy I had found in him, and said, "Shall I go and take your services in exchange?" "Oh no, certainly not; I wish you to be present in your own church. I will preach in the morning; and in the evening I will be there to see and hear you." We soon fixed upon the day. He came to dinner with us the previous Saturday, but before he would sit down he must needs go into the Church, and adjust the height of the pulpit, and see that all other things were to his taste. He asked me if I would remove the candlesticks from the communion table, and let him preach in a black gown. These were all matters of indifference to me now, so I readily acceded to his wishes. Having completed his arrangements, we spent a very pleasant evening together, talking over the work in the place, and then went to the weekly prayer-meeting; but he took no part. On Sunday morning the service was conducted at his request, in the usual manner, excepting that he stood away in the eastern corner of the north side of the table, "scrootching" away like a Papist, as the people described it. They had been accustomed to see me stand at the western or outside corner of the north side. He was much amused at this criticism. Then he went into the vestry, having asked for an interlude on the organ before the last verse of the Psalms (for we sang the metrical version in those days), and while this was being played he came sailing out again, and swept up the steps into the pulpit. He gave us an excellent sermon--preached, as the Cornish people say, "to a form," that is with a manuscript before him; though he did not look at it much. He showed it to me afterwards; it certainly was a curious thing, done in cyphers and hieroglyphics of his own; again and again there appeared a figure with two horns and a tail; this, he told me, stood for Satan; there were also many other striking signs. He preached with far more animation than was his wont, and towards the end of his sermon seemed to forget his manuscript altogether, and leaned over the front of the pulpit, gesticulating with his hands, and looking at the people. They got very excited, and followed every sentence with some response, till he became excited also. When he came down from the pulpit, he said that he had never preached with such help before; he had quite enjoyed his own sermon, and that now he thought he understood the secret of what I called being "converted." He came in the afternoon to the catechising of the children, and expressed himself very pleased with their behaviour, and readiness in answering questions. In the evening, he sat in a part of the church where he could see the congregation, and the preacher, and so make his desired observations. The service was, perhaps, a little more animated than usual, and the sermon may have been the same. After this was over, he went with me into the school-room, where he heard the people pray, and also thank God for the morning sermon. Several souls were brought in that evening. About ten o'clock at night we returned home, when my friend declared he had never known a day like this in all his ministry, and never heard of such things as he had seen. "Your congregation," he said, "is like the waves of the sea, and mine like a glassy mill-pond. Now I must have you come and preach in my church. I wonder what the effect will be." I agreed, and we fixed upon the second Sunday, as he wanted a week to announce my coming. I was quite eager for the time, and when Saturday arrived, I set off, intending to stay for several days. On Sunday morning the church was filled from end to end, the people being on the tip-toe of expectation. Many anxious ones remained after the sermon to be spoken with, about their souls. The church was scarcely cleared, before the men came to ring the bells for the afternoon service. This time, the passages, chancel, pulpit-stairs, and every available corner were crowded, and the congregation certainly did not look like a "mill-pond," but more like "the waves of the sea." At the close of this service, the people begged for another in the evening. The vicar said, "Oh, that is impossible, for I dine at six o'clock." "But," I involuntarily added, "do not mind the dinner; I can come, if you like." He gave me such a look! I continued, "I have had dinner enough for to-day. I can take the service alone, if you are agreeable." "But we have no lamps for the church. It cannot be." I was silenced now, and gave up the point; when the churchwarden came forward and said he would be responsible for lighting the church. The vicar at last consented, on condition that he was allowed to have his dinner in peace. As the time approached, however, he put off that important meal, and joined me in a cup of tea, after which we went together to the third service. This time it was as much as we could do to get it, and when we did succeed a most striking sight presented itself. The whole church was lighted from the pews. Some of the wealthier people had lamps, but the others had candles, one, two, or more in their respective compartments. From the pulpit it looked more like a market scene than a church congregation. I had liberty in preaching, and the people were greatly moved, some of them greatly agitated-indeed, so much so, that the vicar thought he would not have another service in the church, and accordingly announced that the Monday evening meeting would be held in a building which he named, in a village about two miles off. This was a large barn-like structure, where they cured fish in the season, but at other times it was unoccupied. The next day happened to be very wet, and, added to this, in the evening it began to blow as well. Notwithstanding this inclemency, when we arrived at the "fish-cellar," as it was called, we found it crammed with people, the women and children occupying the ground, and sitting there on straw, which had been provided for the occasion, the men and boys were sitting on the cross-beams of the roof. The heat in the place was stifling beyond all description, for besides being densely crowded below and above, the wooden shutters were shut, on account of the wind and rain, the people's wet clothes were steaming, and there was a strong smell of stale fish. At first we felt as if it would be impossible to bear it, but after a little time we became used to the disagreeables, and had other things to think about. I gave out a hymn, and after a short prayer commenced the address, speaking as loud as I could, that all the congregation might hear me. During the sermon, the responses were most vociferous and hearty, and the attention very encouraging. After speaking for about thirty minutes, I observed a tall, fine-looking fisherman, in large high boots, who had come in late. He was standing in the little vacant space before the table, on which were placed two candles and a glass of water. I saw, as the address went on, that though he was very quiet, his breast was heaving with emotion, as if something was passing in his mind. All at once, without a moment's notice, he fell on the ground, and bellowed out a loud prayer for "God's mercy--I want God's mercy!" Besides upsetting the table--candles, water, and all--which went down with a great crash, he fell on one or two women, who screamed, in their fright and consternation, as only women can. If this had been a preconcerted signal, it could not have been more effectual, for there was instantly a simultaneous as well as an universal outcry. The whole place was filled with a confused din of voices; some were praying, some singing, some shouting, and others exhorting, and that at the top of their voices, in order to be heard. In the midst of this I began to sing a hymn, hoping to restore order, and many joined me; but it only added more sound to the uproar. The good vicar was overwhelmed with fear and dismay, as well he might be, at this tumultuous scene. It was bad enough to stand and look at the waves of the sea; but when they rose and broke, as it were, on the shore where he was standing, and surrounded him, it was altogether too much. He made for the door, and, waiting there, beckoned me to him. When I came he suddenly opened it, and drew me out, saying, "There will be no peace till you are out of this place." The extreme change from the hot cellar into the cold and pitiless wind and rain was so great, that we fled precipitately to the cottage which stood opposite. Happily, the door was on the latch, and we went in. I felt about in the dark for a chair, but not finding one, sat on the table, listening to the noise and din of the meeting. The vicar vainly thought that the tumult would subside as soon as I was gone, for he said that I "made as much noise, if not more, than any of them!" He went back into the storm to get my hat and coat, and also the inevitable umbrella, without which no one can get on in Cornwall. He was a long time absent, during which a man with heavy boots came into the dark cottage where I was sitting, and tumbling down on a seat somewhere, heaved a heavy sigh. He evidently did not suspect that any one was there. After sighing and groaning several times, he said to himself, "What shall I do?--what shall I do? The man is right, sure enough; he is right, I'm sure on it--that he is." I disguised my voice, and asked, "What man?" "Oh," he said, "are you there, neighbour? Couldn't yer get in? Why, I mean the man what's been speaking inside." "What did he say?" "Why, said he, 'the devil's no fool!' and of course he ain't. He has hooks in all his baits, and I have swallowed lots o' them. Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" Then I heard him shuffling to his knees, groaning and praying. I sat still on the table, saying, "Amen! amen!" every now and then, to his prayer, till he became terribly in earnest, and at last got into a which the Cornish call "wrastling in prayer." In this condition he was quite past heeding any one's presence. I helped and guided him to the Crucified and then he found peace, and began to praise. On coming to himself, he recognized my voice. "You are the very man," he cried, and putting great heavy arms round my neck, he nearly strangled me! The vicar (who I did not know was in the room), here interposed, and got my release. "Here you are," he said, "at it again, and they are getting worse and worse in the barn--what ever is to be done? We cannot go home through this rain, and the carriage will not be here for at least an hour. What am I to do?" I said, "Let us go then to the barn for a short time, just to see how they are getting on." After some hesitation, he went in with me, and found the people praying and rejoicing; but, as I expected, far too much absorbed to observe our presence. After a time, some of the lads noticed me and cried out lustily, "The parson is here! The parson is here!" and in a moment we were surrounded by a number of happy people, who were so demonstrative that they made the poor vicar tremble (as he told me afterwards) with a strange fear. They said, "You will come again to-morrow?" "Certainly," I replied. "Oh, no," rejoined the vicar; "on no account. One night of this work is quite enough--more than enough." I was very loth to give up; but a man said, "Never mind, we will carry it on. This revival will not stop for a week or fortnight, for certain." This was terrifying news for the vicar, who turned, and looking at me with astonishment, said, reproachfully, "How did you do it?" I replied, "This is not my work. I did not begin it, neither can I stop it; nor would I, even if I could. I dare not. I have known persons brought under heavy judgment for hindering a revival. Take my advice, and do not hinder this. Let these men go on; they know what they are about." Soon the carriage came, and we returned to the vicarage; but the dear man was much put out, and evidently very sorry that he had asked me to come and disturb his mill-pond. Indeed, he said as much; so I concluded my visit the next morning. Going through the village, I heard that the meeting on the previous evening was continued until two o'clock in the morning, and that it was announced there would be one in the chapel that evening. As the Church refused the blessing, there were others who were happy to receive it. I returned home sooner than I was expected, and told my people, at the evening meeting, the things I had seen and heard; and they "glorified God." CHAPTER 19 A Mission in the "Shires." 1853. At the time of which I am writing, twenty-six or twenty-seven years ago, special services for preaching were not called by the name of "Missions." I think that word has been derived from some Roman Catholic perverts, who made aggressive efforts in London, which they called "Catholic Missions." From them it has been adopted by some who love to copy Rome and Romish phrases. Strange infatuation, by which these Romanizers in vain court a Church which despises them, and gives them neither place nor quarter! However, the word is now well understood, and its meaning is plainer than any definitions of mine could make it. My first journey to "foreign parts" (as the Cornish call it) was to a town in Devonshire, where I stopped three or four days. The day I arrived I preached in the church, because it was the regular evening service; special services were not then known, unless it was for some Missionary Society, or other such advocacy. The idea of preaching to awaken souls, was considered very strange and fanatical. The church I preached in had high pews, which prevented my seeing the occupants. I was told that it was full, and certainly there were faces visible here and there; but the whole congregation was so still, that the dropping of the proverbial "pin" might have been heard. It was all very chilling and dead, no "Amens!" or "Glory!" as in Cornwall; indeed, the stillness had such an effect upon me, that I found it difficult to get on. After making two or three hard appeals, and meeting with nothing but silence for a response, I concluded, and came away much disappointed and disheartened. However, the next morning, the vicar showed me some beads, leathers, and flowers which had been left in the pews of the church. So I found that the shots had hit somewhere, or something. Walking through the town in the course of the day, a tall mason, with a large whitewash brush in his hand, came running after me (not to whitewash me) but to ask the question, which he did most eagerly, "Are you the man that preached last night?" I said, "Yes, I am." "Oh," he replied, "will you preach tonight?" I answered him somewhat doubtfully, "I suppose not," for the vicar did not know what excuse there could be for my preaching a second time. He continued, "Will you come to my house and preach this evening? I have a good large room at your service, and can promise you a congregation." I assented; so we fixed the time, and made all other necessary arrangements. On coming down in the evening, I found my mason friend had invited his neighbours, and finding more had promised to come than his room would hold, he had opened the folding doors between two rooms upstairs, taken down three large bedsteads, and having borrowed forms and chairs, he was able to accommodate seventy people. As many as this came, and more, for men and women stood on the stairs and landing besides. We sang heartily, and after prayer, I felt a little more at home than I had done on the previous evening'; but it was not up to Cornwall yet! In my address I had liberty and power to hold the people, and we had some conversions that evening, and the following one also. My mason friend was greatly cheered and revived, and from this time began reaching himself, carrying on meetings in various cottages and farm places. From there I went on into Dorsetshire, and arrived at the vicarage to which I was going, rather late on Saturday night, very tired; so much so, that I was glad to go to bed as soon as possible. On Sunday morning I went to church and preached to a large congregation, the words which God gave me. On coming out, the vicar's wife said, "If I had sat up all night telling you about the people, you could not have preached more appropriately; indeed, I am sure that some of them will think that I told you what to say." It was so, for this same lady was charged with telling me to put before some of the congregation things which her husband dared not! In the evening the church was crammed to excess, and the people were most attentive and eager. Some of them could scarcely restrain their feelings, so powerfully did the Word come home to them. At the conclusion of the service, I announced that I had come there to preach every night for the week, and would visit them during the day. Accordingly in the morning I called at several cottages, in one of which King George the Third used to attend a prayer-meeting with the country people. In the afternoon I went to the convict prison at Portland. It was sad to look upon the prisoners clanking about in their chains, many of whom were employed in making a road to the sea. I could not help saying to the chaplain, who was walking with me, "What a picture is that! It is exactly how Satan employs unbelievers to make their own road to hell. As such, they are condemned already, because they do not believe in Christ; and for the same reason, their sins not being pardoned, they are bound in chains." "Well," said the chaplain drily, "that seems all clear and scriptural. Would you like to speak to them?" "Yes," I said, "I should." He then made a sign to the warder, who commanded that the convicts should give attention, and the order was at once obeyed. Standing on the bank, I spoke to them as they were assembled before me; but instead of telling them of the devil and chains, as the chaplain expected, I spoke of God's love to sinners, and said that "chastisement and sorrows were not sent in anger, but in kindness. God is angry when the wicked are allowed to go on unpunished; but when punished in this world, it is not for expiation of sin (for only the blood of Jesus can do that), but for the purpose of awakening and humbling the transgressor, that he may with contrite heart return to the Lord, who alone is able to deliver us from sin and from Satan's power. 'It is good,' said the Psalmist, 'that I have been afflicted: before I was afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept Thy word.'" Many of the men were so affected, that they sobbed aloud, and I could scarcely refrain from doing the same thing myself. After this I prayed that the word spoken might be blessed to those who had heard it, and then took my leave. It was not easy to dismiss this sad scene from my mind, nor have I ever lost the impression it made upon me. We had a very good time that evening in the church, and there was much power and blessing. At the close of the service, I gave out that I would preach again the following evening, and having no opportunity for an after-meeting, the word preached was left with prayer for a blessing on it. The next morning there came an unexpected, as well as a most abrupt, opposition to the work; and no wonder, for it was not likely that Satan would permit it to go on smoothly. A vicar from the neighbourhood, who had formerly been a military man, and had still the commanding manner of such, presented himself, and tried to terrify my good and kind friend, the vicar. He told him that he had heard a great deal about me; that I was just like Starkie,* and preached the same doctrines; and that he was deputed by other clergymen to come and ask that my preaching be stopped. Then he went on to say that I was nothing less than a Jesuit in disguise; and turning; to me, he said, "Sir, you know you are!" I replied, begging his pardon, "I can assure you I am not. You must be altogether misinformed." But he said, again turning round, and sternly looking at me, "You know I am not mistaken or misinformed; your countenance betrays you!" I smiled at this, not knowing how my countenance looked. He was quite satisfied with himself, and rather more so because he thought he had succeeded in extracting a promise from the vicar that the services in question should be stopped. __________________________ * A clergyman who had associated himself with H. J. Prince and some others, and founded the "Agapemone" at Spaxton, near Bridgewater. _________________________ This officer-clergyman then went away, saying that he was quite convinced in his mind that I was a Jesuit, and nothing should ever dissuade him; this interview had confirmed his thoughts on the subject. My dear good friend was so afraid of that loud, overbearing man, that he consented to give up the services after that night. Presently another clergyman, evidently in concert with the former, called on the same errand. His more gentle manner and plausible words had greater effect, so that the vicar more than half decided to have no service, even on that evening. Before he had fully made up his mind, it so happened that there came on a tremendous thunderstorm, accompanied with hail and vivid flashes of lightning. This was considered by him quite providential, and an indication that God wished the services stopped. When the sexton came over to the vicarage, a little before the service time, the vicar said, "Don't ring the bell for church tonight; it is of no use: no one can possibly come out this weather!" "Why, sir," said the sexton, "the church have been crammed full this half-hour. It's no use ringing the bell, sure, for we ain't got no room for no more people." "Now, that is remarkable," said the vicar. "I do think, after all, the Lord would have us go on. What do you think?" he said, turning to me. I replied, "Without doubt I think so. I cannot suppose that the Lord would send such men, in such a tone, to stop His work." "Well, then," said the vicar, "we will go on till the end of the week." But this could not be; for in the morning, as soon as he had decided to stop the services, I sat down and wrote to a cousin of mine, in the neighbourhood (and the letter had gone), to get me the parish church for the next evening, and said, "I would come to her on a visit for a few days, as my preaching in this place was brought to an end." I spoke that evening, and announced that I would do so again on Thursday. On the following day I went on this promised visit to another part of the county, and was not long in the company of my cousin, before I found out that she had been brought up in Evangelical doctrines, and hated Puseyism; but that she had never been converted. In the evening, we went to the Minster Church, the use of which she had obtained for me. There, I preached from the words, "Behold, I stand at the door and knock." (I did not know then, as I old now, that this is a text for believers.) Accommodating it for my purpose, I made out that many people assented to evangelical doctrines, without yielding to them: that is, they heard the knocking, but did not open the door and receive the Saviour; therefore, they remained unsaved; and if they died like that, would be lost for ever! When I first ascended the pulpit, which stood outside of a high chancel screen, I looked towards the nave, and saw it filled with high pews, which, as I thought, were for the most part empty; whereas, I could see that the choir and chancel, which was brightly lighted, was full of choir-men and boys, besides many people; so instead of turning my back upon the many in the lighted chancel, and addressing myself to the unseen few in the large dark nave, I turned round in the pulpit, and, looking through the screen, I preached to those I could see. The people in the nave, however, were most attentive to hear; and after the sermon came up and asked me why I had turned my back on them, for they could not hear all I said. Evidently they had heard something which had interested them. Seeing so many were anxious, we invited those who wished for further help, or instruction, to come home with us. Many did so, and we held a kind of after-meeting, in which my cousin and several others found peace. I could not promise to stay there any longer, having settled to return on Thursday to resume services in the church previously referred to. Accordingly I went back to a neighbouring town, where my good vicar had appointed to meet me. He did so, and, without delay, commenced telling me, that he had had a long talk with some of his brother clergymen, and had given his word that the services were positively to be discontinued after that night; he also told me he had taken my place by the coach, and that I was to start for Exeter the next morning, on my way home. Then he went on to say that he found it would be dangerous to keep me any longer, for he should have the whole neighbourhood up about it. In his timidity, he would rather let the work stop, than be embroiled with the neighbourhood! The evening service was crowded, and the people were very disappointed that I was not allowed to remain. However, I told them it could not be, and that I must go--so took leave of them. The next morning we rose early, and breakfasted at six o'clock, then drove out to the turnpike road, to meet the coach at an appointed corner, at seven. It arrived in due time, piled up high into the air with passengers and luggage; but having an inside place secured for me, we were not dismayed at the outside appearance. The coachman got off the box, and, instead of opening the coach door as we expected, put some money into my hand, and, with a grinning countenance, said, "There's your money, sir. Sorry to say can't take you today; hain't got a crevice of room anywhere. Good morning, sir." In a moment more he was up on his box, with reins in hand. "Take you tomorrow, sir, same time. Good morning." And off he went'. Imagine our surprise at being left on the roadside in this unceremonious way. My good little vicar was most indignant at being thus treated. "I'll make him pay for that," he said. "I'll punish him--it's against the law." And then, as if a new thought had suddenly come to him, he said, "Ah, I know what we will do! Jump into the carriage again"; and putting my luggage in, he got up, and drove me to the next town. He said, "We will take a post-chaise, and make the coach people pay for it; that's it--that's what we will do." I suggested that I did not think we could do that, having received the money back. "Ah, that's nothing," he said; "that's nothing. We will take a post-chaise." This scheme was prevented; for on arriving at the hotel, there was not a carriage of any kind to be had. "Are you sure of that?" said the vicar (as if all the world was in league with the coach proprietor). "Are you quite sure?" "You had better come and see for yourself," said the ostler, in a surly tone. We went into the yard, and found the coach houses quite empty. "That's very remarkable," said the vicar; "but these people are connected with that coach--it changes horses here. We will go to the next inn." There they did not let out carriages at all! "Well now," said the vicar, "this is very remarkable," and was silent. "Perhaps the Lord does not mean me to go today," I said meekly. "It seems so, certainly. I must say it is very remarkable." I suggested that I would stay at the inn till the next morning, as there was no means of getting on. "Shall I do so?" "Oh, no; certainly not--certainly not," said the kind man. "Not at all--not at all. We will go back again." "But," I said, "what will they think when they see me?" Poor dear man, like many others he was dreadfully frightened at the thought of "what will they think?" As if "they" did not go on thinking whether one gives them occasion or not. In due course, we arrived again in sight of the vicarage gate, and there we saw the vicar's wife, with her hands up in astonishment. She exclaimed, "What! are you come back?" "Yes, we are indeed!" said the vicar, and he was going to tell her how it was, but she was too impatient to listen, having, as she thought, something more important to communicate. She said, "After you went away this morning, the weather being so fine, I thought that I would go into the village, and see some of the people who were at church last evening. In passing by widow S.'s cottage, on my way to another, I saw her door and window open, and heard her praying very earnestly, 'Lord, bring him back! bring him back!' I thought she was praying about her husband, who had recently died; and that I would go in and try to comfort her. So I knelt down by her side, and repeated the words, 'I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me,' when she turned round' and said, 'Oh, I don't mean that!' and then, as if she grudged every breath which was spent in other words, she went on repeating, 'Lord, bring him back! Lord, bring him back!' "'Who do you mean?' I said, 'what can you mean?' "She went on, 'O Lord, I saw him go away. I saw them take him away. Lord, bring him back! bring him back!' "I again said, 'Who do you mean?' "She took no heed, but went on, 'O Lord, when I opened the window I saw him coming out of the vicarage gate. Lord, bring him back! do bring him back!' "At last I understood that she was praying for you to be brought back. Then I said to her, 'Dear woman, do get from your knees, and let me talk to you.' No, she would not get up. "No, I can't get up. Lord, bring him back! bring him back!' "It cannot be,' I said; 'he is on the coach by this time--a long way off.' The woman became frantic at the thought. 'Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do? Lord, bring him back!' "Seeing that I could do nothing in the matter, I went to call on some other people, and coming back found the widow still on her knees, urging the same petition without stopping." "Well, that is remarkable," interposed the vicar. Without a moment's pause, I set off to show myself to the widow. "Now! there you are," she said; "the Lord has sent you back. I laid awake best part of the night, thinking of some questions I wished to ask you; and when I saw you go away like that, so early in the morning, it gave me quite a turn. I thought I should be lost for ever!" Her questions concerned her soul's condition. On my putting Christ and His salvation before her for her acceptance, she found peace; and afterwards became a good helper in the parish. There were some other anxious ones she urged me to visit, which I did. On referring to my letters, written at the time, I find a record of five persons who professed to find peace that morning. In the evening, we had a kind of service in the school-room, with as many as we could get together, and spent a very happy time in prayer and praise. The next morning I started for home, which I reached late on Saturday night, or rather early on Sunday morning, and appeared quite unexpectedly among my people again. I gave them an account of the state of things in the "shires." This, my first experience of "foreign missions," was not encouraging. Ever since my conversion, I had been over head and ears in conversion work, and, as a loyal young convert, thought at that time there was nothing else in the world to live, or work for! How surprised I was when I found that this was not by any means the first thing in the minds of my Evangelical brethren; and more so still when I saw that even preaching for the salvation of souls was put aside altogether, if 'it did not fit in with the stated service-day of the week, or public opinion. If people came to church, or better still, to the communion table, they were considered quite satisfactory enough, even though they were dead in trespasses and sins. I did not, of course, expect anything from my own neighbours, for I knew them of old; but from accredited "standard bearers," I did expect something and got nothing. While I was still feeling sore and disappointed, intending not to go out on such errands any more, I found myself promised to another mission in a most unexpected manner; but this did not happen to be out of Cornwall, and therefore prospered better, as we shall see. CHAPTER 20 A Stranger from London, 1853. A lady in London, reading in the Cornish newspapers about our revivals, became much interested, and having a strong desire to witness such a movement personally, proposed a visit to her uncle in Truro, who had sent her those papers. Being accepted, she came down a long way in those days, when railway communication was not so complete as it is now. This same lady was present at my church on Sunday morning; and expressing a wish to attend the afternoon service, we gladly welcomed her to the parsonage. In course of conversation, she spoke of churches in London where the Gospel was preached in its fullness; and I naturally asked her whether they had "after-meetings." She said, she did not know what I meant. "Prayer meetings, for conversion work, I mean." "What is that?" she inquired. "Is not conversion God's work?" "Yes," I answered, "indeed it is; but so is the harvest yonder in the corn-fields: it is all God's work, but men have to plough the ground and sow the seed." "Oh, is that what you call revival work? I have read of it; and, to tell the truth, I have come all the way from London to see it." She evidently had an idea that revivals were something like thunder-storms, which come of themselves, no one knows how or why; or something that is vented, like an occasional eruption of Mount Vesuvius. I said, "Revivals--that is, the refreshening of believers and the awakening of sinners--ought to take place wherever the Gospel is preached in faith and power." She could not understand it, and said, "It is not so in churches, is it?" "Yes," I replied, "in churches as well as in cottages, halls and chapels too." "I am sure Mr. ---- in London preaches a full Gospel, but I have never heard of a revival there; indeed, I feel convinced they would not allow it." "Is he converted?" I asked. She smiled at the question, and said, "I suppose he is." "I mean, does he preach about the forgiveness of sins? and, more than this, does he expect people to have forgiveness?" She said she could not understand my Cornish way of talking--"They do not speak like that in London." "Your sins are pardoned," I said, by way of explanation, in order to get her to comprehend my meaning from her own experience. "Your sins are pardoned." She got very confused. "You know," I continued, "that it is a happy day when Jesus takes our sins away." This only made matters worse. She became greatly embarrassed. While we spoke of London and Gospel preaching she was free enough; but the moment I made a personal application of the subject, she was altogether bewildered. At last, with a kind of forced effort, she said, "I have been a child of God for eleven years." "Thank God!" I said, much relieved; "that is what I mean. You have been converted and pardoned for eleven years. It is all right, then. I did not intend to perplex you, and am sorry I did not convey ray meaning in a better manner." But I could not smooth down her ruffled feathers so easily, and was glad when the five minutes' bell began ringing to summon us to church. We got ready, and went. It happened to be a children's service, and our subject that afternoon was Joseph's reconciliation with his brethren. Three questions, among others, were asked and dwelt upon. First, "Was Joseph reconciled with his brethren while they were self-convicted before him, and condemned themselves as verily guilty concerning their brother?"--"No." Second, "Was he reconciled when he feasted with them, and made merry?"--"No." Third, "When, then, was he reconciled?"--"When they surrendered themselves, and all the eleven were prostrate at his feet, like the eleven sheaves which bowed to Joseph's sheaf in the harvest field; then he made himself known to them, and forgave them. It is not when a soul is under condemnation, nor yet when it is happy, that it is saved; but when it is actually, once for all, surrendered to Christ for salvation, then it is He makes himself known to them, even as Joseph did to his brethren." The lady went away. I did not ascertain who she was, nor where she came from; I was not much taken with her, nor was she with me. Hers was evidently a kind of religion which I had not met with before, and did not care to meet with again. The next day I went for a few hours' rest and change to the sea-side at Perran, but there was a burden of prayer on my soul. I could not thank God for that unknown lady, but I could pray for mercy for her. The impression on my mind was very clear: I felt that she was not saved. The day following the burden was heavier still, and I was on my knees praying for her for several hours in the day. In the evening I was quite in distress. The next day I was most anxious for her, and could do nothing but pray, even with tears. This lasted till the following day (Thursday), when I happened to go into the drawing-room for something, and there I observed a strange Bible lying on the table. I remembered that I had seen that same book in the lady's hand on Sunday. I took it up, and saw a name, and on making inquiry of the servants I found out that she came in Mr. --'s carriage on Sunday. This was enough. I wrote a note immediately, and sent the Bible, saying that I was greatly burdened for her soul, and should much like to see her. She sent me a kind letter in reply, appointing the following Monday for my visit. On that day I called, and found her very kind, and seemingly thankful for the interest I expressed in her welfare. I said that she had nothing really to thank me for, for I could not help myself; the burden had been laid upon me. Then I asked her if she would tell me how she became a child of God. She did so readily, and told me that once she was in the world, and as fond of dancing and pleasure as others with whom she associated; that in the midst of her gaiety she was called to the death-bed of a cousin, who was just such a lover of pleasure as herself. Her cousin said, "Oh, Mary, give up the world for my sake. I am lost! Oh, Mary, give it up!" Soon she died, poor girl, just awakened enough to see and feel herself hopelessly lost--a dying worldling. No one was near to point her to the Saviour, so she departed as she had liked to live, without salvation. Mary wept at the remembrance of that solemn scene, and said she could never forget it. "Well," I said, "and what did you do then?" She answered firmly, "I knelt down then and there, by the side of the bed where my poor cousin had just died, and I called God to witness that I would give up the world. I did so; and have never had any inclination to go back into its gaieties and pleasures since. I began from that time to pray, and read my Bible, and go to church; and I love these things now better than I did the things of the world before." At the time of this change, she was led to a church where Evangelical truth was preached simply and plainly; and thus became distinctly enlightened as to the way of salvation. She fully assented and consented to what she heard, and therefore became a very earnest disciple, enthusiastic about the sovereignty of God and the doctrines of grace, and all such matters. She understood the meaning of the Levitical types and offerings; could speak of dispensational truth and prophecy; was very zealous about missions to the heathen, and was also earnestly devoted to many charitable works at home. There was, however, one little suspicious thing in the midst of all this manifest goodness. She had not much patience with elementary Gospel sermons, or much interest in, or sympathy with, efforts made to bring in perishing souls; she loved rather to be fed with high doctrines, and the mysteries of grace with its deeper teachings. There are some men who love to preach exclusively about these things, even before mixed congregations, addressing them as if they were all real Christians. It is surprising how many people there are just like Mary, who seem to care more for doctrines than for Cod Himself--more for favourite truths than for souls. A simple, elementary Gospel address, with some clear illustrations, was just the very thing Mary wanted for her own soul's good, more than anything; but, unfortunately, this was the thing against which she was prejudiced, for she abhorred "anecdotal sermons." After hearing her story, I said, "It is very interesting; but there is one great deficiency in it. You have not told me anything' about Christ; have you nothing to say about the blood of Jesus, and about your sins? Have you had no real transaction with 'God about them?" She said she "did not know what I meant." "Did you never come as a sinner, and obtain the forgiveness of your sins?" "No," she replied; "that is what I do not understand about your teaching." I showed her, as plainly as I could, that she had not told me about conversion, but reformation. "You have only turned over a new leaf, and kept your resolutions prayerfully and well for eleven years; but this is not turning back the old leaves of your past life, and getting them washed in the blood of the Lamb. 'He that covers his sins' in this way, 'can never prosper.' If a man owes a debt for which he is very sorry, and determines that in future he will pay for everything he gets--this will not pay his past debts." She went on to justify herself, and said, "that she knew a great many good Christian people, and that none of them had ever suspected her as I did." I endeavoured to assure her that I was dreadfully alarmed about her condition, and was certain that if she died like that, there would be no more hope for her salvation than for her cousin's. This seemed to rouse her hostility, and I saw that I had lost influence. However, I could not blame myself, for I had only said what I felt to be true. I returned home and prayed for more wisdom. All that night I could not sleep, and most of it was spent in pleading with God. I felt as if a restless bird was flying about the room, and something was saying, "She will be lost forever." I urged my petition again and again. The next day I called, and found this lady quite broken down, and ready to pray and listen to my teaching. I was most thankful, and greatly relieved after the night's restlessness. I had much happiness in pointing out the way of salvation as an experimental thing. She knew, before I did, the doctrine of the A tenement, but she had had no experience of its real efficacy. Now that her eyes were opened, she was in right earnest to know the reality of sins forgiven. Soon she found this, though not yet the joy of deliverance; she knew the peace and shelter of the sprinkled blood (Exod. 12:13), but not yet the joy and liberty of being on the rock on the other side of the Red Sea (Exod. 15: 2). I was sure that it would all come in due time, and therefore was able to take comfort, and also to comfort her. I saw a good deal of her at that time, and one day she told me that a relation of hers, a clergyman, was coming to have it out with me for saying that she was not converted before. "Certainly," I replied, "I shall be happy to meet him, and hope you will be in the room." When the dreaded man arrived, we were introduced to one another. "Well," he said, "you are a very different-looking than to what I imagined. I have heard a deal about you. So you are a Puseyite turned Evangelical, eh? I have often heard of people going the other way, but I must say I have never met a man who had come in this direction." He then asked about the results of my industry. I told him what was the effect in my church and parish, and that the same signs followed the preaching of the Gospel wherever I went. "I wish," he said, "you would come and preach in my parish. You know a great friend of mine at Veryam and have preached in his pulpit. Will you do the same for me?" "Oh, yes," I said, "certainly, with pleasure." "Now, look at me, for I am a man of business: when will you come? Name your day." I looked at my pocket-book, and fixed upon a certain Monday. Then he arranged that we should have a kind of missionary meeting, "In the course of which," he said, "you can preach as much Gospel as you like. If it goes well, we will have a lecture the next evening on 'Heart Conversion,' and another the evening following, on something else." He was "quite sure noone would come to hear a sermon only. It must be a missionary meeting, or something of the kind, to bring the people out." On the day appointed, the barn where we were assembled was well filled, and seeing that the people were interested, the vicar gave out, "Mr Haslam will lecture tomorrow evening on Heart Conversion." The next evening, when we arrived, we found the barn quite full, and numbers standing outside; besides, there were many more whom we passed on the road. So it was determined that we should go into the church and have a short service. The edifice was soon lighted, and filled, and after a few collects and hymns (for they had a hymn-book in that church), I went up into the pulpit, and preached upon the absolute necessity of conversion--no salvation without it. As to "heart conversion," what is conversion at all if the heart is not touched? Then I treated my subject from another point of view. "Every converted person here knows what heart conversion is; and if any one does not, it is clear he is not converted. If he dies in that state, he wilt be lost for ever!" I concluded the sermon with prayer; and while I was praying in the pulpit, one after another of the people in the pews began to cry aloud for mercy. My friend Mary likened it to a battle-field, and me to a surgeon going from one wounded one to another to help them. At eleven o'clock we closed the service, promising to hold another the next day. On Wednesday morning Mary awoke from her sleep with a voice saying to her, "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world." "Then all my sins are gone. He has borne them. He 'Himself bore our sins in His own body on the tree.'" She was filled with joy unspeakable, and came to breakfast rejoicing. The lady of the house was in tears, the servants were troubled, and the vicar alternately glad and sorry, for he was not sure whether it was excitement or the work of God, and did not know what to make of it. However, in the evening he broke down in his reading-desk in the middle of the sermon, and burst out, "Lord, save me!" In an instant the whole congregation was up, and the people everywhere either crying for mercy, or rejoicing. The power of the Lord was present to heal them, and many souls were saved that night; and besides these, there were others who were troubled. Amongst this number was the young squire of the parish. He was afterwards decidedly converted to God, and took great interest in the work. When twitted on the bench by his brother magistrates about the revival, he stood his ground manfully, and gave good testimony. He continues to this day a bold champion for the truth as it is in Jesus. CHAPTER 21 Golant Mission, 1854. It is a good plan to strike while the iron is hot;' and as the people at Colant were in an interested and receptive state, I put off other things which had been appointed, and made arrangements to return to the battle-field as soon as possible. My people were much excited to hear what I was able to tell them of my three days' visit, and they wished me "God speed" for my next venture, praying most heartily for great blessing. Accordingly, on the following Monday I went back to Colant, and found the place (an unusually quiet country village), together with the whole neighbourhood round, including two or three small towns all astir. As a rule, in order to insure success in a mission, there needs preparation, visitation, and prayer; and I have observed that when there has been no preparation in the way of public announcements of services, the people have not come out, and the mission has been a failure. Where there has been a regular system of visitation, without prayer, the congregations have been abundant, but the services have been dry and hard; but in places where preparation and visitation have been made with much prayer, there has ever been a most unmistakable blessing. So much for human agencies, which are necessary to us, though God is not bound to them. There had been no preparation for the mission I am about to tell of, no visitation, nor any special prayer; and yet it pleased the Lord to give in this little village such an outpouring of His Spirit and demonstration of His Power as is rarely known. There was a great running together of the people, notwithstanding the difficulties of access to the church. Some had to come several miles from the towns by road, some by sea, and others across a tidal river where mud abounded; and after landing, they had to climb a steep hill. None of these things, however, deterred or discouraged them; they came, and they would come, in spite of everything which was urged at other times as an excuse for staying away, even on dark nights. It was the day of the Lord's power, and He made them willing; so much so, that in some places work was suspended, and people came even three times a day. On the Monday evening, when I arrived, I found that the church would scarcely hold the people who bad gathered to hear the Word of God. It was a time of much blessing, and we remained there hard at work till eleven o'clock, when, having four miles to go in order to get home, I closed the service, offering to meet any anxious souls there at half-past ten the next morning. This I did, and was surprised to find a number of persons waiting, even at this early hour. There were too many to speak to individually, so I addressed them collectively, giving the ordinary instruction to seeking souls. In the afternoon we had a still larger number, and in the evening a crowded congregation; in this way the work continued, with three services a day throughout the week, accompanied with remarkable conversions every day. Among the number of those who attended was a surgeon, his wife and brother, and the wife of a respectable yeoman. These, together with several more from the village on the other side of the river, were converted to God. Their rector was amazed to see them so changed, and wondered by what process this was accomplished. He attended an afternoon service, and was astonished to see so many people present on a week-day. Afterwards introducing himself, he asked me very politely, "What is the secret of all this?" He stud, "I have heard you preach, and certainly do not agree with most part of what you said, nor do I see anything either in your manner or matter which can account for this effect and work amongst the people. I must say, I cannot ask you to my pulpit, but I should much like a talk with you. Will you come over to luncheon with me?" I liked the candour and gentlemanly bearing of the man, and wished to go, but could not fix a time while I was so much occupied; so I promised I would write, and offer him a visit when I had more leisure. In addition to the three services in church, we had another in the morning at seven o'clock, in the town where I slept. There we gathered the anxious ones who had been at the church the night before, and had come away early on account of the distance. The little town was all in a commotion, and the vicar in this place was beginning to get furious about my holding this meeting in his parish; his daughter, in particular, went about warning the people against attending it. Some young men hired a four-oared boat to come to the evening service, intending to disturb the congregation. They arrived in good time, but, for all that, they were too late to get a seat. One young man, the ringleader of the party, instead of causing a disturbance, stood still and listened most attentively. I preached that evening from the words, "And the door was shut," referring to the ark, and the awful desolation and doom of those who were shut out. All the time I was preaching, I could see this same man standing before the pulpit, with his elbow leaning on the end of a high pew. He maintained this position throughout the service, and at the end of the sermon was still there, rigid and stiff, looking at the pulpit as if in a trance. He would not move or speak; there he stood, till we feared he had gone out of his mind. His companions were awed and took him away as well as they could, but did not embark on their return journey till after midnight, and then the tide was against them. Soon after they had started, the wind rose, and there came on a great storm; the thunder was loud, and the flashes of lightning awful. The wind became so strong and violent, that, in spite of all their efforts, the boat was stranded; they managed, however, to get out and pull it out of the water, and took refuge for a time under overhanging rocks on the shore. The young man continued as one stunned, and said nothing. There they remained till between four and five o'clock in the morning, when the storm abated, and they were able to set out again. At last they succeeded in reaching home. While these unfortunate young men were battling with the elements, we went home by land and had a night's rest, though it was but a short one. I rose and went to my meeting at seven o'clock, and on arriving found the room quite full, there being only one chair unoccupied. As I stood to 'speak, this seat remained vacant, so I beckoned a young man who was standing at the door to come and take it. He looked worn and sad, and I thought I recognized in him the same young man I had noticed the previous night, and who, I was told, was the ringleader of the party who came in the boat with the purpose of disturbing the meeting. He sat down, sighing heavily several times. Almost directly a man came forward and whispered to me, "You have a wolf near you--take care!" "All, right," I said, "he is tame enough now; there is no more bite in him." "Yes, yes," said the young man, overhearing us, "no more wolf. O God, change me to a lamb!" Poor fellow! he was in great trouble all day, and fainted away several times before he found peace, which he did very dearly. He came to the evening meeting, shouting "Hallelujah!" and stirred us all greatly. Several others of the same party were also converted. The news of this made some of the town's people furious; and, being the fifth of November, they consoled themselves by making a straw effigy to represent me. They put on it a sheet in place of a surplice, with a paper mitre on its head, and, setting it on a donkey, carried it through the town, accompanied by a crowd of men and boys, who shouted at the top of their voices, "Here goes the Puseyite revivalist! Here goes the Puseyite revivalist! Hurrah! Hurrah!" In this complimentary sport the curate and one of the churchwardens took part. That same night this churchwarden (who, I should say, had been one of the boating party two nights before) had a dream. He dreamt that his house was full of people, just like the church he had been in; all the rooms, the staircase, and even his own bedroom, were filled with people standing. There was a tremendous storm of wind and rain; the thunder rolled, and the lightning flashed. In the midst of this a voice said to him, "This is all about you, you sinner!" He awoke up out of his sleep in a terrible fright, and began to cry to the Lord to have mercy on his soul. I was sent for before five o'clock in the morning to come and see him, for his friends said that they thought he would go out of his mind. Instead of this, he came to his right mind, for the Lord heard and answered his prayer, and brought him from darkness into light, and from the power of sin and Satan unto God. He went with me to the early morning meeting; there we had the two chief leaders of the riotous party in a changed condition, for which we heartily thanked God. Their friend, the curate, was very excited and angry about this, and did not quite know who to blame. He said that he would write to the Bishop and tell him what was going on; and I believe he did not fail to carry out his intention. As there were many who, from various causes, were unable to go four miles to an evening service, I managed to secure the Town Hall for a course of lectures on the "Pilgrim's Progress." The curate came to the first, and, after hearing the lecture, stood up to speak, and gave went to his feelings by saying a great many very angry things. The people were so indignant, that I could scarcely restrain them from laying hands on him to turn him out. Some of the old forms and seats in the Town Hall (which was not accustomed to be so crowded) broke down with the weight of people. The vicar's daughter suggested that most likely they should hear next that "the forms and seats were converted, for she had been told already that they were broken down." This little straw will show which way the wind blew in that quarter, and what was the drift of this lady's mind. My friend with whom I was staying was evidently much perplexed, and found himself let in for far more than he had calculated when he invited me. He certainly would never have asked me had he foreseen such an upset as there was everywhere, especially in the town in which he lived, and the country parish of which he was vicar. At last he made up his mind to take me with him to consult a clerical neighbour, upon whose judgment he greatly relied. On our way a sudden thought of misgiving came over him; he all at once turned to me and said. "I say, my friend, I'll be done with you altogether if you say Mr. ---- is not converted!" "Then," I replied, "you may be sure I will not say it." "But suppose you think so?" "Well, I must confess I think so already, and not without good reason (at least, to my mind), for he has taken no interest whatever in this remarkable work of God, nor has he shown the least sympathy in the spiritual welfare of many of his parishioners, who have received blessing at the meetings. His High Church neighbour, who does not profess to be converted, could not help coming over to ask about it, while your friend has never been near, nor even sent to make inquiry. Besides this, one of his own people told me that he was much put out, and very angry with you for asking me." "Ah," said my friend, "we are not all revivalists like you, remember." "Well," I said, "let me hope you are a deal better than I am." He seemed very uneasy at taking me on after this conversation; but as he had written to say we were coming, he thought we must go forward. In order to ease his mind, I made an agreement with him that during luncheon I would tell about the conversion of one of Mr. --'s parishioners, and said, "While I do so, you watch his face. If he is at all interested, I will conclude that I am wrong, and that he is converted; but if he is not, I will leave you to judge for yourself. I must say, I cannot understand a converted man not interested in the conversion of others, even if it does nothing more than remind him of his own." My friend agreed to this, and seemed somewhat relieved in his mind. On our arrival, Mr. -- received us courteously, and asked after the family--indeed, about everything he could think of but the work. My friend, after a little pause, said, "Have you not heard of the revival?" "Revival!" he said, calmly. "What is that?" "The special services in my church." "What services?" This evidently was enough. He went out of the room to try and hurry the luncheon. My friend looked very thoughtful, and said nothing, but was clearly beginning to suspect that the judgment I had formed was not far wrong. In course of the luncheon I told my story, but not without being interrupted over and over again by the host's attentions, and importunities to "take more vegetables." "Have you any salt? .... Will you take some bread? .... Will you not take a glass of wine?" It was quite evident he wished the story at an end. My friend said, "That is one of your parishioners he is talking about." "I suspected so," he replied. "All I can say is, that if Mr. Haslam had only known that man as long as I have, he would never speak of him as he does. This is not the first profession he has made. He has been reformed and changed several times before this, and has always become worse afterwards." "That is just the very thing Haslam says," said my friend--"that some reformations are all flesh, and not the work of God; and, as such, can never stand. I believe the man to be converted by God this time." "We will see--we will see," said our host, quietly helping himself to a glass of wine. "For my own part, I don't believe in these things." My friend and I exchanged looks. I was silent, but he continued, "I am bound to say that I was never converted before, nor yet my wife, my daughter, or my sister." "What!" said the vicar, starting, "you mean your sister Mary? Well, that is enough! I don't wish to hear another word about your conversions after that! I can only say that if I were half as good as Mrs. S---, I should be well satisfied." "Well, now," replied my friend, "do come over and see her, and hear what she has to say about it herself." "No, thank you," he replied; "I have no desire to interfere in such matters." There the conversation stopped, leaving a wall of separation between the two clerical brothers, who had together professed to be Evangelical, and cordially hated sacramental religion. They had also professed to believe in salvation by faith only; but for all this they never urged upon their people to perform any acts of faith--they only expected them to receive the doctrine. I found that such people opposed me and my work a great deal more than even High Church men. My friend and I returned home, and he told his wife and sister the result of our visit. They said that they were not surprised, for they had made up their minds on the subject, and were quite sure that Mr. -- had no personal experience, though he was so intelligent about the doctrine of salvation by faith. The work, in the meantime, went on and spread. Some of the people came over from Mr. --'s parish to ask me to come and preach to them in a large sail-loft, which they had prepared for the purpose. My friend would not consent to my going, and I was obliged to give them a refusal. The next day they sent again, not to ask me to preach, but if I would just come over to visit a sick man who was anxious about his soul. My friend hesitated at this also. I said, "Why do you object to my going to see the poor fellow? You took me to the vicarage to talk to the vicar himself; surely you can let me go and do the same thing to one of his parishioners." "No," he said, "I cannot; that is quite a different thing." Seeing that he was unwilling, and that it would displease him, I gave it up, and went to the messengers and said, "I cannot go." They were not satisfied, and asked "if the ladies would please to go;" meaning my late dear wife and Mrs. S. (Mary), whom they had seen working in the after-meetings. My friend did not see any objection to the ladies going, and the men seemed better pleased than if I had gone. They visited the sick man the next day, and after that were asked "just to come and speak to a few people up here" that was, in the adjoining sail-loft. On entering the place, to their astonishment, they saw about three hundred people sitting quietly waiting. "What is this?" asked my wife. The man said, "I only asked a few, but all those people are come. Do give them just a word." She had never yet ventured on addressing a large company like that, and Mary was shocked at the idea; but still, they were afraid to refuse; so they mounted the carpenter's bench, which was placed there with two chairs on it; and after a hymn and prayer, Mrs. H. gave an address, which Mary told me afterwards "was far better than anything I ever preached." They had an after-meeting, and some conversions, and promised to come over again. Thus the work spread to another part, and I had to go there also. Poor Mr. -- was very excited about this, and said that he "thought it most ungentlemanly." I dare say it was, and that I was somewhat uncouth; but I never stop to consider prejudices and fancies when the Lord's work is in the way. It was a widespread and remarkable awakening, and one not without much opposition and jealousy. I happened to say from the pulpit, that at one time before I knew the truth I used to be quite a popular man: people liked me, and clergymen let me preach in their pulpits; but now that I had something to tell for the good of souls, they seemed to agree to keep me out. Very few were so bold as the vicar of this parish, who had not only invited me, but stood by me also. A neighbouring clergyman, who was an important man--a prebendary, and what not--wrote to the vicar to ask if it was true that I had said in the pulpit that my clerical brethren scouted me, and would not let me preach for them. The vicar very wisely handed the indignant prebendary's letter over to me to answer, which I did. In my reply, I took the opportunity to put in some Gospel teaching, which was supposed to be very irrelevant matter, and counted evasive. I did not deny that I had said something to the effect of which he complained, but I pleaded in extenuation that I was justified in doing so. He was more enraged by my letter than by the report he had heard, and threatened to publish the correspondence. This he did, with a letter to his parishioners, in which he warned them against revivals in general, and me in particular. He told them that I was "infatuated;" that I had "usurped the judgment seat of Christ;" that I was "the accuser of the brethren;" that I "acted the devil's part now, and was to be his companion hereafter." I thought of giving more choice extracts from this publication, but on second thoughts I consider it better to pass it over. CHAPTER 22 The High Church Rector, 1854 Let bygones be bygones. I am thankful to say times are changed, but the letter referred to in the last chapter, though expressing the sentiments of one man, yet showed the feeling of many others. I do not complain of it, for I must say I rather like the outspoken opposition of the natural heart; it is far better, and much less trying, than smiling indifference or hollow assent. The work which began in this part went on and spread. The refusal of the clergy to take it up sent it to the chapels, where it was continued for miles round. For this reason I was charged then, and have been since, with encouraging Dissent, but the accusation sits very lightly on me, for I know what I would rather have. Nothing would please me so well as to have the clergy converted, and taking up the work; but if they will not, then I would rather that the Dissenters had the benefit, than that it should die out and be lost. Dissent makes division, but it is necessary for vitality, under present circumstances, and counteracts the great evil of spiritual death. The light of God ought to be in the Church of England, for it is the Lord's candlestick in this land; but when the truth is not represented, and the Church is dark, it is a mercy that God has been pleased to raise up witnesses for Himself in other bodies. The Calvinist, with a needless bitterness, holds up God's sovereignty, as if man's will were not free; the Arminian is equally energetic for man's responsibility, as if God were not sovereign; and the Quaker is a witness for the work of the Spirit. These, and several others, each maintain their particular doctrine. They are raised up to show respectively their own portion of the light, because the Church, which has in her formularies all these great truths, is remiss in her duty. The full blaze of light which ought to be emitted from her to all sides, is shed upon her in detail from others; and her members are too often lighted from without, and not from within. In many parishes there was no light, and no life or testimony in the Church; and had it not been for the chapels, men and women might have perished in ignorance and error. Imperfect and erroneous as is some of the Gospel which is preached in chapels and rooms, there was more vitality in it, and also more saving power, than in the refined and critical teaching which emanated from many of the accredited and accepted preachers of the land. Where the Church was rising up into energetic action, in too many cases it had a sectarian, and not a catholic object--that is to say, it was aiming to make Churchmen and communicants, or members of guilds, instead of proclaiming the Gospel for the salvation of souls. The sovereignty of God, the responsibility of man, and the work of the Holy Ghost, were frequently altogether overlooked, although this is the true catholic teaching. In this I comprehend not only the bringing of souls from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive the forgiveness of sins, but also that believers might go on to have "an inheritance among them that are sanctified by faith in Christ Jesus." Churchism, with its sacramentalism, is as sectarian as any form of Dissent, Romanism included; for it falls short of God's object, as declared in the Word. When the work at Golant church abated, I had more time for looking about; so I proffered a visit to the High Church rector, who had asked me to come over and tell him the secret of my success. He readily fixed upon a day, so I went over to luncheon; after which we began to talk. The curate, who was present, and who had heard some ranters shouting and screaming in the "shires," kept on every now and then putting in a word of caution to restrain the rector from admitting too much; for little by little he was yielding to me. I spoke of letting down the nets for a draught, and catching men, not to smother and kill them in some Church system, or by some erroneous teaching, but to keep them alive. "This," I said, "is the meaning of the word in the original;" and we looked it out in the Greek. It was very interesting. We then talked over the difference between the Church system and that of the Bible. The one, I said, makes apostolic succession and the sacraments the channel of salvation; the other the Word of God, as applied by the Holy Ghost. We had a great battle on this point, two against one; but having the Word of God on my side, I stood by my experience. I had myself been on the other side, and was then ten times more zealous and earnest than these two were. I said, "I used to preach salvation by Church and sacraments once, but I was not saved that way. I used also to teach that the new birth was by Baptism; but I was not born again when I was baptized. Were you? Are you quite sure that, with all your faith in Baptismal Regeneration, you are born again of the Spirit? Are you satisfied that you are now saved because you are in the Church?" They were dumb. So I went on to say, "I have no party or sectarian object in my work; my only desire is to bring souls to Christ Himself for salvation. I used, as a priest, to think I was mediator between Christ and the sinner, and that I had received by delegation some power for this purpose; but now that I have been over the ground experimentally, I would as soon blaspheme God in your presence, as dare to absolve a sinner, or come between Christ and him. My orders are to bring them from the power of Satan to God, and to Christ crucified, for forgiveness of sins." At this point the rector brought out a printed sermon by Dr. Pusey, on Justification by Faith, which he had been carefully reading. I asked him to read it to me. The first few pages contained statements of the doctrine in New Testament words, with a fair exposition of them; but when the author same to his own thoughts about the subject, he said that Baptism was the cause of justification. Here I challenged the statement, and said, "Have you any references there--any 'stars' or 'daggers' to that?" "Yes," he answered, "references to the Fathers." I replied, that "the Fathers were not inspired, There is no such thing as 'Justification by Baptism' in the Scriptures; it is by faith only, as you will see in the fifth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans." "Yes," he said, "that is just what Dr. Pusey means--Faith, as shown in Baptism." "Then," I said, "according to that, in your Baptism you were justified by Faith; and as a consequence you have peace with God, and have access into grace, and rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. You will see that St. Paul connects this experience with what he calls Justification by Faith. Evidently he did not expect so much from Baptism as you do, or for a certainty he would have baptized every one he could reach; but, instead of this, he thanked God that he had only baptized a few persons whom he named (1 Cor. 1: 14-17). He had gone about for three years, teaching the Ephesian Christians, even with tears, and he called them to witness, not that he had administered the sacraments, and done priestly work among them, but that he had ceased not to teach, and to preach, 'repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ'" (Acts 20:21). My two High Church friends were not convinced, though they could not answer me. It was a question in their minds who was right, Dr. Pusey, or this "Fanatical Revivalist." "Come," I said, "there is your man-servant outside in the garden; he was converted two weeks ago; and though he cannot read, I feel sure he knows more about this than the author of that learned sermon. Let us call him in and read a few pages." We did, and told him to sit down while we read a little while. The rector began, and, as he went on, Sam's face lit up with joy, until the rector came to the sacramental passages; than any one could see Sam's interest was gone. He became very restless, and at last interrupting, said, respectfully, "If you please, sir, is there much more of that?" "Why, Sam," said his master, "don't you like it?" "No, sir," he said; "that man ain't converted at all!" "Well, that is strange," said the rector; "I saw his interest went off just at the very point where you took exception to the sermon. You and Sam under stand something that I do not know." Thus our sermon-reading concluded, and, besides this, my witness had given his testimony. I had stayed already two hours longer than I intended, and was tired of talking. The rector asked me to remain, and dine with him, and promised that he would send me to church in the evening in time for the service. I agreed to this; so he kindly took me upstairs to wash and rest. Coming into the room with me, he shut the door, and said in confidence, "I know you are right; my mother taught me all this when I was young!" "Then," I said, "we had better kneel down and pray about it." We did so. In his prayer he entreated very earnestly that the scales might fall from his eyes, and that these truths which he loved when he was young might be brought to him again. He was only praying for truth, and not for pardon and salvation; so I pointed this out to him. "Yes--yes," he said; "Lord, save me! Lord, save me! Pardon me!" I believe he found peace before he came down; but it is more difficult to pronounce in the case of educated, than in that of uneducated people. In the latter, the transition from darkness to light and life is often very manifest; whereas in the case of the educated, the effect is not so clear. However, he came down to dinner, and it was not long before he roused the anger and contempt of his wife and curate, by saying, "I am converted." They tried hard to laugh him out of it, and asked him which of the chapels he would join? They suggested he had better be a Bryanite; Mr. Haslam is king of the Bryanires; and so on! I was happy to hear all this, and could not help telling them so: first, because the rector was counted worthy of such taunts; and, secondly, because their natural enmity was raised. I said that I hoped they would both be converted also, and that very soon. When I was leaving for my service, the rector, in bidding me good-bye, said, that he "was sorry he could not go with me; but would I come and preach in his pulpit on Sunday?" I promised that I would. On the way, Sam, who was driving me to church, became much excited, and seemed beside himself for joy. Putting up his arms all of a sudden, with reins and whip in either hand, in the act of praising God, he frightened the horse, so that it ran away at full speed. "Oh, never mind---never mind!" he said, "don't be frightened! No doubt the old devil 'ud like to upset both on us; but I am sure the dear Lord will take care of us, don't fear." Certainly there was need, for the horse went headlong down a long narrow hill, and if anything else had been on the road, we must have come into disastrous collision. We were, however, carried safely down, and reached the church in good time. Sam's joy, I need scarcely say, was all about the master's conversion, and the fact that I was to preach in their church on Sunday--two circumstances he did not fail to announce to every one he met. He put up his horse, and stayed for the service. In the after-meeting, when he prayed, he sent up his prayer with a thanksgiving for these two things, which set the congregation praising God also. Thus the revival, which began on one side of the river, passed over to the other, and brought out people from another town, and also villages beyond. There was a great awakening in that part of the country. The curate found peace on the Sunday, and many more; but not the rector's wife. She continued her opposition most vigorously. The wisdom of the serpent is seen in capturing the wife first; but still I am sure in this case that the serpent's wisdom was outwisdomed, for her persecution made her husband pray and work all the more earnestly. People in these days did not regard "missions" so complacently as they do now. The very idea of preaching night after night, not for some Missionary Society, or for collections, but simply for the conversion of souls and the salvation of sinners, seemed to cast a slur upon ordinary preachers, as if they did not aim at such a thing; and upon people generally, as if we meant to imply that they needed it. Most certainly they did. I believe ordinary preachers in the churches of that neighbourhood did not expect conversions; and most of the people were unconverted. I could not help telling them so, which only roused their wrath so much the more. From this place I returned home; for my prolonged absence, I found, was likely to bring me into trouble. Other clergymen might go away for months, travelling or salmon fishing; but if I was absent for a few weeks, I was supposed to be neglecting my parish. On my return, I had much to tell, and did not expect to be invited out again in a hurry; for very few clergymen would willingly desire to be drawn into such a whirlwind of storm and trouble, as my visits usually involved. CHAPTER 23 A Mission in Staffordshire, 1854. THE work at Baldhu, which had been going on almost incessantly for three years, was now beginning to flag; that is to say, there was not that ardent and eager attendance at the services and meetings, to which we had been accustomed in the revival time. We had had occasional lulls like this before, but they did not last more than a few weeks; and then the "swallows" returned, and the bright hot summer of work came again with its loud songs and pleasant fruits. This dullness was continuing longer than usual; the crowded congregations were falling off; strangers did not come from a distance; the people at home were not so lively. However, the classes were continued, as also the services at the church, and the number of communicants did not decrease. Still any one could see that the revival was over. It was rather discouraging to me, and a cause of triumph to some outsiders; but we were occasionally cheered by work amongst visitors, and with sick-bed cases. The majority of the people were complacently waiting for another tide of revival; this was their custom, but it sat very uneasily upon me. I did not like it, nor agree to it; but at that time I knew not what else to do, but wait as others did. I said that we looked like vessels which had come so far up the river with the tide; and now that it had turned we were stranded and fast in the mud. Sometimes I changed the figure to one not so ignoble, and likened ourselves to the stately vessels anchored in Falmouth harbour, which were there because the wind was contrary. We were wind-bound too, and dependent on circumstances; but my idea of true religion was that we ought not to be like this. I rather took for our type the great steamers which are propelled by powerful engines, and come in and go out, and proceed on their voyage without regard to wind or tide. We ought to be constrained I said, from within by the love of God and thus be enabled to show the power of grace by riding over all obstacles and triumphing in the midst of discouragements. "He giveth songs in the night." Any bird can sing in the sunshine. The self-restraint and self-control I had exercised in my churchy days, and which I supposed was derived from sacraments, I found wanting in my new work. We required something with authority, such as church and priest supply. I could not, however, conscientiously go back to that legal system, nor did I think there was any need, for I was sure there was something somewhere, to be had, which should and would supply our want, if I could but discover it. It appeared to me that my people, without this, were subject to impulse, and consequently in bondage to their feelings. In this time of lull I found that the steadfastness of some was shaken; but I had known others, who had gone further back than these, return at a revival time with new vigour. In this way, some of the Cornish people professed to be converted scores of times. While ruminating on these things and praying over them, I was surprised by receiving a letter pressing me very much to come at once and preach in a parish in Staffordshire, near Birmingham. Mr. Aitken had been on a mission in the north, and on his return had stopped a night at this place, and preached one of his alarming and awakening sermons. The effect was so great that the people, together with their clergyman (a curate in sole charge) were in much trouble and anxiety about their souls; there was a gloom hanging over them, as if they had been sentenced to some dreadful doom, and did not know what to do, or how to avert it. It is a good thing to wound, but it should be with the object of making whole; it is a blessed thing to show sinners their lost condition, but only for the purpose of getting them to lay hold of the great salvation which is provided for such. In his perplexity the curate went to see the Bishop (Lonsdale) of Lichfield. When his lordship had ascertained the cause of the trouble, he took up a pamphlet which was lying on the table, and said, "If you cannot get Mr. Aitken back, send for this gentleman, and pay his expenses." "This gentleman," meant the author of the pamphlet, which his lordship held in his hand, namely, myself; "his name and address are here." said the Bishop; "take the book and read it carefully; he seems to have both knowledge and experience in such matters." I was written to forthwith, and the letter urged me to "come at once." In compliance, I started off that night, and reaching the place on Saturday afternoon, opened a mission the same evening without further notice. On Sunday I preached three times, and went to the school-room for the after-meeting. There we had a scene which, for noise and confusion was quite Cornish. Men and women cried aloud for mercy, while some believers who were there shouted for joy. The curate in charge was completely bewildered, but felt he could do nothing; and seeing, as he remarked, that I appeared to understand it and know what I was about, he thought he had better remain still, till the noisy meeting was over. That same night, before he retired, he gave his heart to God. The work went on in this place with the force as of an explosion; just as if hungry desires had been pent up a long time, and now they had vent and opportunity to be satisfied. The church was crowded: every day, even in the week; and we were kept in the schoolroom night after night till twelve and one o'clock. The town was a dark, smoky, sulphury place, and the air filled with exhalations and iron filings from the various works. It was a dreadful atmosphere, and everything was black and dirty; the red fires from the furnaces around glared all night long and presented an awful appearance. To come from the pure air and beautiful scenery of Cornwall into such a place as this, was most trying and uncomfortable; but the reward was great. The work was deeply interesting, and scores of men and women of all classes, besides five clergymen, professed to be converted that week. The devil did not leave us alone; he was very angry, and raised up a great opposition. The rector of the old church, who used to be most benevolent and smiling, suddenly changed, and made it his business to call on the curate in charge of the church, to tell him that he was quite sure that his friend the vicar (who was away at the time in ill health) would never have sanctioned this excitement. The curate said that the Bishop had bid him invite Mr. Haslam, and that he had done so, not knowing anything further about me or my work. The rector went off to write to the Bishop forthwith, and in the meantime ordered bills to be posted all over the town, warning people against "the Cornish fanaticism at St. James's," which, of course, had the effect of drawing out a greater concourse of people. What with excessive work and bad air, by Friday evening I was quite exhausted. I came out of the pulpit to the vestry, and remembering that Cornish miners, in order to recover themselves after climbing ladders, often found it necessary to lie down flat on the ground, I thought I would try the same plan for a few moments while the people were going out to the schoolroom. I did so; and while I was in this position a clergyman came in and asked me if I was ill. "No," I said, "I am only resting for a short time." "Very well," he said, "rest on; but listen to me. The Bishop has sent me here to see and hear you, and this is my report to his lordship." Opening out a paper he held in his hand, he read: "St. James's crammed to excess with a most orderly and devotional congregation; their attention to the sermon marked and riveted; sermon from St. Luke xv, verse 2, 'This Man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them.' The exposition of chapter most vivid and instructive; never heard better, or so good; the application fervent and pointed; altogether, most edifying service." "There, that is my report, so you need not be afraid of anything you hear. I will tell the Bishop all about it. Thank you very much for what I have heard. God bless you. Good-night!" "Oh," I said, springing up from the ground, "do not go yet! the best part is to come. You have only seen me let down the nets; come now and see them pulled up." "What is that?" he said, "Where am I to come?" "To the schoolroom," I replied, divesting myself of my gown and bands, and putting on my coat with all haste. "Come with me!" He seemed a little afraid, and asked many questions. When we reached the place we could scarcely get in, and the noise certainly was tremendous. "What is all this confusion about?" he asked. "I think I had better not go in to-night." "Oh, come in, come in!" I said; "do not fear." But somehow he slipped off in the dark, and I did not see him again. When I entered, almost the first thing I noticed was the two curates of the parish church, taking notes. However, I did not heed them, or ask to see what they had written; for I would always rather have real work, though with a noise, than orderly, respectable stillness, and spiritual death. On Saturday I rested, but was very unwell all day, and did not know how I should be able to work on Sunday. When the morning arrived, my strength and voice were gone; it was impossible to preach. The people met together and had a prayer meeting before the service, asking the Lord to restore me. The curate was so much cheered, that he came to me and said, "If you only get up and try, we feel sure you will be able to preach." I got up, but had to go to bed again, for I was very ill. Just before eleven o'clock a visitor arrived, a very queer-looking little man, in a black suit of Quaker cut, and a college cap without a tassel, with the corners of the square board rounded off. Standing by my bed-side in this costume, he said that he was a convert of Mr. Aitken's, and had come all the way from Birmingham to hear me. "Moreover," he said, "I am a herbal doctor. Please let me feel your pulse." He did so, and looking grave, sounded my lungs, put his ear to my chest and then asked, "What is the matter with your left lung?" I replied, "I don't know. Three doctors told me, more than fourteen years ago, that it was all gone." "Well," he said, "you stay quietly in bed till I come again at half-past eleven." When he returned, he bade me get up and dress, and then gave me a cupful of something very hot with cayenne, at the same time telling me that I should be quite strong enough to preach by twelve o'clock. So I was. I preached that morning, and again in the afternoon; after that I went to bed till six o'clock, when I took another dose, and in the strength of it preached a long, loud sermon to a crowded congregation; after which I attended the after-meeting, and was there till twelve o'clock at night. I then set off to the station, accompanied by at least two hundred people, and left by the one o'clock train for Birmingham, to the house of my new friend the herbal doctor. He nursed me like a mother, and let me go on my way home to Cornwall the next day. I never heard any more of the rector of the parish, or of the Bishop, but was frequently cheered by letters saying that the work thus begun was going on week after week in the same place. Some years after, when I was passing, I stopped there for a few days, and gave them "a lift," as they called it; and I then saw with half a glance that they had become practised workers--that both clergymen and people were fitted to missionize the whole country side. One's great object in this mission work is not only to save souls, but to encourage believers to do their part; that so the effect of a mission may be continued and extended. God has a twofold blessing for us. He says "I will bless thee and make thee a blessing;" and it is well to remember that the benefits we receive are not so much to be kept for self, as to be imparted and transmitted to others, even as they were transmitted to us. CHAPTER 24 Sanctification. Then I returned from the far-off mission in Staffordshire, whether from over fatigue or other causes, I was much depressed in mind as well as body, and quite out of heart with the Church of England. It is true I found the converted people in Staffordshire were not so leavened with Dissent as in Cornwall, and that there was some attachment to the Church; but still I could see that Churchmen there, as elsewhere, distrusted spirituality, and preferred to work on their own ecclesiastical or sacramental lines; they chose to draw water to quench their thirst, rather than to ask, and receive (directly from Christ) the living water. If a bishop accidentally invited me, of if a clergyman cordially did so, they were marked exceptions. I felt myself to be obnoxious to the majority of my clerical brethren who professed to represent the Church; but somehow, I was convinced that, as a converted clergyman, I represented the Church of England more truly than they, and that the principles of the Reformation were the principles I was working upon. This was trial from outside, which, however trying to flesh and blood, is by no means so bad as misgiving from within. I was discouraged also about the work in which I had been engaged; for there was evidently an imperfection about it. I observed that some people over whom I rejoiced as converted, went back to their former worldliness, which perplexed and troubled me more than I can describe. I knew from my own experience that conversion was necessary to salvation and a new life; but when people professed to be saved, and did not live a new life, I was sure there was something wrong. My dear friend, Mr. Aitken, said, "My brother, this work is the Lord's; you must go to Him and ask what is wrong. Lie on your face before Him till He shows you His will about the matter!" This I did; for, shutting myself up in the church, I cried to the Lord till I felt that an answer would come in due time. Soon after, I was led to preach from the text, "Through this Man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins; and by Him all that believe are justified from all things" (Acts 13:38, 39). This opened my eyes to see that the proclamation was twofold-that through Christ Jesus, pardon was offered to any and every sinner as such, and moreover, that by the same Christ Jesus, every believer--that is, every one who had received the forgiveness of his sins--was justified from all things. Those who know how old familiar texts flash upon the mind with new meaning, will understand my surprise. God was speaking to me in answer to my inquiry. I had been preaching forgiveness and salvation through the blood-shedding and death of Christ; and confining myself to this, as if salvation were all. I now saw that I had not preached about Justification to believers, as fully as I had dwelt on the subject of pardon to sinners; indeed, that I had preached to believers the same Gospel which I preached to them before they were converted; that is, that Christ died for their sins, but not the "yea rather, that is risen again." No wonder they did not stand, if their standing-place before God their Father was not simply and plainly put before them. Believers having been brought from death unto life, from the cross to the resurrection-side of Christ's grave, should be led to the Throne of Grace, where Christ sits at the right hand of God, making intercession for them. Once enlightened on the subject, it was easy to see that this truth was set forth all through the Bible. For instance, when the prodigal son received pardon, immediately his father called the servants and said unto them, "Bring forth the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and shoes on his feet." Here, besides pardon, is standing--union--strength; and over and beyond these, the feast of rejoicing. When the children of Israel were brought out of Egypt, it was not that they should escape from bondage only, but that they should be led, and even carried, by God through the wilderness. Moses illustrated this in a simple yet comprehensive figure, when he wrote, "As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings: so the Lord alone did lead him, and there was no strange god with him" (Deut. 32:11, 12). The thousands who perished in the wilderness were persons of whom it may be said that they professed to come up out of Egypt, and did so in act; but God, who looks upon the heart, saw that they were still lingering in that place; for when they were in trouble, they said, "Would God that we had died in the land of Egypt! or would God we had died in the wilderness! Let us make a captain, and let us return into Egypt" (Num. 14:2-4). This is one secret of the "going back" which I have noticed. People came out as converted, whose hearts were still entangled in the things of this world, or in some besetments with which they were fettered. Those who are really converted should come out, as Caleb and Joshua did. They left Egypt behind them altogether, and finally, in their trials and troubles in the wilderness, they looked for deliverance, not in going back, but in going forward, assured that if lions were before, there were dragons behind. Another lesson which we may learn from these two, is, that they compared difficulties and giants, not with themselves, but with the Lord. It was true that they were not able to conquer their enemies or take their cities, but, as they said, "the Lord is able to give us the victory." In this I saw how Joshua trusted God, also how God wrought a great deliverance. I urged the people to consider that we were not created and redeemed to be saved, but saved to glorify God in our lives; but I grieve to say, this teaching did not meet with the acceptance I hoped for. I wondered at their slowness of heart to believe in the "risen" Christ, and was sure that this was reason enough for their instability; and I felt that there would be nothing else while they continued to receive only a part of the Gospel instead of the whole. One thing leads to another. While I was thus making discoveries, my attention was drawn to a hymn which spoke of "Jordan's stream," and "death's cold flood," as if they were the same thing. Now, I had always regarded Jordan as death; but the question in my mind was--What is all that fighting and conquering in the land of Canaan, if Canaan represents heaven? I observed, moreover, that the Israelites were on the defensive in the wilderness, and on the aggressive on the other side of Jordan; that they were led by the cloud on the one, and by a living Person on the other; that they were daily sustained with manna, as children, on the one side, and ate the old corn of the land, as men of Israel, on the other, besides sowing and reaping for themselves. These striking' marks of contrast excited much inquiry, and not obtaining, with sufficient definiteness, the satisfaction I sought, I went to the Lord about this, as before. I confessed my shortcomings, and the defectiveness of my teaching, and pleaded earnestly, "Lord, what wouldst Thou have me to do? What I know not, teach Thou me!" Then I was brought into the deepest distress and perplexity of soul, to think that after my experience of conversion, and all I had done for the conversion of others, I was still such a vile, self-condemned sinner. I even began to think that I had never been converted; it appeared to me that my whole life was nothing but intense selfishness; that I availed myself of the blood of Christ for my salvation and happiness, and led others to do the same, rejoicing with them in thus making use of God for the purpose of getting quit of hell and gaining heaven. It was a clear case of making God serve me, instead of my serving Him. Many other things came to my mind, by which I knew there was an immense gap between my experience and the Word of God. I can see it all now; but at the time it was very dark and grievous. When I had been under conviction before, at the time of my conversion, it was, as it were, with my eyes shut; but now they were open: then I saw my sins, and the penalty which was due to them; now I saw my unrighteousness, and the corruption of my nature. I felt as if I were two persons, and that there was a law in my members warring against the law of my mind, the flesh contending against the Spirit. "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" For a whole week I was in great distress of mind, especially during the last three days. On Sunday morning, as I was going to the early Communion, my soul was set at liberty. I felt as if a great cloud was lifted up; the light shone into my soul; and I had deliverance. I was exceedingly happy in the knowledge that the risen Christ Himself was my help---that He who had hidden His presence in a pillar of cloud and fire, now was Himself present in person, my omnipotent Friend and leader! This was quite a new experience, and one I had not known before. I thought that I had not even heard or read of it, and therefore began to suspect whether it was a temptation. I determined to be wise, and not commit myself too soon, so made up my mind that I would not refer to it in the pulpit. But at the close of the service a stranger came into the vestry to thank me for my sermon; and when we were alone he put the question to me, "How long have you known Sanctification?" I replied, "Do I know it now?" "Yes," he said, "you preached it experimentally this morning; and I shall be very much surprised if you have not some inquiries on the subject before the day is out." I felt reproved before this stranger's steady gaze, and confessed that I had received the blessing that very morning; but thinking that it might be a temptation, I had determined to say nothing about it. He said, "That was a temptation from the devil, sure enough, to hinder you; for the Lord spoke on this subject through your sermon as dearly as ever I have heard. Do not be afraid, but go on and tell others." So in the evening I preached on Sanctification, and we had an after-meeting in the schoolroom. Many believers stayed behind to ask questions upon the subject of my sermon. I do not remember how I replied to them; but imperfect as my statements must have been, it nevertheless led others to desire to enter into the experience of this same blessing. The following morning, I happened to take up a tract by John Fletcher, of Madeley, in which I read, that at a breakfast party on the occasion of a wedding, to which he was invited, just in the middle of idle and frivolous conversation which was going on, he was constrained to rise up and say, "I have three times had an experience of joy and liberty, which I believe to be Sanctification, and it has passed away; now that it has returned again, I take this opportunity to testify." The company were all struck with amazement; the power of God was present; and the festive gathering was turned into a meeting for prayer and praise. I took warning from this tract never to withhold my testimony on this subject. Soon after this, I was holding an afternoon Bible class in another part of the parish; we were going through St. Luke's gospel, and had come to the fifth chapter; I said with reference to the miraculous draught of fishes, that the fish had been swimming about in their native element in all quietness and freedom, till they came in contact with a net, and it came in contact with thorn. Observe, I said, three things: 1. They are caught in the net. 2. They are drawn out of their native element. 3. They are laid in the boat at the feet of Christ. So it is, where people are caught in' the Gospel net--this is conviction; they are drawn out of the state in which they were--this is conversion; but they are not yet in the state in which they should be, this is why it is so hard to hold them: they ought to be drawn to Christ Himself, for this is the ultimate object of catching souls; the one thing needful is to be brought to the feet of Christ. I intentionally abstained from using the word "Sanctification," though I was endeavouring to typify the experience of it, and to contrast it with conversion. As I went on speaking, a woman in the small assemble put up her hands and began to shout and praise God, "That is Sanctification!" she cried; "I have it! I know it! Praise the Lord!" There was a great stir the class; some cried, and some asked questions. One woman, who was more advanced in general knowledge and experience than most of the others declared, that she did not believe in Sanctification, for she had known so many who professed to have it, and had lost it. "Lost what?" I said, "you cannot lose an experience; the joy of it may depart, and certainly does where people rest on their feelings instead of the fact, on the effect, instead of the cause." She confused the sanctification of the believer, with the effect it produced on him. The Spirit which works sanctification in our souls can keep us in it, if we continue to look to Him, instead of looking at His work, I said to her, what I have said ever since to all who are inclined to argue on the subject: Believers too often dispute about Sanctification, in the same manner as the unconverted do on the subject of Justification. It is not worth while for those who know, to contend with those who only think. I told her to go home and pray about it and ask the Lord if He had anything more to give, to let her have it. She was sullen, and hard to persuade; but after a little more conversation and prayer, she consented to lay aside her prejudice and do as I had told her. She did so, and came again the next morning to see me. Fortunately, I was not in my house, but shut up, as my custom was in the church for meditation and prayer. She followed me thither, but being engaged with my Master, I answered no knocks or taps, whether at the doors or windows; even on this occasion I did not respond, although I heard some one walking round and round the church and knocking impatiently for admittance. When I came out, I heard that Hannah--had called and wished very much to see me; for she wanted (to use her own expression) "to hug the dear head of him, if she could catch him." She was happy beyond expression, for she had had a dream; and what is more she said that she had entered into the "second blessing." In her dream she saw a well of water as clear as crystal; it was beautiful, and the clean pebbles at the bottom quite glistened with brightness, so that she could count them. "There, there," she said, "What does any one want clearer and cleaner than that?" As she looked into this clear well, my voice said to her, "Throw a pebble into it," when she did so; in an instant the water became thick and dirty. "Ah," said my voice again, "The water of grace is always clear as crystal, but the well in which it is--that is your heart is most unclean. The Lord can give you a clean heart, and renew a right spirit within you" (Ps. 51:10). She woke up from her sleep, and immediately began to pray, asking the Lord for a clean heart, until she obtained it. Some may say, "But what did she obtain?" This question is seldom if ever asked by persons who know the experience of this blessing; but to those who do not, it is very difficult to convey an idea of what it is by definitions. Let it be enough to understand that there is something desirable to be had, which may be obtained by doing as the woman did. "As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man" (Prov. 27:19). Those who know it, understand one another and rejoice together. There is no such mutual sympathy and joy as that which brethren have who are partakers of this higher blessing. After this, Hannah became a restful, peaceful soul; and many others, with her, found that quiet confidence which can only belong to those who can and do trust a risen and living Christ. It was quite a new era in the work, and called out fresh energies; but like every new thing, it absorbed too much attention, to the exclusion of the simple Gospel for the unsaved. "Christ died for our sins," is only part of the Gospel, though a very important part. "Christ rose again the third day according to the Scriptures" (1 Cor. 15:3, 4), is also a part, which should not be omitted in its due time and place. These two important truths, I am sure, are needful for scriptural work, and they should both be systematically preached. CHAPTER 25 The Removal, 1855. When I was on the eve of leaving Perranzabuloe, and before I knew that I was to go, I felt there was a gulf between the people and myself. Whatever else they held they were quite ignorant of ecclesiastical antiquities, Church history, and Catholic truth; what is more, they were unwilling to learn about such matters. Now I began to feel that another gulf was opening between my present people and myself. It was not as before, about ecclesiastical things; but on another score altogether. I wanted them to believe in a living Saviour: they were trying to content themselves with salvation instead. I wanted them to trust the Giver: they preferred to rejoice in the gift. I longed to lead them on to trust Christ as the object of faith, and from this to go on to devote themselves to His service, for very love of Him--to be loosed from the present world, by the hope of the Lord's coming. I could not get the people to receive this teaching, though it was God's truth, and could be verified by the Word. I confess that this threefold truth was not so satisfying to my own soul as I expected it would be. I remembered that I had not learned it from men or books, but experimentally, by God's teaching, in answer to prayer. I could not imagine what was wanting, and did not discover, for several years after, that the mere knowledge of a truth by itself, even though it is about Christ, cannot deliver. It is not the truth of Christ that delivers, but the Christ of the truth. In itself, it is but an instrument in the hand of the Spirit; and our expectation should be not from it, but from the Divine Person, whose it is. I have found that the power is Christ Himself; that where He is really the object of faith, He keeps the believer in peace; and that if there is no peace, it is only because there is a deficiency of trust: that He, as the object of love, constrains us to work for His Father's glory; and that He, as the object of hope, can and does separate us from the world and its entanglements, by drawing our affections to things above and beyond the present. Not having discovered this simple yet important truth, I was restless; and from God's Word came down to read the words' and thoughts of men. I fell in with the "Life of Madame Guyon." Here I found much sympathy, but somehow not that peace I was looking for. Then I read the writings of the Port Royal school, the Jansenists, Butler's "Lives of the Saints," and other such books. These diverted my mind, employed and interested it; but I cannot say they satisfied me. I was craving for something which I had not found yet, and had to wait three years or more before I did so. About this time I was invited to go to a parish in Plymouth, to a church where sacramental teaching was the rule. The incumbent was evidently as much dissatisfied with the state of his congregation as I was with mine. He wanted something new, and I thought I did likewise. Accordingly I went and preached in his pulpit, and the word spoken produced a marked sensation. My sermon brought to the vicar's mind many truths he had heard and loved in early days, and for this reason he urged me to stay and preach again. Then, to my surprise. He invited me to leave Cornwall and come to Plymouth. in order to take a district in his parish, that I might help him occasionally in his church. This was altogether such an unsought-for thing, and so unexpected, that I took time to consider. The next day I told him that I could not entertain his proposition, and that for three reasons:-- 1. I said, "I am sure that the Bishop would not consent." 2. "I have a debt laid on me by my patron for nearly 3,000 l., which I spent in building the church for him." 3. "I am responsible for a debt of 300 l. as security." He still urged it, and said he would go and see the Bishop, and speak with him on the subject. In his zeal he set off that very morning. The Bishop at first said flatly, "No;" and then, upon further inquiry, recalled the word, and said, "You may try it if you will." He returned in the evening with this information, which surprised me greatly. But what made me wonder still more, was the receipt of two letters the next morning by the same post--one from London and the other from Paris, releasing me from the responsibility of the two debts; and this without any request on my part. The three difficulties, which were like mountains before me only three days before, were now removed. I did not know what to say, and therefore determined, in all haste, to go home and consider the step. When I had related these astonishing circumstances to my dear wife, we agreed to go together to consult with Mr. Aitken. On arriving I said to him, "You must please to sit still and hear all before you speak." Then I told him of the invitation to go to Plymouth, the result of the preaching, the unexpected proposal to remove thither, the Bishop's answer, and the remission of the 3,300 l. "Now," I continued, "what do you say?" "You must go, my brother," he replied; "for you will never make Catholics of the Cornish people: the Methodist mind is far too deeply rooted in them." Our friend's decision was firm; and so there remained nothing for us to do but to follow it. The novelty of the proposition, and the surprising circumstances connected with it were exciting, and took away our thoughts for the time from the place which was to be left. When the decision was given and accepted, then Baldhu seemed to lift up its voice, and urge its claims. Certainly it was a strong tie which bound us to this place; but nevertheless, on our return home, I wrote to the Bishop, and' proposed to resign my present incumbency, in order that I might take a district in Plymouth. He replied in due course, that he would accept my resignation. After I was thus pledged, my wife's mind veered from her consent to go; and Mr. Aitken changed his tone also, and said that the text had come to him, "Cast thyself down," and that I was tempting God. Yet all the steps I had taken had been in prayer, and had been taken very reluctantly, for I was much attached to Baldhu. For nearly three months I was torn with distractions; sometimes hope lifted up the mist from the horizon, and then let it down again. I did not know what to do; the work at home had come to a stand; but there was one thing, my successor was not yet appointed, nor had I signed my resignation; therefore every now and then the thought came over me, that I would stay. Then a letter came from Plymouth, urging me to come away at once, "for the iron was hot for striking." Sometimes people came in and said, "You had better go;" then others would come in and say, "You will do no good if you do go." It was desolating, as well as distracting beyond description. I had a family of six children and three servants; it was a great expense to move there; and yet, if God was calling, it was quite as easy for Him to move eleven people as one; and I had ten claims upon Him. At last, suspense was over; my successor was appointed, and the day fixed for our going. I signed my resignation, having to pay four pounds ten shillings for it; then, suspense was changed into unmitigated sorrow. I had designed and built that church and house, and had seen them rise; had made the garden, and had had many happy and wonderful days in this place. I found it had taken a deep root in my heart, and therefore it was like tearing one up altogether to go away. But it was done now, and the friends who had advised me not to resign, seemed to have their triumph; and those who advised to go, were discouraged and grieved at my sorrowful state. My dear wife cheered up when she saw me down, and rose to the occasion; she began to pack up as if delighted at going, and went about everything most cheerfully. I told the people that I could not bear a leave-taking, but there would be a service in the church, and Holy Communion, at seven o'clock on the morning we were to leave. Many came, but the majority could not sum up the courage to do so. I put my resignation on the offertory plate, and gave it to God with many tears. A kind neighbour came to officiate for me, so that I did not take any part in the service, being exceedingly dejected and overwhelmed with sorrow. It was chiefly for fear, lest I was doing that which God would not have me do, and taking my family out from a comfortable home, I knew not whither, or to what discomforts. One thing I certainly saw plainly enough, that my affections were too deeply rooted in earthly things. I had no idea till then, that that place of my own creation had taken such a hold upon me. It was well to be loose from that, and free for my Master's service. After breakfast we left the old place; many people stood weeping by the roadsides; some ventured to speak, and others only thrust their hands into the carriage windows for a hearty grasp, without saying a word. It was indeed a sorrowful day, the remembrance of which even now makes my heart sink, though it is more than twenty-five years since. In the evening we arrived at the house of some friends, who had kindly invited us to break our journey, and remain the night with them; and in the morning we proceeded on our way to Plymouth. When we reached the house, we found our furniture unpacked, and distributed in the various rooms, and the table spread ready for us to take some refreshment. The word "Welcome" was done in flowers over the door, besides many other demonstrations of kindness; but I am afraid we were all too sorrowful at the time to show our appreciation of, or to enjoy them. We never settled in that house, and did not care to unpack anything more than necessary, or hang up the pictures or texts. My work did not prosper here, for I found I was unequally yoked with strangers, and accordingly felt dry and wretched. I sent my resignation of Baldhu to Bishop Phillpotts, and with it my nomination and other necessary papers, saying that I would wait on his lordship for institution on a certain day. At the appointed time I went to him, when to my great surprise, he very calmly said he could not appoint me to that district. I could not understand this, for as I had told him, I had only resigned conditionally, and reminded him that I had asked his permission to resign, for the purpose of taking this district. "How can I consciously appoint or license you to anything in my diocese?" he said, looking me full in the face, and then in his courteous way he laid his commands on me to stay to luncheon, saying he would be obliged "if I would do him this honour;" he bade me walk in the garden, as he was busy, and would be occupied till luncheon. I felt that I needed a little quiet and fresh air to get over this climax of my troubles--out of one living, and not into another; and that with a wife, six children, and three servants, with very little to live on. Here was a state of things! I had plenty to occupy my thoughts and prayers. I feared and mourned, above everything, lest God should be angry with me. "Oh, if I could only know this is the will of God, then I should not care a fig for all the bishops on the bench, and would not ask one of them for anything!" I was soon roused from my reverie, by the presence of Miss C. P., the Bishop's daughter, who had come out at her father's request to show me the garden and the view. I had known this lady slightly for several years, and so she was not altogether a stranger to me, or I to her. She talked so cheerfully and pleasantly, that it came to my mind, "Perhaps after all, the Bishop is only trying me. He will not appoint me to this bare district, because he has something better with which he means to surprise me." This sanguine thought cheered me up greatly. At luncheon he was as kind and happy as if he had neither done anything dishonourable, or had any intention of doing so; so that I felt quite sure something good was coming. I began to wonder at intervals, "What part of the diocese I was to be sent to?--Where is there a vacancy?" and so on. The Bishop was as friendly to me as he used to be in other days. After the repast, he summoned me to his study again. "Now," I thought, "I shall hear where I am to go;" but instead of this, he said that he was "much engaged, and must take leave of me." I was more than astonished at this, and said, "I can scarcely believe that you refuse to appoint me!" "I do then, most positively." "But I have a copy of my letter to your lordship, and your answer." "Then you may urge your claim by law, if you please." "No, indeed, my lord, I do not think I will do that." And then, after a short pause, I said, "You have done for me what I could not dare do for myself, though I have often been tempted to do it." "And pray, what is that?" he inquired. "To give up parochial ministration, that I may be free to preach wherever I am led." "Could you do that?" "I could not do it conscientiously myself; but now that you have stripped me of harness, I will put on no more." The Bishop made his bow, and I made mine; and that was the end of our interview. In my unconverted days I used to be an ardent and enthusiastic admirer of this man; his charges, his speeches, and especially his withering, sarcastic letters to Lord John Russell and others, who came under his tremendous lash, to my mind made him a great hero. His straight forward manner also commanded my respect, for, generally speaking, I had found bishops very smooth and two-sided, or rather both-sided; but in his ease there was no mistake. It used to be a proud time for me when this Bishop came into Cornwall, and I was permitted to accompany him, and to act as his chaplain at the consecration of a church or burial ground, or to attend him when he went to a Confirmation. Sometimes I had the happy privilege of rowing him in a boat on the sea. He seemed to take such an affectionate and intelligent interest in my parish and my church work. He asked various questions about my neighbours, just as if he lived among them and knew all their circumstances. He struck me as a wonderful man, and I was his champion upon all occasions in my unconverted days. Notwithstanding this, he was too honest to his own views to favour me after my conversion. On my return home without a license, I had but a poor account to give, and the future prospect looked very gloomy. CHAPTER 26 Plymouth, 1855. I occasionally preached in the parish church, and went to the daily Communion and the daily service. My spare time I occupied (it was like going back to brick-making in Egypt) in painting the church. I laboured for hours and hours to try and make this great chalk-pit of a place look somewhat ecclesiastical. All round the church I painted a diaper pattern, surmounted with a border, which went over the doors and under the windows. Then on the bare wall at the end I painted a life-sized figure of our Lord, as a Shepherd leading His sheep, taken from Overbeck's picture. This, together with a few other pictures of Christ, warmed up the building very well. Then for the chancel I had a most elaborate design. First, there was a beautiful gilded pattern over the very lofty chancel arch, which I managed to reach by means of a ladder. Professional people need scaffolding and platforms, which I dispensed with, and accomplished the whole space in less time than it would take to put up all their needful erections. Inside the chancel I had twelve niches, with tabernacle work above them, for the twelve apostles; and these were all duly represented after a true mediaeval pattern. The local newspaper made great fun of these paintings; and the reporter would have it, that "these lively saints looked very conscious of being put up there, and that they were constantly 'craning' their necks to look at one another--as if they would inquire, 'I say, how do you like being there?'" My favourite figure, St. John, upon which I bestowed extra pains, the provoking man would have it, was St. Mary Magdalene, leering at the apostle next to her, or at the one opposite--it did not seem quite clear to him which; but her head was down on one side in a bewitching attitude. In the middle of the great undertaking I was called away for a few weeks. During this time the reporter came again and again, but saw no progress; he therefore put an advertisement into his paper to this effect:-- "Stolen or strayed, a monkish priest, who paints apostles. He is not to be found. Any person or persons who can give information concerning this absent personage, will greatly oblige." My preaching was not acceptable in this church, neither was my connection with it; and my apostles were no better appreciated, for they were soon after whitewashed over, and disappeared like a dream. Sometimes, in damp weather, they were still to be seen "craning" their necks as heretofore (much to the amusement of the chorister boys) though with a kind of veil upon them. Doubtless, in a future generation, when the plaster begins to blister, some antiquarian will discover this "wonderful mediaeval fresco," and call the attention of the public to it. My ideas and dreams about catholic advancement were thus brought to a calamitous end. This church to which I had come was one in high credit for much private and public devotion; but, alas! I found what I might easily have expected, that without spiritual vitality everything must be dry and dead! Dry and dead indeed it was. The conversation of these supposed ascetics was for the most part secular, and at the highest only ecclesiastical. Their worship, on which a great amount of pains and cost was bestowed, was but a form carefully prepared and carefully executed, as if critics were present; yet it did not, and could not, rise to spirituality. A lady presided at the organ, and had the teaching and training of the choir. Much of her own personal and religious character were imparted to the performances, which in tone and manner were admirable and precise. She made the boys understand the sense of the words they sang, till I have seen them even in tears during the singing. The "chaste old verger" (as our reporter called him), who headed the procession at least four times a day, up and down the church, was a very important and successful part of the machinery, and from him, up to the highest official, everything was carried out with exact precision. But oh, how unsatisfying and disappointing it was!--to a degree which I was ashamed to own! How could I be so foolish, to give up a living, where there was vitality, though it was rough, for a superficial and artificial semblance of religion? In the book of Ecclesiastes we read, that "a living dog is better than a dead lion;" and though I had often quoted this saying, I never felt the truth of it so deeply as now. The dead lion and the dead elephant are quite immovable things for a live dog to bark at or fret about. It was a hard and trying time to me in that place. I could not see my way, or understand at all what was the Lord's will towards me. While in this state of mind I had a vivid dream. I thought that the ornamental iron grating, which was for ventilating the space under the floor of the church, was all glowing with fire, as if a great furnace were raging there. I tried to cry "Fire!" but could not. Then I ran into the church, and saw it full of people reverently absorbed in their devotions. I tried again to give the alarm, and cry "Fire! fire!" but I could not utter a sound. When I looked up, I saw thin, long, waving strings of fire coming up among the people through the joints of the floor. I called attention to this, but no one else could see it. Then I became frantic in my gesticulation, and at last was able to tell some of the congregation of the great fire which was under them; but they looked at one another, smiling, and told me to go about my business--that I was mad! I woke out of my troubled sleep in a very agitated and perturbed state. Since that, whenever I have seen or heard of churches, where Church and Sacraments are preached, instead of Christ, as the one way of salvation, I long to warn the people of the fire raging underneath, and to show them the way of the Lord more perfectly. One day, when I was feeling more desponding and wretched than before, a lady called, and said she wanted to speak to me--would I come to her house for this purpose? I went, and she was not long before she opened the conversation by charging me with being uncharitable. "You say we are all unconverted." I replied, "Of course, as children of Adam we are, till conversion takes place; there can be no mistake about that! But when did I say that you were unconverted? Is it not your own conscience that tells you that? When we preach to people as unconverted, those who are changed, and brought from death into life, know as well as possible that we do not mean them; and they pray for a blessing on the Word, that it may reach others, as it once reached them. They do not sit there and resent the charge, for they know what has passed between God and their souls, and are anxious for others to share the same blessing." She was silent; so I continued, "May I ask you the question. Are you converted? Can you tell me that you are?" She replied, "I do not know what you mean." "Well, then, why do you suppose that I mean something uncharitable or bad?" "Because I know very well it is not a good thing to be unconverted. But," she added, "it seems such an unkind thing to put us all down for 'lost,' while you suppose yourself to be saved." "You may know more about this some day, perhaps; but in the meantime will you allow me to ask you one thing: Do you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ?" She replied indignantly, "Of course I do. Now, this is the very want of charity I complain of-the idea of asking me such a question!" She was one of the Rev. --'s, (the confessor's) favourite devotees, and had been absolved by him for several years; the very idea of asking her if she believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, made her quite impatient, as well as indignant.' I said, "Do not be angry with me, but what do you believe about Him?" "Believe everything, of course! I believe the creed." "Yes, I do not doubt that, for a moment. But do you believe that Jesus died for you?" "Why, yes, certainly: how could I do otherwise; He died for us all." "That is not the point. I mean, do you believe that He died; and that you have a personal interest in His death?" She hesitated, and then looking at me said, "Do you mean objectively, or subjectively?" "May I ask what I am to understand by these words?" "Dr. -- taught me that, 'Christ died.' is objective, and that 'Christ died for me.' is subjective." "Very good indeed," I answered, "I like that very much; it is quite true. But it is one thing to know about subjective faith, and quite another thing to have it. Now I will come back to my question. Do you believe that Christ died for you?" "You evidently mean something that I do not understand," she said, in a perplexed manner. Then looking at the crucifix on her table, I said, "What does that remind you of?" "Oh, I pray before that every day, and ask the Lord to take my sins away." "Then you do not think your sins are forgiven yet. How can you ask for forgiveness, and have it at the same time?" "Do you mean to say then," she replied, with surprise, "that you have no sins?" "Yes, I mean to say that my sins were atoned for, once for all, on the cross; and that, believing this, I have peace and remission of sins. My past sins are cast like a stone into the deep; and as to my daily sins of omission and commission, I do not take them to the cross like a Romanist, but to the throne of grace, where the risen and living Christ is now making intercession for me." She was silent; and so was I, inwardly praying for her. Presently she looked up and said, "I do thank Him for dying for me. Is that what you want me to say?" "Thanksgiving is an indication of living faith. How can I believe that Jesus died for me, and not thank Him?" "But I do thank Him, and it is very uncharitable of you to say, we do not thank Him; we all thank Him!" She was gone again, and I wondered whether I should ever bring her back! "You remind me," I said, "of three ladies of good position, whom I met last year. They all professed to thank God for Christ's death; but yet they had no peace, and were not satisfied. Seeing they were in real earnest, I proposed to go over the General Thanksgiving in the Prayer-book with them. They did so, and thanked God for creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life, but above all--then as I emphasized this 'above all,' they said, almost together, 'That is where we are wrong. We have not 'put the redeeming love of God as shown in Christ's death, above all.' These three ladies found peace and pardon that same evening." "That has been my mistake too," said the lady, interrupting me. "I have never put Jesus above all; but I do desire to do so, and that with all my heart." "Then do so," I said, "and thank Him for His love in dying in your stead, and shedding His blood to wash your sins away." "He shall have all my heart!" she exclaimed. So saying, she knelt before the crucifix, and bowing gracefully and most reverently, she reproached herself for not putting Jesus first, and said, "Thou art worthy! Glory be to Thee, for Thy great love to me." Then she rose from her knees, and once more tuning to me, said, "Thank you so much! God bless you for your kindness and patience with me! I cannot tell you how much I thank you. Do you remember once preaching about Abraham offering up his son Isaac? You said, 'God the Father has done more than this for us; and yet how few cry to Him and say, "By this I know that Thou lovest me!"' I thought, and felt then, that you knew something which I should like to know; and I have been longing to speak to you ever since. Oh, I do thank you so much!" "Dear friend, I cannot refuse your thanks, but I should like to see you thanking God more than you thank me." I knew that she could sing and play, so, pointing to the piano, I asked her if she would sing a hymn. "Yes," she said, "I will. What shall I sing?" "Find 'When I survey the wondrous cross,'" I said. She did not need to find the music, for she knew it without; so, sitting down, she began to sing, till the tears came into her eyes, and her voice broke down. "I never knew the meaning of these words before," she said; "'Sorrow and love flow mingled down.' How could I be so blind and ignorant? 'Love so amazing, so divine,' does 'demand my life, my soul, my all!' O Lord, take it!" After this, I had a few parting words with her, and pointing to the crucifix I said, "Remember Christ is not on the cross now. He died; that is past. He is risen, and has ascended up on high. The throne of grace is not the crucifix or the confessional, but where Christ sits--at the right hand of God; and we, as believers, may in heart and mind thither ascend, and with Him continually dwell. Have done, then, with this dead Popery; you know better now. Testify for the glory of God." This lady's conversion vexed her husband greatly, and brought down the frowns and disapprobation of the reverend doctor; altogether, it did a deal of mischief in the camp. The "Sisters of Mercy" with whom she was connected were kept aloof from her contaminating influence, and soon afterwards were altogether removed from the place. There was one, however, a particularly hard-headed looking individual, who used to stare at me through her round spectacles whenever I met her, as if I were an ogre. I heard that she was a great mathematician. She looked like it; and evidently there was no fear entertained of her being converted. She and one other were left behind; but otherwise the house, which had been built at great cost, was empty. The lady was not allowed to speak to me any more; but I hope she continued to go to the true throne of grace, and not to the crucifix to a living, not a dead Christ. All this, doubtless, was intended to sicken me of my reverence for the Catholic theory. I was evidently under an infatuation on the subject, which, for the time, nothing could dispel. I had some poetic or imaginary fancy of spiritual catholicity before my mind, which I supposed was something better than the fleshy spirituality of Methodism, to which I had taken a great dislike; but where to find this Utopia, or how to embody it, I knew not. These specimens of catholic people I certainly had no sympathy with; nor had I any patience with their hollow devotion and their studied imitation of Popery. I plainly saw that light could have no fellowship with darkness, or life with death. I was more and more convinced that when a man has more sympathy with dead Catholics than with living Dissenters, he is not a living soul at all. There is no necessity to go to one extreme or the other. I believe the reformed Church of England (in her principles, at least) occupies the middle path between these two extremes, with the excellences of both, and the faults of neither. I think I was permitted to be thus unsettled in my mind, because I did not keep to my work with a single eye to God's glory. CHAPTER 27 Devonport, 1855. I was at this time invited to preach in a church in Devonport, where it pleased the Lord to give blessing to His word. With this exception, my work was, generally speaking confined to individual cases. I will give an account of a few which present the most instruction and interest. The first I will mention is that of one of the curates of the church in which I was asked to preach. At this time he was preparing for confession, and his self-examination had brought him to see and feel that he was a sinner. Under this course of preparation, the preaching of the Gospel had much effect upon him, and he came to tell me of his state. I was able to show him from the Word of God that he was in a worse condition than he supposed--that actually, by nature, we are lost sinners now. Under the operation of the Holy Spirit he was brought to feel this also, and was very miserable. One day, while officiating at a funeral, the Lord spoke peace to his soul; so great was his joy, that, he said, he could scarcely refrain from shouting aloud in the middle of the service. After it was over he went about everywhere, telling of his conversion, and the Lord's dealings with his soul. The result of this was that his fellow-curate (who was also preparing for confession) was awakened, and came to me in great distress of mind, declaring he "could not say he was converted," and that he was very unhappy. He acknowledged that he should not like to die as he was, and therefore knew he ought not to be satisfied to live in that state. However, when I got to close dealing with him about his soul, he said that though he could not say he was saved, he certainly thought that he was being saved by continual absolution and the sacrament. Upon this, I was enabled to show him that he did not go to the means of grace, or even to the Lord's table, because he was saved, but in order to be saved; and that he was working for life, and not from life. He gave up disputing, and was not long before he too found peace in believing. The time was approaching for these two curates to go, as usual, to confession. They came together to ask me about it. I counselled them to go, by all means, to the reverend doctor, who usually received their confession, and to tell him in their own words how the Lord had convicted and converted them. I said that Bilney, one of the first martyrs of the Reformation, when he was converted, went immediately to make confession to Latimer, and by doing so he became the means of his conversion. "Go, by all means; you do not know what use the Lord may make of your testimony." They went accordingly, but did not meet with the happy success of Bilney, for they were sent indignantly away one after the other for saying their sins were pardoned and their souls save, and that by direct and personal faith in Christ, without the intervention of a priest. The reverend confessor, unlike the honest Latimer, said these young men had come to mock him. Notwithstanding these instances of usefulness and encouragement, I continued to be very unhappy, for want of more general work, and felt as if God had cast me off. I can now see that this testing and perplexing dispensation through which I was passing, was not altogether such a barren desert as I felt it to be at the time. It was fraught with many lessons, which have stood by me ever since, though I must confess I never revert to this period without many unhappy memories. I will record one more lesson which I was taught in this place, and then go on to other subjects. One warm spring day, while I was sitting in my house with the doors and windows open, a gentleman came running into it in great haste, somewhat to my surprise, he being a perfect stranger to me, and I to him. Standing in the passage, and looking into the room where I was seated, he said, "Sir, are you a clergyman?" I replied, "Yes, I am." "For God's sake, come; follow me!" So saying, he went away. I immediately took up my hat, and ran after him down the side of the square, and noticing the gate where he turned in, I walked leisurely to the same place, and found him in the passage of his house panting for breath. He had run so fast that he could not speak, but made a sign to me to go upstairs; then pointing to a door, he bade me go in. On doing so, I saw at once it was a sick-chamber, and found myself alone in the presence of a lady, who was sitting up in the bed. I bowed to her, and said, "Can I help you?" She said, "Oh, no! it is too late!" "Too late for what?" "I am dying; I am lost! I am lost! It is too late--too late!" "But Christ came, and is present, to-save the lost." "Oh, yes! I know all that. I taught it to others, but I never believed it myself. And now it is too late: I am lost!" "Then believe it now! Why not 'now'?" "Because it is too late!" "While there is life there is hope! Lose no more time. 'God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish'" (John 3:16). "That is not for me. I know that text very well, but it will not do for me. I am lost! I am lost! It is too late!" While I was speaking I saw her falling over the side of the bed. Springing forward, I put out my arm, and, with her head resting on it, and her despairing eyes looking into my face, she expired. I could scarcely believe it, when I saw that flush on her face fade away unto the pallor of death. She was gone! I placed her poor head on the pillow, and rang the bell for assistance. Her mother and sister came in, saying, "Is it not dreadful?" I said, "Look at her. She is gone. She said it was too late, and that she was lost for ever." "Oh," exclaimed the mother, "it is most dreadful!--most dreadful!" This poor young lady used to be a Sunday-school teacher and district visitor; but she was never converted, and she knew it. She had full head-knowledge, but no heart experience, and thus she died in unforgiven sins. Lost---for ever lost! Notwithstanding this, and other solemn lessons which the Lord was teaching me at this time, I was still restless and unhappy. I felt as if my life, with its work, was cut off in the very beginning of its usefulness, and that there was no more for me to do. As the weather became hot with the advancing summer, I was more and more dejected in mind and body. I lived now among strangers, and had no settled occupation, nor could I apply myself to study. One very hot and dusty afternoon, as I was slowly toiling up a steep hill, two women overtook me; and as they were passing, I heard one say to the other, in a very sad and disheartened tone, "I wish I had never been born;" and the other responded much in the same spirit, though I could not hear what she said. A fellow-reeling makes us wondrous kind, and has the effect of drawing out our sympathies. I followed these poor women, and when we were on the top of the hill, I spoke to them, and then added, "You seem very weary. Will you come in and take a cup of tea and rest a little?" They thanked me, and consented. So I took them into the house, and asked for some tea. While it was being prepared, I said to them, "I overheard you talking on the road as you passed me. Do you really wish you had never been born?" The poor woman who had uttered these words burst into tears; and as soon as she could command her feelings sufficiently, she told me her sad tale of sorrow and trouble. She was a soldier's wife, as was also the other, and they were both in the same distress. "Well," I said, "trouble does not spring out of the ground; and we may be equally sure that God, who sends, or at least permits it, does so for our good. One thing is certain, that if we humble ourselves under the mighty hand of God, He can and will lift us up, for He has promised to do so. He will make all things work together for our good, if we trust Him." I then asked them if they had given their hearts to God. One of them said, "Ah, that is what I ought to have done long ago; I know a deal better than I do. I was brought up well, no mistake; but I was giddy, and went after the red-coats, and married an ungodly man, and now I am suffering for it." "Dear woman," I said, "you may thank God for hedging up your path. He might have given you over to prosperity and a false happiness, or left you altogether. Thank God that it is not worse with you; and give Him your heart. Do you believe that the Lord Jesus died for you?" She would not speak. Then I turned to the other, who was also crying, and said, "Do you believe?" "I did once," she said, in a dejected tone; "but I have gone back from everything." By this time their tea was ready, so I refreshed them with it; and after that we resumed our conversation and united in prayer. They both gave their hearts to God. I found that they lived not far off, so I had the opportunity of seeing them from time to time, and was able to instruct and cheer them on their way. I can see now how God was speaking to me through these women; but somehow I did not hear or recognize His voice then. About this time, my dear wife became very prostrate in health and spirits--so much so, that we felt anxious about her. I went to a famous physician, who was in the neighbourhood, and asked him to come and see her. He did so, and after careful examination, said that there was really nothing the matter more than that she was one of those persons who could not live in that limestone town in the summer. He said, "She will be perfectly well if you take her away into the country. You must do this at once, for the longer she remains here, the weaker she will be." He refused to take any fee, and said he would send a carriage at two o'clock, and that we must be ready to start by that time. This was more easily said than done; for where could I take the children, or how could I leave them at home? However, as the doctor was very peremptory, we prayed about it, and considered how we were to accomplish the task. At this critical moment a friend arrived in his carriage, and said he had driven in from the country to bring some relatives of his to the train, and did not care to go back alone. "Would one of us, or both, take pity on him, and give him our company?" As soon as he heard of our position he greatly rejoiced, and said, "Come, all of you; I have plenty of room!" He took the invalid, with some of the children. I shut up the house, and followed with the others and the nurse, in the fly, which duly arrived at two o'clock. By five o'clock we were all out in the green fresh country, and our patient was already revived, and walking about the garden. There happened to be a farm-house vacant, which we took, and removing some of the furniture, made it comfortable for the present. This we called "home" for a little time during my unsettled state. CHAPTER 28 A Mission to the North, 1855. When my family were all comfortably settled and surrounded by kind friends, I went off to the north of England, on a visit to a clergyman, who had invited me. He had already suffered for doing this on a previous occasion, in the diocese of Oxford; where the bishop took away his licence, because he had me to preach for him. The real cause of offence was, that there was a revival in the parish; and complaint was made to the bishop, that people were kept up till "all hours of the night, howling and praying." His lordship sent forthwith for my friend's licence; I advised him to send it, saying, "He will be sure to return it to you; but perhaps with a reprimand." Instead of this, the bishop kept it, and said that he would countersign his testimonials to go to another diocese. My friend was at first disgusted and disposed to rebel; but instead of this, he bore the treatment patiently; and went to another position and charge at G--, in the north of England. Thither, nothing afraid, he invited me to come. In this part of the country I found a hearty lively people, something like the Cornish. Here I soon regained my spirits, and got to work in right earnest. In this place a revival began at once; and every day we had people crying for mercy, very much in the way they did in Cornwall. Among others, there came to the church on Sunday afternoon, a tall Yorkshireman, in his working clothes. He stood under the gallery, in his shirt sleeves, with a clay pipe sticking out of his waistcoat pocket, and a little cap on his head. I fancy I can see him now, standing erect, looking earnestly at me while I was preaching, with his hand on one of the iron supports of the gallery. As the sermon proceeded he became deeply interested, and step by step drew nearer to the pulpit. He seemed to be altogether unconscious that he was not dressed for a Sunday congregation, or that he was the object of any special notice. After the sermon he knelt down in the aisle, and there he remained. I was called out of the vestry to go to him, but could not get him to say a word. I prayed by his side, and after some time he groaned out an "Amen," then he got up, and went towards the door. I followed him, and saw that instead of going along the path, he made across the graves in the churchyard, to a particular one; and then he threw himself on the ground, in vehement and convulsive emotion. He said something about "Edward," but we could not distinguish what it was. The sexton said that this was his son Edward's grave. Poor man! he was in great sorrow; but he kept it all to himself. He then went home, and shut himself up in his own room. His daughter could do nothing with him in his distress. We called several times to see him in the course of the evening, but in vain. The next morning I called again, when his daughter told me that he had gone out early, and had not returned to breakfast. She appeared to be in a good deal of trouble, and said she had been to his mine to inquire for him, but that he was not there. All day long we searched for him. Some looked in the woods, half-expecting they might find his body on the ground, or hanging from a tree; while others inquired in every direction, with increasing anxiety, till the evening. Then, as we were returning home in despair and disappointment, whom should we see in the green lane between the vicarage and the church, but our friend. He was looking into the shrubs as if watching something; and when we came up to him, he turned to us with a radiant smile, and said, "The Lord is 'gude.'" I said, "You are right, He is so." "Yes, I am right, all right! thank God! Think of that! He saved me this day!" "Are you coming to church to-night?" "Oh yes, certainly I will be there." "But," I said, "have you been home yet?" "Oh yes, sir, thank you; my girl knows all about me." That man was so manifestly changed, and so filled with the Spirit, that his old worldly companions were afraid of him. The publican of the inn he used to frequent was particularly so, and said he was frightened to be in the same room with him. There was a great stir among the people in this place; for the fear of the Lord had fallen on them, so that they were solemnized exceedingly, and many were converted. The vicar being somewhat timid, began to be afraid of what was going on; and wrote to ask counsel of a clerical neighbour at C--, who answered his letter by inviting him to come over, and bring me with him. He said that he wanted me to preach in his church on the following Friday evening, adding, "I have already given notice, and also read parts of your letter in church. I am sure the people will come and hear this man; I expect a large congregation. Be sure and bring him over; do not disappoint me on any account!" Accordingly, on the Friday we appeared there, and in the evening I preached to a large and attentive assembly. Many were awakened, and some remained behind to be spoken with; others, who were too shy to do so, went home; and we heard the next morning that several had had no sleep or rest all night. Three men, whom we saw in the morning, had found peace. After this, we drove slowly back to G--, but a messenger had arrived before us, and said that I must come back again with him, for the bills were already out that I would preach on Sunday and following days at C----. The vicar was most reluctant to let me go, but under these circumstances, he at last consented; so I went back in the carriage the messenger had brought for that purpose. At the Sunday morning service, the manner and tone of the people, and their eager attention, implied that something was going to happen. There was a deeply solemn feeling in the church, both morning and evening, which made it very easy to preach. In the course of my sermon, I know not why, I was led to Speak about the endless misery of hell; and some who were present said I asserted, "That there was a great clock in hell, with a large dial, but no hands to mark the progress of time: it had a pendulum which swung sullenly and slowly from side to side, continually saying, 'Ever! never!' 'Ever! never!'" * ______________________ * Both Bridaine and Krummacher have expressed somewhat the same idea. ________________________ This seemed to make a profound sensation among the people: many stayed to the after-meeting-they would not go away until they had been spoken with. Among others, the churchwarden came to me in a very excited state, and said, "What ever made you say, 'Now or never!--now or never!'?" He was like one beside himself with emotion when he thought of the pendulum which I had described. "Now or never!--now or never!" he kept on repeating to himself, till at last he went away. He was far too excited to talk of anything else, or to listen either. Later on in the evening, we were sent for to come in all haste to his house. There we found him in great trouble of mind, and afraid to go to bed. After talking to him for a short time, he went on to say that he had a strange thing to tell us--that that very morning he was lying in bed (he thought he was quite awake), and looking at a little picture of the crucifixion which was hanging over the fireplace. While doing so he saw as plainly as possible some black figures of imps and devils walking along the mantelpiece with a ladder, which they placed against the wall, evidently for the purpose of removing this picture from its place. He watched them intently, and noticed that they seemed much troubled and perplexed as to how they were to accomplish their task: Some of the imps put their shoulders to the under side of the frame, while others went up the ladder; one, in particular, mounted to the top with great dexterity, to get the cord off the nail, but without success. Enraged at this, they made various other attempts, but all in vain, and at last they gave up in despair, if not something worse; for by this time they appeared furious, and dashed the ladder down to the ground, as if it were the fault of it, and not of themselves. In rage and disappointment, they passed off the scene. Presently the bedroom door opened, as he thought, and who should present himself but "Paul Pry" (that was the name he had given to a Dissenting preacher in the village, who was a portly man, and always went about with a thick umbrella under his arm)--the veritable Paul Pry, umbrella and all, standing at the door. He said to his visitor, "What do you want here?" The phantom pointed to the picture over the mantelpiece, and said, in a quiet, confiding way, "Now or never! Do you hear, man? Now or never!" The man was indignant at this untimely intrusion, and bade his visitor begone; but, for all that, he still stood at the door, and said, "Now or never!--now or never!" He got out of bed, and went towards the door, but the figure disappeared, saying, "Now or never!--now or never!" Then he got into bed again, and all was still for a little while, when suddenly the door opened a second time, and the vicar appeared, just as Paul Pry had done, and came towards the bed, as if with a friendly and affectionate concern for his welfare, and said, "My dear fellow, be persuaded it is 'now or never!'" Then, taking a seat at the corner of the bed, with his back leaning against the post, he went on talking, and saying, again and again, "Now or never!" The poor churchwarden remonstrated in vain against being visited in this manner, and thought it very hard; but the vicar sat there, and persistently, said, "Now or never!" He became very angry, and bade him go out of the room immediately; but the vicar said, "Now or never!" "I will 'now' you," he said, "if you do not be off;" and so saying he rose up in his bed; while the vicar glided to the door, repeating, "Now or never!" and went away. The poor man, in great distress of mind, turned to his wife, and asked her what could be the meaning of all this; but she only cried, and said nothing. Then, who should come next but Mr. F----, a quiet man of few words. He had thoughts, no doubt, but kept them all to himself. He came gliding into the room, as the vicar had done, sat on the same corner of the bed, leant against the same post, and in 'the quietest way possible repeated the same words, "Now or never!" "Do you hear him?" said the poor distracted man to his wife--"do you hear him?" "Hear him? Hear what? No! nonsense! What does he say?" "My dear, there! listen!" "Now or never!" said the quiet man. "There, did you not hear that?" "No," she said, "I can hear nothing," and began to cry more copiously. He got up, and said he would take the poker and punish every one of them--that he would. The strange visitor made for the door, and, like all the rest, said, as he disappeared, "Now or never!" The poor churchwarden continued in a most distracted state, and during the day met all his three visitors who had caused him so much anxiety--"Paul Pry," the vicar, and the quiet gentleman, none of whom looked at him or spoke to him as if anything had happened; but when he heard me say over and over again in the pulpit, "Now or never!" pointing, as it were, to the ghostly pendulum swinging there saying, "Ever!--never!" and inquiring of the people "Do you see it? do you hear it?" it seemed to bring matters to a climax. He said he turned and looked at the wall to which I pointed, and almost expected to see that solemn clock. I did not wait to hear more, but kneeling down, I begged him to close with the offer of salvation "now." "No," he said, with a sigh, "I am afraid I have refused too long!" "Don't say so! take it at once, 'now;' or perhaps it will be 'never' with you. A man does not often get such a plain warning as you have had. You had better take care what you are doing. 'Now!' why not 'now'?" He did accept salvation, and yielding himself to God, received forgiveness of his sins; and after that became a very different man. He had, as may have been suspected from the above narrative, the besetment of drink, before his conversion, and it remained a trouble to him after. Conversion and forgiveness of sins do not put away present bad habits. Such a master habit as this requires a direct dealing with. Zaccheus was a man who had been led astray by the love of money; when he was saved, he put his idol away from him at a stroke. This is the first thing to be done; and if it is done in the power of one's first love, it is a more easy task than afterwards. But it must be done with a firm and whole heart; not "Lord, shall I give the half of my goods to feed the poor?" but, "Lord. behold, the half of my goods I do give." "Behold, Lord, I do give up the world here, now." "Behold, Lord, I do here, and now, give up drink, anti will totally abstain from it henceforth." This is the first step; and the next is not less important, and that is to carry out the determination in the Lord's power, and not in our own. The resolution and determination once made, must be given over to the Lord to be kept by Him; not by our own effort and energy, but with perfect distrust of self and in dependence upon Him to enable us to keep it. Without this, there is no security whatever for anything more than temporary success, too often succeeded by a sorrowful fall. The flesh is too strong for us, and even if it were not so, the devil is; these two together, besides the lax example of the world, are sure to overpower the weak one. Young Christians need to put away at once the sin, whatever it is, that "so easily besets" them, or they will be entangled by it. There is no real and thorough deliverance, except by renouncing sin, and self too, giving up and yielding to the Lord. That soul was saved; but it was a miserable bondage of fear in which he lived and died. He was brought home at last, like a wrecked ship into harbour, who might have come in with a good freight, a happy welcome, and an "abundant entrance." The next day, Monday, we heard of other cases which were ordinary in their character, and therefore need not be detailed; but in the evening there was one which it will be instructive to mention. It was that of a clergyman of private means who came to this parish as a curate; but he had given up "taking duty," because, he said, "it was all humbug reading prayers, and all that." He drove a tandem,' and smoked all day instead; nevertheless, he was the object of much and earnest prayer. He also happened to be at church the day I preached about the clock; and declared likewise that I said there was a clock in hell. The sermon had evidently made a great impression upon him. He came to church again the next day, and heard something else that he was unable to forget. After the service, as soon as I was free, he asked me to walk with him, to which I assented, though I was feeling very tired. We rambled on the beach, and talked about many things. I tried in vain to bring up the subject of my discourse. When I spoke about it he was silent; and when I was silent, he went off into other matters. He talked about Jerusalem and the sands of the desert, and the partridges, which, he said, were of the same colour as the sand. Was it from looking at sand always that they became that colour? Do people become alike who look much at one another? Is that why husbands and wives so often resemble each other? and so on. These questions made an impression on me, so that they always come up to my memory in connection with that evening's walk. Certainly, the apostle says that, "Beholding the glory of the Lord, we are changed into the same image from...glory to glory;" therefore there may be something in my companion's idea. But, however interesting the subject might be to consider. I was far too tired for anything else but real soul-to-soil! work, and therefore proposed that we should return home. We did so; and when my friend left me at the vicarage door, he said abruptly, "Will you let me write to you?" "Certainly," I replied. "I will write to-night; but do not trouble to answer in person; send me a written reply. "I said I would. In a few minutes after I received a short note, the purport of which was, "How can I be saved?" It is a very simple question, yet one not so easily answered to a person who already knew the scriptural answer. However, I had a letter by me which Mr. Aitken had written to some one under similar circumstances; so, taking that for a model, I wrote according to promise, adapting and altering sentences to meet the present case. I sent the note, with a message that I would call in the morning. I did so, but found my friend was not at home. The landlady said, "Mr. F--- went out last night soon after he received a letter, and has not been home since." She became alarmed when she heard that we had not seen him. We too were taken by surprise, and did not know which way to go in search of him, or what to do. Presently we met the clerk of the church, who inquired if we had seen anything of Mr. F--; he had called the night before for the keys of the church, and had not returned them; so he (the clerk) could not get into the church to ring the bell or admit the congregation. This threw some light on the matter; so we went immediately to the church, and with the vicar's keys entered by the vestry door. Looking about in all directions, we found our friend on his knees in the nave, where he had been all night. I went up to him; and, as he did not speak, I asked if I might pray with him. He said, "Yes." "What shall I pray for?" "I don't know." "Shall I ask the Lord to come down from heaven again and die on the cross for you?" "No." "Do you believe that He has done that?' "Yes, I do." "You do believe that He has died for you-for you?" I inquired, laying the emphasis on you--"for you, as if you were the only person for whom He died?" "Yes; I believe He died for me." "Do you thank Him for it?" "No, I do not; I do not feel anything." "That may be; but do you not think you ought to thank Him for what He did for you?" He did not reply. "How can you feel anything till you have it? Or how can He give you any feelings till you thank Him for what He has already done for you? Make some acknowledgment." "Thank you," he replied; and without another word he rose from his knees and went away. The bell was rung, the people assembled, and we had the service; but he did not remain. Again he disappeared for the whole day, until the evening, when he came into the vestry, and said, "Will you let me read prayers this evening?" To this the vicar gladly assented; so he put on the surplice for the first time after several months, and went into church with us. The fact of his reading prayers again, and more especially the manner in which he did it, attracted attention. The earnest tone and meaning he threw into the words of the prayers, and more particularly into the psalm, penetrated much deeper. One lady knelt down and began to pray for herself in the pew; others were riveted as by the power of the Spirit. All through the sermon, I felt that the Lord was working among the people, and at the close they were loth to go. Many more remained in the after-meeting than we could speak to; manifest was the power of the Spirit, and much good was done. There was great joy in the little village that night, and for several days following the Lord wrought among the people. Many lasting mementos remain of this week's ministry, and of the weeks which followed. Our reticent friend was changed indeed, and immediately gave up the tandem and the pipes. I do not think he has ever smoked since; he has had something better to do. Smoking is an idle custom, and too often enslaves its votaries; and even if it does not become a dominant habit, it certainly teaches no lesson of self-denial. A Christian man needs not to seek relief in any such way. It is said to be very soothing when a man is in any trouble or anxiety; if so, in this respect it may be said to be next door to the beer-barrel, or to the use of spirits. If one man may soothe his feelings with this narcotic, another may stimulate them, when he is low and cheerless, with alcohol. The Apostle James says, "Is any merry, let him sing psalms." He does not say, Is any afflicted or low, let him smoke and drink! No; "let him pray," and depend upon God. Many a lesson which might be learned from God on our knees, is let slip altogether because we think there is no ham in relieving ourselves by self-indulgence. The flesh is a monster which is never appeased, much less subdued, by gratification. Our friend put away the smoking, and sold his pipes of various kinds, which must have cost a considerable sum, for he realized eighty pounds by them. With this amount, and some addition, he was able to put stained glass windows into the already beautiful church in which he received his blessing. This suitable thank-offering was a lasting memorial of his gratitude, besides being an example to others, not only to give their hearts to God, but also to give up their besetments, whatever they might be, and in doing so be free for God's service. This young man soon after was removed to a more arduous sphere, and carried great blessing thither; as he did also when he went from thence to a yet more influential and important place. Though now laid aside by ill health, he sends tracts and writes letters to many, and so continues to be, in the hand of the Lord, the means of winning souls; and in addition to this, sets an example of a holy and godly life. Another little incident I must notice here. While I was still working in this place, I received a letter from home, telling me that they were all well, and very happy in the country, but that they wanted me back again, and thought I had been away quite long enough. Besides this, it was time to be getting summer things, for which they would want at least ten pounds. I had no money to send; and though I might have asked many kind friends, I felt a difficulty about it. I do not think it was pride. I had put myself and all my affairs into God's hands; and though I was not ashamed to tell our circumstances to any one who asked me, I made it a rule not to mention my troubles or wants to any but the Lord. I read the cheerful parts of my letter at breakfast, and kept the other till I went upstairs. There I spread the letter on the bed at which I knelt, and read to the Lord the part that troubled me. I was praying about it, when there came a knock at the door, and before I had time to say "Come in," my friend F--- entered. Seeing me on my knees, he apologized for intruding, and in his shy way put a ten-pound note into my hand, saying, "I am ashamed it is not more; but will you accept that?" With this, he made for the door; but I detained him, in order to show him the part of my letter I had not read in the morning. I said, "I was just reading it to the Lord; and look, while I was still on my knees, He has sent you with the answer. It is the exact sum I want, so do not apologize for it. I thank God and thank you. I will send this off at once." CHAPTER 29 Tregoney, 1855. It was time now to be returning southward and homeward; which I did by several stages, stopping to preach in various places on the way. At length I reached the village in Cornwall, where my family were lodging in the farmhouse I have already mentioned. Here, the two clergymen were rather afraid of me, and avoided asking me to preach in the church. They had both been converted (or, at least, so they said) more than a year; but instead of working for God, they were bent on Romanizing. One of them said that there was no salvation in the Church of England; and the other showed me a sealed letter he had in his desk, which, he said, he "dared not open." It was from a brother of his, who went to Rome, and contained his reasons for so doing. "Ah," he said, "if I open that letter, I feel sure that I shall have to go too." This fascinating dread was upon him till he really did go, six months afterwards. I tried to deter these men from the erroneous step they were contemplating, by getting them into active work for the Lord. Sometimes I preached in this church, but more often in the open air. I am sorry to say my friends were but half-hearted in their cooperation, so that after a few weeks I left, and went to the west. On my way thither, a clergyman, who happened to be inside the coach, gave me his card, and then came outside for the purpose of talking with me. He asked me if I would take charge of his church and parish for six weeks. I said I would, but could not go for a week or two. We agreed as to time, and on the promised Saturday I arrived at the place. I walked there from a neighbouring town, having several calls to make on the way, and left my luggage to follow by the van. In the evening, about eight o'clock, I went down to meet this conveyance, and tell the man where to deliver my bag. I found a crowd of people in front of the inn where the van stopped, and heard the driver say, in reply to some question, "I've not got him, but I've got his bag." "Where is he?" said a voice. "I don't know," one said, "but I saw a queer little chap go into Mrs. M--'s house." "That's the place," said the driver; "that's where I'm a-going to take his bag. Come on, and let's see if he'll have it." I went in and out among the crowd, as it was dark, asking questions, and found out that they "would like to duck the fellow if they could catch him;" they "did not want any such Revivalist chap as that amongst them," and so forth. They were greatly excited, and wondered which road he was likely to come, for they would go to meet him. Some one asked, "what is he like ?" One answered, "Oh, he is a rum-looking little fellow that stoops. I should know him again anywhere." Hearing this, I held up my head like a soldier, in order to look as large as possible, and waited about till they dispersed. Then I joined a young man, and, talking with him, ascertained what it was all about. I passed the house where I was to lodge, for I saw that the people were watching the door. I came back among them, and, pointing to the door, said, "Is that where he stops?" "Yes," one replied, "he is there. The man brought his bag and left it; he is there, sure enough." I said, "Let us go in and see him; come along--come!" So saying, I made for the door and knocked, beckoning to the others to follow me; but they would not do so. As soon as the door was opened I went in, and the landlady speedily closed it after me, saying, "I am glad you are come. How did you manage to get here? I have sent word to the constable to look out for you, and he is still watching somewhere." "Why," I asked, "what is it all about? What is the matter?" "Why, some of the lads here say, that if they could catch you, they would give you a good ducking in the pond." "Indeed!" I said. "Then I don't think I will give them that pleasure tonight." So, sitting down by the fire, I made myself comfortable, and after supper went to bed. In the morning, while at breakfast, I saw a number of men playing in the open space in front of the house. Some were tossing pence, some playing at ball and other games, while many were standing about smoking, with their hands in their pockets. "There, that's the way they spend their Sundays in this place," said the landlady. After watching them from the window for a little time, I put on my hat and went out, and told them "it was time to go home and get ready for church; that would be far better," I said, "than playing like this on Sunday. It is a disgrace to men like you--married men, too, with families! It would be bad enough if you were a parcel of boys. I am quite ashamed of you!" They slunk away one by one, and I walked down the street to look about me, and to see the school-room where there was no school; but I intended to have a prayer-meeting there in the evening, after the service. I put up a notice to this effect, and then came back to my lodgings, till it was near church-time, when I set out, arrayed in my gown and bands, for the sacred edifice. On the way there I observed stones flying past me in every direction; but I walked on, till at last I was struck on the cheek with a patch of muddy clay which was thrown at me. There was a universal shout of laughter when the men and boys saw that I had been hit. I put my hand to the place, and found that the pat of clay was sticking to my cheek, so I pressed it there, hoping, by the help of my whiskers, that it would remain. I said to the crowd, who were laughing at me, "That was not a bad shot. Now, if you come to church you shall see it there; I will keep it on as long as I can." So saying, I walked on amidst the jeers of the people. When I arrived at the vestry, the clerk was in great trouble when he knew what had happened. He said, "Do let me wash the mud off, sir." "Oh, no," I replied, "I mean to show that all day, if I can." During the morning service, at which there were about fifty present, I succeeded in keeping on my mud-patch, and returned to dinner with the same. In the afternoon I said that I would have a service for children, as there was no Sunday school, to which about twenty came. Before addressing them, seeing that they were intently looking at the patch on my cheek, I told them how it came there, and that I intended to keep it on all through the evening service. This news spread all over the whole place, and the consequence was that such numbers of people came out of curiosity, that the church was filled to over-flowing. I preached without any reference to what had taken place, and succeeded in gaining the attention of the people; so that after the service I said I would have a prayer-meeting in the schoolroom. We had the place crammed, and not a few found peace. I announced that I would preach again the next evening. A revival soon broke out in that place, and the crowds who came to the meetings were so great, that we had as many people outside the large school-room as there were in. At the end of the six weeks the new vicar returned, and I was able to hand over the parish to him, with a full church, three Bible-classes, and a large Sunday-school. This I did, thanking God for the measure of success and blessing He had given to my efforts in that populous and wicked place. After I had left I received a letter from some of the parishioners, asking me what I should like to have as a testimonial of their gratitude and regard; hat they had had a penny collection amongst themselves, which amounted to several pounds, and now they were waiting to know what I should like! I wrote to tell them that nothing would please me better than a service of plate for communion with the sick. They bought this, and had a suitable inscription engraved, and then placed it under a glass shade in the Town Hall, on a certain day for inspection. Hundreds of people came to see the result of their penny contribution. After this public exhibition, the communion service was sent to me with a letter, written by a leading man in the place, saying, "I was one of the instigators of the opposition to your work here; but the very first evening you spoke in the school-room I was outside listening,' and was shot through the window. The word hit my heart like a hammer, without breaking a pane of glass. Scores and scores of people will bless God to all eternity that you ever came amongst us." The revival in this proverbially wicked place, created such a stir that the newspapers took it up, and thought for once that I "was in the right place, and doing a good work!" The member for the borough sent me twenty-five pounds, "begging my acceptance of the trifle." Who asked him, or why he sent it, I do not know; but the Lord knew that we needed help. More than this, the vicar of the adjoining parish, who used to be very friendly with me in my unconverted days, but who had declared his opposition pretty freely since that time, sent me a letter one Sunday morning by private hand, to be delivered to me personally. This I duly received, but expecting that it was one of his usual letters, and knowing that I had visited some persons in his parish who were anxious, I thought I would not open it until Monday, and so placed it on the mantelpiece. A friend who happened to come in, noticing it there, said, "I see you have a letter from the Prebendary; I dare say he is angry with you." "I suppose he is," I said; "but it will keep till tomorrow; and I do not care to be troubled with his thoughts to-day." "Oh, do let me open it," said my visitor; "I shall not be here to-morrow, and I should like to hear what he has to say." With my consent he opened it and read, "Dear old Haslam, you have done more good in that part of my parish where you are working, in a few weeks, than I have done for years. I enclose you a cheque for the amount of tithes coming from there. The Lord bless you more and more! Pray for me!" It was a cheque for thirty-seven pounds. The next morning I went over to see my old friend newly-found, and to thank him in person for his generous gift. Poor man, I found him very low and depressed, and quite ready and willing that I should talk and pray with him. I sincerely hope that he became changed before I left the neighbourhood, but I never heard that he declared himself. By this time, while I was still in Tregoney, Mr. Aitken had found his way to the village where my family were lodging, and he was preaching at the church with his usual power and effect. Night after night souls were awakened and saved. The vicar's wife was in a towering rage of opposition. Poor woman! she declared that she "would rather go to Rome than be converted ;" and to Rome she went, but remained as worldly as ever. It matters very little whether unconverted people join the Church of Rome or not; they are sure to be lost for ever if they die in their unconverted state: for nothing avails for eternal salvation but faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. CHAPTER 30 Secessions, 1856. After mission which Mr. Aitken had held, people came out so decidedly, that the vicar and curate, who had all along kept aloof, doubting, fell back into a kind of revulsion, and began to read and lend Romish books. Eventually, they themselves decided to join the Church of Rome. Whether they were ever really converted or not, I cannot tell. I thought and hoped they were, but they seldom stood out on the Lord's side. They certainly had light, and may have had some experience. At any rate, they chose such a harlot as the Church of Rome for the object of their love, instead of Christ Himself. I loved the curate. He was the man who had the unopened letter in his desk,* of which he harboured such a dread. Sad to say, he ended by falling away at last. Poor man! he went over to Rome, and never held up his head any more. Evidently disappointed, and ashamed to come back, he lingered on for some months, and then died. ____________________ * See page 256. _________________ Not long after his secession, we accidentally met in a quiet lane, in another part of the county, where I was walking for meditation. Perhaps he was led there for the same purpose. Meeting so unexpectedly, there was no opportunity to evade one another. I felt a trembling come over me at seeing him, and he was none the less moved. We held each other's hands in silence, till at last I said, "How are you? I love you still." "I cannot stand it!" he said; and snatching his hand out of mine, he ran away. I never saw him again, but mourned for him till he died. I cannot help thinking that he is safe, and that he died in a faith more scriptural than that of the Church of Rome. Why do men secede; and break their own hearts, and the hearts of those who love them? Rome seems to cast a kind of spell upon the conscience, fascinating its victims much as the gaze of the serpent is said to hold a bird, till it falls into its power; or as a light attracts a moth, till it flies into it, to its own destruction. Such seceders mourn and dread the step; pray about it, think and think, till they are bewildered and harassed; and then, in a fit of desperation, go off to some Romish priest to be received. A man who had an honourable position, a work and responsibility, suddenly becomes a nonentity, barely welcomed, and certainly suspected. Romish people compass sea and land to make proselytes; and after they have gained them, they are afraid of them, for their respective antecedents are so different, that it is impossible for them to think together. They get the submission of a poor deluded pervert, but he gets nothing in return from them but a fictitious salvation. They gain him; but he was lost the kind regard and sympathy of friends he had before, and with it all that once was dear to him; and he voluntarily forfeits all this upon the bare self-assertion of a system which claims his implicit obedience. The poor pervert is required to give over his will, his conscience, and his deepest feelings to the keeping of his so-called "priest" or to the Church, and is expected to go away unburdened and at peace. Some there are, it is true, who actually declare that they have peace by this means; but what peace it is, and of what kind, I know not. Supposing that I was in debt and anxiety, and a man who had no money, but plenty of assurance and brass, came to me and sympathized in my trouble, saying, "Do not fear---trust me; I will bear your burden, and pay off your debt"--if the manner of the man was sufficiently assuring, it would lift up the cloud of anxiety and distress; but, for all that, the penniless man would net, and could not, pay my debt. I might fancy he had done so or would do so; and then, when it was too late, the debt, with accumulated interest, would fall on me, to my over-whelming ruin, even though I had been ever so free from anxiety before. So it is with these deluded ones, who go to the priest instead of to Christ, and take his absolution instead of Christ's forgiveness. Any one who carefully reads the Word of God may see that the Church of Rome has no such priesthood as she claims, nor power to forgive sins, as she professes to do. The whole supposition is based on a misunderstanding of the text, "Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them; and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are retained" (John 20:23). The disciples (some of them not apostles) who received this commission or privilege, never understood that they were by these words (men and women together) empowered to be absolving priests. Even the very apostles never knew that they had any such power; and it is certain they never exercised it. They were perfectly innocent of being priests after the Romish type, and never dreamed of offering a propitiatory sacrifice. They simply believed that Christ had completed the work of propitiation once for all; and that there is now no more sacrifice for sin--that Christ only can forgive sins. Therefore in the words of St. John we are told, that "if any man sin (apostles and people alike), we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and He is the propitiation for our sins" (1 John 2:1, 2). The apostles and early Christians never understood that the power of the keys meant the exercise of mere priestly authority, neither was the doctrine known for several centuries after their time; therefore we may be sure that the peace which perverts have, if it professes to come from that source, is a delusion. No true remission or peace is, or can be given, but by direct and personal transaction with Christ Himself. I am perfectly convinced that the Epistles to the Romans and the Galatians are the answer to all the pretences of the Church of Rome, and that a man who will not read and follow them deserves to be misled. God is perfectly justified and clear on this point. During that winter six of my friends joined the Church of Rome. One I have already told about, who died, I am sure, from grief and disappointment.* Another became bigoted, and with a sullen, dogged pertinacity, set himself to work for Rome, looking very miserable all the time, although he used once to be happy in the Lord's work. The others, without exception, went back into the world, and made no secret of their conformity with it, its ways, and fashions. ______________________ * See page 263. ________________________ This was a time of trouble in more respects than one. These secessions to Rome brought great discredit upon the work, and especially on the effort to promote Catholic truth, and higher Church life. I found my own refuge and comfort was in working for God, and therefore went out on mission work whenever and wherever I could. Early in the spring of this year I went on a mission to Worcestershire, and there the Lord vouchsafed a great blessing, which has more or less continued to this day; though I grieve to say the present vicar has no sympathy with it. The work is still carried on in an Iron Room, out of church hours, by people who continue to go to church. The vicar of that time asked me to go and visit a farmer's wife, who was under deep conviction, and wished to see me. I did so, and as we approached the door (which was open) the first thing we heard was this individual saying, in a very high-pitched: voice, "Confound..." Seeing us, she suddenly stopped. "Go on with your text," said the vicar, quietly, "'Confounded be all they that serve graven images;' is that what you mean?" "No," she replied; "come in, I am so wretched that I don't know what to do with myself; it has made me cross. Do come in and pray with me." We at once consented; and on pointing her to Jesus, she found peace. Not content with praising God alone, she opened her house for a meeting for the people in the neighbourhood. This being situated on the confines of the parish, brought us into collision with the rector of the next parish. He was most indignant at our coming (as he said), "to entice his people away." I tried my best to conciliate this gentleman, but nothing would do, particularly when he heard that I was thinking of settling down in the district. This plan was however frustrated in an unexpected manner, and I was not permitted to remain there. One day, when I was praying about the matter, a letter was put into my hand from a lady who had been asking the Lord for nearly six months that I might be appointed to her late husband's church. She had applied to Lord Palmerston, who was the patron, and though she had received no answer, yet she had continued to pray. At last there came a courteous letter from his: lordship, apologizing for having delayed his reply, adding that he "had mislaid the application of her, nominee; if she would oblige him with the name and address of this person, the appointment should be made out immediately." She gave my name and address, and sent his letter on to me. I immediately wrote to his lordship, saying that I had not applied for the living, nor did I want it; but, for all that, I received by return post the nomination; and actually, it was to go back to the diocese of Exeter! I did not think the Bishop would institute me, as I had committed a great many irregularities since his lordship had taken off my harness. But he did. Somehow I was unwilling to go to this living, but was put into it in spite of myself. Here I had a good house, garden, and church, provided for me, with so much a year. I wondered whether God was tired of me! He had provided for me and my family during the past year wondrously, and I began to like "living by faith," and trusting in Him only. I have great doubts whether this appointment was altogether in accordance with God's will. Anyway, I had very little success or liberty in preaching, and could not settle down to work with any energy. In the beginning of the summer, as usual, I had my attack of hay fever, which completely incapacitated me, in this place of much grass. If I went to a town or the sea-side, it was well; but the moment I returned to the country I was ill again. Altogether, it was a dull and distressing time; but God was preparing me for a special work. CHAPTER 31 Hayle, 1857-58. While meditating upon my present position, and wondering what I was to do next, I received an invitation to take charge of a district in another part of the county, near the sea, which suited my health. Here there was a large population, which gave scope for energetic action; and, moreover, the people were careless and Godless, and, as such, were not preoccupied with other systems. So I thought it was the very place in which I could begin to preach, and go on to prove the power of the Gospel. With the invitation, I received an exaggerated account of the wickedness of the people, and was told that the thinking part of them leant towards infidelity, and that some of them were actually banded together in an infidel club. All this, however, did not deter me from going, but rather stirred me up so much the more to try my lance against this gigantic foe. I had learned before now to regard all difficulties in my work as the Lord's, and not mine; and that, though they might be greater than I could surmount, they were not too great for Him. There were two large iron factories here, besides shipping. Many of the people employed were drawn from other parts of England, and were what the Cornish call "foreigners." They had no love for chapel services, or revivals, and no sympathy with Cornish views and customs; so not having a church to go to, they were left pretty much to themselves. With this attractive sphere before me, I gave up my living and work in the country, and accepted the curacy at l. 120 a year, with a house rent-free. My rector was a dry Churchman, who had no sympathy with me; but he seemed glad to get any one to come and work amongst such a rough, and in some respects unmanageable, set. He had bought a chapel from the Primitive Methodists for Divine service, and had erected schools for upwards of three hundred children. These he offered me as my ground of operation, promising, with a written guarantee, that if I succeeded, he would build me a church, and endow it with all the tithes of that portion of the parish. Here was a field of labour which required much prayer and tact, as well as energetic action. In accordance with Scriptural teaching, "I determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified." I made up my mind that I would not begin by having temperance addresses for drunkards, or lectures on the Evidences of Christianity for the infidel, but simply with preaching the Gospel. 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 God 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 trespasses 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 God'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 God 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 petitions offered were vague and diffuse, I endeavoured to set before those assembled 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 God, 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 God's truth, and yet did not yield themselves to Him. "Are you wood, or leather, or stone? What are your hearts made of, that God'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 assented, 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 God 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 God 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 passing 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 passed 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 God, 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 entitled "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 passing 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 God'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 prickly 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.'" "Why not?" "Because there is a wall here." "No," you said, "there is no wall--it is an open door." "I was surprised at you saying that, for I feel the wall and see it." "What would you do if there was no wall? Do that. It is not a wall, but a door," you said; "walk forward!" "When I ventured forward I found your were true. It was, indeed, an open way, leading into a beautiful garden. I was very happy, and said, 'Whose garden is this?' "You answered, 'It is the Lord's, and you are to dress it and work in it." "Then I saw the Lord Himself. He came forward, and bidding me welcome, said that you should teach me for three years. Then I awoke." From this extraordinary narration I gathered three things for myself. First, that God intended me to come to this place. Secondly, that I was to labour here for three years. Thirdly, that I was to teach the people not to wait for feelings, but to act upon the Word of God. This last intimation was so clearly signified by William's dream, that it came upon me with striking force. I had been speaking on this very subject more than once, and had ventured so far as to say that I thought this delusion about waiting for feelings was from the devil, to hinder the work of God in the soul. It certainly did hinder us, very much; and, moreover, it was most distressing to see people, who were manifestly impressed under the power of a present God, waiting for Him; because they did not feel some token, which they had set their minds upon. Day by day souls were being given in the Church, and also in the cottage meetings; so that I could not help seeing that the Lord had begun to use me again. Some came to the meetings who had been awakened under the ordinary preaching of the Gospel; some because others brought them; and some out of curiosity. One of the latter cases I will mention. A married woman, N. R--, heard people talking of the work which was going on. It seemed to her to be such a strange thing in connection with a Church minister, that she came to a cottage meeting to judge for herself, without the remotest idea of being converted. God's ways are not as ours; while she was listening, the word reached her with power, so that she was convicted and converted, and came out of that cottage a rejoicing believer, lost in wonder, love and praise. She was indeed strikingly and manifestly changed, and did not hide it. It was such a joy and surprise to her that she could not help telling every one. Out of the abundance of her heart her lips spoke to tell of the loving kindness of the Lord. CHAPTER 32 Bible Readings, 1858-59. The church (so-called) in which I now ministered had been built by persons who intended to accommodate the largest number of people for the smallest amount of money. It was scantily built, and almost square, with galleries on three sides. On the remaining one there used to be a pulpit, conspicuously placed in the middle of the wall. This important portion of the edifice was now removed to one side, to make room for a Communion table, the seats in front being arranged chancel-wise, facing one another, for the choir. This was quite a damper to my ecclesiastical tastes; besides being ugly in the extreme. I tried by putting ornamental scrolls over the windows, and by staining the glass in them, to make some improvement. I also painted a diaper pattern round the side walls; and upon the high blank wall behind the Communion table exercised all the skill I possessed, but fear it was somewhat in vain, though I laboured hard. The designs looked very well on paper, but when displayed on the wall gave no satisfaction; so one after another they disappeared, till my dissolving views, as they were called, ended in a large floriated cross of gold, with a monogram inter-twined in it, on a dark background. When once, however, the Lord began to bless the Word, and souls were awakened, despite all anti-ecclesiastical appearances, my heart was drawn towards the ugly place, and I loved it greatly. I could never have believed that my former tastes and tendencies could have been so completely changed as they were. In those days it was a strange thing to hold an after-meeting in a church; it was never done, even by the few who had such meetings. Therefore, I took the anxious ones and others to my own house for the inquiry meeting, after the evening service. Having taken up the carpet in the drawing-room, we fitted it up with chairs and forms to accommodate ninety people, while half as many more occupied the hall, and often numbers stood outside the windows. In this house it pleased God to give us very many souls, who were brought in week by week for several months. I believe every room in that house, like the rooms at Baldhu Parsonage, was consecrated as the birth-place of one or more of God's children. The number of those who attended the after-meeting became so great, that we found it necessary to go to the large schoolroom. This place will also be remembered in eternity, and many a soul will say of it, "I was born there!" One night, when I returned home from a distant meeting, I was called to see a person in Feat distress of soul. As I went down the street at eleven o'clock, I was surprised to see lights in almost all the houses, and what was more, to hear voices in urgent and importunate prayer, as also the voice of thanks-giving. The whole street was alive, and indeed there was a most "joyful noise" on every side. I was praying or rejoicing in one house or another all through the night, which was one never to be forgotten. A glorious work of salvation was going on without the extravagant noise and excitement we used to have in former years. I was exceedingly thankful for this also, and began next to consider what was to be done with these new converts. Besides inviting them to the church services, for which they needed no pressing, I urged them to read their Bibles at home, bidding them to mark any passages where they wished for explanation, that I might have something good and profitable to speak about when I visited them. Then I invited them to Bible-classes; instead of to experience meetings, which Cornish people rely upon so much. On these occasions I endeavoured to instruct the people from God's Word, and put Christ before them as the object of faith, hope, and love. After prayer I encouraged them to ask questions, which made these gatherings interesting and also instructive on the very points upon which they required information. I found that these Bible-classes were a great blessing to those who attended them, but more than all, perhaps, to myself; watering other souls with the water of life I was more abundantly watered. The questions of the people drew my attention to distinctions and differences I had not noticed before, and helped to take off the coloured glasses through which I had hitherto read the Word. I observed that the third, sixth, and twentieth chapters of St. John's Gospel had been held and interpreted by me in a way that I now saw to be altogether wrong. I had taken the first of these as bearing on Baptism, the second on the Holy Communion, and the third on Priestly Absolution. I pondered much over these chapters, and marvelled how they could have been so diverted from their original and obvious meaning; and, more wonderful still, that countless millions in Christendom had so received them for many generations. It was a bold thing, and seemingly presumptuous to suppose that I was right and all Christendom wrong; but I soon found that mine was no new discovery, and that if millions who followed traditions without comparing them with the Bible, thought on one side, there were also millions who did read their Bibles, and thought on the other. It was perfectly clear, moreover, that one obvious motive or policy had dictated the false application of the three chapters. It will be observed that priest rule is established in them; for, according to this teaching, no one can enter the kingdom of God 'without priestly operation in baptism; no one abide or be fed in it without the same in Holy Communion; nor any one receive absolution from sin, and final release from hell to heaven, apart from sacerdotal action. On the other hand, I saw spiritual men, as sure as they were of their own existence that their new birth took place, not at baptism, but at their conversion. Therefore they were convinced that the third chapter of St. John, in which our Lord's conversation with Nicodemus is recorded, refers to that spiritual change which takes place at conversion, and not to baptism, which was not even instituted for two or three years afterwards (Matt. 28:19). Again, as to the sixth chapter. A spiritual man knows that he feeds continually on the body and blood of Christ, it is the "Bread which came down from heaven" for him. The Lord said, "He that eateth Me, even he shall live by Me" (John 6:57). They know how they received spiritual life, and also how it is continually maintained; therefore they could not allow themselves to be carried away with such a palpable fiction as transubstantiation, or any other doctrine kindred to it. The sixth chapter does not refer to the Lord's supper, but the Lord's Supper refers to the reality which is mentioned in it. Lastly, as to the twentieth chapter of St. John, on the authority of which it is supposed and asserted that Christ left power with His Church and priests to forgive sins. Of this we may say, He has not delegated any such powers at all. When He gave commissions to His disciples (not exclusively to the apostles), He said, "Lo, I am with you." Our power is not imparted to us from Him, but is in Him. We have no power at all, but in Him, and no grace but 'that which is in Christ Jesus (2 Tim. 2:1). It is His presence, His real, promised presence by the Holy Ghost, which is spiritual power; and this is given directly to individuals by God Himself, and is not transmitted through other channels. The Lord Jesus, on His resurrection day, said to His disciples, in the upper room--and, be it remembered, that all the eleven were not there (and some women may have been)--"Peace be unto you. Receive ye the Holy Ghost: Whose soever sins ye remit, 'they are remitted unto them; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained" (John 20:23). Is it possible or reasonable to suppose that our Lord intended by these words to constitute all that assembly absolving priests? The apostles and early Christians (both men and women) never thought so, either before or even after the day of Pentecost, when they were taught and led by the Holy Ghost. The apostles did not exercise any so-called priestly functions; they all preached the Gospel, and as ministers and witnesses, declared, through Jesus Christ, the forgiveness of sins. Their testimony was then, as such testimony will ever be, the savour of life or the savour of death. It was thus they remitted and retained sins; and yet not they, but God by them. While I was thus ruminating, a book came into my hands which interested me greatly. This I read and re-read, and made an abstract of it. It was the "Life of Adelaide Newton." What struck me in it so much was, to find that this lady was able to hold spiritual communion with God by means of a Bible only. Is it possible, I thought, to have such close communion with God, apart from the Church and her ministrations? I do not hesitate to say that this was the means, under God, of stripping off some remains of my grave-clothes, and enabling me to walk in spiritual liberty, instead of legal and sacramental bond age. Human reasoning would say, "What, then, is the use of ministry and sacraments? Let us dispense with them, and be independent of them altogether." This is no better than saying that we will continue in sin that grace may abound; and the same answer which the apostle gives will do for this also: "God forbid!" It does not follow, because some people make too much of ministry and sacraments, making them absolutely necessary to salvation, that we should, on the other hand, disregard them. There is another and happier alternative, and that is, to realize they were made for us, not we for them; therefore we should not be subject to them, but rather they should be subject to us, and be used by us, not in order to obtain God's grace and salvation, but to show that we have already done so. In our obedience to God's ordinances, we acknowledge our allegiance to Him, and our submission to His will. For fear that my people should go off, as too many do, into disregard of the "means of grace," because sacramental people make too much of them, I began a class for exposition and explanation of the Prayer-book. I commenced by showing them that the Church of England is the Lord's candlestick in this country, not the candle, and certainly not the light, but the candlestick which the Lord set up here, possibly even as 'early as the days of the apostles, to show the true light, which is Christ. And though, Romish corruptions supervened, it pleased God, at; the time of the Reformation, to raise up men to deliver us from them, and to restore true Bible teaching. Thus I endeavoured to show them, that the system of the Church of England was one which should commend itself to their regard, as quite agreeable to Scripture; and if it is not carried out according to its intention, that is not the fault of the system, but rather of those who administer it. Next, as to worship. The object of our assembling in the house of God is not, I said, so much to hear sermons, or get instruction, as in Bible, or other classes, but rather "to render thanks for the great benefits we have received at God's hands, to set forth His most worthy praise, to hear His most holy word, and to ask those things which are requisite and necessary as well for the body as the soul." That worship is devotion towards God; it consists more in giving than in getting. Some of the people were greatly interested when I pointed out to them, that the order of our Service was exactly the same as the order of theft spiritual experience, in conviction, conversion, and Christian life. For example, the Morning Service begins with a sentence such as, "To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have rebelled against Him;" then comes the exhortation, which moves us to surrender ourselves; then the confession, which is the act of surrender. Immediately after this is declared the absolution and forgiveness of sins, "to all who truly repent, and unfeignedly believe the Gospel." Then comes the Lord's Prayer, which leads us, at once, into the place of children, accepted in the Beloved: then follow acts of thanksgiving":-- "Open Thou my lips, and my mouth shall show forth Thy praise." "Oh, come let us sing unto the Lord, let us heartily rejoice in the strength of our salvation." These, and such-like explanations, helped to enlist the interest of the people; and when, as before, they only used to endure the prayers, while waiting for the sermon, now they engaged in them intelligently, and even with more delight than in extempore prayer. As to the Communion Service I bade them notice that it begins with the Lord's Prayer, in which we draw near to our Father, not as sinners, but as His children; asking for a clean heart and for grace to live according to His will; then, we approach the table, unworthy, indeed, to take even the crumbs under it, but trusting in His mercy. We do not go there to offer a sacrifice of Christ's body, but of our own as a thanksgiving to God, offering and presenting ourselves--spirit, soul, and body--a living sacrifice to His service. Every week we took some subject from the Prayer-book, noticing the special seasons in their order, such as Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Ascension, and Whitsuntide, each with their respective teaching. I was now happy in my work; but it did not, of course, go on as sweetly as the theory sets it forth. We made, however, as straight a course as we could, under contending winds and currents. The intelligent part of my congregation, however interested they were in the work outside the church and the worship within, nevertheless, had their misgivings and doubts which they did not hide. They said, "This teaching seems all true and scriptural; but what will become of us if you go away, and another man comes who thinks otherwise? We have no security as in the chapels, that conversion work will go on, and living souls be fed and encouraged. Very few churches have such a work as the Lord is doing here!" This, indeed, was the sad part of working in the Church of England then. Even still, there is much discouragement on this head; and too many living souls, who would not willingly go, are driven away from their own Church, to seek teaching in other communions; but they cannot take their children and servants to witness priestly ceremonials, or to hear sacramental, as opposed to spiritual teaching; neither can they conscientiously give countenance to these things, by going themselves. However, I endeavoured to pacify the people by begging them to be thankful for present privileges, and to trust God to lead them for the future. It is an awful thing to see and know that people come for bread, and get a stone; for fish, and they get a serpent; and for an egg, they are offered a scorpion (Luke 11:11, 12). Exceedingly trying it is to be frowned upon by clerical brethren in the presence of Dissenters, who, to say the least, do know the difference between life and death. In one church we have the service elaborately rendered, and the sermon is nothing; in another the sermon is everything, and the service most slovenly; and, too often, souls remain unawakened, and perishing on all sides. 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 worship, and joined heartily in the services of the day. At eight o'clock in the morning they assembled 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 ship, 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 God, 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 ship "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 God to convert his soul in a remarkable manner; and now nothing would do but he must work for God. 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 assembled and stood round, he took no heed, but continued his supplication until he obtained mercy, and could praise God. Seeing that some of the by-standers were looking anxious, Sam invited them on board his ship 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 ship, 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 God 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 God, 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 God or the Bible, Christ or devil, heaven or hell; 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 God's holy day; on the contrary, he rather prided himself on not "shifting" 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 passing 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 hell; of the love of God, 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 hell, straight on; you cannot miss!' 'Hell!' I was surprised; 'Hell,' I said to myself, 'this is very different to what I thought. Is the way to hell 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 hell, 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 passed 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 god of this world, will make the way to hell as bright and pleasing as he possibly can; and if people take outward circumstances 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 hell; 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 hell, 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 perishing 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 God; 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 God 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, pushing 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 assure himself of the astonishing fact. It was quite true; surely it was John's own voice praying. So, lifting the latch, he went in and shouted, "Glory to God!" The louder William shouted, the louder John cried for mercy. When listening to his friend, who pointed him to "the Lamb of God, 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 God together. It was a joyful meeting when I saw him again, and thanked God 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 God 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 hell, when all the time I had it burning in my heart; but, glory be to God, I am saved from hell 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 Of this work at Hayle was not "a success," in every sense of the word, I do not yet know what success in parochial ministry is. If large congregations may be counted; many communicants taken into reckoning; with frequent services, and schools full of children--we certainly had these. But above all, we had a continual ingathering of souls, who will testify throughout eternity of the blessedness and reality of the work of God during the time I was there. It so happened that as we approached the term of three years, of which I had been premonished when I first came, that my dear friend, Mr. Aitken, came to pay us a visit. He preached with more amazing power than ever. His appeals were altogether overwhelming, and I do not wonder that the people fell on their knees, as they did then and there, and cried aloud for mercy. A newspaper reporter who came to hear this "great man" preach, was at first observed to be writing very diligently; then he paused, and his hand fell; then his pencil and book went from his grasp; presently he himself fell on his knees, and began to cry for mercy. We were curious afterwards to read his report. In it the grateful man acknowledged his indebtedness, and the blessing he had received. As to the sermon, he likened it to one of the storms of the great Atlantic. He said. "At such a time it is interesting to stand on the shore and watch the sea, and to note the power of wind and waves while the storm is raging. Even then it is sometimes terrific enough; but how much more so when the wind veers and the mighty waves come rolling in one after another, and breaking with tremendous force upon the rocks on which we stand! So it was with this preacher. All eyes were fixed on him when he gave out his text, and proceeded with his usual introduction. Now and then he alarmed and roused us with the power of his oratory; but when he turned to apply his subject to the consciences of the people, he became irresistible. Immediately, there was heard on all sides a cry for mercy. The stentorian voice of the preacher was audible above all others as he went on to apply the Word with unrelenting force, till very few hearts, however hard, remained unbroken." This was a memorable day with us. Twice was the church filled and emptied; and again a third time, in the evening, the people crowded in and filled the place. Far into the night we wrought amongst the anxious and broken-hearted, bidding them to look at the Crucified One and live. Mr. Aitken was not a man who raked cinders over the fire, but rather raked them off and that in true kindness and love; but with terrible and awful plainness he showed the danger of trifling with the Gospel, and presuming upon God's love and forbearance. On Monday evening we invited the people to assemble in the large schoolroom, which was filled to excess. Here I thought that the schoolmaster's desk would have been demolished under the tremendous energy and force, both mental and physical, of this preacher. At the first sign of a breakdown among the people, the great, tall man, in his long coat or cassock, came majestically striding out from behind the desk. That was enough. A hard rough-looking sailor, who was sitting by, with his eyes fixed on Mr. Aitken for a long time, fell on his knees and began to roar aloud for mercy, and very many others followed his example. I asked this man afterwards what it was that had had such an effect upon him? "Oh," he replied, drawing his breath, as if he had scarcely yet recovered from the shock, "that big man was bad enough the other side of the desk, but when he came forth to the front, I didn't know what would happen to me. I was obliged to cry out for mercy; I couldn't help it." The "big man," like the "Stormy Petrel," was just in his element in such a scene. In the gladness and joy of his heart he rejoiced and shouted, "Glory--glory be to God!" in a way which no one else could imitate or follow. In the midst of this scene of confusion (as it must have appeared to an outside observer, if such an one was there), sat a woman, looking on at the people praying and praising God, when all at once Mr. Aitken turned suddenly upon her and said, "And you, my sister!" Immediately she gave a scream, and was down on her knees in a moment, crying for mercy as loud as the loudest. If Cornish people like a noise, they certainly had it that evening to their hearts' content. As I have said before, when there is a real power of the Spirit present, the outpouring of the heart with noisy demonstration is joyous to those who go with the stream, and are in sympathy with it; but if those present stop to doubt the propriety of such an outcry, and begin to rebuke those who make it, then I think the answer that the Lord gave the Pharisees would still be applicable: "I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out" (Luke 19:40). It was a great triumph, and the rams' horns did more execution in these two days than the silver trumpets had done in as many yearn. The next day, as soon as Mr. Aitken had gone, the rector came to see me. He appeared to be somewhat embarrassed at first, but after a little time said (looking on the ground), "You know I am no revivalist. I do not like all this uproar. I cannot have it." He then went on to say that he wished me to leave, for though he had given a guarantee that if I succeeded, he would build me a church and endow it, he could not do anything of the kind now, for he did not consider my work any success whatever--quite the contrary. "These converted people (as you call them) are no churchmen!" I replied, that I had taken his voice as from God in inviting me, and I supposed that I must take the same for my dismissal, if he really intended it; but I urged upon him to consider the matter well before he broke up the work which was going on there, for whatever he thought about it, it was undoubtedly a work of God, though one certainly not very common in churches. Without saying another word he took up his hat and went away. His departure was so abrupt that I could not believe he intended me to receive this as six months' notice. Consequently, I went on with my work as usual, finding plenty to do, more especially after Mr. Aitken's energetic visit. There were many new converts to add to our classes; anxious ones to be guided and led to Christ; and broken-hearted and despairing ones to be comforted and built up. The work under such a preacher is by no means finished with his visit, however long or short it may be; but, on the contrary, it may rather be said to begin there. After some months, the rector came again to remind me that he had given me notice more than five months before, and that he wished me to leave at the beginning of the year, as he had secured the services of a clergyman whose views were in accordance with his own. I was much grieved at this and could only lay it before the Lord, and beg of Him to order all according to His will. The following morning, without any seeking on my part, I received an invitation from Bath, asking me to come and take charge of the district of St. Paul's, in the parish of Holy Trinity. Thus was the door shut behind me, and another opened in front. This was so unmistakable, that I could not but be satisfied, and acquiesce in the manifest will of God; though, naturally, I felt great sorrow at having to leave the people and the work I loved so well. I said nothing about my dismissal, but went on with my various engagements as usual, though I had only a little more than three weeks left me. By some means it appeared in the newspapers, that I was appointed to a district in Bath, and another clergyman was named as my successor at St. John's, Hayle. This fell as a great blow upon my people, who were both grieved and angry; but I could not comfort them, any more than I could help myself. The last Christmas-day came and went, a sad and sorrowful day it was; then the last day of the year, and the last night. We held our watch-night service as usual, thanking God for the mercies of the past, and entered upon the new year with thanksgiving and prayer. Thus ended my work, and eventful sojourn at Hayle, a little more than three years after it began. A very sorrowful trial it was, and one of bitter disappointment; but the Lord's leading was clear, and I have since proved that it was all right, though at the time it was most mysterious and very dark. A few weeks before leaving Hayle, as I was sitting by the fire one wet afternoon, my eyes fell on a little coloured picture on the mantle-piece, which had been the companion of my journeys for all the twenty years of which I have been writing. It was a quaint mediaeval illustration of Moses lifting up the serpent in the wilderness, copied from a valuable manuscript (Book of Prayers) in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. As I looked at the engraving before me, I began to suspect for the first time that there was a design in the arrangement of the figures, and that it was really intended to convey some particular teaching. I took it in my hand and studied it, when I observed that the cross or pole on which the serpent was elevated stood in the centre, dividing two sets of characters, and that there were serpents on one side, and none on the other. Behind the figure of Moses, is a man standing with his arms crossed on his breast, looking at the brazen serpent. He has evidently obtained life and healing by a look. On the other side, I observed that there were four kinds of persons represented, who were not doing as this healed one did to obtain deliverance. First, there is one who is kneeling in front of the cross, but he is looking towards Moses, and not at the serpent, and apparently confessing to him as if he were a priest. Next behind him is one lying on his back, as if he was perfectly safe, though he is evidently in the midst of danger; for a serpent may be seen at his ear, possibly whispering "Peace, peace, when there is no peace." Still further back from the cross there is a man with a sad face doing a work of mercy, binding up the wounds of a fellow-sufferer, and little suspecting that he himself is involved in the same danger. Behind them all, on the background, is a valiant man who is doing battle with the serpents, which may be seen rising against him in unabating persistency. I observed that none of these men were looking at the brazen serpent as they were commanded to do. I cannot describe how excited and interested I became; for I saw in this illustration a picture of my own life. Here was the way of salvation clearly set forth, and four ways which are not the way of salvation, all of which I had tried and found unavailing. This was the silent but speaking testimony of some unknown denizen of a cloister, who lived in the beginning of the fifteenth century, in the days of ignorance and superstition. But notwithstanding this darkness, he was brought out into the marvellous light of the Gospel, and has left this interesting record of his experience. Like him, I also had fought with serpents, for I began in my own strength to combat with sin, and strove by my own resolutions to overcome. From this, I went on to do good works, and works of mercy, in the vain hope of thus obtaining the same for myself. Then, I relied in the Church for salvation, as God's appointed ark of safety; but not feeling secure, I took another step beyond, and sought forgiveness through the power of the priest. This I found was as ineffectual as all my previous efforts. At last, I was brought (by the Spirit of God) as a wounded and dying sinner, to look at the Crucified One. Then (as I have related), I found pardon and peace. Ever since it has been my joy and privilege (like Moses pointing to the serpent) to cry, "Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world" (John 1:29). "I have determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified;" that is, to tell only of the person and office of Jesus Christ our Lord. Nearly twenty years have elapsed since the period at which this book closes,* and, during all that time I have verified the truth and reality of the teaching and experience I have recorded in this volume. All these years, with their months, weeks, and days have passed by, and have found me continually rejoicing in the work of the Lord--often wearied in it, but never of it--often tempted to falter, but al ways enabled to persevere. I have seen many rise and start well, who have collapsed or retired; many who have blazed like a meteor for a short time, and then disappeared from the scene. __________________________ * I may, perhaps, at some future time, give an account of these latter twenty years. _______________________________ May I here, in a few parting words to the reader, tell how it is that I have been kept. I believe it is--first, Because I have never failed to insist upon the absolute necessity of conversion, saying in the words of the Master, "Marvel not, Ye must be born again" (John 3:7). Secondly, Because I have preached nothing but what is taken from the Word, and required nothing to be believed for Salvation and Edification, but what can be proved thereby. Thirdly, because I have exhorted living souls with purpose of heart to cleave unto the Lord; firmly believing that He who died to save, rose again from the dead, and lives to keep His people. When we are saved, we are debtors to God, to devote ourselves to His service, and for His glory: besides this, we are debtors to men, to make known to them the grace which we have received; and we, as faithful stewards of God should be ever ready (and not ashamed) to preach the Gospel, for, "It is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth" (Rom. 1:16). Brockville, Canada: The Standard Book Room. 
41720	----	[Illustration: _MOTHER WHEATON_] PRISONS AND PRAYER OR A LABOR OF LOVE BY ELIZABETH R. WHEATON Prison Evangelist [Illustration: decoration] An account of nearly Twenty-two Years of Gospel Work, seeking the lost, in Prisons, Reformatories, Stockades, Rescue Homes, Saloons and Dives, and on the Streets, Railway Trains, etc. [Illustration: decoration] "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." Psa. 126:6. [Illustration: decoration] "For I was an hungered and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick, and ye visited me; I was IN PRISON, and ye came unto me."--Matthew 25: 35, 36. [Illustration: decoration] CHAS. M. KELLEY Tabor, Iowa. COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY CHAS. M. KELLEY. DEDICATION. To the RAILROAD OFFICIALS who have so generously and cheerfully provided me transportation; their EMPLOYEES, whose kindness has so many times lightened the weariness of my journeys; the STATE and PRISON OFFICIALS, who have heartily welcomed me and set before me open doors; the THOUSANDS OF PRISONERS AND OTHERS who have shown by word and deed their appreciation of my efforts to help them to a better life; to the many who have in any way ministered to my necessities or offered an encouraging word by the way, and to my SPIRITUAL CHILDREN, these pages are cheerfully inscribed by THE AUTHOR. THE HARVEST TIME. The seed I have scattered in springtime with weeping, And watered with tears and with dews from on high, Another may shout while the harvester's reaping, Shall gather my grain in the sweet by and by. CHORUS-- Over and over, yes, deeper and deeper, My heart is pierced through with life's sorrowing cry, But the tears of the sower and the songs of the reaper Shall mingle together in joy by and by; By and by, by and by, by and by, by and by, Yes the tears of the sower and the songs of the reaper Shall mingle together in joy by and by. Another may reap what in springtime I've planted, Another rejoice in the fruit of my pain, Not knowing my tears when in summer I fainted, While toiling, sad-hearted, in sunshine and rain. The thorns will have choked and the summer sun blasted The most of the seed which in springtime I've sown, But the Lord who has watched while my weary toil lasted Will give me a harvest for what I have done. --W. A. SPENCER Words and music copyright, John J. Hood, Philadelphia. PREFACE. DEAR READER: Over twenty years have passed since God called and commissioned me to go to those that were bound. Within five years from the time I entered upon the work, I had been enabled to preach the gospel in every state and territory and had held meetings in nearly every state-prison in the United States and in the prisons in Canada and Mexico. My first trip to Europe was made in 1890. I have not only held meetings in prison, but have endeavored to "preach the gospel to every creature"--to those in authority, governors, prison and railroad officials, and trainmen, as well as to those in churches, missions, prisons, hospitals, alms-houses, dives, brothels, saloons and the slums. In all places God has fulfilled His promise to be with me and has given me evidence that my labor was not in vain in Him. When I was made to feel that the Lord required me to write of the victories He had wrought and of the work yet waiting to be done I was amazed and am still, though it is more than ten years since God first told me to write for Him. Early left an orphan, my childhood was spent in the country where I had to walk two miles across the fields and through deep snows in order to get to school, and my life-work has been crippled by my lack of education. How then can I write? Yet the command of the Lord has been upon me and the cry of the needy has rung in my ears. Words cannot describe the cruel wrongs, the awful injustice, the scenes of desolation and degradation that have come to my knowledge. Much has been done, much is being done; and yet, O how much still needs to be done, in behalf of those in prison! Wrongs that are indescribable still cry to God for vengeance in this our own land. Cruelties that are beyond the power of language to describe _still exist_, and the cry of the oppressed comes up to the ear of Him who has declared "Vengeance is mine, I will repay." One reason I have for writing, is to show the great need of Holy Ghost workers--those whose hearts God has touched--to carry the gospel to those whose lives are darkened, blighted and blasted, and tell them of a mighty deliverance from the bondage of sin, and of freedom in Christ. Reader, if you could see the many inside prison walls going insane, you would not wonder that, by the grace of God, I am determined to prosecute my work as I have never done before, to save these poor prisoners from despair, and to do with my might what my hands find to do. I have kept no diary or journal and nearly all of ten years' correspondence was destroyed at one time by fire. Hence I have written largely from memory, and without any attempt to give an orderly and connected account of my work. I have endeavored to put before you, dear reader, such glimpses of the work and the field as would fairly illustrate that which has been done and that which needs to be done. I ask for my imperfect work your kind consideration, and trust that you will overlook my many mistakes and pray God's blessing to rest upon the effort; and if I can only awaken in your hearts a deeper compassion for lost girls and fallen men and the heart-broken friends who mourn the loss of loved ones, I shall not have written in vain. In the selection, arrangement and preparation of manuscript, I have been assisted by several friends who have been much interested in the work, whose labor and patience can only be rewarded by Him whom we serve. Among these are Brother and Sister Shaw, of Chicago, who have so kindly given the introduction to the work, having full knowledge of its contents and ability to judge of its merits. I will also mention Brother and Sister Kelley, of Tabor, Iowa, who have rendered valuable assistance. With many prayers and tears I send this work forth, hoping it may find a place on your book-shelf and a corner in your heart, and that you and I, dear reader, may meet where there are no prison walls, iron bars, nor breaking hearts. And may there be gathered there with us at Jesus' feet many of those whom we are striving to comfort and save, while together we crown our Savior Lord of all, and through an endless eternity worship Him who gave His life a ransom for the lost--"because He loved them so." "MOTHER WHEATON." INTRODUCTION. This world is, to a large extent, a great prison house. Nearly all of its inhabitants are prisoners surrounded by walls of sin and darkness. Many are bound down by the curse of rum, others by the besetting sins of lust, unholy temper, envy, revenge, malice, hatred, jealousy, prejudice, pride, covetousness, or selfishness resulting from a carnal mind. Out of the vast multitudes that are led captive by the devil at his will, a few that have violated human law have been sentenced to various prisons and reformatories. This book has much to say about the men and women behind prison walls. It records the sad story of many prisoners in a way that very few can read without being moved to tears and that will awaken sympathy in the hardest hearts. It also tells of the work of God among prisoners both in this and other countries. It records some of the brightest of Christian experiences on record, showing how many prisoners that have been slaves to worse than human law and have lived in greater darkness than in the prison dungeon, have been made free by being translated into the light that outshines the noonday sun, and how they have been enabled to live noble, Christian lives behind the bars. We are well acquainted with the author, having known her for several years and having had the privilege of entertaining her in our home more or less during that time. This acquaintance has enabled us to know something of the burden that rests upon her soul for prisoners. She has doubtless spent more time in the work, visited more prisons and traveled farther than any other living prison worker. She has visited practically all of the prisons of the United States and Canada and most of them many times, and twice she has crossed the sea. Her mission has been a mission of loving service, with but little financial reward. But the Master who laid this work upon her heart has given her rich reward for all her toil and privation and suffering, for many have been converted through her instrumentality. Some have gone to their reward. Many others, both in and out of prison, are living honest, useful lives. Had this work been written only for the hasty reader who has but a few hours at the most to give, much that it contains might better have been omitted; but such as these can easily select from its pages that which is most to their liking, while those who are deeply interested in the work of soul-saving, as well as the prisoner whose spare hours drag heavily and slowly, will here find food for study and encouragement that will repay for many days of careful reading. In many respects, such a work as is here represented has never been done by any other person. For these hundreds of pages give but a few glimpses, as it were, of the work "Mother Wheaton" has done. We have assisted her in gleaning from the many hundreds of letters still in her possession (though much of her correspondence was destroyed by fire) and in arranging and preparing matter for publication. We have listened as with eyes filled with tears she has told us of the needs of the work, and with every day thus spent we have become more deeply interested in the work to which her life has been given. In a memorial service it was said of the late Bishop William Taylor: "He was not an organizer nor an administrator; not a statesman, in the ordinary use of those terms. He was rather a great religious pioneer. He blazed pathways through unknown moral wilds, and left the work of organization mainly to those who might follow after." Such, in her field of labor, has largely been the work of Mother Wheaton. No place has been far enough away, no stockade hard enough to reach, no day warm enough or cold enough or stormy enough, no prison official or stockade captain sufficiently abusive, to discourage her when she felt that the Master bade her go forward. With a burning love for all the sinful and all the needy, she has gone from north to south and from east to west, seeking the lost as one seeks for hidden treasure. Through nights of weariness and days of toil she has sought them and loved them and wept over them, man or woman or child, as a mother weeps over and loves her own. She has borne their burdens and shared their sorrows--ever bringing to them the cheering word, the testimony or inspiring song, the faithful warning, the earnest prayer, the plain gospel message, the hearty hand-clasp, the loving "God bless you." We believe and pray that these pages may be greatly used of God to reach thousands of hearts and stir up many to carry forward the work so dear to her, when "Mother Wheaton" has crossed over to meet those that are waiting to welcome her on the other side. Yours, in Jesus' love, ETTA E. SHAW. S. B. SHAW. Chicago, Ill., 1906. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. BIOGRAPHY AND CALL TO THE WORK. Birth--Left an Orphan--Conversion--Marriage--Sorrow-- Sanctification--Call to Prison Work--Family Reunion--Sketch of My Life by My Brother 23 CHAPTER II. LETTER TO MY PRISON CHILDREN. My Limited Education--Disappointments--A Friend in Jesus 38 CHAPTER III. A PLEA FOR THE PRISONER. In the Shadow of the Wall (poem)--Letters to Prison Officers-- Worth While (poem)--Prejudice--A Look into the Cell--Insane Prisoners--All Prisoners Not Criminal--Prepared to Die 43 CHAPTER IV. A BRIEF PEN PICTURE OF PRISON LIFE. The Buildings--Entrance--Chapel and Dining-room--Chapel Service--The Cell-house--Workshops--Hospital 59 CHAPTER V. LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION AND KIND WORDS FROM GOVERNORS, PRISON OFFICIALS, ETC. From Governors--Prison Wardens--Chaplains 67 CHAPTER VI. SOME OF MY PRISON BOYS. A Prisoner's Conversion as Shown by His Letters--A Talented Young Man--Under Death Sentence--Commuted--Finally Pardoned-- Letters--Sentenced for Life--His Letters--Faithful Inside and Outside of Prison Walls 87 CHAPTER VII. LETTERS FROM CO-WORKERS AND MY PRISON GIRLS. Letters from Sister Co-workers--From My Prison-bound Girls 117 CHAPTER VIII. INCIDENTS IN MY PRISON WORK. Letter from the Prisoners at Chester, Ill.--Extract of Chaplain's Report--Suicide of a Prisoner--"I Have no Friends"--Letters from Chaplain Starr--A Way Opened in Answer to Prayer--A Letter from a Governor--A Woman Converted and Healed--A Change Wrought--A Chaplain in My Audience--Impressed to Tarry-- Encouragement by the Way--Cruel Neglect--Another Suicide--Just Out of Prison--Dying in Prison--Does It Pay?--Saved and Preaching the Gospel--In Solitary Confinement--Crape on the Door--In a Police Station--Burned in His Cell--The Innocent in Bonds-- Confessed Her Guilt--Under Sentence of Death--"The Religion Mother Had" 135 CHAPTER IX. CONVERSION OF DESPERATE PRISONERS PREVENTS A TERRIBLE MUTINY. Welcomed in Prison--An After-Service--Plan of the Mutiny--Havoc of Sin--Letters 161 CHAPTER X. REMARKABLE CONVERSION AND EXPERIENCE OF GEO. H. COLGROVE. His Own Story--Infidel Literature--Burglary and Murder--Life Sentence--Conversion--Study of the Scriptures--Bible Class Teacher--An Enemy Kindly Treated--A Pardon Refused--Second Effort to Secure a Pardon--Letters--Final Illness and Triumphant Death 169 CHAPTER XI. WORK IN STOCKADES AND PRISON CAMPS IN SOUTHERN STATES. Race Question--Letters of Introduction and Recommendation--A Stockade--Letter to a Governor--Reply of Prison Manager--Plea for Women Convicts--Bloodhounds--Coal Mines--A Touching Incident--First Meeting in a Prison Camp--Ride on Engine of a Coal Train--First Railroad Pass--Ride on a Mule 187 CHAPTER XII. STOCKADES AND PRISON CAMPS CONTINUED. Novel Conveyances--Assisting a Colored Minister--Through Danger Alone--Prostrate Among Prisoners--A Meeting at Day Dawn--Helping to Bury a Prisoner--Wreck of a Coal Train--Sugar Camps--Ride in a Cart--In a Gambling Saloon--Condition of Convicts--Unjustly Condemned--Need of Reform 212 CHAPTER XIII. WORK IN FT. MADISON, IOWA, AND SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO. My First Effort for Service in a Prison--Kindness of Officers and Men--Letters from Officials--Work in Santa Fe, N. Mex.-- Three Christian Men Pardoned--A Forty Years' Sentence--Kind Words from Governor and Superintendent 241 CHAPTER XIV. GONE HOME FROM THE SCAFFOLD. Special Mission to Doomed Men--Indifferent but Finally Converted--Letters--Mother's Prayers--Claimed to Be Innocent-- Hardened in Crime--Ten Men under Death Sentence--Conversion of a Jewish Boy--Mysteriously Guided--In Long Expectation-- Sentence Commuted--A Man Deceived--Interceded for a Boy--Went to the Scaffold Singing--A Prominent Official--Recent Cases 254 CHAPTER XV. WORK IN CHURCHES AND MISSIONS. Provided with Food in Answer to Prayer--A Great Revival--A Man Saved from Suicide--Letters from Pastors and Others--Church of the Redeemer in Baltimore--Successful Meetings--Young Man Called to the Ministry--A Colored Woman Saved and Preaching-- Incidents--Saved by a Hymn 294 CHAPTER XVI. PREACHING THE GOSPEL ON RAILWAY TRAINS. Accidental Death of My Nephew--My First Trip by Rail--Experience of a Railroad Man--Transportation--A Kind Conductor--Interesting Services--Train Saved from Wreck--A Train in Danger--Impressed to Leave the Train--Helped to Care for a Wounded Man--Conductor's "God Bless You"--A Woman's Faith Encouraged-- Riding in a Parlor Car--Favor to the Railroad Company 313 CHAPTER XVII. STREET AND OPEN AIR. Poem--Permits to Hold Street Meetings--From a Missionary--My First Street Meeting--A Wonderful Conversion--Became a Preacher--The Blind Encouraged--Forbidden to Preach on the Street--Thought They Saw a Ghost--Hurt by a Saloonkeeper--Warned to Leave the City--In Jail 328 RESCUE WORK. "A Mother's Plea" (poem)--A Plea for our Sisters--Drunken Women and Men--Assaulted in a Dive--Attempts Suicide--A Girl Saved--A Girl Rejected at a Rescue Home--Neglected by the Churches--Visits to Hospitals--Kind Tributes--The Prodigal Daughter (poem) 349 CHAPTER XIX. WORK IN CANADA AND MEXICO. Street Meetings in Hamilton--In London, Ontario--A Girl Rescued--In Kingston--Stoned in Quebec--Victory in Toronto-- In Victoria, B. C.--Work in Mexico--A Bull Fight--Wept with Condemned Men--Attacked by a Fierce Dog--Ministered to a Sufferer 365 CHAPTER XX. ACROSS THE SEA. On the Ocean--In a Foreign Land--Preaching in Glasgow--My Life in Danger--A Song Stops a Row--Arrested for Singing-- Tumult in a Dive--Mob of Drunken Women--Letter from America--In Paisley--Return to America--Second Visit to Europe--Experiences in London--Safe Return to America-- Letter from Scotland 372 CHAPTER XXI. TRAVEL AND TOIL. Two Nights' Service--One Weeks' Work--A Profitable Trip--Six Weeks' Service--Recent Work--Another Trip 395 CHAPTER XXII. LETTERS FROM PRISONERS. 431 CHAPTER XXIII. KIND WORDS FROM FRIENDS. From H. L. Hastings--Mrs. H. L. Hastings--E. E. Byrum, Author and Editor--Mother of a Prisoner--Prisoner's Daughter--An Editor--Ex-Prisoner--Miscellaneous 477 CHAPTER XXIV. SKETCHES FROM PRESS REPORTS. 491 CHAPTER XXV. FURNISHED UNTO EVERY GOOD WORK. "Who Will Man the Life Boat?" (poem)--Adaptation Needed--The Masses Not Reached--My Boy in India--Preaching the Gospel in the Pesthouse--How the Lord Provides--Miscellaneous Incidents 530 CHAPTER XXVI. SELECTIONS FROM MY SCRAPBOOK. Author of Flower Mission Day--Flower Day at the Prison--Lines by a Prisoner--Take This Message to My Mother--Not Lonely Now--Jesus Is Looking On--How God Calls Missionaries Out of Prison Cells--Outside the Prison Walls--If We Knew--Little Graves--The Mother's Warning--Harry's Remorse-- Twenty-Thirty-Four--His Mother's Song--Perfect Peace--Sweet Revenge--No Telephone in Heaven--A True Hero--Perfect Through Faith--The Kid--Charged with Murder--Mother's Face--Only Sixteen--The Dress Question 547 SONGS. 1. "Life's Railway to Heaven." 2. "Meet Me There." 3. "God Bless My Boy." 4. "The Great Judgment Morning." 5. "My Name in Mother's Prayer." 6. "Over There." 7. "This Way." 8. "She's More to Be Pitied." 9. "Some Mother's Child." 10. "Tell My Dear Old Mother." 11. "When the Death-bell Shall Toll." 12. "The End of the Way." APPENDIX. 596 The Personnel of Prison Management. By Warden C. E. Haddox. Meditations of a Prisoner. Discourse on "The Agony in the Garden." By a Prisoner. Directory of Prisons and Reformatories. ILLUSTRATIONS. Frontispiece Ohio State Prison 27 Family Group 34 John Ryder 34 Giving the Boys Counsel 42 With Insane Prisoners 52 Prisoners Marching 58 Prison Chapel and Dining Room 60 Corridor in Cell House 62 New Federal Prison at Ft. Leavenworth, Kan. 66 The Old Tombs, New Tombs, New York 80 Personal Work 86 Administration Building, Mitchelville, Iowa 115 Campus and Play-ground, Girls' Industrial School, Mitchelville, Ia. 116 A Chaplain's Residence 118 Women's Prison, Allegheny, Pa. 121 Group of Girls in an Industrial School 132 Southern Illinois State Prison at Chester 134 Interior of Chapel, Dining Apartment, and Row of Cells, Chester, Ill. 160 Geo. H. Colgrove 169 Smelter and Work Shops, Chester, Ill. 186 Woman Convict at Work in the Field 195 Convicts Getting Out Coal 198 Prison at Santa Fe, N. Mex. 240 Church of the Redeemer, Baltimore, Md. 303 A Railroad Engine 312 Miss Josephine Cowgill 329 Mother Prindle 361 State Prison, Joliet, Ill. 394 Prison at Deer Lodge, Mont. 397 Criminal Insane Hospital, Chester, Ill. 408 Prison at Huntsville, Tex. 410 Group of Delegates at Prison Congress, 1904 414 Industrial Reform School, Hutchinson, Kan. 416 Industrial School, Whittier, Cal. 418 Prisons at Jackson, Mich., Deer Lodge, Mont., and Folsom, Cal. 430 A Ward in Prison Hospital 445 Kitchen and Dining Room 455 Drug Department in Prison Hospital 475 Mother Wheaton 490 Ruthena, India Famine Boy 535 State Prison, Anamosa, Iowa 546 "Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not the hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God." --_Tennyson._ PRISONS AND PRAYER OR A LABOR OF LOVE. CHAPTER I. Biography and Call to the Work. I was born May 10, 1844, in Wayne County, Ohio. My parents, John and Mary Van Nest Ryder, were honest, hard working people, and were earnest Christians. One year after my birth, my father died, leaving my mother with five little children--three boys and two girls. Mother married again and had two children. The little girl was buried the day before mother died. My half-brother, J. P. Thompson, still lives in Ohio. Five years after my father's death my mother followed him to the better land, and I, with the rest, was left an orphan. Well do I remember the night my mother died. She was so troubled about leaving her children alone in the world, but continued long in earnest prayer until she had the assurance that God would care for them, and then she sang the old-time hymn, "There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Immanuel's veins," and went shouting home to glory. What a lasting impression is made on a child's heart by the life or death of a godly father or mother! By mother's death I was almost crazed with grief and could not be comforted. At her grave I was separated from my brothers and sister, and went to live with a family to whom mother had given me before her death. Some time after this, the family moving away, I went to live with my grandparents, under whose careful religious training I remained until married. I received little education, as my opportunities were very limited. From my earliest recollection I was deeply convicted of sin. This conviction followed me until at the age of twelve years I gave my heart to God and received the witness that I was His child. I united with the people called Methodists and tried to walk in the light I had, until God called me into His vineyard. MARRIAGE. At the age of eighteen I was married to Mr. J. A. Wheaton. We lived happily together, but in two years I was called to give up not only my dear husband, but also our little baby boy. They were buried in one grave, and I was again left alone in the world. O my breaking heart! I was in despair! I did not know then God's wonderful comforting power as I now do. I was scarcely more than a nominal Christian, a fashionable proud woman, moving in high society, left to face the battle of life alone. To try to drown my sorrow I rushed deeper into society and fashion--only to be plunged into deeper despair. What I suffered during those years is beyond the power of tongue or pen to describe. My anguish of heart and mind were so great that at times reason almost tottered on its throne. And had it not been for the goodness and mercy of God in sending me timely aid through true Christian friends, I should never have been able to have triumphed over it all. Soon after I was converted, I felt the call of God to His service. I longed to be a missionary. My heart especially went out to the colored people and the Indians, and to the poor unfortunate ones of my own sex. Their sufferings touched my heart, and it was this class with which I did some of my first prison and missionary work in after years. But in those days there was very little encouragement to a woman to do such work. O how those who are called of God now should appreciate their privileges! Though hindered and discouraged, this call did not leave me. I lived in the church for years, always doing my part in church work. I was proud and vain, but knew no better; yet I longed to be all the Lord's. SANCTIFICATION. Several years after my conversion I heard of holiness or entire consecration to God, and the baptism of the Holy Spirit for service. After this, for about ten years, I was under conviction for a clean heart, seeking for a while and then growing careless, receiving little help from the formal professors around me. As I counted the cost, at times it seemed too great. I knew it meant to give up fashionable society, home, friends, reputation and all: and to take the way of the lowly Nazarene. I heard at this time of a holiness meeting about forty miles from home, which I attended. Here I heard the pure gospel preached, and light shone upon my soul. I saw that none but the pure in heart could see God in peace. After wrestling in prayer until about three o'clock in the morning, I seemed held by an invisible power, pure and holy, and was so filled with awe that I feared to speak or move. Soon I heard a wonderful sound, soft, sweet and soothing, like the rustle of angels' wings. Its holy influence pervaded my whole being; a sound not of earth, but distinctly audible to both myself and the sister who was in the same room! I listened enraptured. I feared it was death, and my breath grew shorter and shorter. I did not move nor open my eyes. Presently Jesus stood before me, and O the wonderful look of love--so far above the love of mortals, so humble, meek and pleading! In the tender voice of the Holy Spirit came these words: "Can you give up all and follow me? Lay your weary, aching head upon my breast. I will never leave you nor forsake you. Lo, I am with you alway even unto the end of the world." I was enabled by the Holy Spirit to say, "Yes, Lord Jesus." I knew it was Jesus. When I said "Yes, Lord," the power of God fell upon me, soul and body, and I was bathed in a sea of glory. When I had recovered from my rapture, Jesus had vanished as silently as He came; but the blessing and power remained. The sister whispered and asked, "Did you hear that sound?" And then she told me that this was for my benefit. This occurred November 11, 1883. That day the people looked at me and wondered, seeing the great change God had wrought in me by His power. The night following we had an all-night meeting. Again God spoke to me by His Holy Spirit, saying, "Go and honor my Son's name, and I will go with you." I prayed, "O Lord, if this is Thy voice, speak once more." The same words came again. I obeyed and God did most wonderfully reveal Himself to me. I knew I was called to His service and to work for lost souls. [Illustration: STATE PRISON, COLUMBUS, OHIO.] MY CALL TO PRISON WORK. The question is often asked me, "How did you become interested in this work, and learn to understand the needs of the prisoner?" It was through this call from God. None of my relatives or friends were ever convicted of crime. When I was a young woman I attended the state fair at Columbus, Ohio, and with a delegation visited the state-prison at that place. While waiting for a guide to show us through the prison a young man was brought in by an officer. I saw him searched, and later as the heavy iron doors closed behind him with a clang, my sympathies were aroused. While being shown through the prison I saw this young man with his hair close cut, dressed in prisoners' garb, placed by the side of hardened criminals. There my first interest was awakened to try to make the burdens lighter for the prison-bound. As we were leaving the prison I noticed some small articles which had been made by the inmates in their spare moments. Among these I saw and was especially impressed with a miniature statue of a prisoner dressed in stripes, holding in one hand a ball and chain, the other hand shading the eyes. Upon the pedestal of the statue were these words, "What shall the harvest be?" I shall never forget the impression then made upon my mind. It is still fresh in my memory. Years after this, shortly after my commission to preach the gospel, as I was traveling one night to reach an appointment, stopping at a station in Iowa to change cars, three prisoners in handcuffs, who were being taken to the state-prison, were brought in. My heart was moved with deep compassion for them. Many were curiously inspecting them, as if they thought they had no tender feelings. Approaching these men, I gave them my hand, saying, "I am sorry for you, but God can help you in this hour of trial," and I tried to cheer them, and told them I would sometime visit them in the prison if I could. I did not then know I was so soon to enter upon my mission. But the burden of those in prison kept coming heavier upon me. I told my friends I must go and PREACH THE GOSPEL TO PRISONERS but they for a time thought me almost crazy. But as one of old, I felt that "Woe is me if I preach not the Gospel." So I gladly obeyed the divine call and went forward. But I was not led into this work by any morbid sentimentalism or enthusiasm. These would have worn off when the novelty was gone. No, this work was given me of God, who Himself laid the burden of the convict world upon my heart. Day and night there came up before me the cry of despair from inside prison walls--the wail of woe from those in dungeons whose hearts were breaking and whose minds were shattered and whose souls were lost in despair, and the call came direct from the mouth of the Lord, "Go and stand in the breach! Tell them of a Savior's love--of a way of escape through the blood of Jesus Christ, who is mighty to save and strong to deliver them from the snares of the enemy that has sought to destroy them soul and body. Tell them there is deliverance for the captive. Tell them there is consolation in the gospel of Christ for those who are heart-broken and forsaken and forgotten by all but an omnipotent God. Tell them that God lives and rules and reigns in heaven and is able to save to the uttermost and to comfort in their dying hours with the hope of eternal life beyond this vale of tears." But how could I go? The Lord Himself showed me how to go and where to go and that I was to leave results to Him and He would give the increase--that He would multiply the bread and fish for the hungry multitudes--He would feed the famished souls to whom He sent me, just as when He walked this sin-cursed earth--that He was the same yesterday, today and forever. I saw that my life must be entirely and forever surrendered to the Lord for His service, and that my future was to be left entirely in the hands of the Master whose I am and whom I serve. Thus the call came day after day and night after night until I believe I should have gone insane had I not then and there yielded my time and talent, all I had or ever would have, to the service of Christ to go just when and where He would have me go, do as He would have me do, and trust Him for my support. I was shown that I would never come to want. I was made to understand that these poor unfortunates in prison were just as dear to God's heart as I was and that souls would be required at my hands were I to fail to comply with the commission to go and lift up the fallen and comfort the dying and relieve those distressed in body and mind. I was made to know that there was power in prayer and that God could save the very lowest criminal or the worst woman on earth and by the transforming influence of the Holy Spirit and the cleansing blood of Jesus, save, purify and sanctify and lift them up even within the pearly gates of heaven; and that instead of devils in human form, they could be made saints that could take up the glad refrain unto Him that had redeemed them and washed them in his own blood and made them kings and priests unto God. Yes, God called me. And His name shall be exalted through all eternity for what He has done for me and through me during all these years. His has been the hand that fed, clothed and supported me. Never has God failed me in this pilgrim journey and He has supplied all my needs. My heart goes out in gratitude and thanksgiving while I write, for all He has done for me. O, the heights and depths, lengths and breadths of His boundless love for lost humanity! How wonderfully has He led me! How His guiding hand, His protecting care have been over me! Amid discouragements, disappointments and misunderstandings God has given me victory through the blood of our precious, loving Savior; and I know that He is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we can ask or think. When I saw the criminal at the bar of justice, I was reminded that we must all soon appear at the judgment bar of God. Then I saw that the Lord wanted me to tell of a Mighty Deliverer from the sins of intemperance, unbelief, skepticism, infidelity, covetousness, licentiousness and hypocrisy. My eyes were opened to see that thousands of poor helpless souls were drifting to their eternal doom without God and without hope, and that ofttimes in their hours of most desperate need there was no one to help, no one to point them to the blessed Savior and to really snatch them as "brands from the burning." Then I took courage and said, "Yes, Lord, I will go and do my best to help save them from destruction and an eternity in hell." Since then I have spent more than twenty years of constant toil among the masses and have reason to declare that God has given me success beyond what I could have thought possible. Multitudes have been saved, representing all ranks and stations of life. Many are today singing the songs of the redeemed with the glorified hosts in the other world, who were counted by many to be beyond redemption, already doomed and lost forever. For such I have taken courage and have pleaded before the Lord His written Word, asking for their soul's salvation; and now they are forever with the Lord. O faithless one, is there anything too hard for the Lord? And has He not told us "All things are possible to him that believeth" and "Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out" and that "if we confess our sins He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness"? During these years that I have stepped out on His promises I have proved that His word never fails. It is faith in the living God which brings results in the salvation of immortal souls. Never have I doubted God's power to save the vilest person, and now I want to tell, for His glory, just a little of what God has wrought as well as show something of what needs to be done. Bless the Lord, O my soul, for a faith prompted of the Spirit that will not waver--a confidence in God which takes no denial but cries "It must be done." In answer to such a faith, criminals of the deepest dye have been awakened and saved and women of the worst possible character have been converted and reformed and purified, and some have been set apart for the service of God and have done a mighty work. Others, as we have said, have gone to swell the grand, triumphant strain around the throne of God, where angels and archangels unite to make all heaven resound with the praises of our King--among those of whom it is said, "These are they which came up through great tribulation and have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." After I see the King in His beauty, clothed in majesty and glory and power, I want to look in the faces of those whom God has used me to help, who have come up from inside prison walls and from haunts of sin--yea, from the scaffold itself--those who have died in the triumphs of a living faith, victorious over death, hell and the grave. Since my call to the work of the Lord He has caused many homes to be opened to me and has given me many very dear friends. Among those of earlier years were dear Brother and Sister H. L. Hastings, of Boston, who kindly gave me a home and cared for me in sickness and special time of need. And in later years are those at the Missionary Training Home at Tabor, Iowa, with whom I have made my headquarters since 1895. I would specially mention Mrs. Hattie Worcester Kelley, who had a call from God to assist me in prison work and traveled some with me until her health failed; also Mrs. Georgia Worcester and her husband, and her father, Elder Weavers, who is president of the Home; with their faithful helpers in charge and assisting in the work, who have given me a hearty welcome among them. It was here I became more directly interested in foreign missionary work. I have at different times taken with me in my prison and slum mission work several of the missionaries now in foreign lands. Among these are Mr. and Mrs. Wm. Worcester, now in Africa, whom I accompanied on their way as far as London; Grace Yarrett, recently sailed for India, and a number of others. FAMILY REUNION AFTER A SEPARATION OF FIFTY-TWO YEARS. The following from a paper published in Elkhart, Ind., December, 1902, under the above heading, will explain itself: J. M. Ryder of Indianapolis, Ind.; Emanuel Ryder of Bryan, O.; Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, prison evangelist, and Lida Ryder Hoffman of this city met in a family reunion Dec. 8, after a separation of fifty-two years, this being the first time in all these years that the brothers and sisters, who were left orphans in early childhood, have been together. * * * The brothers and sisters sat for a group picture as a memento of the day, and left for their different missions and homes, not likely to all meet again this side of the great River. [Illustration: J. M. RYDER, MRS. E. RYDER WHEATON, EMANUEL RYDER, MRS. LIDA RYDER HOFFMAN.] [Illustration: JOHN RYDER, DECEASED.] I also give the reader a sketch written by my brother and published in his home paper at Bryan, O., some years since. Like Moses and the prophets of old; like Jesus and his disciples; like Martin Luther and John Wesley, and a host of other great lights who have been chosen at different times to be teachers and leaders of the children of earth, so in like manner and like purpose was Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton chosen. Her chief mission has been to the inmates of jails and penitentiaries, reformatories and the lowly outcasts in the houses of perdition, among people who never find room in the pews. Unconnected with church or other organization, but aided by an angel band, a Christ love, great charity, force of character that knew not fear where duty called, she has worked for the uplifting of the fallen. For twenty years she has toiled and struggled in her great life work, giving her teachings, her songs and her prayers, shedding tears of love and sympathy for the poor souls in the bondage of sin. For twenty years she has traveled up and down her home land and several foreign countries. The world her country, to do good her religion, giving her light, her life, wherever the most needed; never stopping, except from sickness or exhaustion from overwork; often meeting friends on the long and rugged road who gave her sympathy, shelter and food; at other times the floor her couch and but little to eat--but whether good or bad conditions, always thankful. In her chosen work, in the past twenty years, no person has done more good or has had so much influence in causing people to lead better lives, to quit sinning, to get out of hell and enjoy the happiness that follows from leading conscientious, truer lives. Her good intentions, her words of warning and sympathy, her sweet soul songs of love, her prayers in angelic power, have moved the people outside of the churches in the different avocations and walks of life as they had never been moved before, the masses perceiving by subtle agency that here was a person deserving love, respect and honor. She had great influence with the employees of the different railway companies, the good-will of the superintendents of many of the great railway lines of the country, frequently getting passes from New York City to San Francisco and return, a distance of seven thousand miles, for herself and companion. She has spoken in more reformatories, jails and penitentiaries, and, I believe, done more good, unconnected with any organization, than any other in the twenty years. HER LIFE HISTORY. It is too long a story to attempt to go into details--to tell of her trials, hardships and sickness; to tell of her individual successes, as well as her successes when she has swayed great bodies of people, moving the half of them to tears, causing them to have higher thoughts, better motives, and to bless the hour she was among them; or of how she entered the southern stockades alone, even when warned by the Warden that her life might be taken, and in ten minutes had the inmates as tractable as little children, where the officials would not enter, except in a body and thoroughly armed; how she stood her ground when menaced by drunken western desperadoes; or of the times she divided her raiment and her scant purse with the destitute, and the many times she escaped great danger by being forewarned, etc. Bereft of both parents at the age of five years, and cared for by cold and indifferent strangers, she misses the mother's love, guidance, sympathy and protection. When she started out on her mission she left a good home with all the substantials and many of the luxuries of life, with but little education, without money or friends, alone to travel unbeaten paths, to do a work that no one had ever tried before; untrained in the great work she was to follow, but impelled by a higher Spirit force she could not resist. "Do this work. I will be with you to the end. When great troubles come, I will be your shield and your helper. I will warn you of great danger. I will protect your life. You will gather many sheaves, and, when you are through with earth, have a high place in the heavenly abode." Whenever needed, the angel band assists her to say the right words for the time and occasion, according to perceptions and conceptions of the people addressed. She is gifted with a voice that is always musical, clear and distinct, and of such compass that it can be heard a mile, or down to the minor notes, but always with the pathos that touches the tender chords of the soul. Now she is old, broken in health and strength. Soon she must lay her weary body down, a willing sacrifice for the lowest children of earth. And now with this brief outline of the work, the life and the powerful soul magic of Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, I close. Respectfully, EMANUEL RYDER, Brother of Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. CHAPTER II. A Letter to My Prison Children. You, dear ones, are my especial care and have been for over twenty long years; and your eternal good will continue in a sense to be first in my thoughts while life lasts. My own childhood was lonely and desolate. As I have already told you, my father died when I was one year old, and mother died when I was only six. I was taken from my mother's grave by an old man who had, with his wife, asked mother for me before she died. My stepfather went to law with my grandfather, who was guardian for myself and sister, for my father's fortune, and the suit was carried from one court to another until all was gone and we little children were penniless. Sister and I were reared by our grandparents, and were given a very limited education. We were taught to work as rigidly as if we were paupers. The experience was hard but I can now see how good it was for me in after years to know how to do all kinds of work and be able to do with my might what my hands found to do. All my life I have known much of SORROW AND DISAPPOINTMENT. It has seemed that I have never been allowed to keep long anything that I loved. When I was a child, my pets would sicken and die, and the friends that I loved best would either move away from me or die; and my heart was being continually crushed and broken by these trials. I loved to learn and was passionately fond of music, but I was not permitted to gratify my desires in either direction. Why all this was true, I know not, unless it was that I might learn deeper lessons of sympathy and compassion for others that are in trouble. Perhaps, dear ones, because of these very experiences I can feel more deeply and tenderly for you and I want to tell you that amid all the sorrows of earth I have found _one Friend_ that has never forgotten or forsaken me and that has promised never to leave me. _And this same Jesus loves you._ If you but give Him your hearts He will never fail you. Though all the world should forsake and despise you, Jesus loves you just the same. It is He that has put into my heart this love for you and your souls' salvation that I cannot explain; this love that grows deeper and stronger and that can only be made plain in the judgment. He has taught me to feel for you when you are forsaken and forgotten, when even friends turn away because you are doomed to the prison cell, the stripes, and even the scaffold. Often you are misunderstood and misjudged, and sometimes you grow bitter towards every one, and sometimes you censure your best friends. I plead with you to look on the bright side. Think of all God has done for you and how wonderful it is that He loves you with all your sins, that He loves your precious, immortal souls. You are my children. For Jesus' sake, and yours, I am a homeless wanderer on earth. I have given up home and friends and have gone into the darkest places of earth, and have endured hardships and faced danger of every kind. I have endured untold sorrow of mind and heart. I have wept and prayed night and day, and for you I have sacrificed all. But dear ones, notwithstanding all this, I am happy in the love of Jesus. His love is everything to my heart. His love and sympathy is enough for me, and I know that He is able to provide all that I need. He has kept me nearly sixty years, and I am sure that He will not now forsake me. Let this encourage you, dear prisoners, to know that God loves and cares for you. When the way looks the darkest, when all hope fails, when the last friend has forsaken you, then look up to Jesus and believe His word. I know your trials are hard to bear. I think of you as you leave the jail for the penitentiary with the handcuffs on and the sheriff and the deputy guarding you so closely, and the world against you. I think of you as the prison doors close behind you. I think of you in your loneliness as the days and months and perhaps years go by, and again I say, yes, I know your trials are hard to bear. But look up through the dark clouds and remember that God lives and that He loves you. In your little lonely prison cell He is with you and is waiting to save you. Do not conceal your sins, for God's Word says, "He that covereth his sin shall not prosper; but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall find mercy." Let the past be cleansed by the blood of Jesus. If you trust Him, He has promised to separate your sins as far from you as the east is from the west. Do not rest until His Spirit tells you this is done. Then, "forgetting the things that are behind," press forward to those things that are before. Obey the rules. Show by your daily life that you intend to do right, the very best you know. If those in authority over you seem to be unkind or unjust, bear what comes as brave soldiers. Even inside of prison walls you can win glorious victories over self and sin. There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth. I seek to show you the way to the kingdom of heaven, where there is no more temptation, no sin, no sorrow, no pain; to the place where Jesus has gone to prepare a home for those who love Him, follow Him and trust Him. My heart yearns over you in your sad exile from wife, children, mother, father, husband, brother, sister, friends. Truly the way of the transgressor is hard. But, my prison children, I beg of you do not go from one prison to another. Flee from sin. I do not and dare not smooth over your sins. Prove yourselves worthy of the confidence of good people. Give God your hearts and be true to Him and He will not forsake you. Some of you are doomed to the scaffold! How long, O Lord, how long must such things be in a Christian land? O, that I had the power to abolish capital punishment! But I will do all I can to help you prepare for death. Jesus loves you. He was taken from prison and executed as a criminal. He was innocent, yet He suffered death for a guilty world. He was tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin. "And being tempted, He is able to succor them that are tempted." And though you pass through the valley of the shadow of death, if you but trust Him, He will go with you and you need fear no evil. [Illustration: GIVING THE BOYS COUNSEL.] CHAPTER III. A Plea for the Prisoner. IN THE SHADOW OF THE WALL. BY OLLA F. BEARD. (The writer of this poem was a personal acquaintance and friend. At the time the poem was written her father was warden of the penitentiary at Fort Madison, Iowa, and she took great interest in his work.--E. R. W.) Oh, those wond'rous gloomy walls! What a chill their shadow calls To creep and tingle through our veins! Moving all our soul contains Of pity for the woes within-- Those who move within this pall, Those who bear a load of sin, In the shadow of that wall. Yes, you think their lot is hard; So do all you can t'retard Their sad downward course in time, And save them from a greater crime. But pause and come with me to view Various pictures in the hall Of the innocent and true, In the shadow of this wall. There's a mother, good and true, With a face of palest hue; Eyes are dimmed and faint to-day, With their brightness washed away By the tears she's nightly shed; Yet she does not fail to call Blessings on her dear boy's head, In the shadow of the wall. There's a father, too, bowed o'er With age, and his head is hoar. Ah! it surely broke his heart With his honored name to part. Now instead of his boy's arm, A cane-stalk keeps him from a fall, As he walks about his farm, In the shadow of the wall. There's a wife, too, in the gloom, Yet within her heart there's room For the one whose name she bears; She will share e'en now his cares. Vows were said to God above, And, tho' friends forget to call, She will keep her vow of love, In the shadow of the wall. There are children, bright and gay, Now at school and now at play; Why do playmates push them off, Only at their tears to scoff? Can innocence, then, guilty be? Why are they shunned, each one and all? Ah! these children e'en we see, In the shadow of the wall. And O, for shame! to scorn some one For the deed another's done; For their road is hard at best; They should never once have guessed, From the things you do and say, That you once those facts recall-- How they're living day by day In the shadow of the wall. But a word we'd say for him Who inhabits those walls dim: Shun him not; help if you can-- Let him try to be a man. When he's paid now for his sin, Let not scorn bring other falls, Just because he once has been In the shadow of the walls. He has yet a heart, tho' scarred; He has yet a soul, tho' marred; And he has to live and try Till his time shall come to die. Sweet Charity, that suffereth long, Let us now as guard install. She will lead him from the wrong-- From the shadow of the wall. We would not pet the sin and crime; Let reproof fall in its time. But reproof should have an end, When the sinner tries to mend! Give him every chance you can-- Lend a helping hand to all; Lead the woman or the man From the shadow of the wall. A LETTER TO PRISON OFFICERS. DEAR PRISON MANAGERS: You and I are trying to help the prisoners to a better life. We want to elevate, to lift up these men and women to a higher plane of existence. How are you to proceed? What are you to do, is the question. How are you to command the respect of those under you? Just where to draw the line, and how to enforce discipline? What advantage will you give to the men who are striving to obey rules, and do what is right? Something must be done, and done soon. The criminal classes must be reached, reformed, saved and sent out of prison better prepared to face the world and the temptations which will be thrust upon them at every turn. Great responsibility rests upon you. Many of you are doing nobly and accomplishing great good. There is hope for every prisoner. You can reach them by kindness. Brutality will never accomplish anything in the way of prison reform. By such a course a man is often turned out of prison a demon, a fiend in human form, or an idiotic criminal. But to make him a good man, a noble creature, as God intended he should be, he must have kindness shown him. Be _firm_ and _honorable_ in all your dealings with the convict, for he has his rights, and they should be respected if we are ever going to make the prison world better. Let us ask God for help to know how to reach the manhood, the womanhood, the better nature in the creature God has seen fit in His wise providence to make just a little lower than the angels, in His own likeness and image. He intended all should be free and equal, but the people license the saloon, the gambling den and the brothel to degrade their brothers and sisters. Some say these are necessary evils! I say never, never! Let there be better conditions. There is hope for the sinner if we only get the Holy Spirit to teach us how to reach him. I never go into the presence of convicts without earnest prayer to God to give me wisdom, and the Holy Spirit to teach and guide me what to say and sing, and how to reach their hearts. God has given me what success I have had in helping the criminal classes, in giving hope to the discouraged and in relieving the minds of some who were partially deranged. Oh, this wholesale slaughter of men's minds! It is horrible. It is heart-rending. And yet some go right on committing the greatest crime against these men, by robbing them of their reason which God intended them to enjoy as their birthright. Which is the greater crime, the whipping post and the lash with all their attendant horrors and misery, or the iron rule that crushes out all hope in the name of discipline? I believe in law and order, and that men must be in subjection to rules and regulations. I always urge upon them implicit obedience and subjection to the rules of the prison. But these should be reasonable and humane. What you and I need is to know our man and then we will know how to deal with him. Study human nature as well as the law, and study the law of the all-wise God in the Bible and see if you will not have a clear conscience as well as a clear brain to manage and control those under your direction. I know prisons that are regulated entirely by kindness, and oh, the blessed, restful, quieting influence there is there, and scarcely any insane. All are satisfied with the treatment they receive and they are willing to die for their officers. I know these things, for I am behind the scenes. After long years of service as a prison missionary, in nearly all the state prisons in all the states and territories, I find only an ever increasing desire to be a worker together with Christ in reaching the masses of prisoners who are incarcerated in our state, county and city prisons. My success has largely been due to my sincere and intense desire to lead them to a better life here and life eternal in heaven, and to the victory gained over myself to never let anything or anybody prevent my doing all I could for the prisoner, as if he were my own child or brother. Again, my determination has been to give all a fair trial and a liberal amount of confidence. Yes, we must place ourselves in their condition; let our boy or brother, our mother or sister be in prison, let us think how we would exercise every means we had in reaching or relieving them. All prisoners are human, and yet, how few professors of religion show interest in them. They are doubted at every turn. Daggers are driven to hearts which are longing for a better life, a purer atmosphere, a new creation. Poor souls! God pity them. O the hearts that cry out for better things! the souls that are yearning for the good and true! O the thousands of prisoners who may be diamonds in the rough, jewels for whom Christ died. Souls, immortal souls are at stake. We must soon meet these things at the judgment. O to be clear of the censure, the rebuke, the reproof of God Almighty in the final day of accounts. O brother, sister, have we had charity that suffereth long and is kind? Have we tried by example and precept to show the criminals that we were really their friends and sincerely cared for their souls? How long has the good Lord borne with us, and shall we not be in earnest to save those who are not Christians, to encourage them to a better life, to cheer up the dying convict, to show them there is a God in Israel who hears and answers prayer, one who said, "Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him"? WORTH WHILE. It is easy enough to be pleasant When life flows by like a song, But the man worth while is the one who will smile When everything goes dead wrong. For the test of the heart is trouble, And it always comes with the years, And the smile that is worth the praise of the earth Is the smile that shines through tears. It is easy enough to be prudent When nothing tempts you to stray; When without or within no voice of sin Is luring your soul away. But it is only a negative virtue Until it is tried by fire, And the life that is worth the honor of earth Is the one that resisteth desire. By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, Who had no strength for the strife, The world's highway is cumbered to-day; They make up the item of life. But the virtue that conquers passion, And the sorrow that hides in a smile-- It is these that are worth the homage of earth, For we find them but once in a while. --ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. PREJUDICE. I find but little difference between humanity in prison walls and the humanity outside. Prisoners are our brothers and our sisters. We must soon meet them all at the judgment. They are naturally supposed to be guilty of crime of some kind. But they are not all criminals. Wicked men, willing to shield themselves, oftentimes throw suspicion on others, who are placed under arrest and convicted by circumstantial evidence or false testimony. Others, of course, are of the worst types of humanity. Some of them seem unworthy of the name of man or woman, yet even these Christ died to save, and God is able to deliver them and how shall His name be better glorified or His power be more manifest, than in their transformation? Very many are so prejudiced against all those who are counted as criminals that they believe them to be utterly incapable of any good and are quick to believe that they see in them evidences of the deepest depravity. A sad yet amusing illustration of this fact comes to my mind. Chaplain H., of the Reformatory for Boys at Kearney, Nebraska, is an honest-faced, true-hearted young man, full of zeal in the service of God. At one time when I stopped at Kearney he called for me at the train. As I looked at him he said, with a smile, "Did you think it was one of the boys whom the superintendent had sent for you?" I replied, "Yes; I did at first; you are so young, Mr. Chaplain;" and then he related to me the following circumstances which I give as nearly as I can in his own words: "At one time Prof. Mallalieu and myself had been to Lincoln on business, and were returning together. We were quietly resting, and I was sitting with closed eyes, meditating, when a lady happened along and recognized the Superintendent, and said 'Have you got a boy there, taking him to the Reform Schools?' "Considerably amused, he replied: 'Yes; this is a very bad fellow; I have had a lot of trouble with him, and have just recaptured him, and now I am watching to see that he doesn't make his escape.' The woman leaned over and, scanning my face and features, said: 'He has an awful bad look on his face; you can see he is a criminal and needs to be under strict discipline.'" The dear young chaplain said, as he laughingly related this instance, that he learned a lesson in human nature that day. That woman, who imagined that she saw in the face of that young looking, honest, devoted Christian young man evidences of guilt and depravity, was only one among thousands who are led by prejudice when they imagine that they are exercising great discernment. A LOOK INTO THE CELL. Reader, could you and I walk together down the cell-house corridor in almost any of our large prisons, at almost any hour of the night and pause and listen to the sighs and smothered sobs and often to the deep groans that might be heard welling up from hearts that are broken and crushed by sorrow and remorse; could we, dear reader, cast one sidelong glance in passing the rounds of the cell-house with the guard, who, with muffled tread wends his ceaseless march throughout the night, your heart, as well as mine, would be deeply moved. On those stone floors, guarded by double locks and iron bars, as well as by the living sentinel, you might see many a mother's boy kneeling in silent prayer to his mother's God, and as he prays and communes with his own thoughts, you might hear again the groans of anguish as the poor unfortunate thinks of home and mother, wife and children, or other loved ones. Then look with me into that poor man's cell, void of comfort, with nothing that would remind you of home; a close narrow cell, a poor hard cot, a straw pillow, if any, and kept under strict watch day and night; left many times without one ray of hope, without a gleam of sunshine or a kind word. I wonder there are not scores of insane men in our state prisons for every one that we find, and there are many, very many, who are either partially or entirely insane. I am convinced that oftentimes men are crazy when the officers suppose they are only obstinate and rebellious and mean. Often do I note insanity lurking in the eyes and often as the prisoners file past me at the close of a service and I clasp each one by the hand, as is my custom, among the many who are so glad to have a kind word and a hand-clasp at parting I notice those who are not sane by the peculiarity of the clasp of the hand. Some have a clasp like a mad-man, others a limp, lifeless hand-shake, with cold, clammy hands. Oh, what wisdom is needed to know how to deal with these poor, helpless souls! I find many of them with hearts as tender and sensibilities as acute as any I meet outside. INSANE PRISONERS. While I was having a service for the criminal insane at Anamosa, Iowa, state prison, a young man was very anxious to see me and tell me something. As I waited to talk with him he said to me in _such a pitiful way_, "Go and tell my dear mother I will try to help her. Won't somebody help my poor mother?" This was the burden of his heart. Poor boy! in his partial derangement his whole concern seemed to be for her. He is only one among many! [Illustration: WITH INSANE PRISONERS AT ANAMOSA, IOWA.] A TOUCHING INCIDENT. At one time I was on the train going north from Indianapolis. My brother, J. M. Ryder, was with me. I was singing a hymn, and walking to the end of the car as I sang I saw two men bound together by handcuffs. One of them I supposed to be an officer. He was a fine looking man, well dressed. It was a few days before Christmas, but I noticed some holly-berries pinned to his coat. I remarked, "You have holly-berries before Christmas day!" With tears rolling down his face he answered, "My little girl pinned this on me. She said, 'Papa, you will not be here when Christmas comes, and I will pin it on now before you go.'" I said, "You are an officer, are you not?" "Oh, no!" he said, "I am a prisoner," and then he told me his sad story. Money belonging to some one else, a relative, if I remember rightly, had been left in his care. Under pressure of need he used some of it, being confident that he could replace it before it was needed; but the shortage was discovered, he was arrested, found guilty and sentenced. With a broken heart he said, "I never will live to serve out my sentence. This will surely kill me. I am not a thief, but I was so sure I could replace the money before it was needed." Reader, think you this man was any more a criminal at heart than thousands who move among men honored and respected? Who can question that there are thousands who, perhaps, do not transgress the letter of the law, yet more deliberately and wilfully wrong their fellow men than this poor man? And this case is only one of many; and where shall we draw the line? Oh, let us have fervent charity one for another. I am not biased in my judgment. I know sentimentalism is not salvation. That can come only through true repentance and faith in God and must be evidenced by restitution and good works; but if you could see, as I have seen, the meetings in the prison guard-room between husband and wife, mother and son, or between father and his wayward boy, if you could see the tears and sobs as they meet and part, and above all at the last parting before execution, I believe you would never feel like criticising or being harsh in your judgment again. Could you have gone with me during these twenty years, could you have had the confidence of these prisoners as I have had it, you would realize that they are, in very many cases, as truly open to conviction and as easily reached as those outside of prison walls, and are they not my children? Do I not know their faults? Do they not confess to me their guilt? But back of all I see Jesus hanging on the cross of Calvary, between two thieves, dying, and in His death agony, while the blood is oozing from the print of the thorns upon His brow, while the eyes are growing glassy in death, with the cold death sweat standing out upon His face, I hear Him say to the penitent thief, "This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise." And again, as He remembers all those who have so cruelly wronged Him, he cries, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." If the Son of God gave Himself for us, if with His dying breath He prayed for His persecutors, if He who knew no sin and understood all hearts could say, "They know not what they do," God help us to be willing to forgive those who have transgressed the law either of God or man. These prisoners need a helping hand, need a friend with wisdom, tact and judgment, one in whose heart there is the one thought above all others of the need of their immortal souls, their eternal destiny. You and I, reader, must do our part in reforming a lost world, in saving lost sinners. Then let us remember how good God has been to us by keeping us out of prison, by keeping us out of the evil surroundings and influences that might have brought us there. Let us give the poor prisoners a fair show and fair play. Many of them long for better things, for one more chance to prove themselves worthy of the confidence and sympathy of their fellow men. After twenty years of toil among those who are bound, I do bless God that He ever called me to carry to those in prison the glad message of His love and seek by love and faith and prayer to lift them up to better things. PREPARED TO DIE. Once while holding services in a prison, there came to me a prisoner saying, "Mother, I want to tell you I was saved since I saw you." (Only a few days previous.) Then he told me that he was under sentence of death and that he was so troubled that he cried to God to forgive his sins and pardon his crime, and that God had forgiven him and that he was now prepared to die. He said that when the Lord forgave him he was so happy that the officers put an extra guard over him, thinking that he had suddenly lost his mind. I exhorted him to maintain his faith in God and never doubt His saving power; to walk softly before God; to keep humble and meek and pray much. Truly there is pardon for every sinner who, in the depths of his soul, repents of his sin. God's love and power are so great that He will save to the uttermost all that come unto Him, not willing that any should perish. Reader, perhaps you have not the opportunity to know these souls as I know them, and so to help you understand them I give in other chapters many extracts in their own words, taken here and there from the thousands of letters I have received. I believe this will help you to understand that hundreds, shut out from the companionship of their fellow beings, are as easily moved by kindness, as capable of gratitude, as easily won to repentance, as willing to give up sin, as thousands of those outside, who perhaps have never been tempted as they were tempted and have never fallen as they have fallen. In quoting from these letters few changes have been made, except in spelling, capitalization and punctuation. Some young souls are making, for a stated time, This, their maiden effort, on the sea of crime. Oh, Christians, teach them early what to me is plain; Crime ever _has_ and ever _will_ result in lasting pain. Do not be _too_ lenient, nor _too_ soon forgive, Lest all _vice_ should flourish and no _virtue_ live. Society demands it, the _guilty_ should atone-- But take care you punish those, and those _alone_! Keep them in your prison till by _virtue_ shown They will know what _is_ and what is _not_ their own. But let all be careful lest by _word_ or _act_ Those who should _reform_ them from their _good_ subtract. Rule them wisely, gently--by some _humane_ plan, All their faults to conquer as best becomes a Man. When your work is finished and their habits changed, Give them honest labor, by the State arranged; Show them honest labor _can_ a living gain, While the _social outcast_ harvests _want_ and _shame_! Treat them fairly, kindly; teach them all the true Will be friendly with them while _the right_ they do. Both principle and policy declare this course is wise; Then why longer act the fool and wisdom's voice despise? Crime never _can_ nor _will_ decrease until in _Wisdom's School_ Men learn the noted lesson, "Right _through_ Law should Rule." --_H. P. McKnight._ [Illustration: PRISONERS MARCHING.] CHAPTER IV. A Brief Pen Picture of Prison Life. For the instruction of children and others who have never visited one of our large penitentiaries I insert the following sketch of such a visit written by Mrs. F. M. Lambert, author of "Holy Maternity," which was written for this work: The prisons and buildings connected with them are enclosed by a high stone wall. Of course there is a gate, or gates, opening upon driveways leading into the yard where the shops are located. The gate is securely locked and guarded, the guard having a little room built on the wall over the gate. There is a main entrance to the building through which criminals as well as visitors enter. The officer closes and locks the large door behind you upon entering. On Sabbath mornings many things are seen and heard there. The officers come in and take up the work of the day. The warden or deputy takes a large bunch of keys and opens a side door that leads into the cell room, and the guards follow him into the corridor. Soon is heard the rattling of the keys, and the opening and closing of heavy doors, followed by the tramp, tramp, of many feet. Passing out at a side door with the officer, you may watch the men passing down to their breakfast in the dining-room, which is on the ground floor of the chapel, perhaps one hundred feet from the prison building. Each guard marches with his company of men, from twenty to fifty in number. They march in single file, each man with his right hand resting upon the right shoulder of the man in front of him. The officers wear dark blue uniforms, while the convicts are dressed in suits made of heavy woolen goods, generally striped, the stripes being black and white, a little over an inch wide, even the caps being striped, and of the same material as the suits. You follow the officer across the yard, and notice the large greenhouse with its beautiful plants, flowers and shrubs. But, looking back, you see the great high wall of the prison, and remember that the little spot in the prison yard and the sky overhead is all the glimpse of the world that these poor men get, and, no doubt, is all that some of them ever will get, for some of them are shut in there for life. [Illustration: PRISON CHAPEL AND DINING ROOM.] THE CHAPEL SERVICE. You follow the officer up the steps of stone into the entrance hall, and watch the men pass out of the dining-room up the stairway into the chapel; then you follow and are led to a seat near the pulpit, facing the assemblage. Your eyes wander quickly over that strange lot of from two hundred to five hundred men, and, in some prisons, over a thousand constitute the audience. When all are seated, the guards seat themselves on high stools placed along the sides of the room, facing the rear door, while the prisoners face the pulpit at the farther end of the room. Then the prison choir sings and the organ peals forth its beautiful strains, the prisoners joining in the singing. You cannot keep back the tears as you look into their faces and think that only for sin they might be free. Verily, "the way of the transgressor is hard." Prayer is offered, and the chaplain, and those who have permission, talk from the written word of eternal life. Invariably your eyes sweep over that strange audience, and here and there you see a man, or perhaps a young boy, in tears, and you know the tender chord in their hearts has been touched. God grant it may be so! Several testify to hope in Christ. Services over, the prisoners are marched to their cells and locked in. They must all attend the morning service, but are not compelled to attend the Sunday school in the afternoon. Few prisons conduct Sunday schools. In the afternoon, in company with the chaplain and some of the guards, you may visit the cell rooms, and are allowed to distribute papers and tracts, and speak personally with each prisoner. THE CELL ROOM is a long room with a stone floor and whitewashed walls, the cells running through the middle of its entire length. The cells are narrow, little rooms, perhaps four feet wide and six or seven feet long. They vary somewhat in size. They have doors of strong bars of iron, and no windows. All the air received must enter through this grated door in front. The back of each cell joins with the back of the row of cells on the other side, thus forming a double row facing in opposite directions. Rows of cells are built in tiers, one row above another, with a narrow platform running along in front, with an iron railing. Each man's name, and the number of his cell, is placed over his door. A wide corridor runs all around the main room, which admits the circulation of air from the large grated windows. Sabbath is rather a hard day for the men, for they had rather be at work than locked in lonely cells, with only their own thoughts and troubled consciences for company. Many of the men who are there for long terms have their cells fixed very nicely, and one can usually tell those whose hearts cling to home or friends. But there are some who seem to care for nothing. One boy had his cell ornamented with festoons of newspapers folded and torn into patterns representing lace curtains. Another, a life convict, had his cell festooned with colored tissue paper. This man was a trusty, who had the care of the flowers and plants. In some prisons the cells are not provided with Bibles, and some prisons have no chaplains. Some of the men are very expert at making beautiful things, such as pin cushions, picture frames, hair-braided watch guards, pen-holders, workboxes, toy chairs and many other things. One man I saw was making designs for embossed rocking-chair backs; another had his tools for repairing watches. [Illustration: CORRIDOR IN CELL HOUSE.] THE WORKSHOPS. On Monday morning we may visit the workshops and see the men at work. Here we see all kinds of work; farm implements, such as hoes, rakes, pitchforks and many other things, probably all made of iron. These tools pass through many hands before they are complete. Each process is done by a separate set of men. For instance, the hoes are made by some and sharpened by others. It takes only a few seconds to sharpen a tool. As soon as this is done it is passed on to others who polish it, and the handle is inserted and painted. Some rooms are so warm from the many furnaces, and the red-hot irons which are being beaten into shape, that a person can scarcely stay long enough to see the work done, and is glad to move on to cooler departments. The men seem to look well, but you cannot help wondering how they ever work and endure the terrible heat. They are not allowed to talk to each other, and are continually under the guard's eye. Here and there one looks up with a nod and a smile. Each man in the shops is given a certain amount of work to do, and if he does any more than his allotted task, he is paid for it. The amount is kept for him. But very few except long-timers and experts can gain any time to do extra work. After going through all the shops we pass on to THE HOSPITAL, which is in the rear of the chapel, and in the same building. Here are sights that touch hearts. Some are dying with consumption, and some with broken hearts. One poor boy's sunken cheeks and thin, wasted hands especially touched me. Taking him by the hand, I began to talk to him. He said: "No one cares for _me_." "Yes, God cares for you and He loves you." "Why does He let me stay here and die if He loves me?" "Have you a mother?" "Yes, I have a good Christian mother, but she doesn't know I am here." "May I write and tell her you are sick? I am sure she wants to know about you?" "Oh, no; I had rather die all alone than to have mother know I am here." So it is all through these places. For, though I have briefly described one prison, they are all in a great measure alike, yet vary in different states to some extent. All are not so clean and neat as this one spoken of, and though a prison might be lined with costly gems, it is still a prison, and without Jesus in the heart it is only a living tomb to those confined therein. Let none think that it is a pleasant place to be. One man may want to be a Christian, or at least a moral man and a man of cultured tastes, and such men find it doubly hard when they must work side by side with the most degraded criminals. One may leave the prison worse than when he went in. In these places children hide their ruined lives and breaking hearts from their dearest earthly friends. No mother to smooth the dying one's pillow, though small it may be! No sister or brother to wipe away the bitter tears that _will_ fall; no father to say good-bye. O mothers, let the memory of your boy's innocent childhood fan all your tenderness and love into a flame that would leap over the highest breastwork Satan could erect and take your boy or girl back to your heart. If you have been a true Christian and have done your duty faithfully, trust still in God. What we need is faithful teaching among the unsaved, to warn them against their danger, before they get into such awful places. [Illustration: NEW FEDERAL PRISON AT FT. LEAVENWORTH, KANSAS.] CHAPTER V. Letters of Introduction and Kind Words from Governors, Prison Officials, Etc. From the great number of letters which I have received, of the character indicated by the title of this chapter, I give a few which may be of interest to the reader. These will suffice to show the general interest of those in positions of honor and trust and their willingness to share a part in the work I have tried to perform for humanity, by making it possible for me to prosecute and carry it on. Many letters of like topic have been lost or destroyed, and, space being limited, I hope those who have done a like part may not feel slighted. The true records are kept by the recording angel, and every one shall receive a just reward. "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me." Such letters received in the Southern states will be found in the chapters on work in Stockades and Prison Camps. Also some relating to Street and Rescue work in the chapters on these respective topics. I should like very much to give some personal letters from railway officials, expressing their appreciation and interest in the work, but I have refrained lest by such some might be caused some annoyance. To them much gratitude and credit is due, from all who have received encouragement or spiritual benefit through my feeble efforts made in the name of Jesus. FROM GOVERNORS. Executive Department, Indianapolis, Ind., Dec. 4, 1891. Hon. J. B. Patten, Warden, Jeffersonville, Ind. Dear Sir: This will be presented to you by Mrs. Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, an evangelist whose work is especially among prisoners. I hope it will suit your pleasure and convenience to extend to her the privilege of addressing the prisoners of your institution. Yours truly, I. J. CHASE, Governor... * * * * * Executive Department, Indianapolis, Ind., Aug. 3, 1893. Capt. Jas. B. Patten, Warden Prison South, Jeffersonville, Ind. Dear Sir: This will be presented to you by Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, a prison evangelist of long experience and considerable reputation. She comes with the highest recommendations of her work from prisons heretofore visited. She desires to conduct services in your chapel, and I trust you will afford her every reasonable facility for so doing. Very respectfully, CLAUDE MATTHEWS. * * * * * Governor's Office. Topeka, Aug. 5, 1893. Hon. S. W. Chase, Lansing, Kans. Dear Sir: This will introduce to you Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, a prison evangelist, who comes to us very highly recommended. She is desirous of holding service, or taking part, at least, in the prison. Any favors shown her will be appreciated by FRED J. CLOSE, Private Sec'y. * * * * * Dear Chase: I have just come in, and take pleasure in endorsing the above letter. I bespeak for this lady a full opportunity to address the prisoners, as I have no doubt but that the service will be productive of good. Yours, L. D. LEWELLING, Governor. * * * * * Executive Office. State of Idaho. Boise City, Dec. 19, 1895. To Whom It May Concern: This will introduce Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, a lady who is devoted to prison work. Any favors shown her will be gratefully appreciated. Respectfully, W. J. MCCONNELL, Governor. * * * * * Executive Chamber. Lincoln, Nebraska, Oct. 10, 1896. Warden Leidigh: My Dear L.:-- This will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, who is interested in prison reform work and in visiting prisons for the purpose of holding suitable services on the Sabbath day. Kindly extend such courtesies as you can, and make the necessary announcements so that she can conduct services in the chapel, and much oblige, Very truly yours, SILAS A. HOLCOMB, Governor. * * * * * Executive Chamber. Carson City, Nevada, Dec. 13, 1902. Mrs. Henderson: Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, the bearer of this, desires to do some charitable work at the prison and she desires to have services there tomorrow, as Mr. Henderson is not there. She is coming down with Mr. Harris and will explain her mission to you. Yours truly, R. SADLER, Governor. PRISON OFFICIALS. Sheriff's Office. Suffolk County. Boston, Oct. 24, 1885. Mr. Bradley: Let the bearer visit the jail and see any person she desires to. J. B. O'BRIEN, Sheriff. * * * * * North Carolina State Penitentiary. Raleigh, N. C., Nov. 14, 1885. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. My Dear Friend: Your postal just to hand, and in reply I am glad to say my daughter is much better than when you were in Raleigh, but she is still very far from being well. The general health of the prisoners is very good at this time. I shall be very glad to have you at our prison as you pass on your way south. We have all of the convicts in the prison every Sabbath, and I shall be very much pleased for you to have service for us. We can arrange for the service on any Sabbath morning or evening, as may be most desirable or convenient to you. I regret that I did not meet you when you were here last. May the good Lord bless you very abundantly in your Christian work. Your Friend, W. J. HICKS, Architect and Warden. * * * * * Warden's Office, Nebraska State Penitentiary. Nobesville, Nebr., April 11, 1886. R. J. McClaughry, Warden Penitentiary, Joliet, Ill. Dear Sir: This will introduce to your favorable notice Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Prison Evangelist. Mrs. Wheaton is highly recommended by some of the most prominent persons, and any favors that you can show her will be in a good cause. Very respectfully, C. F. NOBES, Warden. * * * * * San Francisco, Aug. 18, 1888. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. Dear Madam: I have just received yours of the 17th inst., and in reply will say that you have always been welcome to visit the jail and enjoy every privilege granted to others of your sex. Mr. G.'s mother has not been allowed to enter his cell for some time past. The utmost freedom consistent with our rules of order is given to all those employed in the good work in which you are so earnestly engaged. Should you find it convenient to visit the institution again prior to leaving our State, we will be pleased to admit you, and should you prevail on the sheriff to allow the special favor you seek, we will gladly comply with the order. Respectfully yours, JOHN ROGERS, Chief Jailer. * * * * * Dakota Penitentiary North. Bismarck, Dak., Oct. 27, 1888. Hon. D. S. Glidden, Warden Penitentiary, Sioux Falls, Dak. Dear Sir: This will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton and Miss Mary M----, Prison Evangelists. They paid us a visit several days ago. While they came without introduction, I welcomed them and gave them opportunity to examine the prison; also called officers and prisoners together in the evening and held services. We were well repaid for our time and trouble. They left a lasting and good impression. I think that you will like their singing and prison talk. I bespeak for them a cordial greeting. Fraternally yours, DAN WILLIAMS, Warden. * * * * * Warden's Office, Penitentiary at Anamosa. Anamosa, Iowa, Dec. 2, 1888. This is to certify that Elizabeth R. Wheaton this day held religious services in the prison chapel at this prison, which were very interesting and instructive, and were highly appreciated by both convicts and officials. I am convinced that much good will result from the meeting. Mrs. Wheaton is very earnest in her remarks, and her singing is charming. I can heartily commend her to all prison officials whom she may choose to visit. Very truly, MARQUIS BARR, Warden. * * * * * Ohio Penitentiary, Warden's Office. Columbus, Ohio, Sept. 10, 1889. To Prison Officers: This will introduce Mrs. Wheaton, who has been at our prison and worked among the boys. There is none who will command more respect and no more earnest worker than Mrs. Wheaton. She will do good Christian work wherever she goes. Respectfully, W. B. PENNINGTON, Deputy Warden, Ohio Penitentiary. * * * * * Huntsville, Tex., Sept. 20, 1904. Mother Wheaton, Tabor Iowa. My Dear Madam: Your favor of the 4th instant came duly to hand, and we certainly appreciate your kind remembrance. I made the men a talk last Sunday in the Chapel and told them of your kindly words sent them by you through me, and I know they all appreciated it. May God bless you in your good work, and grant that your days may be long; that you may be able to turn many poor, wayward men and women from their evil ways. With my very kindest regards, I beg to remain, madam, Yours most sincerely, T. H. BROWN, Asst. Superintendent. Dict. T. H. B. * * * * * Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Aug. 31, 1891. To My Brethren--Wardens: Gentlemen: Having observed the work of Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton as a prison evangelist, I most cheerfully recommend her to your kind consideration and co-operation. Her presence is a benediction, and her work is in no sense subversive of good discipline, but, on the other hand, is most healthful and helpful. Fraternally yours, THEO. D. KANOUSE, Warden of South Dakota Penitentiary. * * * * * Warden's Office. The Anamosa Penitentiary. Anamosa, Iowa, Oct. 8, 1894. To all who entertain an interest in our common humanity: We deem it only just and proper to express our endorsement of the labors and influence of Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton among the inmates of prisons. Her visits to this prison have invariably been attended with good results, and she leaves within these walls a fragrant and wholesome influence. Most respectfully, P. W. MADDEN, Warden. J. M. CROCKER, Chaplain. * * * * * Southern Illinois Penitentiary. Chester, Ill., Menard P. O., Oct. 22, 1893. Dr. V. S. Benson, Asylum for Criminal Insane, My Dear Doctor: This will introduce Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, a prison evangelist who wishes to hold open air services at your place. I am deeply impressed with her earnestness and eloquence, and feel that she has done us good down here. Yours truly, J. D. BAKER, Warden. * * * * * Superintendent's Office. Virginia Penitentiary. Richmond Va., June 8, 1893. To Whom It May Concern: Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, evangelist, whose mission is among prisoners, has visited and held meetings at this institution which have made a decided impression upon the convicts, and I heartily recommend her to the favor of prison officials and other good people. Very truly yours, B. W. LYNN, Supt. * * * * * Colorado State Penitentiary. Canon City, Colo., April 11, 1904. To Whom It May Concern: I wish to say that Mother Wheaton, who has from time to time visited the Colorado State Penitentiary, has been the means, I believe, of accomplishing much good with the inmates of this institution. Her earnest efforts and kind, motherly advice have instilled in the hearts of the prisoners an apparent desire to be better men. I certainly most earnestly commend her to the kindly care of those whom she may meet. JOHN CLEGHORN, Warden Colorado State Penitentiary. * * * * * South Dakota Penitentiary. Sioux Falls, S. D., March 12, 1904. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, 612 E St., Elkhart, Ind. Dear Madam: I take this opportunity of thanking you for the visit made to this institution some time ago. Your work among the prisoners has had good effect in more ways than one. A number of the inmates have told me that your encouraging and Christian talk to them has helped them and that they are trying to live Christian lives and that by the help of God they expect this to be their last term in prison. Hoping that you may be able to visit this institution again, I am, Yours truly, O. S. SWENSON, Warden. * * * * * South Dakota Penitentiary. Sioux Falls, S. D., June 5, 1905. To Whom It May Concern: This is to certify that Mother Wheaton, the bearer of this letter, has visited the South Dakota Penitentiary in the capacity of a missionary. I am glad of the opportunity to say that she is doing much good to those unfortunate enough to be placed in an institution of this kind and I heartily commend her work. Very respectfully, H. T. PARMLEY, Warden. * * * * * Nebraska State Penitentiary. Lancaster, Neb., May 22, 1905. Mother Wheaton's visits to this institution always seem to cheer up the inmates and make most of them look forward to better things. They feel that she has a mother's heart for all. A. D. BEEMER, Warden. * * * * * Office of the Commissioners of the District of Columbia. Washington, Aug. 19, 1893. Mr. W. H. Stoutenburgh, Intendant Washington Asylum. Dear Sir: The commissioners direct me to ask that you will give the bearer, Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, a hearing, and such favorable action as you properly may with respect to the object of her visit, which is to arrange for the holding of religious exercises at the asylum. Very truly, W. TINDALL, Secretary. PERSONAL LETTERS. Kansas State Penitentiary. Lansing, Kan., Oct. 17, 1894. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. Dear Sister: I am in receipt of your card and am glad to hear of your good success. I enclose you a money order for eight dollars and seventy-five cents, of which fifty cents comes from the deputy warden, and the balance from prisoners. You will remember that I gave you one dollar and twenty-five cents, making a total of ten dollars. Excuse me for being so particular, but money drawn from the prisoners goes on record, so would like your receipt to show for it. Wife and children are well. Fraternally, F. A. BRIGGS, Chaplain. * * * * * Kentucky Branch Penitentiary. Eddyville, Ky., Nov. 13, 1897. Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton. Dear Sister: I suppose you remember your visit to our prison; the boys often speak of you. We would be glad to have you visit us again whenever it would be convenient. I will soon have to submit my annual report and I write you that I may get a statement from you that I may embody in the report. I herewith enclose statement; if you will sign and return to me I will be very thankful. I have forgotten the lady's name who was with you. If you could get a like statement from her for me I would be glad to embody it also. In my report I will speak of your visit in a way that will introduce you into other parts of the United States. Hoping to hear from you soon, I am, Yours most respectfully, D. F. KERR, Chaplain. * * * * * Missouri State Penitentiary. Office of Warden. Jefferson City, Nov. 22, 1897. Dear Mother Wheaton: Your card duly received and we were all glad to hear from you, D. especially. Enclosed you will find a letter from her which she is very anxious for you to answer. Mrs. Pike and I both ordered books from Mr. McKnight at Columbus and are perfectly delighted with them. Mrs. Spahr has ordered one too. We are all about as usual, some three or four sick. We have fifty-two women at present. Hope you are well and prospering in the Lord's work. Will be pleased to hear from you often. With much love, I am sincerely yours, BELLE MAGEE, Matron State Penitentiary. * * * * * Pittsburg, Kan., April 18, 1898. My Dear Mother Wheaton: Your kind letter just received. God bless you for your kind, sympathetic heart. I have often thought of and prayed for you. I still feel that God will open the way for me to re-enter the prison work. I am trusting Him. He is my all and in all. I hear occasionally from the boys at Fort Madison. God has used you marvelously. May you be spared long to tell to those around what a dear Saviour you have found. Your son in the gospel, C. S. LASLETT, Former Chaplain Fort Madison, Iowa. Eph. 3:18-21. * * * * * Anamosa Penitentiary. Anamosa, Iowa, Oct. 5, 1899. Dear Mother Wheaton: At last we have your handkerchiefs finished, and can send to you. The girls did not get those tiny slippers finished in time to have them at the turnkey's office the evening before you went away, so will enclose them now. They are very small, but we know you will appreciate the motive rather than the result. They are all doing nicely and I feel quite encouraged with the present outlook. I trust that you are better and that your general health may remain good for years of usefulness yet in life. With best wishes from myself and my father, the Deputy Warden, I am sincerely yours, MRS. ANGIE M. WATERMAN, Matron. * * * * * Kansas State Penitentiary. Lansing, Kan., Oct. 5, 1899. Dear Mother Wheaton: Your card of yesterday reached me today, but too late to attend your service at the Home, which I would have been pleased to do. Accompanied by our daughter we went to Kansas City, Mo., Monday evening for a short visit and returned home yesterday noon. I examined eight new prisoners just before starting and upon my return found sixteen more. Then two more today. Twenty-six in all this week! So I have been very busy. Your handkerchief was found in Chapel and my sexton and night watch want you to know that you have found "two honest boys in the pen." I send it enclosed. Are you going to remain here over another Sunday, and if so, will you be out again or do you go to the Military Prison? The little book to Baby Esther, the poem and a tract, came this evening, for which please accept grateful thanks. May the blessed Lord greatly bless you in your noble work. May He comfort, strengthen and keep you. Sincerely yours in Jesus, R. A. HOFFMAN, Chaplain. * * * * * Iowa Soldiers' Home. Marshalltown, Iowa, July 18, 1901. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. Dear Sister. Your card came, after a little delay, duly to hand. We regret very much your being sick and especially with that dreaded disease, the smallpox. There has not been a case of it at the Home and not any in town that I know of. Our family is well. Matters at the Home in usual shape. Thirty-four of the boys have died since January 1, and so we are being mustered out, because of service no longer needed. It will be a wonderful relief to us all to be invited to that "house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." Your visit here was well received, much enjoyed and very profitable. Your coming again will be hailed with delight. Very truly, your brother, JESSE COLE, Chaplain. * * * * * Michigan State Prison. Jackson, Mich., Sept. 9, 1903. Dear Mother Wheaton: The work still progresses nicely. Many of the men speak in the highest terms of the services you held here and wish to hear you again and those who pray often remember you in their prayers. We are very thankful to you for your interest in the inmates of Jackson Prison. God bless you in your mission of love. We send the sincere wish and offer the earnest prayer that God may make your book a strong influence in the upbuilding of Christian life and character. Sincerely, FRANK MCALPINE, Chaplain. * * * * * Rusk, Tex., April 7, 1904. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. Dear Sister: Your kind postal was read to "The Boys" last Sunday and I was requested to answer it. They enjoyed your words of love and sympathy very much. The "old timers" remember you well, and the new men know you through the old ones. John B. Reagan is Assistant Superintendent, J. H. Meeks, Warden or, as he is called here, Underkeeper; J. H. Walker, Assistant Financial Agent, and I am Chaplain. We would like so much for you to visit us. If you make arrangements to come let me know and I will meet you at the depot. Yours in the work, J. L. DAWSON. * * * * * Accompanying the following tribute from Bro. Munro, chaplain of the Mission to the "Tombs" Prison in New York City, we give cuts of the old "Tombs" where I have held services a number of times, and of the "New Tombs" which has not been occupied a great while. Also a short extract taken from the annual report of the chaplain. [Illustration: THE OLD TOMBS] [Illustration: THE NEW TOMBS] Gospel Mission to the Tombs. Rev. J. J. Munro, Chaplain. New York City, June 24, 1904. Dear Sister Wheaton, Prison Evangelist, Chicago, Ill. I am glad to hear that you are writing a book on prison labors. You certainly have had much experience in that line. I trust your book will have a wide circulation in which the marvels of God's free grace to men and women behind the bars will be fully seen. I take much pleasure in commending your prison labors for the Master. For when you came to the Tombs it gave me great joy to hear you speak to the prisoners. And your earnest words for lost souls will not be soon forgotten. Success to you and may God's richest blessing be with you. In the Master's name, JOHN J. MUNRO. EXTRACT. "Crime among boys and young men has increased greatly during the last few years. I cannot account for this except on the ground of a noticeable increase in the social high pressure. "The temptations today are greater than ever and swamp the young men by the hundreds before they reach their majority. I meet these boys in prison--white and colored--and talk to them. I find out their needs and try to help them. "Nowhere in the wide world can the power of sin be more clearly seen than in the Tombs Prison. It is a wreckage pool where hulks and derelicts that have been abandoned in the ocean of life come to a standstill. What an army of fallen humanity! They can go no further. When they realize their condition they weep, groan and bitterly lament over their misspent lives. Can these men be transformed by the power of the Gospel? These moral and physical wrecks, with bleared eyes, sunken and emaciated cheeks and many other marks of sin. What a besotted multitude! Yet the Gospel of Jesus can reach them. 'He can save to the uttermost all that come unto God through Him.'" * * * * * Nebraska State Penitentiary. A. D. Beemer, Warden. Lancaster, Neb., May 22, 1905. To Whom It May Concern: I have lately become acquainted with Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, familiarly known as "Mother Wheaton," the prison evangelist, and I take pleasure in recommending her and endorsing her work among those who are detained in prisons and jails. Her manifest Christian spirit, sympathy with the unfortunate and condemned ones, sincere humility, all entitle her to the esteem and confidence of all, and I believe her work productive of much good. Signed, P. C. JOHNSON, Chaplain of Nebraska Penitentiary, Lancaster, Neb. * * * * * Huntsville, Tex., Aug. 8, 1904. To Whom It May Concern: This is to certify that Sister Elizabeth R. Wheaton, prison evangelist, has visited our prison and held a profitable service. She is a consecrated woman and has her heart in the work. Would to God that we had more such women. May the Lord raise them up and help these poor unfortunate men who are confined within prison walls. All the prisoners who know her love her and call her mother. May the Lord in his mercy preserve her and give her many souls for her labor. W. T. MCDONALD, Chaplain Penitentiary. * * * * * Charlestown, Mass., Oct. 30, 1885. Dear Mrs. Wheaton: I am sorry I had no opportunity to see you before you left. I trust we may see you on your way to the south. Mrs. Chapman informed me last evening of your whereabouts and the Warden wished me to convey his regards to you and say that he should like to see you here again, if convenient or consistent with your plans, on Sunday next (Nov. 1). Accompanying this please find some notes from different prisoners. The Warden would be glad to have you here some Saturday P.M. in order that you should be in the yard, at liberty with all the men, that you might speak with them at your freedom or pleasure personally. I trust that the divine light is flooding your spirit and I pray it may do so forever. I hope that Christ is ever a satisfying portion to you and that your comforts in Him are numberless and rich. May God Almighty fill you with himself. Respectfully, J. W. F. BARNES, Chaplain Mass. State Prison. P. S. Also find herewith a paper drawn up by one prisoner and signed by thirty-three others. J. W. F. B. * * * * * Charlestown, Mass., June 4, 1887. Dear Sister Wheaton: Things here seem to be getting on to the praise of Jehovah. I had a good, long letter from Sister B. this morning. It is most blessed to feel that Jesus abides in the ship and commands the winds and sea as well. Praise his glorious name! What a blessing it is to be on the altar in God's service, ready to go or stay; ready to labor or to rest; to bear burdens or be free. I trust that the fullest rays of the Sun Divine may warm your heart and make your life fruitful. God be with you richly in all things. With best of wishes, J. W. F. BARNES, Chaplain. * * * * * Massachusetts State Prison. Charlestown, Feb. 13, 1896. Dear Mrs. Wheaton: Your postal to the Warden concerning ---- was put into my hands. This is the first moment I have had to devote to an answer. He is in the city working. He has made excellent friends. He stands well in the church he has joined; is connected with a very large Bible class of young men and frequently has to be its teacher. He is active in the church, but closely confined to his work. We are in fair condition, comparatively, in the prison. We have tonight, 761 prisoners. I send you one of our reports with this. A. is still keeping a Rescue Mission and doing well. I presume you are still after the welfare of the prisoners. I have been very ill since I saw you, but am able to be at my work again. Our little prayer meeting on Saturday P. M. still goes on doing good. The Lord is with us in the enlightening and building up of souls. Such work as you used to do has been left out of the prison life and no one is allowed now to go into the chapel on Sundays. Once each month I take in some people to help us sing in our praise service. The same people every time, however. Pray for us. Sincerely yours, J. W. F. BARNES, Chaplain. * * * * * Massachusetts State Prison. Charlestown, June 14, 1899. Dear Sister Wheaton: Yours came on Monday last. I was glad to hear from you, and to get the enclosures in your letter. They are good--very good--for my work and my own life. I heartily reciprocate all your good wishes for me and pray that you may be preserved from all evil. We have had some blessed conversions here and one or two of our men have gone to their reward in great peace and joy. F. is doing well and much loved in his work for Christ. He is at same address I sent you before. Truly yours in the work, J. W. F. BARNES, Chaplain. [Illustration: PERSONAL WORK.] CHAPTER VI. Some of My Prison Boys. The writer of the following letters was one of the most remarkably conscientious persons I ever knew. As a prisoner, he was very highly respected by the officers. His chaplain has ever remained his sincere friend and counselor. Years have passed since he left prison life and he still remains an earnest Christian and an honorable member of society. No one but his pastor, employer and former friends know his past history. He was converted in prison during services I held in 1884 or 1885. He presented me some years ago with a book of poems of his own writing. Not being able to carry them with me, I have lost trace of them. Otherwise would be glad to furnish some of them to my readers. * * * * * To Mrs. Wheaton, My Dear Mother in the Lord: I call you by this name because I am young and have lost my mother in the flesh, and I am writing this letter because, as you have given up all for Jesus' sake, you only can help me as I wish. You can pray for me as a mother prays for a son. I am twenty-four years old, have an eighteen years' sentence, have served four years of it and expect to serve the whole of it for I have no influential friends to help me. I had not been here a year until I realized what eighteen years of prison life meant--the deprivation of all earthly pleasures, and the wasting away of youthful hopes and ambitions in vain regret. Grief, misery and despair overwhelmed me every night, and every night I wished that I were dead. A great struggle was going on in my soul. A struggle for either life or death, and, thank God, life had the victory. I am now a Christian. A night of revelation came to me in which God, as Judge, and Jesus, as Saviour, revealed to me--the one, the power and glory; the other, the love of God. But my way is not like the peaceful flow of a river, but like a stream of cascades. By leaps I draw nearer to God. In the meantime I do not keep the image of Jesus before me. Pray, dear mother, this special prayer for me, that my faith may be constant; that self shall no more come between it and Jesus; that surroundings shall not weaken it; that youth shall not neglect it. Jesus has stamped my soul with his blood. It can never be effaced, but my soul does not thrill as often as I wish with the joy of right-doing. Belief in Jesus permeates my whole being. Why do I sometimes stray from his love? Repentance is doubly grievous then, and repent I must. My conscience compels me. The prayers of a saintly woman will be heard. You will pray for me for Jesus' sake. Yours in the Lord, SIGNED. * * * * * Thanksgiving Day, 1885. Dear Mother in the Lord: With what mingled emotions of joy, gratitude and love, I read your faith inspiring letter. I did not expect it, for one Sunday in the chapel the Chaplain read one from you addressed to us all in general. He also told us something about your way--what a lonely, weary way. What a sorrow yours has been! Can we poor mortals ever forget our sorrow? Does it not rise to the surface at times and overwhelm us, so that nothing but the soothing presence of Jesus can comfort us? "I will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you." A common saying here is: "I don't believe in a man coming to prison to reform." Ah! little they know what reform is, for where on earth does one need the Spirit that reforms more than in prison? Our poets tell us that prisons are the types of hell. I bless God for bringing me to this prison. Out of its depths I cried and He heard me, nor do I pray to be free from its thrall. Indeed I do pray for His will to be done in me and beseech Him to keep me here until He calls me to Himself, rather than I should go free again and forget Him. That I never can. Though I fell to the lowest depths, I could never forget Him. Dear Mother, we will meet Him--Jesus--in Heaven. Oh! I do not want the pleasures of this life! I do want to be, like you, His humble follower. How I wish I could be near you always that your faith might ever increase my own. I need, very much I need, the pure and tender influence of a holy praying "mother." My own mother had a loving heart, but neither she nor my father did I ever see praying. My precious Saviour was never revealed to me from the lips of either. What would have become of me had God deferred this discipline? Would I not have gone on in sin until too late, even had I been sent here for a short term of years? My only thought would be for them to end, that I might pursue again the delusive hopes of sin. I fully realize my position here. I see the providence of God that makes it a blessing. I would tell you the way Jesus came to me, or rather how I came to Him. When first I came here I did not think of what was in store for me--eighteen years of prison life. I was wild and thoughtless. The strangeness of the place helped to divert my mind, but the solitude of my cell at night forced me to look into the future. At length my fate dawned upon me. Oh! it was terrible! During the day I would try to forget the thoughts of the night by being more wild than ever, but the night brought the ordeal again and it was driving me to despair. I longed to be dead, but one night the thought came: "Suppose you were dead, what then? Would you be at rest?" I say thought, but if ever the Holy Spirit spoke to the soul of man, it spoke to mine that night. In an instant I saw the enormity of my sins and the punishment in store for me. In terror I cried: "O, what shall I do? Oh, I cannot die! I cannot meet this doom!" Need I say that my cry was not in vain? No, the spirit of Jesus taught me of Himself that night, and the Chaplain showed me some words in the gospel of John. I never read the Bible before, but there were Christ's words, and those words I now read often. The Psalms and St. John contain for me the Way of Life. I do not forget you in my feeble prayers morning and night, and I hope you will be indeed my "Mother" for Jesus' sake. Amen. * * * * * June 16, 1890. My Dear Friend and Spiritual Mother: I thank you very much for your kind letter, which I received today. I pray that you may die in the harness, leaving your work to just pass over the river into Heaven. Have you heard that our dear Chaplain's helpmeet has recently taken this journey? The Chaplain takes it just as one would expect he would, calmly, with faith unabated, rather increased, for he said to me the day after the funeral: "The peace of God in my heart passeth understanding." This evidence of real trust in God's mercy, and that He is and heaven is, has been the means of bringing me nearer to God. I am reading a book by "H. W. S." entitled "Frank: the Record of a Happy Life." It is very inspiring. I have been convinced for some time that the higher Christian life was a reality, and had experienced its blessings. But I lived upon the experience, drawing my strength from it and not God, consequently I soon got back to where I was before. But the Holy Spirit has of late been urging me to seek it again, so that I have consecrated myself anew to the Lord, and he has blessed me wonderfully, taking away the irritable feeling that certain trials were sure to bring me. I forget self and think only of doing good to those who before I felt like shunning. It makes me very humble in my happiness. Dear Mother, I am sure you have enjoyed this blessed experience of living moment by moment to God, being kept by Him from all sin and the power of temptation. I have read that many Christians do not believe that the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin. This appears very strange to me. I don't see how they can be so blind. When this blessed thought was shown me I could not help believing it, it seemed so plain, and was really needful for us to have in order to live up to the commands of the gospel. Tuesday P. M., 17th. They are celebrating the Battle of Bunker Hill today. We have had our holiday and are now in our rooms for the rest of the day. It is a perfect summer day, mild, with a refreshing breeze floating through the windows. My bird hangs above me chirping, enjoying himself, while the murmur of voices in the guard room, with now and then the joyous shout of a baby, make me feel like shutting my eyes and imagining myself far away from these stones and bars. I firmly believe that an educated Christian who is wholly consecrated shall be used by the Lord where an uneducated one would not. You know it was to Paul, the highly educated, that was intrusted the greatest work of the Apostles, viz: To convert the heathen world. In Athens, the center of intellectual life, he preached, quoting to them from their own poets and converting certain philosophers of whom was Dionysius, one of the city's judges. Intellectual ability is a talent which the Lord requires us to use for His kingdom. We need never fear for education, "While near the school the church spire stands," as the Quaker poet, Whittier, puts it. Our prayer meeting is growing both in numbers and in interest. We hold an election of officers today. I resigned the leadership owing to my duties in the library being such that I could not attend regularly. I, however, accepted the place of chairman of the standing committee. The Warden has allowed the teachers of the night school to organize a society for the purpose of general culture. Last Friday the constitution and by-laws were submitted for approval. Next Friday the election of officers will be held. I have been embarrassed by several members asking me to accept the position of president. I know that I am not qualified for the position, but they think otherwise and are persistent. These, and other tokens of regard and respect for me by my fellow prisoners, I am very grateful for. It makes me feel, too, that my Christian life here has not been without results among them. They respect my scruples--something I hardly think people outside are in the habit of doing. You will understand that I look upon all this as the Lord's doings, and feel no self-praise over it. To Him be all the praise for giving me the courage and strength to let my light shine before the men in this prison. O! it is good to be on the Lord's side, to let Him order my way. I pray that I may never have a will of my own in this respect. I feel so perfectly willing to remain here and serve Him in my feeble way, only praying that if a larger opportunity comes to me I shall not be found wanting, only believing that with the opportunity will come added strength and power from on high. The Holy Spirit has so witnessed to my spirit that God is and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him, and that Jesus is my Saviour, that the bare thought of being unfaithful brings intense pain to my soul. No, I can never be happy away from my Saviour. With His faith filling my being, His peace shall abide with me. I pray daily for my spiritual "Mother," that the Lord shall bless her in all heavenly places in Christ Jesus, that the Holy Spirit shall rest upon you, giving you the word of truth to speak to the lost souls in all the places you go to. With much love, I remain Your son and brother in the Lord, ---- ----. * * * * * Oct. 23, 1894. My Dear Mother: I have been waiting to hear from you so I could write and let you know of the good news that has come to me. I am no longer in prison. I have been let out on parole. This means that I am still a prisoner, but am given larger liberty. I shall not be allowed to leave this city nor engage in mission work, that is to give my whole time to it. I have to report to the secretary of the Board of Prison Commissioners every month. When I get a room I am going to devote the most of my spare time to study. I go to a mission at the North End, but have no regular church connections. I have been living with Mr. ---- since coming out, but will leave him within a week. He has been a good friend to me. He has been so ill all this year that he has been to the prison only a few times. I am happy in my new life. The Lord is blessing me wonderfully. There is no other life worth living here below but following in the way of the Lord. With much love, I remain Your son in the Lord, ---- ----. A TALENTED YOUNG MAN. Soon after entering upon prison work, I found in one of our eastern prisons the writer of the following letters and articles. He was at that time young, gifted, scholarly and very prepossessing in appearance. His penmanship was beautiful, perhaps the most so I have ever seen, but he had fallen under evil influences and the very gift that should have been used for a better purpose proved a curse and at the time I first saw him he was under sentence for forgery. He seemed to be clearly converted in a meeting I held in the prison and proved faithful during the remainder of his term. But after he went out into the world I lost trace of him. He was only one among thousands who need sympathy and help and encouragement. I trust that, if living, he is still true to himself and to God. Some of his letters follow, also the discourse on the Agony in the Garden in the form of a letter found in the appendix is of his writing. Oct. 29, 1885. To Mrs. ---- Wheaton. Madame: Not being able to shake hands, and having thus been deprived of the pleasure of verbally telling you what we had to say, we now have recourse to our pen. Our hearts have heard, understood and treasured your words of last Sunday. Dear Lady, yours is a special task. In your field of labor are gathered crowds unnumbered, inert, inanimate, forming, as it were, a great desert, a Dead Sea uninhabited by any living thing. There lies a small world to be reconquered; such are the men who are to be reclaimed. How act upon them? How move their hearts? How gain mastery over them? In these questions lies the secret of the future. Holiness in your heart and the omnipotent hand of Jesus in yours cannot fail to bring about the reformation of a host of criminals. He will save them. Oh! climb the heights, display the brilliancy of those universal truths in whose presence every being gifted with reason and accessible to reflection feels compelled to bend the knee. Deeds, examples, striking evidence and incontestable proofs of abnegation, devotedness, charity and sacrifices are required. These are the sermons that awaken souls from their torpor; these the weapons that triumph over the world, however criminal, careless, frivolous and hardened it may be. SIGNED. * * * * * December 1, 1885. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, Somewhere in America. Let me begin this letter by saying something very true concerning RUM. Let thy devotees extol thee, And thy wondrous virtues sum; But the worst of names I'll call thee, O, thou hydra monster, Rum! Pimple-maker, visage-bloater, Health-corrupter, idler's mate; Mischief breeder, vice promoter, Credit spoiler, devil's bait. Almshouse builder, pauper maker, Trust betrayer, sorrow's source; Pocket emptier, Sabbath breaker, Conscience stifler, guilt's resource. Nerve enfeebler, system shatterer, Thirst increaser, vagrant thief; Cough producer, treacherous flatterer, Mud bedauber, mock relief. Business hinderer, spleen instiller, Woe begetter, friendship's bane; Anger heater, Bridewell filler, Debt involver, toper's chain. Memory drowner, honor wrecker, Judgment warper, blue-faced quack; Feud beginner, rags bedecker, Strife enkindler, fortune's wreck. Summer's cooler, winter's warmer, Blood polluter, specious snare; Mob collector, man transformer, Bond undoer, gambler's fare. Speech bewrangler, headlong bringer, Vitals burner, deadly fire; Riot mover, firebrand flinger, Discord kindler, misery's sire. Sinews robber, worth depriver, Strength subduer, hideous foe; Reason thwarter, fraud contriver, Money waster, nations' woe. Vile seducer, joy dispeller, Peace disturber, blackguard guest; Sloth implanter, liver sweller, Brain distracter, hateful pest. Wit destroyer, joy impairer, Scandal dealer, foul-mouthed scourge; Senses blunter, youth ensnarer, Crime inventor, ruin's verge. Virtue blaster, base deceiver, Spite displayer, sot's delight; Noise exciter, stomach heaver, Falsehood spreader, scorpion's bite. Quarrel plotter, rage discharger, Giant conqueror, wasteful sway; Chin carbuncler, tongue enlarger, Malice venter, death's broadway. Household scatterer, high-hope dasher, Death's forerunner, hell's dire brink; Ravenous murderer, windpipe slasher, Drunkard's lodging, meat and drink! The rum vender's power is something enormous. We do not delude ourselves into thinking that the fight for national prohibition will be easily won. In many respects the liquor dealers will prove an enemy harder to vanquish than the slave dealers were. For slavery was an institution with a local habitation. It was restricted to certain well-defined limits. The whole world knew where it was and what it was doing. But rum is everywhere. Its upholders are woven into the warp and woof of society in every city and hamlet. It has a thousand heads, and it can hide them in times of danger with wonderful facility. Slavery was bold, brazen and defiant. It could be nothing else. But the liquor dealers, with equal bravado and strength, are enabled to resort to the cunning and subtlety of the serpent, when bravado is imprudent. Then the liquor dealer's influence over his victims does not end with control of the bodies. His slaves are his allies. He owns them, many of them, body and soul for such a cause. They will fight for rum and vote for rum as persistently as the saloonist himself. These facts may as well be appreciated. When it comes to defiant antagonism, when temperance men boldly array themselves in professed opposition to the traffic in alcohol, the struggle will be severe. But it is certain there will come no time in the future when it will be less severe. The liquor power is _a rapidly growing power_. God knows it is strong enough now, but it becomes stronger with each passing day. Are we willing that such a class of men not only hold such an enormous power, but add to it indefinitely? In the census for 1880 the capital employed in the manufacture of liquor was over one hundred and eighteen million of dollars, and the number of persons employed in the manufactories and in saloons aggregated over one hundred thousand. No nation can afford to leave such power in the hands of such men. It is suicidal. Having _said my say_ about "Old Devil" and his "Clerks" I guess I'll write a _little_ letter to My Dear Sister: Your good, kind letter was duly received. We sincerely thank you. When meeting with savages who don't treat you respectfully please ever remember that in M---- everybody who knows you or about you loves you. Mrs. D. told me to write to Mrs. Wheaton because "_she is a lovely Christian_." "O taste and see that the Lord is good." Psa. 34:8. That is the right way to find out that He is good. We may think He is good, we may have some idea that He is so--but to know it, and to know how very good the Lord is, we must taste his goodness. He alone is good. He is goodness itself; and because He is this, He wants us to taste, to enjoy Him. Good men and women, and good children, will one day be like the angels in heaven; and they begin to be such already in this world. If it were not for them, if they were not here to be the bearers of peace and happiness, the ministers of mercy and of love, to wretchedness and woe, to the weary and the bowed down, how wretched would this world be! A thousand blessings upon you, beloved sisters, who, from the goodness of your great big heart, endeavor to do good to others. It is through such holy and devoted daughters of our thrice holy King and Father as Sister Elizabeth that we taste and see how good the Lord is. "You see how large a letter I have written unto you with mine own hand." Galatians 6:11. "I thank my God, making mention of thee always in my prayers." Philemon, 4. "Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing that you may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost." Romans 15:13. "Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body." Hebrews 13:3. We salute thee, sister. Your real brother in Jesus, L. J. * * * * * Charlestown, Mass., Oct. 18, 1886. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. Dear Sister--John 17:20, 21: "Everyone members one of another." "If one suffer all suffer." I do not know that the relation and consequent influence of member upon member can be better illustrated than by the connection of the body, mind and spirit, and the power that any one of the three has over the other two. The mind depends upon the body to carry out its desires, and the mind is in constant subjection to the body in health and in sickness. The body is controlled by the mind as the ship is directed in her course by the man at the helm. The spirit looks out through the eyes of the body and is entranced with the scene of beauty, or is crushed with the sorrow with which it is seized, according as we look upon a thing of beauty or the eye rests upon things withered and dead. The life and experience of every man attest the fact that thought and emotion, and the body in which the organs of thought and feeling are placed, are inter-related in such a way and to such an extent that the mind and body control, to a very great extent, the activity of each other. The wise man, looking at the inner life and the outer manifestation of it, from a little different point of view, expresses it thus: "As a man thinketh in his heart so is he. The spirit of a man will sustain his _infirmity_, but a wounded or broken spirit who can bear?" Says a writer in the Laws of Health: "If a man thinks he is an invalid he is one; if he thinks himself incompetent he is incompetent, and so through the whole list." By faith in Christ, as true and confiding as the trust of a child; by boldness at the throne of grace; by firmness in resisting temptation, and by resolution in the performance of every duty we are able to maintain the connection we have formed with Christ, the head of the body; to bear the fruit of the vine; to suffer with each other; to be honored with the members of the body, and to rejoice with those who rejoice. As the connection of the body, mind, moral nature and spirit is such as to give one part influence over the other parts and the power to modify their health and action, so the relation which is formed with the household of faith, when we come into Christ, is to be honored by striving for the faith of the gospel and by an effort to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. If one in Christ now, this oneness can be maintained among the brotherhood in but one way, and that is by being one with Christ and God in purpose, plan and effort for the salvation of men and by striving together for _the faith_ of the gospel. The unity of God's people cannot be maintained by erecting standards of our own--by making our own opinions bonds of fellowship and tests of soundness--by prescribing this and forbidding that. The unity is to be maintained by striving together for _the faith_ of the gospel. The same thing is true with reference to the multitudes who are following Christ as they have learned him. The unity of all these distracted bodies is not to be brought about by any effort to form a union, but by an effort on the part of each one to grow up into Christ, the living Head; by all agreeing to disagree in their opinions; and by all striving together for _the faith_ of the gospel. This lesson is to be taught the world by the disciples of Christ, and if we do not teach the lesson aright, we may expect, and we ought to receive the question: What do ye more than others? When we are growing in favor with God and man; when we are increasing in the knowledge of divine things; when our lives are hid with Christ in God; when we are appropriating the spiritual food which God has furnished; when we are proving to the world that we have passed from death unto life; when we are loving each other with pure hearts fervently; when we are continuing steadfast in the apostles' doctrines and in the fellowship, in the breaking of bread and in prayers, we are giving to the world and to professed Christians everywhere a living demonstration that we are striving together for the faith of the gospel. "How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!" Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth. III John 2. Yours in His love, L. J. UNDER DEATH SENTENCE. In 1887, I found the writer of the following letters, with nine other men, under sentence of death in the prison at Ft. Smith, Arkansas. Before his cell door stood his wife and four little children. They all seemed heart-broken and I was deeply impressed with the sad, touching scene. After talking with them and praying for them, I was led to believe that the man was innocent of the crime for which he and another young man had been condemned. The evidence against them was purely circumstantial. The other man was afterward given his liberty, but this one was held, as many believed, for want of money to hire lawyers to properly plead his case. I still believe him to be an innocent man. I left the state a short time before the day set for the execution, but prayed the Lord to let his life be spared if he was innocent. Some time after I learned that he, with several others, had been given a life sentence in the Ohio penitentiary. I went to the President and Attorney General in Washington, D. C., several times, trying, if possible, to secure his pardon. They were kind and courteous and after looking up the evidence would have granted him a pardon if the judge who had passed the sentence would request it, but he refused to do so and finally died. Then all hope seemed gone. The wife died of a broken heart. The children all died and the dear old parents, broken-hearted, lingered on, hoping against hope, until now they, too, may have passed away. But the poor man lingered in prison, with health, hope, friends, youth, all gone; forgotten by the world, waiting for death to end his misery. I say hope gone; I mean, hope for freedom here. His hope of heaven proved an anchor to his sorrowing heart. He proved himself a consistent Christian and a good, quiet, obedient prisoner. A letter from Chaplain Starr, Columbus, Ohio, tells me that he had been finally pardoned and was released January 4, 1904. I find in my possession two papers received from Washington regarding his case of which I give the reader verbatim copies: * * * * * Department of Justice. Washington. Case of M----, Western District of Arkansas. Offense--Murder. Sentence--To be hanged. Petition for pardon filed March 11, 1899. Commuted to life imprisonment on June 7, 1899. JAMES F. REED, ESQ., U. S. Dist. Atty., Western Dist. of Ark., Fort Smith, Ark. * * * * * Department of Justice. Washington, D. C., March 8, 1895. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, 902 H. Street, N. E. Sir: The papers in the above case have been referred, in accordance with Department practice, to the United States Attorney for the Western District of Arkansas for his consideration, and he has reported adversely thereon, being of the opinion that the case is not one in which executive clemency should be exercised, trial judge concurring. In the absence of a counter showing, the report of the United States Attorney will be considered as disposing of the case. By direction of the Attorney General. Very respectfully, WILLIAM C. ENDICOTT, Attorney in Charge of Pardons. * * * * * Fort Smith, Ark., Feb. 20, 1889. Dear Sister in Christ: Yours at hand. It found a small portion of us praying to God for aid. We keep up our prayer meeting. There is but three of us who attend regular. It is myself and Mr. M. and T. We want to do all we can to save our souls. I am one who is to be executed on the 19th and I am ready to go if God says for me to go. I am sure to meet you in Heaven where there is no unjust court. I want you to pray for me in good faith, for the prayers of the righteous are powerful and I want you to remember the day I am to die and pray for my soul to go to God where I can see everlasting enjoyment. I am sad, sister. It hurts my heart to think I have been a good, affectionate man on earth and now I must die for the wicked world or man's evil. I forgive all and will die an innocent man. "God receive my soul" is my prayer. Brother and sister B. came and prayed for us last week. Write me again and I will give you all the news. Yours truly, M----. I had to stop writing to get to prayer meeting and I tell you, we had a good time. It does me good to get to say a word for Jesus, in jail or out. I am as happy as anyone could be in prison, I am sure. I am blessed with a sure love of God who can save or destroy. We don't have preaching very often in here. There are ten in here who are found guilty of murder. It is no wonder people think they can't get justice. I am sure it is on account of so many bad people being in the territory and around it. I am thankful I am even spared to see a few more days and to let me have more time to try for justice. I am doing all I can and so are my friends and relatives. I have a good father and mother to pray for me day and night and am sure there is many a prayer gone to Jesus in my behalf. Hoping to hear from you soon, I say good-bye. I am, Yours very truly, M----. * * * * * Fort Smith, Arkansas, March 13, 1889. Dear Sister in Christ: Yours at hand. It found me well and still pleading to God to prepare my soul to meet my fate on the 19th of April. It is an awful day for me to think of. I do hope and pray to God I won't be put to death in such a cruel manner. I don't deserve such a death, or any punishment at all for the accused crime. I don't fear death, but I don't want to disgrace so many good people as it will be a disgrace on all my relatives and me as clear of murder as a child, and I don't believe God will allow me to be put to death without a cause, but if God tells me to go on the scaffold I will obey Him. I had a dear brother come to see me this week, and when he left me it just looked like it was the last sight of the dear brother, although he said, "I will come to see you again before ----," then he choked down and went away. He meant, "Before you are executed." It would do my dear old parents an awful sight of good to get a letter from you, stating what I said in regard to a future home. I do wish you would write them. We keep up our prayer meeting as regular as the time comes, except we are hindered by a good cause. Seldom we miss our meeting and prayers together. I am sorry to say there is only three of us and I am all the doomed one of the three. I want you when you are visiting prisons in Texas to inquire for a man by the name of John H., as I have heard he was arrested in Texas somewhere and was in jail. This is the same name as the man we are accused of killing, and it may be the same man. I wrote to Paris, Texas, but he was not there. If you find him let me know at once. You can ask him if he ever knew Henry M. and William W. He might deny us, so you can give me a description and I can tell if it is him. Ask him of what nationality he is. God bless you all and send me relief at the last hour. Amen. I am, Your true and affectionate brother in Christ, M----. * * * * * Fort Smith, Arkansas, April 11, 1889. Mrs. Wheaton, Dear Sister in Christ: Your kind and welcome letter at hand. I hope you are being blessed by our Almighty God. I am sure you are worthy of great praise in well-doing. I am very sorry to inform you I am not pardoned yet, but I thank God I have been respited till June 29. It was thankful news for me and I am sure it is the power of our God who wants justice done in everything here on earth. Oh, what a great promise Jesus has promised us all if we will humble ourselves and get low down at his feet! I am one that wants to bow as low as I am required. I am a servant for Jesus as long as I remain in this sinful world. I am so glad my dear old pa wrote you. I don't get any letters from him. I suppose he writes so pitiful to me the jailer won't let me have his letters. I do not know any other cause. I receive letters from my brothers and sisters regular. I thank you for the letter father sent you. My misfortune is an awful burden on their poor, old and feeble hearts, but I pray God to stay them and help them to bear their sorrows and I am sure He will do so. Mr. W., my partner, is granted a free pardon and the President did not have time to investigate the evidence in my behalf, so he respited me for further investigation. Several of the senators are taking an anxious part for me and it is thought I will get a pardon. I trust in God I will be set free and can be able to help catch sinners for Jesus; I am sure I am willing. I am sorry to inform you Brother M. was convicted of a brutal murder as the evidence shows. I hope he is not guilty, but we must not say. It is a sad place here. Brother George B. and Brother T. have gone back in the world. There is nothing done for Brother George yet and his time is short. The President refused to do anything for M., that one-armed colored man, so he must meet his Jesus on the 19th of this month. There is three more, but the President has not ruled on their cases yet. I don't know whether they will be hung or not. I hope not. God help them all. I want you to please write me. It does me good to read a letter from you. Write soon. M----. * * * * * Fort Smith, Ark., May 1, 1889. Dear Sister in Christ: Yours at hand. It found us all in good health, and for myself, I am looking to Jesus. We still keep up our prayer meeting. It is a great comfort for me to get to tell Jesus how I feel and to hear the other brothers pray and talk for Him. Of course I know it is hard for me and some others to bear this punishment, yet I feel the kindness of our kind Saviour in my poor, sad heart. I only ask God to save my life and I am willing to spend the rest of my days in his service. I can only trust God that all will come out right. I will tell you of the dear ones who were hung on the 19th. It was J. M. and A. Both were colored men. M. had the Catholic priest pray for him and he said he was going to heaven. He was very moody and pale; but he seemed to know his doom. Poor fellow! God pity us all, for we have souls to save. A. joined the Methodist church and was baptized the same day he was hung. He was the bravest soldier I ever heard of. He smiled and said, "Good-bye, Henry." I had to shed tears to see and feel the nerves quivering when he and I both knew that it was death caused the quivering of his pulse. Poor boys! They are better off than I am, if they had made their peace with God. Brother M. was convicted and is sentenced to be hung July 17. There is five to be hung on that day. One colored man and one Indian woman and one Indian man and F. C. and Brother M. Myself and George B. got a respite. His is till June 21 and mine till June 29. W. got a free pardon and I am held on the same evidence. It is because I was poor and did not send a man to plead for me at Washington, but people think I will come out all right yet. I leave it all to God, who can do me justice without money. For the sake of each poor unfortunate soul you may chance to meet, I ask God to be near you and show and tell you a word to say to the poor condemned ones--a comforting word for their souls' sake. Joy and peace be with you. You have my prayers, as weak as they are. Jesus be with us all. Amen. Write me soon. M----. * * * * * Ft. Smith, Ark., May 20, 1889. Dear Sister in Christ: Yours at hand. It found us all well but Mr. T. He has been complaining, but he is better now. We were blessed with Mr. and Mrs. B. to sing and pray for us this morning and it was a great comfort to us all. She was refused at first, but after she came in and told us we sent her to Mr. C. and he told her to "sing and pray for those men as much as she wanted to." It is queer for a living being to not want the distressed to find relief, but it seems as though there was but little mercy shown us here, and, dear sister, I am sure there are some good hearts in here and God surely will not allow them to be put to death. Yet it has been done, and it can be done again, and I am not trusting in a single word or act of man. I am reading my Bible and asking God to open my heart to all faith and charity and reveal all the required secrets to my heart so I can become one of his children in faith and be sanctified in Him. I am so glad you wrote me. It does me good to hear from you. Write soon, as I can only stay here till June 21. Good-bye. M----. * * * * * Columbus, Ohio, March 30, 1890. Dear Sister in Christ: Yours found me in some better health than I was when you last saw me. I am so glad you will continue to write me. Like all other persecuted souls, I sometimes think I have no friends. But it cannot be so in my case. I do not faint or shudder at the idea of dying in prison. It is just as near heaven from this prison as it would be if I was at home in the tender care of dear parents and brothers and sisters. Yet I cannot say I am as happy here as there at home. I am not. I feel sure my time is short in this world. I have a hard time. I am in a sea of tears daily. Oh, it is so hard to be bound and shut out from a free world, but this is all for some purpose, unknown to me at present, but by the help of God, I my burden will bear. "I'll praise my Maker while I've breath, And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall my nobler powers employ In that Eternal World of joy." "Lord, remember me for good, Passing through this mortal veil; Show me the atoning blood When my strength and spirit fall. Give my sorrowing soul to see Jesus crucified for me." "May God be your helper and bless you," is my prayer continually. I do not aim to impress on your mind that I am punished by the prison laws, for I am not. I haven't had a bit of trouble with any one since I came into this institution. I have to work hard and I do more than I ought to, but I am afraid I won't please my superiors in power over me. I put in many a sleepless night from weariness of my daily labors. But I could not stand any punishment, so I had better over-do myself than to be over-done. My sorrow is now as much as I can bear. I am in need of all good praying people's prayers, so I ask you and your friends to pray for me. I am honored with all the attire of a first-grade-prison man. I have the red stripes you told me to get and my mustache. The boys you know are well. M----. * * * * * Columbus, Ohio. Dear Sister in Christ: Blessed be our God! He has saved us thus far and has given us an ark to carry us over Jordan, safe to Eternity. We, as fallen men, sometimes err in thinking we are not under God's protection, but I say we are. Jesus came, not to bring saints, but sinners to repentance. It is not the righteous that are called, but sinners. There is only one way and that is by Jesus Christ, and that is to humble ourselves to all that is right. Life has yet many opportunities for serving God and his Church. Hitherto the Lord has brought me and still in his loving hands I will cheerfully, hopefully rest and trust till the shadows of earth shall be changed for the sunlight of eternity, when my heavenly home is reached, to be blessed forever with the Lord. Sister, Brother M. says "God bless you," and you have his prayers. Bro. F. C. says he hopes to see you soon. Bro. B. is all right as far as I know. They all say write to them. Bro. T. has forgotten his pledge. May God soften his heart again to say "Thy will be done." I close by asking you to write soon. God bless you and all co-workers. Good-bye, M. ----. SENTENCED FOR LIFE. Early in my prison work I found in one of our penitentiaries a man sentenced for life who claimed to have acted only with the motive of self-defense. That man is still confined in prison, though he is one of the best of prisoners and has given evidence of being a good, Christian man, worthy of pardon. I wrote to the governor once in his behalf, but too late to avail anything, as his term of office was just expiring. While that poor man has been held there, pardons have been granted to Chinamen, Spaniards and other foreigners who were wicked and guilty, yet this Christian man has been kept in confinement all these long years, until there is only one other besides himself who is now left of the prisoners who were there on my first visit. The other has gone insane and I have feared that the one of whom I write would lose his mind also. His article on the need of prison reform entitled "Meditations of a Prisoner," found in another chapter, will, I believe, commend itself to every fair-minded reader. I give a few selections from his letters. I feel sure he should be a free man. O the indifference of those who have the power to free such worthy cases and will not! May God give power to the faint and grace to the afflicted and let us pray God to show the governors of our land to whom to give pardon and freedom and from whom to withhold. * * * * * State Prison, December 21, 1902. Dear Mrs. Wheaton: Your kind and welcome letter received and I was very glad to hear from you and I do hope you will soon be strong again. The world needs many Mother Wheatons, so it can ill afford to lose you, but if the Lord calls you home we must all submit, for He does all things for the best. I was much surprised to see by your letter that you had written to Governor S. in my behalf. From my heart I thank you, dear Sister, and may God bless you for your kindly interest in me. But Governor S. will leave the office tomorrow and the newly-elected Governor will take his seat. It is too bad that you have gone to all that trouble for nothing. But the fact that you did so will always be most gratefully remembered by myself and Charles G. He also wants me to send his kind regards and thanks for your good will to him. When you have your book ready please send me one. Could you say about when it will be ready? I suppose you would like to know how we spent Christmas. It was spent in the dining-room, but we had a nice dinner and were kindly remembered by the Warden and Chaplain and everything was very nice and pleasant. I will close with kind regards and best wishes, and may God bless you. Sincerely yours in the Master's service, E. * * * * * State Prison, Aug. 19, 1903. Dear Mrs. Wheaton: I have just received your welcome letter and was very glad to hear from you, also to know that you were well. It is a wonder you never get tired of traveling so much. When I think of how you are constantly battling for the right in the interest of lost sinners as we are it brings forth the thought in my mind--does it pay? If one only looks at the general result he can but say--it does not pay that one pure life should be worn out in the cause when so few are made to see the error of their ways and turn to the path of truth and right along the way of righteousness. But again, if one life is truly brought into the light and a soul saved, then we must admit it pays. And I know that your pilgrimage of mercy brings forth good, for all who know you speak kindly of you. Well, if a little spark of love is kindled in the heart of the most hardened by the kindly deeds of another, who can tell how great that spark may become? So let us not weary of well doing but press on, hoping for the best and accepting the worst in true Christian resignation. I gave your message of love to all the men here. All were glad to hear from you. O, my dear friend, I am so often troubled in heart by the attitude of some people. Certainly I have been very sinful. I have fully realized all that was wrong in my life. It has been my endeavor to cast it all out of my life and to build on a foundation of righteousness and faith in its place. I have been blessed in my effort by the help of many who I feel have a personal interest in me. At the same time no man has been more inhumanly treated by those who profess to be Christians than I have been and am. Yes, my friend, we are commanded to pray for such people. This I have done for nine years, but the persecution still goes on. May God forgive them. Now, a few words about the prison. Everything is changed here. We have all new officers and guards, also another Governor. The Chinese cook you spoke to was pardoned last January. I was denied. I am, with love, your sincere friend, E. * * * * * January 24, 1904. Dear Sister: Your welcome letter duly received and I was glad to hear from you and to know that you were well. Well, sister, I am again denied a pardon. Guess I must die here. Well, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." Still the lack of a Christian spirit is felt as rendered to me. You remember the Chinaman who was cook for the Warden? Well, he was pardoned, likewise several Indians and many others who were without faith, but Christians--oh, well, prison is a good place for them it seems. With kind love and best wishes to you, I remain, Yours in His service, E. * * * * * State Prison, Feb. 29, 1904. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton: Yours received and I was glad to hear from you. I am getting along very nicely, but the heart is often sad. Oh, I was so much disappointed, and while I was almost heart broken over it I have also felt sorry for the friends that stood by me. Why, just think of it--there are five members on the Board of Pardon, and they all voted against me! So you see it is not the Governor alone who is against me, but every one of them. My dear friend, I don't think you would be able to do anything for me. The Lord is strong certainly, but the ones who have my freedom in their power leave the commands of the Lord out of the question. Read the 18th chapter of Matthew, from the 21st verse to the last of the chapter, and you will see what I mean. Now, dear sister, may God help, bless and comfort you in this seemingly cold world of ours, is the prayer of your friend, E. FAITHFUL INSIDE AND OUTSIDE OF PRISON WALLS. Another case with which I was very much impressed in the early days of my missionary work was that of a young man of rare ability, gifted and sensible, who was spending a term in one of our United States prisons. He was converted and began working for God among the other prisoners. After faithfully serving his time, he left the prison with good prospects. He was taken into an office and did exceedingly good service for the company, also for God and souls,--his past being known only to his pastor, employers and prison officials. After several years he married a most estimable lady who was doing missionary work. They prospered well. He was promoted from one position to another. For nineteen years he has lived a devoted Christian. All who know him honor and respect him. His wife has recently passed over to the kingdom of heaven. He is still living a true and noble life and he is only one of many who have served time inside of prison walls, who are living for God outside and for Heaven at last. I quote a few extracts from letters received from him during the time of his incarceration. * * * * * In Prison, January 12, 1885. My Dear Friend: Your kind note was received and I was very much pleased to hear from you, but was pained that you should think for a moment that I was forgetting you. Since you left us we have had several very earnest and interesting meetings--the fruit of your presence and labor among us. Praise God, He can find his way inside prison walls as well as outside. He is no respector of person. Many men, not before confessing Christ or even anxious sinners, have stood up manfully for prayers and may God give them grace to accept and believe. It is very simple, my dear sister, is it not? How I wish that all could see it! It only means total surrender to Him, to give up the old longings and desires and trust Him from day to day. Then comes the "perfect peace" which is vouchsafed to them whose mind is stayed on God. Of course, you will see us again. Our dear Chaplain and Warden are doing everything possible for the spiritual welfare of all the men. The Warden dignified our first meeting by giving us his personal religious experience at the commencement of the service, and he is willing and anxious to encourage in every way possible the religious sentiment now prevailing. As for our Chaplain, I do not believe there is his equal. I who am so closely associated with him can truly testify to his untiring zeal in behalf of all of us. If ever there was a living man, free from any selfish or worldly motives, I believe it is he. The moral tone has been increasing ever since he came among us. I shall not feel at all slighted if you save your strength and time by not writing to me. Just send me some little message by F. or any others (for I see them all daily), and I shall be just as well pleased. It is not because I do not like to have you write me, but I had rather spare you, or help you. If you will let me know the address of that dear lady at Raleigh whom you stayed with, I will gladly make her something and would like very much to make something for any other of the dear friends who are good to you on your pilgrimage of love and mercy. Shall not forget to make something for your brother. May God bless and keep you and make his face to shine upon you for many years yet to come, and may we finally meet in heaven where there shall be no more parting and sorrow. Your loving brother in Christ, C. W. * * * * * August 8, 1886. My Dear Friend: Do you think we have forgotten you? Why, no indeed! We think and speak of you almost daily, but you are moving so that we hardly know where to locate you. A day or two ago L., who is my friend, got a postal card from you, and as he cannot write, by permission just now and I have the privilege to do so, I drop these few lines for him as well as for myself. How glad we are to know the Lord has prospered your work. How literally is the promise of Christ fulfilled, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." It seems so wonderful that all people are opening their doors to Christian workers, the doors which a few years ago were closed and to be opened only through the power of God, who, as Daniel said, would "set up a kingdom which shall never be destroyed," but it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms and shall stand forever. Our Sabbath School is not in session this month but will renew its course the first of September. We like our new Warden very well. Our dear Chaplain is still with us and is quite well and engaged as ever in his life work. His place would be very hard to fill here. I have been reading this morning the 34th Psalm--"all my fears," "all his troubles," "all his afflictions"--a deliverance from all. "There is no want to them that fear Him." This Psalm is full of comfort. Praise His name! We can find help and comfort in any part of His holy Word. We all pray for God's blessing upon you and your work and for the conversion and salvation of all whom you minister unto. It does not seem too great a thing to ask of the Lord. Both L. and F. send their love to you and L. will write you soon. Also Mr. A. and Mr. R. and many more send love and best wishes. I shall always consider you my friend, and if in the Providence of God we shall never meet in this world I hope to meet you with recognition in our eternal and glorious home above. Truly your friend, C. * * * * * January 29, 1890. My Dear Friend and Mother: Your letter received yesterday made me very happy. It was so good of you to write so soon and send such a nice long letter, too. I trust I am getting to value a letter from you as I ought, as I realize more and more how your time is so zealously occupied and needed. I have ever valued your letters for the help they gave me, but I value them now for their scarcity. In the future, when perhaps you may be no more, I shall esteem them among my most valued treasures. Yet I may be called first! We know not the hour, whether in youth, or old age, or in our prime when the angel of death shall come to summon us to eternity. "Watch therefore, be ye also ready," are words that I try to keep ever in mind, or rather to keep my mind so stayed on Christ that moment by moment He shall keep me saved so that I shall never need to whip myself into keeping watch for my Lord. I am glad you believe in and have the blood cleansing freedom from all sin. It is an experience that meets with much opposition from worldly Christians and from some whose good works follow them. These latter really enjoy the experience, but are prejudiced at the name given to it by others. I know that it meets with much opposition. The "Christian Witness" comes to the prison every week. It is an exponent of holiness and very interesting, as well as spiritual. I have a magazine which contains a story of an ex-convict which would do some good to those who think there is no hope or reform for such an individual. I shall mail you the magazine, and if you can read it do so and give it to others to read. After a silence of several years my father has written me again. You know he is living in C. and was formerly an instructor in the State Prison at S. He is now old and broken in health, making him incapable for steady work, so he is residing at a soldiers' home. He expresses great anxiety in regard to my future, thinking me friendless, etc. I have written him a long letter reviewing the principal incidents of my prison life. How good God has been to me and how my mind is at rest as regards the future because I have left it in His hands. To find favor with my God is all I desire. Having that, whatever my condition I shall be like St. Paul, content. That is my view of a successful future or life. Wealth, power, ability, all things that men aspire to in this life, do not make or lead to success in my mind. Nothing but the favor of God brings it to man, and that favor comes through the "washing of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost." Oh, I am so glad that I know this--even me! How can man doubt the wondrous love of God when He is so patient to all who will but look and see. Well, said someone, that they do not want to look and see lest they should be healed and be saved. My poor old father is a church-member, but I fear he knows nothing about Holy Ghost religion, Jesus Christ's religion, pure and undefiled. I want to do just right all of the time. I know my heart is right because I hate sin and love righteousness. If the Lord has no other work for me when I leave here, I would like to labor under your guidance. When are you coming this way again? I would love to greet you once more before I die. C. * * * * * From every nodding flower, from every whispering breeze From mountain's lofty height, from towering trees, From softly twinkling star, from lightning's giddy flash, From the softest twitter of a bird and thunder's awful crash, From hills the ants may call their own, From crested elders 'round their throne, From babbling brook, from storm-lashed wave, From nature smiling, nature grave, From earth and air, from sky and sea, There comes the self same voice to me, Like softest note of cooing dove, And sweetly whispers, "GOD IS LOVE." --_A Prisoner._ [Illustration: ADMINISTRATION BUILDING, MITCHELVILLE, IOWA.] [Illustration: CAMPUS AND PLAYGROUND, GIRLS' INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL, MITCHELVILLE, IOWA.] CHAPTER VII. Letters from Co-workers, and Some of My Prison Girls. In speaking of prisoners or of those within prison walls many think only of men being found there. This is due doubtless to the few women compared to the number of men found in these places. In my efforts to do good to all, I have been especially mindful of those of my own sex, and have ever endeavored to encourage and lift up my sisters who have fallen victims to sin and misfortune. I give in this chapter a few letters from sisters who are directly interested in the care and work for the prison bound; also extracts from letters from a number of my prison girls. The co-operation in my work and the kindness and hospitality ever shown me by the sisters, matrons, wives of officers, etc., are especially appreciated, and all these dear ones are often remembered at the throne of divine grace. These too shall all share in the fruit of the toil and labor in the final reckoning. Neither will my girls whom I have tried to help, that have shown their appreciation and have tried to serve the Lord, be forgotten. Women who are the victims of sin and are condemned by society and the law, have as much right to be restored and encouraged when they amend their ways, as have men. The following letters are, I believe, sufficiently explanatory in themselves, and may be read with interest. * * * * * Huntsville, Texas, Aug. 19, 1904. Dear Mother Wheaton: Mr. Baker, Superintendent of Prison, said he would like for you to visit our prison once a year; they all were pleased with you. Dear Mother, please pray for little George, that he may be truly converted to God and take an interest in his studies. It seems that he has no desire for them. My greatest aspiration is to live to see him saved and have an education. How my heart goes out for him! I feel that I won't be with him long. I sometimes think that I had rather see him put away before I go, then I would know where he was. When you go to the Faith Home pray for us that if it be God's will that I may be relieved of afflictions and that my husband may be able to do a great and lasting work for the poor unfortunate men. Dear mother, I write you because I have confidence in you. May God bless you. MRS. MARY MCDONALD. (Wife of Chaplain at Huntsville, Tex., a great sufferer.--E. R. W.) [Illustration: CHAPLAIN'S RESIDENCE, HUNTSVILLE, TEXAS.] * * * * * My Dear Mrs. Wheaton: Your letter to one of our boys was handed to me by him today. I enjoyed reading it, and want to write you at once. I think V. was very seriously impressed by your service here, although I have not yet had an opportunity to talk with him as I have wanted to. He was sick yesterday and not in school. Tomorrow I hope to see him again. I am so glad that you had the opportunity of seeing his parents. I know they will be greatly benefited spiritually by your visit. I am sure our blessed Lord leads you, as you carry peace and comfort wherever you go. Dear Mother, you comforted me. I was impressed, as I have never been before, by the _power of prayer_, and I know your prayers are heard and answered. This text came to me _over and over_ while you were here, "The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." I felt instinctively that your prayers could help me. Oh, my friends! I _appeal_ to you to pray for me. I may be here only until April, but if God has work here which He wishes _me_ to do, I know He will order it that I shall stay longer. But I do want to be _filled_ with His Holy Spirit, that while I stay I may do _everything_ that is possible to warn and encourage these poor fallen brothers to seek a Savior's love and forgiveness. I _want_ a power which I feel _might_ be mine, but it has not yet come. I want to reach the boys and tell them of Christ's love, but I have not the power of speech. I cannot convince them that _my_ Savior is their Savior too. So often they say to me, "Well, I guess that kind of a life is the best kind to lead after all, but I never will make a start in a place of this kind." The next day after you left one boy said to me that he had never before heard a talk that had impressed him as he was impressed Tuesday. I believe he is seriously awakened. I think _three_ others are, also, beside the one of whom I told you the day you left. I think V. is one. There is a boy here who says he heard you in Kansas City eight or nine years ago. He was not at service, but saw and recognized you. He thought you would know him if you saw him. Yours in Christian love, FANNIE A. HOYT, (Teacher and wife of Officer.) Buena Vista, Colo., Oct. 24, 1896. * * * * * Atlanta, Ga., Nov. 12, 1893. Dear Mrs. Gore: This will introduce to you Mrs. Wheaton and Mrs. ----, Prison Evangelists. You will be so glad to meet them and they to meet you and talk about our dear boys "shut in." God bless you. MRS. CHARLTON EDHOLM. Mrs. A. B. Gore, Oakland, Cal. * * * * * Anamosa, Ia., Nov. 20, 1893. Dear Mrs. Wheaton: Anna H. has written you about the death of Emma S. She had a hard cold, not so bad as some of the girls, however, when she left here. We tried to persuade her to remain here over Sunday, where it was warm, as it was very cold and stormy. She, however, insisted upon going. We of course could not compel her to stay, although we felt it was for the best. When she reached Algona she was too sick to go into the country five miles where she was going to stay. Tuesday morning she was taken out, and Thursday afternoon died with La Grippe or Pneumonia. Several of the women here have had La Grippe. All seem to be improving, as I insist upon their taking excellent care of themselves. Now, Mrs. Wheaton, I hope you will write to Anna, also a letter to all the girls that I can read to them. They will be glad to think you have not forgotten them. Trusting that you are in good health and that you see good results from your labors, I remain your friend, JENNIE A. POWERS. * * * * * Jefferson City, Mo., Jan. 25, 1900. Dear Sister: Your card was received in due time. All glad to hear from you. The quarantine is still on at the prison. No news there. No visitors allowed. No baskets sent in, only money. Mr. Cook has not missed a day at work since last winter. He was off twelve days to visit his dear mother. She will soon pass to the other side. Your card was filled with sadness. Be cheerful and rejoice, for soon you will go to glory to praise Him forevermore. I will write some to Sister Kelley. Write me a long letter. Chaplain P. has been on the sick list. Everything going on nicely. Never had a better warden than now in the last eighteen years that I have known this prison. Hoping to hear of your good health, I am ever, CLARA COOK. * * * * * [Illustration: WOMEN'S PRISON, ALLEGHENY CITY, PA.] Western Penitentiary, Allegheny, Pa., June 7, 1904. Mrs. Wheaton: I am glad to learn that you are about to embody your experiences as a missionary to the inmates of the prisons and penitentiaries of the various states in which you have labored in the name of the Master. It has been no easy work. It has demanded much faith, hope and charity on your part. You have gone with untiring zeal to those who are despised and forsaken on account of their criminal acts. In the spirit of our blessed Lord and in obedience to His command you have gone year after year to the habitations of disgrace and sorrow and carried the cheering and helpful promises and the forgiving mercy of our dear Savior. You will have a rich reward from our Heavenly Father. I am sure your words of gospel truth and your songs of praise have often touched the hearts of the female prisoners under my care. The most rebellious and hardened have felt and testified to the gracious power of the gospel of love as you have uttered it here. My hope and my prayer is that the Almighty Shepherd may guide, keep and sustain you in this noble work of your life. SARAH J ARNER. Allegheny, Pa. * * * * * Allegheny City, Pa., Dec. 31, 1893. Dear Mrs. Wheaton: I will try and answer your kind and welcome letter which came to hand a few days ago. We were all very glad to hear from you. Our dear sister, Mrs. Jones, is dead. The dear old lady who was up to the workhouse with you when you were here. She was a dear friend to all the girls here, but she has gone home. She can come to us no more, but we can go to her. The last words she said when she was here was good-bye, and that she would meet us all in heaven. We have very nice meetings now and would like to have you with us. We pray for you every day and we want you to pray for us that we may see the right way and that we may go out of here with light hearts and go about doing good. We had a nice Christmas. Our Warden treated us with turkey, and we were all so glad that he was so kind to us. Well, we will begin a new year tomorrow, and I hope we will lead a different life, a better life, for if we believe in Jesus He will save us; yes, He will keep us through the dark valley. He will go with us to the end, as He has promised, if we will put our trust in Him. I have gained a great victory since you were here. I have forgiven an enemy that I thought I never could forgive. Well, I will close by sending you my love, and as I have only one sheet of paper my friend will send this on to you. I remain, Your sincere friend, Lucy F. * * * * * Allegheny City, Pa., Feb. 16, 1896. My Dear Mrs. Wheaton: I am so glad to hear from you once more. I had been thinking of you so much of late and I asked God to let me hear from you or send you to us, and so you see He answered my prayer. I cannot express how glad we all were to receive your kind and loving letter. It was read to all and I do wish you could have peeked in to see how quiet all were to listen to it, and our two matrons, too, for they do love you. I was very sorry to hear of your being so sick, but God has raised you up for He has work for you to do yet. I pray for you every night and morning that He may strengthen you and keep you, for you are to us like the rain is and the sunshine to the flowers, for we know that you do love us poor unfortunate ones. Will you please send us the hymns called "Tell of the Unclouded Day" and the one called "When the Pearly Gates Unfold"? Dear Mother, pray for us all, but pray for me especially, for I am in great sorrow and trials. Pray that God may raise me up friends and that He may keep me. Good-bye, hoping to hear from you soon, I remain, yours in Christ, LAURA M. * * * * * Allegheny City, Pa., Feb. 16, 1896. My Dear Mother: I wish I could tell you how much joy and happiness your letter gave me. It came just at the time when I needed it most. I am sick and feeble, suffering with spine and lung trouble, have not been able to work for the last three weeks. Can go to my meals and wait upon myself, and I have my Jesus with me. Oh, how He comforts and helps make the rough places smooth, and in the lonely hours of the night when the pain is almost beyond endurance, I think of my Savior and what He suffered without sin, and of what a weak coward I am to complain. Mother, we are some of us so impatient when we have pain, and I am afraid I am one of those. Please pray for me that I may bear mine with Christian fortitude. I hope it may please God to let me live to get out of this place and have a home for myself and baby, and if my dear Mother Wheaton would come and see me and rest herself for a few weeks, would it not be nice? Mother, I am a widow with one child and some means, but not much. Still I intend to use some of my money, when I have control of it, to do good to others. I have suffered, God has opened my eyes and showed me my sins and selfishness of former years, and I thank Him for sparing me to see it in this light. Many of the girls that were here when you last visited us have gone out and a good many are going out this year. Pray for them. I pray for you every night. God bless and keep you is the prayer of your friend, L. R. T. No. 9722. * * * * * Allegheny City, Pa., Feb. 16, 1896. My Dear Mother Wheaton: Your very welcome and unexpected letter received. It is impossible to tell you with what joy and heartfelt gladness we all gathered together to hear it read. You do not know how often your children speak together of you, of where you are and what you are doing and what keeps you so long away from your Western flock. It was so long since last we heard from you that we are beginning to think our Heavenly Father had need of you and had taken you home, but all praise to His name. He has spared you to send us another loving, encouraging message, which we promptly answer in love and sympathy, each one giving a word, although only three different handwritings will be seen. Remember when reading the words that twenty-five of your lone children are here represented in your letter. You speak of wishing for your prison children when you were sick. O, how gladly many of us would minister to your wants, to be under the influence of your kind and loving advice, following in your footsteps of love and life as it is in Christ Jesus our Lord and Master. But though we are separated by so many miles, thanks be to the Almighty we can feel the influence of your continued prayers, and many of us are greatly encouraged to keep on striving, knowing that the crowning day will come by and by. Each one says: "Ask Mother Wheaton when she is coming." Do not be too long in coming, for some of your dear ones are leaving every month during the spring, and we are anxious to receive your blessing before entering the cold, heartless world of sin and sorrow. Yet some of us will take Jesus with us, and in His name begin life again. Pray for us all that our hearts may be fully and entirely given over to God, with our hands in His hand, be led to the mercy-seat. Yes, dear Mother, we shall, with God's help, "strive to enter in at the straight gate." These are the names of those who send you special love and requests for prayer: Emma M., Emma W., Pearl S. (who is very sick), Laura M., Anna M., Ella A. With love and best wishes from our matrons, we close, hoping soon to see you. Good-bye, God bless and keep you always and send you to us again. All join in best wishes to you. * * * * * Allegheny City, Pa., Feb. 14, 1897. My Dear Mrs. E. R. Wheaton: Perhaps you will be surprised to get this letter, but I have heard so much about you that I feel as though I was personally acquainted with you, so I hope you are well, dear Mother, and that you are doing work for the Master and that He will give you a great many souls for your hire. O, I do want to see you. Indeed I would like to hear you sing and pray. The girls all want to see and hear you. Pray for them. One woman in here said that you were the only person that ever did pray a prayer that touched her heart and brought tears to her eyes. The old girls talk about you so much to the new ones that they all love you, although they have not seen you. They tell over and over of your love and sympathy and that you know how to reach poor unfortunate souls. You know that they need kind words and a loving smile to cheer up their broken hearts. Dear Mother, you know that a smile goes where a dollar cannot go, for it goes to the heart and makes it so very happy. Good-bye, hoping to hear from you soon, I remain, Yours truly, LINA S. * * * * * Allegheny City, Feb. 14, 1897. My Dear Mrs. Wheaton--Dear Mother: I will say dear, for you are dear to me. O, you do not know how I have been longing to see you and once more hear you sing some of your beautiful hymns. O! just to hear you pray once more in this world. There are only eighteen women of us now, and when you were here last time there were thirty-three. O, dear Mother, do make me a special subject of prayer that God may keep me and guide me in the right way. I have been trying to lead a Christian life for six years now. When all earthly friends have forsaken me Jesus comes and speaks to me, and He alone comforts me, and I thank God for a full and free salvation. O bless His holy name! Hallelujah in the highest to God! Our matron, Miss S. J. Arner, sends you her best regards. I am very sorry to tell you that Miss Osborn was called home by the death of her sister; pray for her and for me, Laura M., No. 9351, that God may spare my life that I may work for the Master when I am a free woman. The two Morgan sisters send you their love. All of the girls send love to you. Come on a week day and perhaps you can get the widow's mite. Good-bye, I remain, yours in Christ, LAURA M. * * * * * Allegheny City, Pa., March 21, 1897. Dear Friend: I received your very kind and welcome letter and was very glad to hear from you, and dear Mother Wheaton, your letter did me good as I sit and hear it read to me. I shall try to keep it, and get it read often to me, as it does comfort my broken heart. I am a poor orphan girl. My mother died when I was about twelve years old, and I have wandered on in sin and I have fallen by the wayside. Will you pray for me that I may come to live just as you do, my true, strong friend. I do wish I could see you today, to hear you pray and sing. All of the girls wish to see you and hope that you will come on some day through the week so that we can write out a money order for you. Perhaps it may be only a couple of dollars or three, but it will be like the widow's mite. I remain, yours truly, LINA S. * * * * * Allegheny, Pa., March 21, 1897. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. Dear Mother: We received your very kind and welcome letter. O, we are so glad that you sent us a letter and some tracts. Mrs. S. J. Arner, our matron, read the letter in the dining-room to all of us and we did enjoy it so much. Indeed I feel that I had a visit from a dear friend. I hope you are well and I pray for you that God may strengthen you in your labors. You have done a great work, but God has more for you to do yet before you shall pass through the pearly gates of Heaven, for you have cheered so many broken hearts. God sent you to cheer those in prisons. I was just thinking today, O, how happy you will be in the end when Jesus shall say unto you: "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you." And O, dear Mother, He will say to you: "I was in prison and ye visited me." I am still looking unto Jesus. He has been my only friend for these years in prison. He keeps me day by day and makes me feel happy in prison. He causes me to hear "songs in the night." Pray for me that God may keep me and my children. I dreamed that I was sent to preach the gospel to some poor soul and I have dreamed it three times over the same. First time I said, "No, I cannot do it," and the Lord laid me on a bed of sickness, and then I said, "Lord, I will go." I had no rest by night or by day until I consented to go. All of the girls join me in love to you. We hope that these few lines may find you well and happy, for you are always so happy and bright. One of the old girls said that your face has such a happy smile on it and a light shines over you while you talk to them. Write soon. LAURA M. * * * * * This is an extract from a letter by an orphan girl, a type of many other poor girls whose fates are equally as sad: Spokane Falls, ----, 1889. O if I was only free, the greatest pleasure of my life would be to go with you and work for God. Your kindness has won my heart. I have never had any one to be kind to me; I have known nothing but sorrow all my life. My past is almost a blank. Dear, kind sister, look on me with pity--a friendless, motherless girl. I am alone in the world. I was drawn into this place through cruel treatment. I have no money, and I am helpless. If God does not have mercy on me, I do not know what will become of me. If I had only a good, kind friend like you to guide me through life, I would have been a far better woman than I am. If God will save me I shall live in the future a life of honor and work for God. Pray for me. Tell me in what way I am going to help myself. O sister, I am so troubled; sometimes I think I will end my miserable existence. But I know if I should take my own life that it would be a terrible sin; but how can I help thinking such things in a place like this? No friends, no home, and no money; sick at heart, sick in body, sick in mind. * * * * * Lancaster, Neb., Jan. 27, 1895. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Washington, D. C. Our Dear Friend: We received your kind letter of the 7th inst. We were glad to hear from you and to know that you were enjoying good health. Dear Mother, if we may address you thus, we were very glad to hear our friend, Mrs. Beemer, spoken of so well, for she is a friend never to be forgotten. And Mr. Beemer is just a splendid warden, kind to everybody; and we ask you to pray that they may be retained here for another time. Dear Mother, indeed we will know how to appreciate our freedom in the future. Of course you do not know our names, but I will give them in the following words that each sends to you. Hattie and Edna send their regards to you. Nannie says to pray for her. Annie sends her best regards to you and wishes you well. Hattie R. sends love and best wishes. Annie H. is the one who was sick when you were here and sends love to you, and knows that God answered your prayers that she might be restored to health. Effie joins in sending love, and my prayer is that God may bless you and help you in all your good work. So we close for this time, asking you to pray for us poor unfortunate girls. We remain, your loving children, H., E., A., N., H., A. and EFFIE. * * * * * Canon City, March 27, 1899. Dear Friend and Mother: I know you are my friend and everybody's friend. I heard your kind letter and cannot help writing to you. I cannot write very good, so please excuse mistakes. Your letter found all the girls well. I have often thought of you and wished that I could be a Christian like you; but I am a poor sinner and have been all my life. I never heard one word out of the Bible in my life till I got in jail. I never had any Christian parents, and therefore I am a deep sinner, but I want to do better. My conscience tells me that I must try to be a better woman. I have been a very bad girl, but I think my Savior will forgive me, if I repent in time. Sometimes I nearly go crazy just thinking what a life I have led. O if I would die now what would become of me? I want you to pray for me, mother, for I do believe you can help me by praying for me. I have not long in here now. My time expires on the 25th day of December, 1899; pray that I will be a better girl. I want to go home to my brother if I can when I leave here. I am tired of this life. My soul is tired. O, I am so wicked! I have tried to pray the best I knew and I got scared. Something seemed to bother me, and I was afraid to go to sleep. Mother, why do I get scared? Is it because I have sinned so much? But I will try again and again. I am willing to do right and live an honest life, and I will or die in the attempt. I have had a lot of trouble in my life and it drove me to all my downfalls, but I can see that I am sending my soul to everlasting torment, so I want to turn now and seek for the Lord. Tell me how I can, mother. Mother, this is the best I can do; may God bless you in all your undertakings. The matron was glad to hear from you and also the girls. Pray for me. ANNA 4309. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., March 6, 1899. Dear Sister Wheaton: Thank God I received your kind and Christian letter last week. We are getting along nicely with our meetings and I know and feel that God is with us every day and especially the eleven that have given their hearts to God and let His dear hand guide their every footstep. Our dear Matron gave me your letter. I am as contented as can be. I believe it God's will that I should be here, and His will be done. I love our dear Heavenly Father with all my heart and soul and I love all my sisters and brothers and I love my enemies and I pray for them and ask God to bless them. I have ten months more and I hope you can come here again before I go. Our Matron is with us in our meetings every Saturday. I read my Bible and pray three times a day, and I have more strength to perform my daily work, and I know our dear Savior will not forsake me or leave me alone because I know Jesus loves me now, and I know He will answer my prayers. I told you before it is my second term, but when I sit in my little room reading my Bible I thank God for it, for I know it was God's will that I should be here a second time, for there is work for me to do here as well as when I am free, and He put me here to show me He wanted me for one of His own dear humble children and I know and feel it now. "Happy day, happy day, When Jesus washed my sins away; He taught me how to watch and pray, And live rejoicing every day." And I want you to pray for us all that we may have more of God's grace given to us day by day and help us to be humble and meek and willing to be led by His loving hand and pray for us that God will keep us from all temptation and sin and may we ever prove faithful. "Have mercy upon me, O God, according unto the multitude of Thy tender mercies. Blot out my transgressions." Every word here is just as I feel in my heart. "I may not do much with all my care, But I surely may bless a few; The loving Jesus will give to me Some work of love to do. "I may wipe the tears from some weeping eyes, I may make the smile come again, To a face that is weary and worn with care, To a heart that is full of pain." MRS. J. G. * * * * * Anamosa, Iowa, Aug. 11, 1901. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa. Dear Mother: We received your kind and loving letter yesterday. Was more than glad to hear from you, but sorry that you have been so sick; but I praise God for His healing divine. We did not have the smallpox in the prison. There were cases of them in town, but the warden quarantined the prison and vaccinated every prisoner. Dear mother, I am trying to get a parole. My petition is now before the Governor with a thousand signers, besides several letters from friends. I have had three good homes offered to me if the Governor will only parole me. I desire so much to be where I can live a better life and take care of my little boy and help my parents, who are in very poor health. I do pray so much for a better place and better companions, where I can do something for my own and others. Dear Mother, will you pray for me? I always remember what I promised you when you bid me good-bye; that was, to pray for you every day. I am so glad we have a Savior who will hear our prayers though we are behind prison walls and our prayers are weak. With love and prayers, FROM D. F. TO MOTHER WHEATON. * * * * * Anamosa, Iowa, Oct. 6, 1903. Dear Mother Wheaton: I thought I would write you a few lines. We are all well at present. We cannot express how thankful we were for your visit to us. We only wish you could have staid longer. Mrs. Waterman has prayer and song service every morning. It is something wonderful. We all wish so much to hear your voice. Mrs. Waterman spoke to us about writing to you and I was only too glad to write and ask you to pray for us all. I believe and know it will do good. I am trying very hard to pray and be a good Christian. I will ask you to pray for me. Respectfully yours, G. Mc. [Illustration: GROUP OF GIRLS IN AN INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL.] [Illustration: SOUTHERN ILLINOIS STATE PRISON AT CHESTER.] CHAPTER VIII. Incidents in My Prison Work. LETTER FROM THE PRISONERS AT CHESTER, ILL. Southern Illinois Penitentiary, Menard, Ill., Nov. 27, 1902. Dear Mother: We are writing you from within these dark grim walls. Although we are condemned as the outcasts of society and separated from friends and loved ones and continually laboring under great mental strain and worry, still there is no pain or sorrow great enough to destroy our happiness in our thoughts of you. Your love and thoughtfulness for us and our spiritual welfare is a priceless jewel that all the wealth of the world cannot buy nor sorrow rob us of. No, never. Although the world has condemned and despised us, but we know that there is one--if only one--that loves even the outcasts. Several of your boys have gone from here since you were among us. Some have crossed to the beyond; others to blessed freedom. Still a greater number are left here with fondest recollections of all you have done for us, which is one of the greatest among our causes for thanksgiving. It is hardly necessary to say, Remember us. We all remain your sons until death. YOUR BOYS OF CHESTER, ILLINOIS. An extract from a report of the Chaplain of the Southern Illinois Penitentiary will be of interest: Chester, Ill. To the Honorable Board of Commissioners, Chester, Ill. Gentlemen: I take pleasure in making a report of my first year's work as Chaplain. The regular chapel services have been held every Sunday at 9:40 a. m. The chapel has been well filled at all regular services and crowded on special occasions. The attendance at religious services is voluntary, but most prisoners consider it a privilege to attend. The words of encouragement I have received from prisoners in conversation and by letter make me feel that good is being accomplished. More than one hundred men have given me their names as Christians or seekers of religion. I attend all calls made by the prisoners during the week and visit one cell house each Sunday evening. My visits are so planned that I see each prisoner in his cell at least twice a month and give him a chance to make his requests known. The men have been urged to study the Bible and have been furnished tracts and other helps in Bible study. I have been astonished in making my rounds to find so many men reading the Bible. One hundred and fifty new Bibles have been purchased during the year. Six hundred Sunday-school quarterlies have been furnished the prisoners each quarter during the year and they have been urged to keep in touch with the outside world by studying these lessons. The Sunday-school lesson is read every Sunday as a scripture lesson and comments are made upon it. The sick in the hospital and the shut-in prisoners in the cell houses are visited daily and are supplied with books and papers. Some of them read a book each day. The Murphy Temperance Pledge has been furnished and more than five hundred prisoners have signed the pledge. If the saloons could be closed out poor-houses, jails and prisons would soon be almost empty. Respectfully submitted, W. N. RUTLEDGE, Chaplain. SUICIDE OF A PRISONER. While on my way to the State Prison at Chester, Illinois, in the year 1888 (if I remember rightly) I was especially impressed by the sad appearance of a fellow-passenger, a mother, accompanied by three children. I was sure that she was in deep trouble. I said to my helper, "Mary, that woman is going to the Penitentiary." She said, "How do you know?" I answered. "I feel sure of it and I will convince you that I am right." Having entered into conversation with the woman, I assisted her as I found opportunity in caring for her children. When I asked her where she was going, she said, "I am going to Chester." I said, "I, too, am going to Chester and will gladly assist you in getting off with the children." At the station we parted, but the next morning, which was the Sabbath, as I passed through the guard-room of the State Prison I saw this woman talking to her husband, who was a prisoner. She sat beside him and he was holding one of the children and she had another in her arms. The third was playing near by. All were too young to know of the sorrow that had come to their home, or the shame that had fallen upon them. They were with papa and mamma and felt safe and happy. Alas! how little they knew how soon they were to be left fatherless! I passed on and was busy during the entire day for I had the liberty of the prison and the privilege of working among the prisoners. So busy was I that for the time being I had lost sight of that poor wife and mother, but only the next morning the Chaplain called for me and said, "Sister Wheaton, I have oh, such a sad task before me this morning! I wish you would do it for me." I said, "Chaplain, I will try. I am willing to do anything that I can to help you." And then he said, "Do you remember the man and woman you saw yesterday in the guard-room talking?" I said, "Yes; I remember them well; I met the woman on the train on my way here." He replied, "Well, that man was so heart-broken at the thought of parting with his wife and children that he asked her to promise him that if he should die in the prison she would have him brought home for burial. She promised him she would do so and last night that poor man committed suicide in his cell and now someone must go and tell that woman of her husband's death." I said, "Chaplain, that is a hard thing to do, but I will try." He said, "I wish you would,--being a woman you can comfort her better than I could." Well, I went along the hall until I came to the door of the room she occupied, for, she too, as well as myself, was a guest of the kind warden's wife. I opened the door softly and looked in. In memory I can see her yet as she sat with one child in her lap while the other two little ones were playing around her knee. She was softly singing some old country tune. As I looked my heart failed me. I turned away in sorrow and returned to the Chaplain and said, "Chaplain, I cannot do it. I cannot break that poor woman's heart. I just can't tell her," and he said, "Then I will have to do it. Someone must tell her," and so he broke the message as best he could. Never will I forget the anguish of that poor woman's heart as she wept out her grief and suffering! I tried to comfort her as best I could. I took the same train with her as she started for home with her husband's body in the baggage coach ahead. As best I could I ministered to her and those poor helpless children as long as our journey carried us over the same road and when I changed cars I tried to utter some words of comfort, but oh, friends, what could I say, what could I do? Only the sympathy of the loving Savior could reach her case and I left her, never to meet her again on this side, but oh, may we not hope that in some way God found a way to have mercy upon that poor, misjudged man and that those loved ones may meet again where no mistakes will be made by judge or jury? For many believed that poor man to be innocent of the crime with which he was charged. If I remember rightly a barn had been burned and he had been accused of setting it on fire and had been convicted through purely circumstantial evidence. Brokenhearted over his disgrace and the thought of again being separated from wife and children, the poor man made a rope of the bed-clothing in his cell and used it to take his own life. "I HAVE NO FRIENDS." On the 4th of July, 1903, I was in the Ohio Penitentiary at Columbus. Officers and chaplain were kind, as usual. After holding services in the hospital, I held service with the men under death sentence; then went to the prison-yard where all the others were having a holiday. There the Chaplain assisted Sister Taylor and myself to hold services in the open air. Many seemed glad to get the message of love in song and prayer and preaching and many came to shake hands with us, while singing the closing hymn. One poor old man, a foreigner, handed me a little package about as large as a walnut. The paper was soiled from contact with his hand that warm day. The poor man in tears said, "Good-bye," and I forgot all about the little package till on the train that night going east, where I found it in my pocket and found inside a silk handkerchief and a 25 cent silver piece. On the paper was written his name and number and these words, "I have no friends." I wept over that small token of love as I do not often weep over a gift. I have that little handkerchief safe. It seems sacred to me. How I felt repaid for my hard day's toil. That night while I was holding services on the train the conductor said, "Mother, I don't see how you stand so much hardship;" I said, "Conductor, I had even forgotten that I had had neither dinner or supper today." I think I know something of what Jesus meant when He said to His disciples after ministering to a needy soul, "I have meat to eat that ye know not of." Chaplain Starr in one of the following letters refers to the open air service on July 4th; also to some of the men under death sentence with whom I had labored. The Indian woman to whose death and burial he refers is the same one who is mentioned in the letters of W. H. M. in another place. Columbus, Ohio, July 11, 1903. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. My Dear Sister: Your letter received this morning was a very pleasant surprise. We have now an additional man in the Annex. There are three men sentenced to electrocution in September and October. What change may come we do not know. I gave them your letter; they will read it over by themselves, and the tracts also. They still say that your visit with them on the Fourth of July did them much good. I have also delivered your letter to D., and with it a letter from myself, giving him encouragement and offering to render him any friendly assistance. The old Indian woman, Elsie J., whom I think you have several times seen in the female prison, died on the 9th, and we gave her a Christian burial yesterday. She was converted and baptized some time ago. I am glad that you are preserved and sustained in your great work as prison evangelist. If D., and N., and W. write to you I will forward the letters to your address. With kind wishes and regards, I am, Your brother, D. J. STARR, Chaplain, O. P. Your talk in the yard on the Fourth of July did good. * * * * * Columbus, Ohio, Sept. 26, 1903. Dear Sister: Your recent postal came duly to hand. I received your letter in July from the South and wrote you a reply, but have kept it until the present time, not knowing where to mail it so it would reach you. I will now send it in this letter, so that you will see that I have not forgotten you and answered your letter at the time. You inquire concerning the men in the Annex; we have now six men in the Annex. One of them has been granted a new trial and some others are expecting to get new trials. They do not take any great interest in religion, but yet they read the Bible some and talk about it. I will tell them of your interest in them and assure them that they are not forgotten in your prayers. Sincerely yours, D. J. STARR, Chaplain, O. P. * * * * * Ohio Penitentiary, Feb. 22, 1904. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. Dear Sister: I have just received your letter from Washington, D. C., inquiring about the men in our prison death cell. There are ten there now and two have been taken out for new trials. If these are sent back we shall have twelve. The largest number, until this list, ever in the Annex was nine. Murders, as well as other crimes of violence to person and property, are on the increase and society is trying to protect its life--without much security, so far. Perhaps three of the men are Scripturally penitent, three others interested and four indifferent to religion--so far as we can see. The men have Bibles, religious song books and papers, library books and religious letters from relatives. They are not allowed to correspond without especially good reasons for permits to do so. I hold a little meeting and Bible study with those who care for it almost daily at 2 p. m., at which time you might help us with your prayers. Sentiment is not salvation. The trouble, both in the prison and out of it, is, men will not seek after God. Yes, I am busy and ought to be busy about my Master's business, and so are you. With best wishes, I am, Respectfully yours, D. J. STARR, Chaplain. WAY OPENED IN ANSWER TO PRAYER. I had for many years prayed for an opportunity to preach in one of the largest state prisons. Again and again I had been refused by both the warden and chaplain. But at last through a new governor of the state I was permitted to enter this prison for religious services. Calling at the office of the governor and asking permission to go to the prison and assist in the services, he said, "Certainly, we shall be glad to have you. There will be no difficulty, as we have new officers. You can preach in the prison." Before I had left the Governor's private office the warden of the prison being present spoke and said, "Certainly, they would be very glad to have you take part with them." I asked if I should not see the chaplain, but the warden said he would be all right, and be pleased. But I insisted that it was only courtesy to see the chaplain. And asking the governor to please write a note to him, he did so and remarked that the state carriage was waiting at the door and I should be driven to the chaplain's house. Arriving at his home I was met by his little daughter who carried my card to her father and he soon came into the room asking what I wanted. "I should like, if you please, to take part with you in the services at the prison chapel tomorrow (Sunday) as I have been some years in prison work," I replied. "No indeed," he answered, "I cannot allow a woman to speak in my meetings. I will never permit any woman to take my pulpit." I made no reply, but that the state carriage was waiting for me and I must go, but said to him, "Here is a letter from the governor. Will you kindly look at it before I leave?" He took the message and noting its contents he changed color and seemed confused; saying, "I never did allow a woman to speak in my meetings. But seeing the governor's request and your years of experience, I will allow you to come in the morning and conduct the women's meetings." The governor's letter read as follows: Executive Department, Oct. 24, 1891. Dr. O. W. G., Chaplain of Penitentiary. Dear Sir: The bearer, Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, is a prison evangelist of national reputation and experience, who brings letters of strong recommendation from wardens of the prisons she has visited, and I commend her to your kind consideration. She has expressed a willingness, if not a desire, to participate in your services tomorrow afternoon in the chapel and I trust you will afford her every facility for so doing. Respectfully, DAVID R. FRANCES. A WOMAN CONVERTED AND HEALED. I went praying for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit. While I was speaking I was impressed to step down the aisle and lay my hand upon the head of a vicious looking colored woman. I afterward learned that she was a life time prisoner and a very dangerous woman. Instantly the power of God fell upon her and she was wonderfully converted then and there, and to the best of my knowledge is still true to God. The other women seeing this, their leader in sin (for so she was) so changed, were subdued and convicted of their sins. The meeting closed with victory for God. The chaplain was convinced and said, "You have won the worst woman in the prison. You have the hearts of all the prisoners now, for her influence is great. You come and preach to the men this afternoon. I am convinced." Years have come and gone. Governors, wardens and chaplains have been changed; but God does not change, and the doors of that prison are still open to me, and God always blesses every service. Some years later upon visiting this prison again we found this poor colored woman much afflicted and walking on crutches. The sister with me and I prayed for her, and she was instantly healed, throwing her crutches aside at once. The matron then gave her the key to go down and unlock the outside door for us, having so much confidence in her. She received a pardon from the governor later. Another woman in the same prison was also prayed for and was instantly healed by the Lord, of a large tumor, and ran and praised God for what He had done for her. A CHANGE WROUGHT. For some years another prison was closed to me. Why, I never knew. I prayed that the doors of that prison might be opened to me. When the Lord sent me back there I found such a change as I had never before witnessed in the same length of time. There was a good Christian chaplain, one of the best of wardens, and good deputies. Every prisoner was in an improved state of mind and morals, and all in harmony and glad to obey the rules of the prison. I was treated with courtesy and kindness, and was given all the time in the services, and was entertained. When I left I was conveyed to the depot with ladies as escorts, and a "trusty" as driver. Such are the wonderful workings of God through faith and prayer. The meetings in this state prison were owned and blessed of the Lord. The Holy Spirit led and all seemed to enjoy and appreciate them. The chaplain said, "How much good was accomplished!" All were united in harmony and God was glorified. A CHAPLAIN IN MY AUDIENCE. At another time, arriving at a certain city where there was a state's prison, I met in the depot a young lady wearing a Salvation Army bonnet. She was crying at not being met by friends as she had expected, and I asked her to go with me. She gladly did so and I proceeded to the prison to ask permission to hold services for the prisoners on the next day which would be the Sabbath. Obtaining the consent of the chaplain I waited till the time for the service on Sabbath morning and returned. The guard refusing to admit me, I sent for the chaplain. When he came he also refused me, saying he could not permit me to hold the service, as he thought I belonged to the Salvation Army. A friend suggested that I should go to the Governor at his residence, saying that he was a kind man. I did so, and was very kindly received. Having listened to my request he said, "Yes, you may have your meeting in the prison,"--he having heard of my work before. He wrote a card for me to carry with me, and I took it and returned to the prison. The preacher and the Sisters of Charity had all gone to the women's department. The men were out in the large yard. I called, "Boys, come on, we are going to have a meeting." How they hurried pell mell to the chapel! And such a meeting! The power of God fell. Just then the chaplain entered, much surprised of course, and I said, "Chaplain, I am permitted through the kindness of the Governor to hold this service. Will you please be seated?" Had a most glorious meeting, closing with results altogether satisfactory to the chaplain. IMPRESSED TO TARRY. While holding a meeting in a certain city, I was impressed day after day to tarry. I did not know why. I wanted to go, but still the Lord impressed me to wait. One evening a cry was heard, "A man is shot." Immediately the Spirit impressed me, "That is what I detained you here for." I rushed out into the night, and inquired where the man had been carried. They told me to the hotel. I went immediately, got admittance to his room and found him in a dying condition, with no one that knew God to pray for him. And there by the bedside of the dying man, some mother's boy,--dying without God and without hope in the world,--I tried to point him to the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world, hoping that the Lord would give him a chance at the eleventh hour to seek salvation, and I believe God heard my prayer for this soul. ENCOURAGEMENT BY THE WAY. In the Pacific Garden Mission in Chicago one night, after addressing the audience and singing the Gospel to the people, I gave an invitation to all who desired to lead a new life and serve the Lord to come forward and publicly confess Christ and repent of their sins. Instantly a fine looking young man rose in the rear of the hall, hurried to the front and grasped my hand, saying that he saw me three weeks before in the Deer Lodge, Montana, State Prison. He said that three days before, he was released and had come to Chicago, and passing along the street he heard me singing a favorite hymn at the open air meeting before services in the hall, and was attracted in. With hand raised, he promised to be a Christian and live for God and meet me in Heaven. He said he had my Bible that I gave to the matron of the prison, who, when he was leaving, gave it to him. "Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many days." Many others gave themselves to the Lord that night but this was one of my prison boys, and I was his mother, in that sense, as my life has been consecrated to God for that special line of work. The day following, on my way east, I was compelled to stay over night at a way station where we were to change cars. As I left the train I heard, as usual, the call of cab-men but passed on into the waiting room. Several followed me, but one took me by the hand and addressing me familiarly said, "Get into my cab, mother, it is all right; I'll take you where you wish to go." Mother Prindle, who was with me said, "Do you know Mother Wheaton?" He replied, "I have read about her," but the look in his kind eyes told me it was one of my boys from prison. He was now settled in life, a good man, with a wife and two children. He escorted us to the jail where I desired to hold services, then to the home of a minister, and from there to our lodging house. I bless God, and will through all eternity, that the dear Lord ever called me to work in the prisons as well as in other lines of Christian work. There are many all over this land now serving God, leading good, honest lives, a blessing to their country and an honor to God's cause, who were found in prisons and slums, discouraged and having given up all hope of ever being anything but miserable and wretched. They are now serving the blessed Christ who came to seek and to save that which was lost, and destroy the works of the devil, not willing that any should perish, but rather that all should be saved. O reader, many are the lives we might rescue from the ranks of the enemy if we were more in earnest and lived in close touch with God, and more under the power and inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Once in a meeting I was attending, the minister in charge took another young preacher by the hand, and said: "I want you to preach for us." The one addressed came to the front of the platform and said: "Yes, I will; but first I want to say I was once in an insane prison, an awful place. No one will ever know all we had to suffer there. I was insane through drink--no one could help me. I was sin-hardened and hard-hearted, but this Mother (pointing to myself) came to our criminal prison and sang and prayed and talked to us, and was kind to us, and my heart was melted, and I wept--something I could not, would not do until then. Her kindness won me, and I was saved, truly sanctified, and I have been preaching the Gospel for four years." A CASE OF CRUEL NEGLECT. At the best, life in prison is hard. How much worse when cruelty and neglect are added to the necessary restrictions that are placed upon those in confinement. I knew of one young colored man in prison in the south who was compelled to endure the winter weather without proper clothing or covering. His one blanket was so short that his feet were so badly frozen they had to be amputated. Think you that such things as these do not cry to God for vengeance? ANOTHER SUICIDE. Well do I remember a promising young man, who, when I was preaching in a prison in a southern state, began trembling and ran back into his cell and called for an officer to bring me to him. I found that he was quite weak from a bullet wound he had received in a drunken row in a saloon, he having killed a man in the fight. He was a young man with bright prospects before him, but bad company and a love for strong drink had wrought his ruin. He told me of his uncle who was a minister, a prominent evangelist. I was much surprised that a nephew of so popular a minister should be in state's prison for such an awful crime, crushed with shame and remorse. Could it be possible? His mother was a rich lady. This young man either because of his wealth and position, or because of his good conduct in prison, or both, was given privileges and often sent outside the prison grounds. Often I plead with him to come to Christ. But one day the old demon of drink had overcome him and having secretly obtained some liquor, while at a game of cards he shot himself. Let us throw the mantle of charity over that blighted life, and leave him in the hands of a just God. Who will be willing to answer at the bar of God for that soul? "Woe unto him that giveth his neighbor drink, that puttest thy bottle to him and makest him drunken also."--Hab. 2:15. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." JUST OUT OF PRISON. "O the wrongs that we may righten, O the skies that we may brighten, O the hearts that we may lighten-- Helping just a little!" While traveling on the train one day, the brakeman said to me: "There is an ex-convict in the smoking-car." "All right, I will go in and see him," I said. I went and took him by the hand as he sat alone in the rear seat of the car, sad and dejected, with no money, no friends, no home. His mother had died while he was incarcerated in prison; home broken up, nowhere to go. How glad I was to take this poor soul upon my heart, and intercede for him in silent prayer; and then have him come into the other coach and share my lunch. At parting he promised me he would live a temperate life, and serve God the best he knew. I believe the dear Lord had me travel on that train to meet that poor unfortunate and help and strengthen his faith in Christianity, by showing him attention outside as well as inside the prison walls. How often a soul is saved from a downfall by a word in season; a kind hand-clasp, a "God bless you; cheer up, look up, better days are coming," etc. When hope is well-nigh gone, and friends have forsaken, and all has failed; yet we can always tell such that "God never fails." DYING IN PRISON. One day as I was alone in a gloomy prison a poor boy called to me and said, "Write to my mother, but don't tell her where you found me. Please don't tell her, for it would kill her. She never could live and know her boy was in prison." On the dirty floor, lying on a pile of still dirtier straw I found this poor prison boy dying. I fell on my knees and poured out my heart to God in his behalf. "That head had been pillowed on tenderest breast, That form had been wept o'er, those lips had been pressed, That soul had been prayed for in tones sweet and mild; For her sake deal gently with some mother's child." Do not tell me that it does not pay to labor and pray with these dear lost ones. For if I can be the means of rescuing but one soul from eternal punishment, thank God, it pays me. WILL IT PAY? Some gentlemen were once looking at a large building erected for newsboys, that they might be brought under religious and refining influences. One of the spectators asked a large contributor to the benevolent institution this question: "Now you are erecting this building at a cost of many thousands of dollars, and I admire your motives, but suppose that after all this great expense only one boy was saved here--would you still think it paid for time, labor and money expended?" The man answered quickly and earnestly, "Yes, sir; if it was my boy." The most precious thing in the sight of God is a soul. For the redemption of every soul on earth was paid the precious blood of the Lamb of God. Count it not then a light thing in His sight for one to be saved or lost. For "There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth--more than over ninety and nine just persons who need no repentance." Hundreds have been saved under my observation and instrumentality both inside and outside of prison walls, and my motto has been, "Throw out the lifeline across the dark wave." SAVED AND PREACHING THE GOSPEL. Upon a warm July day, starting to walk out from Bismarck, N. D., to what I took to be the state's prison, but which proved to be a large water reservoir, being overcome by the heat I fell, and crawling to a shade I lay down with my Bible under my head. After a time I saw some distance away some persons driving in an open hack and signaled to them till they saw me and came to me. They drove me to the home of the warden of the prison where I was kindly received by the warden's wife and made comfortable. Late that night I held service in the prison corridors. This was in 1885, and in 1901 I was leading a meeting in a mission in Portland, Oregon, and asked all who had something special for which to praise the Lord to speak. A brother arose and said: "I want to thank the Lord tonight for the privilege of hearing 'Mother' Wheaton preach outside of prison walls. I have heard her in many a prison. Years ago, one night at 9 o'clock, when all the prisoners had been locked in their cells, the officers unlocked the doors to let this sister sing some hymns and hold services in the corridors. One hymn that especially touched my heart was 'Throw out the life line.' I was an opium fiend, a morphine fiend, a whisky fiend, and an all around bad man, and was ready to despair. But God touched my heart and saved me and called me to the ministry. At this time I was with my other sins a deserter from the United States army. When my time expired I went and gave myself up and was sentenced to five years more in prison. But God had mercy on me and in seven months I was pardoned out. Since that time I have lived an honest life, and for eight years have preached the gospel." This man was married to a Christian woman and has done much to rescue men from the pit from which he had been taken, and is still preaching. IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT. One Sunday I sang perhaps thirty hymns and preached seven times to prisoners in solitary confinement, where I dare not see them or clasp their hands as I do in other prisons. There are hundreds there, and as I sang in all the prison wards or corridors many different hymns, the dear souls cheered and responded with their clear voices as best they could to show their sincere appreciation of my efforts to brighten their lonely prison life. Each was "some mother's boy." Reader, is there not a sympathetic chord in your heart for these poor unfortunates? CRAPE ON THE DOOR. I once felt impressed to go to a certain prison and hold services. Arriving at the place early in the morning, I thought I would go to the prison first before I would telephone for a cousin who often helped me in the singing. When I arrived at the prison, the chaplain said, "Mother Wheaton, the Lord sent you to help me. To-day I have a funeral service of a prisoner, something we have never had at this prison." I did not telephone then for my cousin, as the services were arranged. I worked all day in the prison, holding services with both men and women prisoners, visited the hospital, and went to the city jail at 5 p. m. and held services, and then went to my relative's home and was greatly shocked to find crape hanging on the door. I found my cousin cold in death. Relatives asked me, "Who told you?" I said, "God impressed me to come at this time." And I went with them to the grave of my dear cousin, and kneeling beside the open grave, I promised to faithfully do God's holy will, and meet the departed one in Heaven. IN A POLICE STATION. In 1903, while I was in San Francisco, I was impressed to go to the police station about nine o'clock one night. I found, on arriving, an ambulance bringing in prisoners, among them a woman who was arrested for drunkenness. I talked and prayed with her. Hearing a noise like one in distress, I walked on through the corridors and I found a young soldier who was badly wounded in one eye and the head. He was standing alone in his cell in great pain. The bandage had been torn off, and the blood was running down his face, though his wounds had evidently been dressed by a physician before coming there. He was crying from the pain, and was under the influence of drink. I wiped the blood off his face, and put the bandage on his eye again. Then I knelt in prayer with him. I left the city on an early train, and never saw him again, but I believe God heard and answered my prayer for his salvation. BURNED IN HIS CELL. I went into one of our western cities to hold services at the jail. On the way from the depot I stopped at a store, where a young clerk told me of a horrible crime that had been committed in the jail. That the prisoners had been trying to make their escape, and one young prisoner had revealed the plot to the jailer, and thus saved his life. The prison wall had been "worked" in a cunning manner, and the prisoners were about to escape, when this poor boy informed the jailer of what was being done. The other three prisoners were so enraged that they threw coal oil over the boy, set fire to his clothing, and he was burned alive in the cell. I was grieved at hearing this, and felt that I could see them punished severely. They were in an underground prison for safe-keeping until the wall could be repaired. The officers were afraid to let me go in, but I told them I was not afraid, and went down the stairs ahead of the officers. I saw only one dim candle burning, and called for a light. A lamp was brought, and I went boldly into the presence of those criminals. I sat down and thought of the awfulness of it all. So, as I wept, I sang "Some Mother's Boy," and they cried like their hearts were breaking. I went over to them, where they were sitting together on an old bunk, and we cried together. They were humble and convicted, and it was love that did it all--God's love which showed them that though their sins were as scarlet, they shall be white as snow, though red like crimson they shall be as wool. God heard prayer for them and I trust they were forgiven. THE INNOCENT IN BONDS. In a certain state prison the officer called my attention to a man and said, "That man is innocent of the crime he was sentenced for." "Then why do you keep him here?" I asked. "Because he serves for his friend, willingly allowing the guilt to be placed upon himself rather than see this friend who was really guilty suffer." On leaving the prison I came upon this man with an officer on the train, and had the pleasure of talking to the man and hearing his story. I referred him to Psalms 15:1, 2, 4. "Lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle? Who shall dwell in thy holy hill? He that walketh uprightly and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart. He that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not." He was being taken to another court for trial. CONFESSED HER GUILT. A woman in a prison was convicted of sin under my preaching, and sent for me to come to her cell, where she gave me such an account of her crimes that I was shocked, and yet was powerless to liberate an innocent man that she said was in ---- state's prison for a crime she committed. She asked me to go and tell him for her that she was the guilty one, and try to have him freed, but wanted the matter kept secret. Now that she was under conviction of her sins, she could not rest. I went to the state prison she named, found the man, and told him her story. His agony was pitiful to behold. He said, "O how I loved my wife and baby. I am an innocent man. How can I live my sentence out in this way? Nothing to live for." Such bitterness as he held toward that wicked woman, for her crime and duplicity! I left him in an agony of grief. And yet there are so many who are serving as unjustly for others' crimes! This woman had killed the wife thinking she herself would then get the husband. UNDER SENTENCE OF DEATH. Going into the presence of two condemned men on our national holiday, the chaplain remarked, "I wish you could reach these men's hearts. You have often helped others in this prison who were under death sentence." I prayed in silence for wisdom, and as I walked into their presence, I said, "I have come to sing to you and have a little visit with you, but if you prefer to be alone, I will go away." They said they would be glad to have me stay. I sang several songs, and before I had spoken of religion, I was made glad to see tears in their eyes, and then we knelt in prayer, and I prayed God to pardon their sins and make them pure in His sight. I do not believe in capital punishment. Lord hasten the day when the crime of putting men to death legally shall be done away with. It does not stop crime. I thank God that one noble warden gave up his honorable position and salary, rather than take the lives of any more men. I wish God would raise up men all over our land who in like manner would be brave enough to refuse to sacrifice human lives because the law licenses them to do so. When I see wicked men so anxious to see poor, helpless men executed, I think of that authoritative utterance, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." Jesus said, "He that hateth his brother is a murderer." There is a day of reckoning coming. THE RELIGION MOTHER HAD. Many times prisoners have said to me when speaking to them, "That's the kind of religion mother had. You remind me of my own dear old mother;" and many, even statesmen, and the attendants in the capitol, and in the President's mansion, have said to me with uncovered heads, and tears in their eyes, "That is the kind of religion mother had. I wish I was as good as she was." I find the crying need to-day in all stations of life; from the palace to the dungeon, is real, genuine, heartfelt, common-sense salvation, not to be cranks and fanatics, not to be one-sided or half-way professors of religion; but to have the Holy Ghost in our hearts and lives, and a burning desire to help every one into the Kingdom of Heaven. Being "all things to all men" that we might win some wandering souls to Christ. O the joy of knowing that you are doing just what God wants you to do--winning souls for His Kingdom, from all walks of life; often in houses of ill-fame souls are truly saved and reformed. Often in saloons men and women are impressed by the straightforward message of love brought them. You say, "No use to try." O thou of little faith, wherefore did'st thou doubt? I have much encouragement among the criminal classes, for they are despised and rejected by earthly friends. I might give many more instances, but this is probably sufficient. Let no one think for a moment that these poor unfortunates have no tender feeling, no remorse because of sin. They see their shame and feel the separation from home and loved ones. There must be places to confine criminals and protect the lives and property of other people, but we must remember that behind all the guilt there are precious souls that live through all eternity. Sin is treacherous, the human heart deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; perhaps under unfavorable conditions the heart of the most moral man or woman may generate the evil of the human nature and cause it to show its corruption in crime. All that saves some people now from the felon's cell, or gambler's hell, is that they hold the propensity of their corrupt hearts in with bit and bridle. And thousands tread the earth in freedom, who, if justice could find them out and fasten their guilt upon them, would be in the prison stripes and iron cells. So be not so ready to cry "Crucify him!" "Stone her!" until you can look into your own heart and see that it is pure and clean. CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. Thank God! that I have lived to see the time When the great truth begins at last to find An utterance from the deep heart of mankind, Earnest and clear, that ALL REVENGE IS CRIME! That man is holier than a creed--that all Restraint upon him must consult his good, Hope's sunshine linger on his prison wall, And Love look in upon his solitude. The beautiful lesson which our Saviour taught Through long, dark centuries its way hath wrought Into the common mind and popular thought; And words, to which by Galilee's lake shore, The humble fishers listened with hushed oar, Have found an echo in the general heart, And of the public faith become a living part. * * * * * * * No more the ghastly sacrifices smoke Through the green arches of the Druid's oak; And ye of milder faith, with your high claim Of prophet-utterance in the Holiest name, Will ye become the Druids of _our_ time! Set up your scaffold-altars in our land, And, consecrators of Law's darkest crime, Urge to its loathsome work the hangman's hand? Beware--lest human nature, roused at last, From its peeled shoulder your encumbrance cast, And, sick to loathing of your cry for blood, Rank ye with those who led their victims round The Celt's red altar and the Indian's mound, Abhorred of Earth and Heaven--a pagan brotherhood! --JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. [Illustration: INTERIOR OF CHAPEL-DINING APARTMENT AND ROW OF CELLS, CHESTER, ILL.] CHAPTER IX. Conversion of Desperate Prisoners Prevents a Terrible Mutiny. During the fall of 1888, I was deeply impressed that I should visit the state prison at Waupun, Wis. Following the guidance of the Spirit, I reached the place, after a long journey, on the evening of November third. A dear Christian girl was with me. It was a lovely moonlight night and as we came to the prison, the yard was plainly visible through the heavy iron grating. My companion called my attention to its beauty but my heart was heavy and I could only reply, "Sister, pray! O do pray! There is something awfully wrong here--some danger pending--something terrible!" The officers of the prison welcomed me heartily and the chaplain said: "I am glad you have come and shall be pleased to have you take the service tomorrow morning." (It was Saturday.) His wife entertained us during our stay and after taking us to their own rooms he said: "There's a man here who is a terror to both the officers and prisoners. All are afraid of him. Neither kindness or punishment seems to affect him. I wish you could do something to help him." My reply was: "I cannot do anything, but God can." And earnestly did I look to God for help. The next morning a heavy burden still rested upon my heart and I prayed God to go before me to that prison chapel and lead the meeting Himself and give me the right message. Nor did I plead in vain, for many souls were that day deeply convicted of sin and some were blessedly saved as was clearly manifested a little later. After the sermon my friend and myself sang a hymn and this was greatly used by the Spirit in connection with the sermon in reaching the very depths of hearts. It was the custom to hold an after meeting for thirty minutes, but those who wished to remain were expected to secure cards or tickets, granting permission, on the previous day. That Sunday the chaplain said: "All who wish to remain to this service can do so without a card, as these ladies are here." A hardened looking criminal (whom I afterward learned to be the one to whom the chaplain had referred the night before) arose to retire with a few others. I went to him at once and took him by the hand and urged him to stay, but he said: "No, they don't want me here. This meeting is for good people and I am too bad to stay." But I pleaded: "No, you stay--we want you to stay. I want you to stay." And then he said: "Well, I'll stay for your sake," and sat down. The meeting progressed under the power of the Lord and many arose to say that they had been very wicked but were sorry; and if God could and would forgive them they would lead a different life and be good men. Some told how their dear old mothers were good and had prayed for them and that they wanted us to pray for them and they would serve the Lord. I noticed that many of the men as they arose glanced furtively at the man to whom I have referred and that he sat looking at each one as he spoke and evidently had great influence over the other prisoners. At last he arose and said, "Men, don't be afraid of me. If there is any good in this religion you are talking about, go ahead and get it. I'll stand by you and nobody shall say before me, 'There's your praying man' or 'There's your hypocrite.' I can't be good--I'm too far gone--but I'll stand by the men who are going to do right." All were evidently deeply impressed by his words. As he sat down I went to him and taking him by the hand, I said, "God loves you and He wants to save you and to help you to live for a better world than this." Again he insisted, "I'm too far gone! It's too late for me to try to do right! There's no hope for me," but still I pleaded with him to return unto the Lord--that there was still mercy and pardon for even him--and that he would yield to the Holy Spirit's pleading and become a Christian. He was evidently very deeply convicted of sin and soon arose and with deep feeling he said, "Men, you know what I have been--watch me from today and see what I will be;" and as he sat down, the prisoners cheered. Fearful as to what the outcome might be and somewhat doubting his sincerity, the chaplain quickly closed the service and ordered the men to their cells. They obediently left the chapel, but truly God had wondrously wrought that day in the hearts of many of the most noted and hardened criminals. In the afternoon we went, in company with the chaplain, from cell to cell singing, talking, and praying with the men. The chaplain took me to the cell of the man who had given so much trouble--a man who had taken several lives, and there he gave his heart to God and was converted. PLAN OF THE MUTINY. After all the prisoners had been locked in the cells and the officers had gone to their homes or rooms, only a few guards remaining on duty, he sent for the warden to come to his cell and requested to be taken out into the prison yard. At first the warden refused to do so because of his being known to be such a dangerous character. Still he insisted, saying that he had something to show him. The warden, who had been an army officer and was a very brave man, was only partially convinced but finally consented saying: "I'm not afraid of you--one wrong move and you're a dead man. I have had enough trouble with you. I will take you into the yard, but beware!" Well armed, he marched the man into the yard. There the prisoner led him to the extreme end, and taking away some dry leaves and boards he said to the warden, "Look in." The warden did so and, O, what a sight met his eyes! There, in a hole, were knives, guns, and other weapons! Staggering back he exclaimed, "My ----, where did you get those things?" "It don't matter where I got them," replied the prisoner, "but take me back to my cell and then take away these weapons. I intended to liberate the prison tomorrow morning and would have done so if that woman had not come and preached here today. I am a changed man now." How he got those weapons was a mystery, but he had been long years planning an escape, and had chosen some of the most daring of his fellow prisoners (both those inside and others who had gone out) to aid him! Whether he could have succeeded or not, doubtless many lives either of officers or prisoners or of both would have been lost had the attempt been made. But God wrought so mightily that instead of lives being lost precious souls were saved. Several were converted that day who are still living noble Christian lives. Others may be,--I leave that with God. I do not know whether the leader is still living or not, but have heard that he was dead. At any rate he served his long sentence and claimed to be still a Christian when he left the prison. HAVOC OF SIN. Among the many who were converted during that Sunday morning service in 1888, was a very amiable, intelligent, refined-appearing young man, still in his teens, who was serving under life sentence. He was a real "mother's boy," so young and so small that after his conversion I used to call him my little son. He belonged to one of the best families of the state. His father was a physician and a classmate and friend of the governor. For the sake of his broken-hearted parents, as well as his own, and being satisfied that he was really innocent of the crime of which he had been convicted, I began to pray earnestly for his release. But the case dragged on and though he was pardoned some years later, it was not until after his father died broken-hearted and the mother's health had failed under her weight of sorrow and an aunt had gone insane. During his imprisonment I at one time visited his poor mother in her home. Oh! what havoc sin had wrought! What sorrow! For though I believe him entirely innocent of the crime for which he was condemned, his conviction was the result of his being led astray by evil influences and associates. Oh, that I could warn young men of the dangers of bad company, and that I could warn parents of the dangers of discouraging their children in waiting upon and serving God. When this boy was quite young, he wanted to become a Christian and engage in work for souls, but his parents thought it would be a disgrace, as they were aristocratic, but alas! what snares had the enemy set for him, from which he might have entirely escaped, if they had encouraged him to be true to God. I received many letters from him while he was in prison and quote from two of them. We have not heard from him for years but trust that if alive he is still living for God and Heaven. Waupun, Wis., July 7, 1895. Dear Mother, "In His Name": Since my last letter to you several things of interest have transpired. My attorney went to see the governor and then came to see me. We went over some evidence, and at last I convinced them that I alone can untangle the skein of false evidence. I located a Mrs. N. and she gave an affidavit which would have cleared me at my trial. She said she felt that she had been the cause of all my suffering, but that she went to LaCrosse at the time of my trial and was met at the train by a detective, who told her if she wanted to keep out of serious trouble to take the first train out of the city, and she did so. I expect to soon have another witness to corroborate her statement. Then if I can locate the sister of the deceased and get her evidence I will have a sure case against those who perjured themselves to send me here. Yes, I have placed all my life in God's hands and have begun my work here; but, being a convict, I am much hindered. Therefore, in order to do a more abundant and faithful service, I desire my freedom. If I get it, I will try and enter the Moody Institute and take a course of training for the work. Mrs. K. is anxious to have me do so. Our chaplain will preside over our Christian Endeavor Society. I recently sent out my report to be read at the Boston convention in session the 10th inst., and I ventured, in the light of all events, to place the following motto over our penitentiary: "Wisconsin Prison for Christ" for the coming year, and by the time of the next convention, I hope to be out to represent the Christian Endeavor boys. Brother H. told me of a song you sing. "Some Mother's Child" is the song. Will says it is simply sublime and I ought to have it. Such songs turn the mind back to home and to the memory of fond parents and loved ones. Such pieces are always very sacred to me. God bless you and spare you for many years to come, that you may continue to be a Mother to the prisoners of earth. Write me when you can. I am your loving little son, "In His Name," ALBERT. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., Nov. 27, 1895. My Dear Mother: Your excellent letter duly at hand. Both Brother Colgrove and I were surprised, for we had concluded that God in His infinite love and wisdom had carried you home. I am at work here in the official building, in the office of our dear chaplain. Brother Colgrove is in the hospital across the hall from our office. I have talked with the chaplain about your coming, and he says to tell you to come and stay two weeks. He would like to have you spend two Sundays, and in the meantime we will no doubt, under the present warden, be able to secure the evenings during the week for a series of revival meetings. Lovingly your son in the work, ALBERT. * * * * * Guilt comes not, thundering on the wings of time, With vice-distorted feature and the leer of crime, But like enchanting vision from a pagan dream, Or softly echoed cadence of a whispering stream, She steals upon us gently, with ever-changing art, And usurps an empire--the waiting human heart! Her outward form is beauty, her voice with Passion tense, She only craves the privilege to gratify each sense; All apparent pleasures 'round her path are spread, But, alas! you seize the flower to find its fragrance fled; But still pursuing, row with bated breath, You clasp her to your bosom and--embrace a death! Then, conscience stricken, you the wreck survey, And with shuddering horror--humbly kneel to pray; While the pitying angels on their pinions bear The ever sacred burden of repentant prayer, And almighty love descending reasserts control, And mercy in the guise of grace has won a human _soul_. --_A Prisoner._ CHAPTER X. Remarkable Conversion and Experience of George H. Colgrove. Among the others who were saved that fourth day of November, 1888, at Waupun, Wis., was the very remarkable case of Geo. H. Colgrove. Years afterwards the chaplain said of him, "I regard him as an ideal--one of whom you would expect this report: 'If ever there was a good Christian man on earth he is one.'" At one time he had three Bible classes in prison each week--one in English and two in German--and was the means of the accomplishment of much good in the conversion of prisoners. [Illustration: GEO. H. COLGROVE.] HIS OWN STORY. The story of his life and conversion is given, as nearly as possible, in his own words, but as found in two different statements--some particulars being given in one that were not in the other--in order to make the account as complete as I can. It is very difficult for one in prison, especially, to write of themselves without giving to strangers the impression of either vanity and conceit on the one hand or of craft and deception on the other. Therefore, it is with considerable hesitation that I write. Yet my greet indebtedness to "Mother" Wheaton, who was chosen of God as the agent through whom His wondrous work should be made manifest to the world in my salvation, as also of many others, has at last led me to make the following statement: Just on the verge of manhood, at the age of nineteen, I obtained some _infidel literature_ of the mild stamp, yet scholarly and persuasive withal, containing no harsh criticism of Christian people and principles. This aroused my interest and admiration and led to my obtaining more of a like nature, until under their combined influence my youthful mind was entirely surrendered to such doubts and disbelief as they advocated. This was the pivotal point in my early life from which I started down the deceitful road that leads from peace, happiness and honor into the depths of sorrow, infamy and despair. Having thus imbibed the subtle poison of infidelity, I soon became blinded and indifferent to the rights of my fellowmen and to the enormity of violating divine law. BURGLARY AND MURDER. From this low plane of morality it was easy to enter the path of crime; and this I did, following the precarious calling of burglary for five years. This dark way ended in the midnight gloom of a murderer. Detection, arrest and conviction followed in rapid succession, soon bringing down upon me the crushing weight of a "life sentence." So that on a cold wintry night the officers of the law delivered me within the portals of a living tomb. Four dark, hopeless, weary years succeeded. Yet the Lord in His great mercy had not forgotten me; and when all the world deserted me, then He in His loving kindness took me up and His favor was manifested through the instrumentality of "Mother" Wheaton. During the early years of my incarceration no words could portray my intense and bitter hatred of Christianity and anything pertaining thereto. Feeling that I had sold my soul to the prince of darkness, it enraged me to be reminded of a better life, or a possible Heaven. Burning with the fires of hatred and revenge toward those whom I knew had unjustly deceived and wronged me, my only desire was to escape from here even long enough to rush upon my enemies and hurl their souls into eternity, and then follow them immediately if need be. I continually planned and schemed for the accomplishment of this purpose, and had a plan of escape well defined and was making arrangements to put it into execution, when one bright and beautiful Sunday morning it was announced that a lady preacher was going to hold services in the chapel that day. Though I did not often attend church, yet on this occasion I swore some big round oaths that I would go up and hear the lady talk. That was the morning of November 4, 1888. The beautiful sun that shines alike on mansion and cottage, palace and prison, shone as though a special degree of radiance had been granted to light a benighted soul on its way out of darkness into light. But I entered the chapel with cold indifference, drawn only by curiosity--at least so far as I knew; but results proved that God was leading. I awaited developments; _and they came_. Our prison chaplain introduced "Mother" Wheaton, whom I had never seen before, and announced the services as "entirely in her hands." She gave us a short, earnest, impressive address; then she and the sister who came with her sang "Meet me there." During the singing I heard an accompanying strain, low and inexpressibly sweet, the like of which I had never heard nor imagined. The two sounds harmonized, yet were distinct, but oh, how lovely! Words fail to convey the most distant idea of their soothing and attractive power. The thought flashed through my mind, "That is delicious music to fall upon ears that have listened to the sound of murderous guns." Suddenly and with all the vividness of continuous lightning dispelling dense darkness, revealing all surrounding objects distinctly, the awful depth and blackness of my iniquitous career blazed up before my mental view, like a clear and definite painting of each act in my wicked life--portrayed on canvas by a master hand and set in clearest rays of the noonday sun. And at the same time there was given an assurance of forgiveness, if accepted then. Surprise, consternation and intense fear came with this revelation of myself to myself, as my depraved spiritual condition was, for the first time, fully realized. Also as distinctly and positively it was granted me to know that _my last opportunity_ for divine favor was before me. Accept and be saved or reject and be _eternally lost_! Such was the alternative. Although every nerve thrilled in rebellion against Christianity and a thousand obstacles seemed to intervene, rendering a change in my course of life impossible, yet I dared not refuse that stern, terrific ultimatum, "_Your last opportunity_," and before its mighty mandate my proud, headstrong, sin-burdened soul _surrendered unto Jesus of Nazareth_. I wished to fly from the room, but could not. I felt frightened at the power which was mastering me, and thought in a confused way of the ridicule which would be heaped upon me, of my intended escape, and of revenge upon my foes. Ah! what? Revenge? No, no revenge now. No, no. That was all gone. The evil desire had thus suddenly been removed without my knowledge, and in its stead there reigned in my heart and in the depths of my soul a feeling of forgiveness and peace, both between them and myself and between myself and my God. I said, "Surely the Lord has visited me this day; for I came in here a devil in human form, and now my dark sins are forgiven and I am free. Glory to God!" The chaplain and warden were nearly thunderstruck to learn that the low, miserable, worthless wretch, the hopeless vagabond, Colgrove, had been brought to the foot of the cross; still they must have entertained but little hope of my remaining in the straight and narrow path that leadeth unto life. How could they? They had not heard that strange music which had floated in on my soul. They could not feel the awakening which was permeating and ringing through the corridors of my heart, nor could they perceive the realizing sense of divine favor which was so clear to my own consciousness. That very week it was impressed on my mind that I must at once commence the study of the Holy Scriptures for work in the cause of God and devote the remainder of my life to leading my fellowmen, and especially prisoners, into the light of Calvary. I said, "What will it all amount to--I a friendless prisoner, doomed for life?" An answering whisper came, "Friendless, with Jesus for your friend? Study the Word." So in blindness, with fear and trembling, doubts and misgivings, I took from my shelf in the prison cell the neglected, despised and dust-covered Bible and commenced studying the Word to the best of my ability, with none but God to direct or assist me except a hasty explanation now and then from the chaplain as he passed on his hurried rounds through the cell rooms. I immediately destroyed the implements of destruction and escape which I had made during two years previous to my conversion. Instead of dirks and saws, my hands now grasped the Bible and the cross; and thanks be unto Jesus of Nazareth, they still retain their hold, and I believe with ever increasing strength. The way thus far has been rendered more pleasant by the hand of the Lord than I then thought possible amid such dark surroundings. With an ever realizing sense of my unworthiness I have been kindly led in the way of life and am eleven years nearer my eternal Home; while in my soul there is the "peace of God which passeth all understanding" which is an additional evidence of the faithful care and guidance of Jehovah. During the last decade the motto of my life has been, as through future years it shall ever be (Isaiah 26:4): "Trust ye in the Lord forever, for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength." I know not whether earthly freedom will ever be mine, but I do know that, if it is His holy and righteous will, it will be given me; and I know that it matters little, for earthly joys must soon fade away, and down at the close of the earthly journey Jesus is waiting for me. And with my weak and faltering hand laid in His strong and mighty one I shall walk through the dark waters of the Jordan of death, and with Him kindly leading His rescued child we shall enter with joy and eternal thanksgiving the beautiful "city whose maker and builder is God." The following extracts from letters written me at different times after his conversion will, I believe, interest the reader: Waupun, Wis., Sept. 5, 1891. Mrs. E. Wheaton: Dear Christian Friend: No news received since you were here has afforded me so much pleasure as the announcement of your return. It was through your earnest work that I was converted. When you came here before there was, I presume, no more sinful, hopeless, hardened, miserable wretch inside these walls than myself. When I entered the prison chapel that Sabbath morning, November 4, 1888, I for one came to observe, sneer and laugh. But while you were singing that glorious anthem, "Meet Me There," power from above opened my spiritual vision to see the horrible condition of my soul, and so enabled me to realize my great need of divine favor. I thank God and will bless His holy name forever that in His infinite wisdom and kindness He brought me inside these walls and sent you, His chosen instrument, to lead my wandering sin-darkened soul into the path that leadeth unto life eternal. Amid the trials, cares and vexations of the passing days I often look up to the blue vault of heaven's dome and rejoice at the thought that the flying moments and hastening hours are bringing me nearer, ever nearer to the blessed hour when I shall meet Jesus face to face and clasp His rescuing hand, never from Him to part. Ah, never to part! Thanks unto God most high. May the Lord ever bless you, my dear spiritual Mother. Good-bye. G. H. C. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., Oct. 29, 1891. My Dear Spiritual Mother: Your kind letter most gladly received. I am surprised that our boys do not write more frequently to you. They often inquire as to your whereabouts and health and ever have a good word for you and your work. Even many who do not care for their soul's salvation speak favorably of Mrs. Wheaton. God knows how much your letters cheer me and brighten the prison gloom. After twenty years of infidelity, with all its direful train of evils, leading on from bad to worse, the prison gate threw its protective barrier between society and one who had become almost a devil in human form, thus showing that a just God had taken account of my iniquitous course and had said, "Thus far and no farther." Then followed four years of hopeless misery, borne with the sullen stolidity of despair, while in thought, intent and purpose I sank lower and lower into the horrible cesspool of criminality, and farther and farther away from God. Then, in His infinite mercy, He sent you with the message of salvation, which He crowned with His invincible power of conviction and a realization of my lost and hopeless condition. My prayers shall ever be with you, dear sister, and if I might send a message by you to all the prisoners from the pine-shadowed shores of Maine to the far Alaskan mountains it would be this: "Ye captives, look aloft to the Star of Bethlehem, and whatever betide, do not fail to grasp the hand stretched out to you from Calvary." Hoping to hear from you soon and praying God to ever bless you I remain, Yours for God and humanity, G. H. COLGROVE. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., Sept. 4, 1892. My Dear Mother: How many, many times I have thanked our kind Father above and praised His Holy Name for sending you to our prison gate on that November night in 1888. Three years and ten months ago today the radiant light of Calvary, fresh from the throne of the Infinite, came, through your ministrations, down into the dark recesses of my sin-burdened heart and crime-laden soul, while mingled with the music of the sweet hymn you and your companion were singing the heavenly strains of an angelic accompaniment so entrancingly and irresistibly soothing and lovely that my hardened heart melted like frost before the noonday sun. Can you believe that I stayed to that after-meeting when every nerve in my body thrilled to get up and run out of the chapel? Yes, I desired to flee; yet an irresistible power restrained me. I know now it was Satan urging me to flee away from there; for he, of course, readily understood that he was in danger of losing an active member from his minions of evil. But thanks be unto Jehovah, who ruleth over all, Satan failed. God and His servant held the field and a soul was redeemed from death. Glory to God forever and ever. Amen. The years from that time have been so pleasant and bright, though spent where sorrow, misery and gloom were on every hand, as I journey on to our beautiful home everlasting, which Jesus has gone to prepare. "Filled with delight, my raptured soul Would here no longer stay, Though Jordan's waves around me roll Fearless I launch away." "When peace like a river attends on my way Where sorrows like sea billows roll, Whatever my lot, thou halt taught me to say It is well, it is well, with my soul." "When we've been there ten thousand years, Bright shining as the sun, We've no less days to sing his praise Than when we first begun." Yes, since your first visit here my bark of life has been "standing away" on her new course over the sea of life, and she is now nearly four years nearer the heavenly harbor, where destructive gales of temptation will never sweep the white sails of purity from the "masts of purpose," nor break the "yard arms" of effort, nor rolling breakers of iniquity dash her upon the rocky shore of eternal ruin. Mother, please give my kindest wishes to all who are helping you in the great work which Jesus established while on earth and which He left for us to continue until the resounding trump and advancing angel hosts proclaim His return to our earth to claim His own and crown the redeemed. When the sullen and long silent graves shall release their victims and the long absent fleet of the lower ocean shall again whiten the seas with their snowy sails and bring their passengers and crews to join the vast congregation assembled before the judgment seat of Christ. Ever yours, G. H. C. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., Jan. 14, 1895. Dear Mother: Your kind and most welcome letter very gladly received. It is ever one of my chief pleasures to hear from you. There was a man here by the name of William L., who led a very godless life, being extremely profane. During the past summer he was transferred to the prison hospital. On September 4 I was placed in charge of the sick ward as assistant steward, and I found this man L. in here when I took charge of this department. He had been a bitter enemy of mine for several years, as he was utterly opposed to Christianity, and he tried to utterly disregard me. I continued to treat him kindly, which was, of course, a Christian duty which we owe to our Heavenly Father, and in a short time he grew into the habit of calling on me for favors, and as he sank lower I spent the night with him. One evening he spoke of you and said: "Oh! I wish I could hear 'Mother' Wheaton sing one of her sweet hymns." During three days and nights he continued to speak of you. The last day on which he mentioned you was in the morning about 8 o'clock. While sitting in his chair beside the bed he said very earnestly and emphatically: "I would give a dollar to hear 'Mother' Wheaton sing one of her sweet hymns just now--right here and now." About midnight that night he sat in his bed looking upward for some time in silence and then dropped his head in a most dejected manner and in mournful tone exclaimed, "No, no, no." The intense sadness of his manner made my heart ache for him. After that hour he appeared to have given up all hope. The death chill came on while he was in the rocking chair, and he asked me to assist him into bed and send for the prison physician. He expressed himself well satisfied with the treatment he had had while sick, and then, seeing it was too hard work for him to talk, he relapsed into silence, while I offered a silent prayer for the departing soul. I write this explanation because of the intense desire he had to see you and hear you sing once more. The Christian Endeavor still exists by the power and blessing of God, and my Bible class is continuing and some good has been accomplished through its instrumentality. Rev. B. has left us. Our new spiritual guide and counselor is Rev. Simerville, an earnest Christian, whose influence bids fair to lead many hitherto careless ones to turn their footsteps in the straight and narrow path that leads to life. The beacon light to Calvary cheers us on every day to our eternal home. Meet me there. Good-bye, Mother. God bless you now and ever. G. H. COLGROVE. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., Nov. 28, 1895. Dearest Mother: Your kind and welcome letter gladly received. Brother Albert wrote you yesterday and I sincerely hope the invitation extended to you by the chaplain and contained in Albert's letter, will be promptly acted upon and that we shall soon behold your face among us once more and again hear the songs of Zion fall from your lips. Albert is librarian and the chaplain's assistant, while this child is assistant steward at the hospital; thus we shall be able to meet you frequently if you will spend a couple of weeks with us, and a forty-day month can be used to good advantage in Waupun and visiting among the bad boys like us, and your many good friends in this locality. The Lord has given us a Christian man for warden and I can tell you, dear Mother, we find that the warden, the chaplain and the Lord God Almighty make a strong combination. If "Mother Wheaton" will come and join them the quartette will be complete and this prison can receive such a baptism of grace that his satanic majesty will hate the very name of Waupun. God's blessing ever be yours and hoping to meet you once more this side the golden gate, I am your spiritual son, G. H. COLGROVE. The following short extract is from a letter to a brother who had become interested in Brother Colgrove and had written him: Waupun, Wis., April 30, 1897. Mr. H----, Dear Christian Brother. Your kind letter received, and I most sincerely hope it may be preliminary to a long continued and beneficial correspondence. It will ever be a pleasure to hear from you, so please write when convenient, and I will do as well as my adverse surroundings will permit. I am pleased to learn of the continued successful work of dear "Mother Wheaton," and it is a source of great encouragement to me to meet and converse with Sister Kelley. We shall undoubtedly have her for a spiritual leader when our toil-worn "Mother" has been summoned to her rest and reward by the great Master. Please write soon and often to Your friend, G. H. COLGROVE. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., Oct. 25, 1897. Dear Mother: Your kind and most welcome letter gladly received and the unexpected photo was a very delightful surprise. A thousand thanks. I have many, many times wished I had a picture of the one whom God selected as my helper to lead me from the dark valley of despair in which I was then dwelling up into the radiant light of Calvary. November 4th next will complete nine years of the homeward journey since Jesus set my face Zionward, so we are nine years nearer the heavenly shore and from the watch tower of the golden city the beacon light beams bright and fair, welcoming us into the port of peace. Our duties are pressing, time is flying, the whistle and signal bells are sounding, and I must close for this time. Kindly and sincerely yours, G. H. COLGROVE. In 1897, as indicated in the two following letters especial effort was made to secure Brother Colgrove's pardon, which I believe would have been successful but for lack of wisdom on the part of some of his friends. As it was Brother C. was doomed to spend the remainder of his life in bondage. Waupun, Wis., Oct. 10, 1897. Dear Mother: When you were here you offered to call on the Governor of Wisconsin in my behalf. I thank you a thousand times for that kindness. Since you were here I have been promoted to the position of prison librarian. That places me in the Chaplain's office, and it is the position occupied by the Washburn banker when you were here. I have received a letter from Mrs. Worcester in Natal, South Africa, lately. It was just thirty-five days in coming through. It was intensely interesting. One of our boys died last night and two life members have died since you were here. One was a Christian. Dear Mother, the enclosed card shows date, locality and offense. I have been here over twelve years, and have a clear prison record. My Christian work you are well versed in, as you were God's chosen instrument for my conversion. Nine years of Christian life on Nov. 4th next. If possible please inform me when you will be in Madison, and may our Heavenly Father bless you, and crown your effort with success. My papers are all in the executive chambers at Madison. I have recommendations from many parties, and from my trial judge, Hon. A. Scott Sloan. My jury did not support my application, but the judge did. He is now dead, but he gave me a splendid letter, and it should be just as effective. I shall have to ask you to wait for your reward, until freedom comes to me, and then you will not be forgotten. I hope Sister Kelley can accompany you on your Madison trip. I received a letter from your friend Miss Josephine Cowgill, Jerusalem, with several cards of Palestine flowers; those that grew in Mount Olivet I have framed and they are hanging in our office. I am on duty from 5 a. m. to 9 p. m. Sincerely and kindly yours, G. H. COLGROVE. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., Nov. 7, 1897. Dear Mother: Inclosed please find copy of letter just received from Executive Clerk. It will be useful perhaps as a reference when you reach Madison. The entire recommendation from my judge is there as is stated herein. My judge is now deceased. A letter received today from ex-Chaplain T. J. Brown, now of Lancaster, Wisconsin, informs me that he will gladly meet you at Madison, and assist you in any way possible. One of our officers is also making arrangements with a Madison party to join you at that time. So we seem well favored and I regard it as indicative of divine favor, for all the present participants are Christians and we may therefore hope for especial favor from our heavenly Father. The Lord be with you in all your ways. As ever, Sincerely yours, G. H. COLGROVE. The enclosed letter read as follows: Executive Chamber, Madison, Wis., Nov. 4, 1897. Mr. G. H. Colgrove, State Prison, Waupun. My Dear Sir: I have looked up the matter about which you wrote me on Oct. 21st, and find there is a letter from Judge Sloan among your papers. This letter says, among other things: "If it be true that Mr. Colgrove has behaved himself well during his imprisonment and has thoroughly reformed, I think he ought to be pardoned." Yours truly, WM. J. ANDERSON, Private Secretary. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., May 1, 1901. Dear Mother and Sister: Your kind letters of 24th ult, duly at hand, and as you wrote in unison, I hope this companion letter will be acceptable. I am pleased to learn that your book work is progressing and will soon be launched upon the restless sea of activity, and accomplishing good work under the divine blessing, leading souls into the light that never shall fade while Eternity rolls its unending years. Sorry that so much sickness and suffering has fallen to the lot of each of you, but rejoice that it is passed and can not assail you again in this world, and in the world to come "There shall be no more pain; for the former things are passed away." There, the cheeks which we here beheld pale with suffering and tear-stained by sorrow, will be mantling with the rich glow of everlasting health and radiant in the matchless loveliness of deathless bloom. A refreshing rain has broken a long drouth here, and the world looks lovely and sparkling in the golden sunlight this beautiful May morning. As we behold the face of the earth beautified by the hand of God, it is a source of regret that all this harmony of nature, this smiling peace and bloom, is marred and clouded by the dark stain which iniquity has brought into this fair world; and the sad, stern fact confronts us, that "The dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty." But it is true. Peace in its entirety, and purity in divine perfection, are fled from this world, and we cannot possess them in full until we have passed beyond Jordan's cold wave and through the dark portals which intervene between this sin-darkened land and the glory crowned hills of Immanuel's Land. But it is a soul-cheering fact that we are daily and hourly nearing that blest clime where sin and sorrow can no more cast the cloud of estrangement between us and the Divine Master who arose triumphant over sin and death and in His eternal majesty and power has gone to prepare for our home coming. Though our barque of life may be tossed by violent seas of strife, and meet with disaster in various forms, so long as we know that Jesus is awaiting us in the Harbor of Peace we are not dismayed by the howling blast nor raging billows of earthly storm, but relying on His unfailing promise we keep in mind the coming greeting of the great Master and remember "By cool Siloam's shady rill How fair the lily grows; How sweet the breath beneath the hill Of Sharon's dewy rose." Yes, Mother, I too am glad and thankful that the Lord sent you to Waupun and into our chapel on that glorious autumn morning, Nov. 4, 1888. Surely the good work then accomplished has not been extinguished, although Satan has exerted himself to cast dark clouds of misunderstanding, strife and contention over it all. But the light of Calvary shines amid the gloom, the heavenly sheen of the cross of Christ sheds a halo of undying and imperishable glory over all, that like the pillar of fire that led the hosts of Israel through the wilderness, will lead and sustain each weary heart, until we arrive on Jordan's banks, and raise the song of everlasting triumph, as we view our eternal home. With kind regards to each, and best wishes for your happiness and welfare, I remain, Sincerely and kindly yours, G. H. COLGROVE. The following letter from a dear sister who is deeply interested in prison work is inserted here because of its reference to Brother Colgrove: Minneapolis, Minn., Dec. 19, 1900. My Dear Mother Wheaton: I cannot tell you how very glad I was to hear from you; and to know that you have been blest all along the way, is indeed good news. Some one asked the question, "What is the best thing that can be said of a friend?" Many answers were given, one good one being "He rests me," but the best answer was "He inspires me." This can be truly said of you. No one more than yourself inspires me to live a true Christian life. I do want to be ready at all times to serve Christ. "Just ready to do His bidding, If only I do His will. Then I will be ready to meet him When shadows flee away Ready to serve Him perfectly When dawns eternal day." Last week we had another meeting at the Soldiers' Home. You cannot imagine how we missed you. So many of the sick men inquired for you. One said if you would only come back he would shout for joy. Of course it made me very happy to know that they had received such a blessing from your talk. This same man said he had prayed for you every night. The young man that called for you to come out to see him in the jail was sent to St. Cloud for two and a half years. The poor colored man was sent to State's Prison at Stillwater for five years. The strangest thing has happened since the last time Mrs. ----was at Waupun. Mr. Colgrove's wife, whom he had not heard from for twelve years, has been to see him. His young lady daughter, whom he thought dead, is living. Is not that precious news? I am sure Mr. Colgrove must be the happiest man inside of these walls just now. Had a good letter from S. yesterday. I have Christmas cards for all of the women and some for the men in the prison. Must say good bye. Your sincere friend and sister in Christ, GERTRUDE M. From an editorial written by Brother Colgrove while editor of the Christian Endeavor Department of the prison paper published at Waupun, we clip the following: Perhaps our uninformed friends may infer that we advocate the abolition of all punishment in penal institutions. Not at all, brother; nothing so absurd. But we do claim and will maintain to our dying hour that punishment should be judicious, and only when the culprit will not heed any humane treatment nor be influenced by admonition. When punishment and imposition are used at the mere caprice of some low down scoundrel, instead of discretionary treatment, at the behest of a man of sense, reason and upright principle, the effect has ever been, and will ever be, to develop the worst traits inherent in the nature of the individual whom the laws have already pronounced unsafe, and when released, the consequences of that development, are going to fall on some innocent and unoffending member of the law-abiding class. When we consider the vast amount of mischief which one criminal can accomplish in an incredibly short space of time, have we not cause to be thankful that all over our land are self-sacrificing souls, brave men and women, who are determined in the face of all opposition, ridicule and every evil, to use every possible means within their power, to elevate and reform all of the criminal class, who may by any means be led from the old path of sorrow and misery to themselves and danger to the peace and well-being of their brother men? Men and women who will place in the hand of the prisoner the Bible, in exchange for the revolver, dagger and bottle? The citizen in his quiet home, who is unacquainted with the prison systems of the various forms which are being used in different states, depends entirely upon the laws of the land to secure him in the peaceful possession of his accumulated earnings. But experience proves that human law alone and unassisted by higher power _is not sufficient to guard the home from intrusion and desecration by those who have no regard for right principles_. The man who has criminal tendencies, and is not striving to restrain them in conformity to divine law, will laugh the human power to scorn, and trample the law of man under his feet whenever there seems an opportunity of financial gain thereby. _The man who has been led to observe and rightly regard the divine law will have no occasion for inducement for infringing on the laws of the land._ Therefore these reformers, both clergy and laity, _are striking at the very root of crime, when they lift the fallen out of the slough of vice and iniquity_, and _turn his face toward the higher life and the city "whose maker and builder is God."_ During the fall of 1903 I received several letters telling me that Brother George Colgrove could live but a short time. In December, 1903, I visited again the prison at Waupun. I found Brother Colgrove in the Prison Hospital, very weak in body, but peaceful and resting in the Saviour's love. Once more he related to the young sister who was with me the wonderful story of his conversion; and how for over fifteen years he had been kept by the power of God, saved and filled with love for God and souls. We knelt and prayed with him and sang his favorite hymns and as I bade him farewell he said, "Sister, if we never meet on earth again I will meet you in Heaven." That was our final parting. Brief notes from the chaplain and warden informed me that Brother Colgrove died February 19, 1904, and that funeral services (an unusual thing) were held in the prison chapel February 21. The warden's letter contains this testimony. "He died a Christian." Bless God for his sustaining grace that is sufficient even amid the trials of a prison life and enabled this one of his children to prove true to God for so many years, inside of prison walls! O how wonderful is the power of God to seek and to save that which was lost! [Illustration: SMELTER AND WORK-SHOPS, CHESTER, ILL.] CHAPTER XI. Work in Stockades and Prison Camps in Southern States. During the first years of my missionary work I was led to stay much of the time in the South. I was learning lessons in patience, faith and humility before God. The cross was very heavy. In many places I was not allowed to stay with white people if I preached to the negroes. THE RACE QUESTION ran high and the color line was very closely drawn. In those days I could not understand why this should be. I was taught in the word of God that all nations were made of one blood and that God was the Father of us all. I was ignorant and the views of the southern people were new to me. In many cases, perhaps, I offended them when I might have avoided it. I knew no better and they often thought me obstinate. But I was only obeying God the very best I knew in trying to keep immortal souls out of hell, and I knew that I must obey God though all the people should misunderstand and misjudge me. I found nearly all of the prisoners of the South confined in Stockades and Prison Camps. In many cases the prisons themselves were almost empty. The following are from among the many letters of introduction and recommendation, received while laboring in the southern states: * * * * * Montgomery, Ala., Dec. 30, 1884. Col. J. T. Milner, Superintendent. Dear Sir: This will be handed you by Mrs. Wheaton, who is a prison missionary. She has been having religious exercises at the various prisons in the state, and I respectfully request that you will permit her to do so at New Castle. Yours truly, R. H. DAWSON, President Board of Inspectors of Prisons. * * * * * Raleigh, N. C., June 10, 1893. Gulf, N. C., C. F. & Y. V. Railroad, Halifax farm (near Weldon); Captain Bradshaw (near Weldon); Captain McMurray (near Weldon, on canal); Captain McIver (near Tillery); Captain Hamlet (near Tillery); Captain Lashley (near Castle Hayne). The superintendent desires that every courtesy be shown Mrs. Wheaton and Mrs. ----, and that they be given opportunities to talk to the prisoners. JNO. M. FLEMING, Warden. * * * * * Rusk, Texas, Jan. 9, 1888. Mr. George Egbart, Coling Camp. Dear Sir: This will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, prison missionary, who is making a tour through southern prisons. She passed the day with me yesterday in the prison. I was pleased with her manner and with her talk to the men. She wants the privilege of talking with your men today at the dinner hour. I think you will be pleased with her. Please give her the necessary attention and may God bless you, bless her effort, and bless the men. J. C. WOOLAM, Chaplain. * * * * * EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT OF ALABAMA. Convict Bureau. Pratt Mines, Ala., Nov. 30, 1889. Mr. Thomas C. Dawson, Warden of State Prison, Wetumptka, Ala. Dear Tom: This letter will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton and Mrs. ----, two ladies who are devoting their lives to the benefit of convicts all over the United States. These good ladies have done much good, and they should be treated with every consideration. Give them rooms and access to your convicts at both prisons. I hope a visit from them will result in much good. Your Father, R. H. DAWSON, President Board of Inspectors. * * * * * Huntsville Penitentiary, Huntsville, Texas, Jan. 13, 1892. Capt. Abercrombie, Wynne Farm. Dear Sir: This will introduce to you Mrs. Wheaton, who wishes to talk to your men in a body. Any courtesies shown her will be appreciated by me. Yours truly, J. G. SMITHER, Asst. Supt. * * * * * STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA. Executive Department, Raleigh, June 9, 1893. Hon. A. Deazer, Supt. State's Prison. Dear Sir: This introduces Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, prison evangelist. I have assured her that you will grant any request she may make not in conflict with prison rules. Very respectfully yours, ELIAS CARR, Governor. * * * * * STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA. Executive Department, Raleigh, June 15, 1893. His Excellency, B. R. Tillman, Governor of South Carolina, Columbia, S. C. Dear Sir: I have the honor and it gives me pleasure to state that Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton and Mrs. ----, prison evangelists, have held religious services at the penitentiary farm and at the penitentiary and have given satisfaction to the authorities in both places, and it is thought that their services were productive of great good. With highest esteem, I am, Very truly yours, ELIAS CARR, Governor. * * * * * STATE OF ALABAMA. Executive Department, Montgomery, April 3, 1896. To all Wardens of Prisons within the State: Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the bearer hereof, is a prison evangelist, and well recommended as a good lady. She is desirous of holding services in the prisons. Any courtesy shown her will be proper and commendable. WILLIAM C. OAKES, Governor. * * * * * STATE OF GEORGIA. Penitentiary Department, Atlanta, Georgia, June 30, 1893. To the Captains in Charge of Convict Camps in Georgia: I desire that each of you extend to these ladies, Mrs. Wheaton and Mrs. ---- any courtesies possible during their stay with you, that they may be given opportunities to talk to the men and women in your charge. I will particularly appreciate any kindness shown them. The governor requests that they be shown courtesies. GEORGE H. JONES, Principal Keeper. * * * * * Penitentiary, Columbia, S. C., August 11, 1893. Mother Wheaton. Dear Madam: It affords me much pleasure to say that we were glad to have you come down to the prison and visit other camps connected therewith, and we believe that you have done lasting good among the prisoners. Yours truly, W. A. NEAL, Superintendent. Accompanying the above was a list of the convict camps connected with the prison with the following order: The sergeant in charge of the above camps will please admit Mrs. E. R. Wheaton and Mrs. ---- and allow them to hold religious service at the camp with the convicts. W. A. NEAL. * * * * * STATE OF FLORIDA. Executive Department, Tallahassee, April 21, 1894. Messrs. West Bros., West Farm, Fla. Gentlemen: This will be presented by Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, prison evangelist, who is visiting the convict camps of the state. Any courtesies and kindness extended to her will be duly appreciated and reciprocated by, Yours very respectfully, D. LANG, Private Secretary. * * * * * STATE OF GEORGIA. Penitentiary Department, Atlanta, Ga., March 21, 1896. To the Captains in Charge of Convict Camps in Georgia: I desire that each of you extend to Mrs. Wheaton and Mrs. ---- any courtesies possible during their stay with you, that they may have an opportunity to talk with the prisoners. Any kindness shown them will be appreciated by this office. JAKE C. MOORE, Assistant Keeper Penitentiary. * * * * * Executive Department, Governor's Office, Jackson, Miss. Mr. J. J. Evans, Jr., Penitentiary. Dear Sir: Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, who is interested in reform work, desires to talk to the convicts. Any courtesy shown her will be highly appreciated. Very truly yours, J. J. COMAN, Governor's Sec. A STOCKADE. Many inquire of me what a stockade or prison camp is. I will here explain. A man, or party of men, lease or hire from the state the labor of a certain number of prisoners for a certain length of time. They are "doing time," as the prisoners say, for the state. Both men and women are thus leased out. Their labor is used in clearing up land, working in cotton and sugar cane fields, in mines, in turpentine camps, in building railroads, on brick-yards, in phosphate works or in any place where a company can work together. Their food consists mostly of swine's flesh and corn bread made with meal, water and salt. The stockades are large rough wooden buildings, erected by the lessee, in which the prisoners are confined at night. The men are generally chained by one ankle to a heavy chain which reaches through the center of the building from one end to the other, being securely fastened to strong posts. They usually sleep on the floor in the same clothing worn through the day--which is generally very scant and poor; but sometimes they may have a bunk and a rough dirty blanket. The stockade is guarded by men with loaded guns, and besides this every camp is abundantly supplied with great, strong bloodhounds. And woe to the unfortunate criminal that must be tracked and caught by them! Each prison camp has its mode of punishment for those who break the rules or fail to do as much as is allotted to them. The keepers of past years were often very cruel in their treatment, and seemed to enjoy the punishment which they inflicted upon those under their control. These poor souls had no way of redress. If they should speak of the cruelty, they would be treated far worse; the penalty for such a complaint being a severe whipping. Oh, God, how long shall the cry of the prisoner be heard? Lord Jesus, come quickly! Each camp has its officers, guards, etc., among whom is the whipping boss. And God pity the man or woman who falls into his cruel hands. There is a board of prison inspectors, the president of which travels from place to place looking after the interests of all. The conditions of the stockades are much improved since I first went among them years ago. I have gone to the governors of different states and pleaded for the betterment of conditions in the prisons. Especially have I asked that the women might have better treatment and not be whipped so brutally for slight offenses or violation of the rules which the lessee is allowed to make. Upon one occasion I wrote the governor of a certain state as follows: Washington, D. C., May 10, 18--. To His Excellency the Governer of ----. Dear Brother: I write in behalf of the prisoners in your state prison at B. M. I find them greatly in need of food and clothing. The sick prisoners are suffering with hunger. I held services there one week ago today, and went into the kitchen myself to see what there was for sixteen sick men and those who are supposed to wait on them, and I found only one half gallon of milk a day for all, one chicken, very poor bread, no vegetables, no fruits, and no seasoning but salt. Who is to blame for this? I find you feed those prisoners (miners and farmers) on seven cents a day. It is an outrage, a sin, a curse on this nation, the suffering you men, you governors or officers, at least allow to exist in prison walls. You permit those men in B. M. prison to be whipped for not furnishing daily from three to five small car loads of coal each, and feed them on food not sufficient to give them strength to perform that amount of labor. God help you, my friend! As you are the first officer of the state you should see that this inhuman treatment is stopped. Forty men were whipped in one day on two occasions, and on an average there are from six to eight every day. These men are not murmuring, I gave them no chance to tell me of this. But the officers and their wives told me. I saw with my own eyes. The water in those mountains is very impure and many of the men have died from mere neglect. Many more will die soon unless something is done for their relief. Governor, for God's sake, please look after the temporal interests of your prisoners. I would have come to you face to face and talked these things over if possible. Recently I have been to see governors of several of the different states. They are not aware of the treatment of convicts in their own states, but I have seen it all these years of my pilgrimage. The awful suffering I see is just breaking my heart. Poor lost men and women! Who is responsible for the sin and crime and suffering? Largely the saloon. Men and women are born in sin and conceived in iniquity; shut in for years and years for some little crime, and subjected to the hardest labor, serving out sentence in prison under whip and lash. It is inhuman and unjust. What will God Almighty require of you and me in the day of judgment, For surely we must meet it and answer for our stewardship here on earth. May God help me to deal faithfully and do my duty by all classes--to those in authority as well as those in bondage. Now, understand me, I have no personal grievances to bring to you. It is simply mismanagement and the desire to run these prisons on as cheap a scale as possible, to save money for the State and hold position; and something must be done soon. I told the men to be obedient and faithfully discharge their duty as prisoners. In all my work in every state and territory, Europe, Mexico and Canada, I have never had any trouble; and can go again to all these prisons where I have held services. What object have I? None, but the good of the souls and bodies of those in bonds. They are my children, given me by the Lord, and I feel as much compassion for them as you would for your child. All the officers and people were kind to me and treated me with the utmost respect. All I desire is that you obey God and cause this starving and brutal treatment to cease. Please say nothing of this letter but investigate for yourself and see if these things are not so. Two meals a day (and very little then) for a sick man is not enough. Yours for humanity, MRS. E. R. WHEATON, Prison Evangelist. The following is an extract from the letter I received in reply to the above, from the general manager of the prison mines referred to: ----, ----., ---- 22, 18--. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. Dear Madam: Your letter of recent date addressed to Gov. ---- was referred to me. I regret exceedingly that you did not call at my office on the occasion of your visit. While there is a great deal of truth in your letter there is much that indicates that you were innocently misled by statements of convicts. I know that you must be a good woman, that your heart is in your work, and from your wide experience, amply capable of advising and instructing one like me. In undertaking the task of uniting to bring our prison systems in this state to a humane basis, we have done more than you can understand. Had you been familiar with the conditions during the past thirty years under the lease system you would realize that much has been accomplished even in the short time we have been at work. I realize that more is yet to be done. But "Rome was not built in a day." The public has got to be educated as well as individuals in immediate charge. I hope therefore you will be patient, and will be only too glad to see and confer with you should you again visit us here. In the meantime I beseech your earnest sympathy and prayers for proper guidance in our work, for I assure you that it is one that requires such moral support as only such as you can fully understand and appreciate. With great respect, I am, Yours, etc., ----. PLEA FOR WOMEN CONVICTS. In some instances women are made to do the farm work, work in brick yards, and to do other kinds of hard work. At one place in the south the women cultivated a thousand acres of cotton, doing other farming and caring for the stockade, horses, mules, cows and hogs and having only men to guard them. They were not allowed a woman matron to care for them when they were sick or dying. I found them in rags and tatters and looking almost like wild beasts. I went to the governor of that state and pleaded with him for my own sex. I begged him to protect the poor women from such cruel treatment and brutal punishment. I asked him to have them taken in from the farm, where they were clearing up the land and compelled to carry logs, to the state prison at the Capitol which was nearly empty, and given proper work and humane treatment. [Illustration: WOMAN CONVICT AT WORK.] Once upon my knees before a governor I begged him to take the women from the stockades to the prison walls at the capital, and place them under the care of a good matron and give them such work as women should do. Also that they be properly clothed and fed and taught morals and religion. I said, "For the sake of young men which you now employ to control and guard these women, won't you do this?" (I had found several young babes, born in this place.) He promised that he would see that this was done. But a year later I found these women still in the fields laboring and suffering as before. I again went to the governor. He was now so changed I hardly knew him. I said to him, "Well, governor, I see the affairs of state wear heavily upon you. You look ten years older than you did a year ago when I was here. Why did you not fulfill your promise to me about transferring those women from the stockades to the prison here at the capital? I promised that I would not make public the condition in which I found them if you would look after them. You promised to have them treated better, but it is just the same now." He was surprised at my knowledge of affairs and my firmness and tried to excuse himself, and said that he had brought some of them away to the prison. Upon one occasion in later years, in a place I had visited for some years, I found that an old colored woman had been tied to a log and severely whipped on the bare flesh. The other women could not bear to see her so cruelly treated, and silently cried unto God to take the cruel captain who had ordered her so punished out of the way. He did so; for when I arrived there in a few days he was struck with death and soon died. God did not allow him to compel the whipping of any more women. I think that upon only one occasion was I ever treated other than kindly and with respect by any governor. In this case I insisted that the women prisoners, especially, should be more humanely treated. The governor refused to take any action regarding the cruelties practiced but said, "Go to the Principal Keeper." I replied, "I have just come from the Principal Keeper and he sent me to you, Governor. These captains are not permitted to strike one blow without a license from you. It is by your permission that they whip and punish them." He was evidently annoyed to think that I so well understood the condition of the prisons and their management. It was now election time and he was running for office for another term, and he dismissed me without further ado. Many like him are saying: "Am I my brother's keeper?" Yes, you and I dear reader, and those in authority will surely have to answer in the great day of reckoning, if we neglect to alleviate the sufferings of our fellowmen, when it is in our power to do so. There are many kind men in office who really desire better conditions of affairs, but are only servants of those who are higher in authority. Truly the penalty for crime must be paid, but give all a chance to reform and do right before God and man. Can we not let poor fallen human beings see that we do care for them? And that there is hope in Christ for them if they will repent and confess their sin to Him? Did He not come "to seek and to save that which was lost?" BLOOD HOUNDS. I never will forget my feelings when first the howls of the bloodhounds sounded in my ears. I was in a stockade and there was a noise such as I never heard before. I was on my knees praying and the wife of the captain came in saying, "There has been an escape and the guards and dogs are after the convict." I just lifted my heart to the Lord in prayer for the poor unfortunate, hunted man. I never stopped to think whether white or black; old or young; innocent or guilty; my one cry was for the life and safety of my boy. Mothers you know how you would feel were it your boy. Well, I got initiated in that part of prison management that day. I have one thought above all others and that is to do God's will and obey Him and help all in anyway I can into a good life here and a home in Heaven at last; poor heart-sick, home-sick and sin-sick souls. The very thought of the convict being helpless should appeal to our sympathy and God, the Judge of all the universe, is going to call us to give an account for our stewardship. Men and women must be governed but not by brute force. We may overpower them, but do we conquer them? Have we won them to a better life and to good citizenship? [Illustration: CONVICTS GETTING OUT COAL.] COAL MINES. The prison stockades vary in number. Sometimes there may be thirty or forty in one state, sometimes probably not half that many. It depends upon the number of prisoners in the penitentiary and into how many sections they are divided. When I was at Coal City, Ga., a number of years ago, it was one of the most weird and desolate-looking places in which I had ever found a stockade located. There were three stockades on the summit of the mountain, and one at its base. At the last place the men were mining coal. When I first went there they used a small car that would hold eight passengers. Then this was abandoned and we were obliged to ride on the engine, as they carried only coal cars for shipping the coal that was mined by the prisoners. I was often in great danger of my clothes taking fire as the fire blazed out of the engine when the men were shoveling in the coal. The railroad zig-zagged up the mountain, and once, a sister and myself were obliged to ride on the coal-box, as the engine was packed with men and one woman before we had arrived from the other train. I had to kneel down and hold onto the side of the coal box with both hands, and as the engine twisted and turned, I was in danger of falling, and it was hundreds of feet down to the foot of the precipices in places where our train crept along. All the way up the mountain I prayed God to protect us. The train was run by prisoners, yet I always felt safe with them. A TOUCHING INCIDENT. "Lady, is you a preacher? Coz, if you is, I want you to come over to my house 'long wid me and make a prayer, coz my mother is dead, and my father is in prison over the stockade wall, and they are goin' to bury my mother, and there ain't nobody to make a prayer, 'cept a colored woman who was kind to my mother and loved her coz she was good. We children ain't got nobody to care for us." It was just as I was leaving the railroad station near the Pratt Mine prison stockade in Alabama that I was accosted as above. The speaker was a small white boy with hands and face so black with coal dust that one could hardly tell that he was white. The sadness of that child's voice touched my heart, and I said, "Yes, surely I will be glad to go with you, my child." Through the mountain forest the little boy had come in search of some one to make a prayer over the dead mother who, while she was living, had taught her children about Jesus. I found the cabin by his guiding me along the mountain path through the underbrush. Such a sight as met my eyes! A body covered with a ragged sheet, lying on a board held up by a couple of rickety stools. Nothing was in the hut to make it look like home. Two old crones sat by the stump fire in the large fireplace, making free use of snuff and tobacco. It was a dirty little one-roomed cabin. The funeral was to be at once, but the man who was making the rough box which was to serve as a coffin was so slow that we finally waited for the funeral till the next day. I went to the prison camp and found the husband and father of the little boy, and obtained permission of the officials for him to attend the funeral of his wife, providing that I should be responsible for his return. Well, God understood it all and helped me there in that wild country; for that was when the prison stockades were not what they are today. Conditions are much changed since I first went with a gospel message to those lonely prisoners and sin-bound souls. MY FIRST MEETING IN A PRISON CAMP. That night I held my first service in a prison camp. The captain was loth to allow me the privilege, but the Lord touched his heart and he said that I might try. I had come a long distance on the train and had taken little to eat for several days for those were days of much fasting and prayer. The call of God was upon me. I must preach the Gospel to these men. So now, I had but one thing to do, to wait alone upon the Lord. I knelt before God in the little old wooden hut used as an office, and cried to the Lord, "O Lord, help me! O Lord, help me! Show me how to hold a meeting here!" Just after dark a guard came and said, "We are ready for the meeting to begin. Come on." Imagine how I felt when there alone before hundreds of men in rags and tatters, with hands and faces so black and grimy with coal dust (this being in a prison mining camp) that I could scarcely tell the white men from the colored! The building was low and dirty, the men were seated on rude benches, the guards standing with their guns in hand and many great strong bloodhounds by their sides. The room was dimly lighted by three smoky old lanterns hanging on the walls. I had conducted prayer meetings in the church, led in temperance meetings, and labored with church people in the cities, and had been a Sabbath school teacher for years; but I had never before faced a congregation such as I now saw before me. I knelt in silent prayer before stepping upon the rough old box upon which I was to stand while I spoke. I arose and sang an old-time hymn, and again knelt and offered prayer. I told God all about why I was there. I sang another hymn, but could go no farther. All eyes were fixed upon me, and I asked, "Is there one Christian here? If so please raise your hand." I stood trembling and thought, "Must I stand all alone here with no one to pray for me, or encourage me in my labor for the Master?" At last one old colored man timidly raised his hand, followed by another, and then another. How I thank God even now for this--after all these years of toil as a prison worker. Then, I was soon lost in the theme of Jesus and His love. I seemed to see those rough prison miners as dear children once more in the old home at mother's knee at night-fall listening to her "Now I lay me down to sleep." As I closed, seeing that the Lord had spoken to many hearts by His Holy Spirit, I asked who would kneel with me in prayer and begin a new life. I think every prisoner bowed there before God with the heavy prisoners' chains clanking as only such can do. The sound is inexpressibly sad to me even now after so many years of labor in prisons and the rattling of the great keys in the hand of the guard and the sound of the heavy iron doors as they open and close, receiving "some mother's boy," are still as affecting to me as in those early days of my prison work. Many of these men on that night in humility and meekness sought and confessed Christ as their Savior. I know not how many who knelt with me there, I shall meet in heaven; but I know that God has said His Word shall not return unto Him void. "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." At the close of the service an officer informed me that his wife had prepared to entertain me. I gladly accepted of the kind offer and went to their humble home, greatly enjoying their hospitality, for I was much exhausted and very weary with the long journey, the anxiety and the labor of the day. These remained my faithful friends while I knew them. I thank God for those who open their homes to the children of the Lord. The next morning the lady said, "I will let my little girl go with you to the funeral and to show you the way through the mountains to visit the sick." So I went again to the miserable home of the poor little ones who were left worse than orphans. How my heart was filled with sorrow, seeing the lonely helpless children, two boys and a beautiful little girl, with mother dead, and father in prison! I wondered what their future might be. A few mountaineers' wives had assembled, but there were not enough men present to lift the box that contained the corpse into the old coal wagon. After the short, sad services, with my assistance as a pall bearer the crude coffin was lifted into the wagon, and I helped to steady it as we traveled over the rough mountain road to the cemetery. I had double duty caring for this and making sure that the husband and father did not attempt to escape; for you know liberty is sweet. The Lord of hosts must have kept him true to his promise, and I must say that I can always trust the poor prisoners not to betray the confidence I place in them. At the grave I sang the old hymn. "I would not live always" and we laid the faithful wife and mother away to rest until the trumpet shall call the dead to rise. What was the cause of the sad plight of this family? Sin. The saloon! There had been a saloon fight, and some one was killed. Some one did the deed. Oh, God! What a reckoning there will be in the end for those who vote to license the saloon, as well as they who dispense the rum, God will open the books and all shall be judged out of the things that are written therein. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord of hosts." This faithful wife and mother had spent all her living in an attempt to secure the liberty of her husband. But failing in this, she had come with her children to live in that dreary place, hoping to be able to lead him to a better life, finally dying in want, and of a broken heart. After the funeral I pleaded with the little girl to go with me. But she true to her trust, true to her dead mother's loyalty, said, "Never will I leave my poor father with no one to care for him. Mother never would, I never will. I will go to see him and tell him of Jesus." Wearied with toil and the journeying from place to place to visit the sick to whom the little girl from the camp had guided me, I returned in the evening with her to her home and then to the camp. Thinking to lie down and take some rest, and kneeling to pray, I was impressed that I must visit the other stockade some two or three miles away. I knew it was the voice of God and said, "Yes." The lady strongly pleading that I must not go, that it was dangerous, said I could not go alone, that I would lose my way, etc. The husband also said one's life was in danger, that several men were found dead in those mountains and no one knew who killed them, etc., and pleaded with me not to go. But I said, "If God sends me, He will see that I am not harmed. He will not forsake me." Soon I started on my way, and presently met the two little boys whose mother had just been buried. I asked if one of them would not show me the way to the other camp, and the older one kindly did so. With my little guide we hurried down that rough mountain side, we being compelled to carry stones to build a bridge across a stream of water, and finally came within sight of the camp. Upon insisting that God had sent me, and that I had held services in the other camp, the captain (overseer) invited me into his home. I had not expected such kindness, but thanking the Lord I accepted it as from Him. They kindly brought us food, but I would not eat, and gave it all to the little boy who was so hungry, and praying for him he started homeward. Here also we had a wonderful meeting. Men with broken hearts wept with longing for a mother's sympathy and a Savior's love. Some came to Christ and were saved, and I believe that I shall meet some of them in the great home gathering bye and bye in heaven. Early the following morning, I was told that the engine which was to take me on my way was ready to start with its train of coal cars for the station some ten miles distant; but that I would have time to visit the hospital department where many were lying sick. I hurried through the prison yard, filled with hogs and bloodhounds, to the hospital, where I sang a song and prayed. I was turning to go when a guard came running and said, "The whole train is waiting for you, hurry up." As I was hurrying out a door opened and a woman called, "Do come and see my son, he is dying. Do come and pray for him." I ran in saying, "The train may go; I dare not refuse the request." I grasped the dying boy's hand firmly and said, "Take hold on God as I take hold of your hand. He will not forsake you. He will save you; look and live." I offered a short prayer and ran down to the engine, which still waited. There was something seeming so dismal in its sound in those lonely regions. I had to ride on the engine, as there was nothing but coal flats on this train. I was helped on and we were off. The sun was just rising over the mountain and the heavy fog was beginning to rise, and oh, such a blessing I received as we sped along the winding way! I shall never forget the gloomy sight I left behind me there. The poor prison-bound men marching out to the mines with their lanterns on their caps and with their picks and shovels. They never seemed so dear to me, and I began to see more clearly than ever that God had a special work for me to do. I saw the value of a soul bought with the precious blood of Christ. I saw, too, the need of fully consecrated Christian workers. As we wound around the mountain side I knew I had been obedient to my God, and His Spirit bore witness with my spirit that He accepted my weak efforts. DIFFICULTIES OVERCOME. I was not always kindly received as mentioned in some instances. We are not carried to heaven upon flowery beds of ease. I have many times been refused the privilege even of singing a hymn in a prison. My singing has often been blessed as a means of touching hearts, and through it souls have been converted and are still true to God. I went to visit another prison mining camp or stockade, in a very lonely region where few people lived. I arrived upon a dark, gloomy night; there was no depot and not a house near. There I was alone, yet not alone, for God was with me. A young mulatto man who proved to be an ex-convict, had come to the train with a lantern, and I asked him to kindly show me the way to the home of the captain of the camp. I found the officer had gone in search of a prisoner who had made his escape, and his wife refused to take any one in in her husband's absence. She said I should go to another officer some distance away. Ascending the steps to the large house my heart sank within me, for I felt that I should be turned away again in the night. The officer himself came to the door to answer my call. Telling him my mission, I asked to stay with them till morning. His wife would not consent to entertain me, and I answered, "Where shall I go? I am alone, and a Christian woman sent of God to help people in prison to a better life." He replied, "There's a boarding house a mile away down the mountain," and the door was shut. I asked my guide, "Is there not one Christian here in these mountains?" He said, "Only one, a poor old colored man, that's been in prison, and he lives up the mountain with his daughter, a young woman." Crying as I went along holding to the brush with one hand, we finally reached the hut at the top of the mountain. I told the young woman my story and asked if I might stay with her for the night. She answered, "No, my father is away and I cannot take in a stranger without his consent." "Then I must stay out on the mountain alone all night." She seemed sorry for me, and said I should wait till her father came. I had not to wait long till he came, and kindly consented for me to stay. I was weary and hungry from my long journey. I saw the old colored man open the basket he had brought home with him. It contained some cold food given him where he was employed. He asked me to share his lunch, but I refused, as I believed he needed all he had. How thankful I was for shelter in that poor hut that night, though sleeping by my side was that poor unfortunate colored girl with a babe in her arms that cried all the night. There were cracks in the hut through which you could see the stars. What a change the Lord had wrought in the once proud woman that I had been! I remembered that Jesus said, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head." And "The disciple is not above his master." I spent the night in prayer and God heard my cries for the poor convicts who were cruelly starved and beaten by the drunken guards and captain who seemed to bitterly hate all who were so helplessly bound under them. This is a strong statement but I will meet it at the Judgment. In the morning one woman who had turned me from her door sent to find out what had become of me. She said she would give the young woman who had sheltered me a present for not leaving me out on the mountain alone. I had prayed earnestly that God would convict her for her lack of hospitality. Upon going to the officer to learn when I could have a meeting with the prisoners, he unkindly turned me away saying that I should _never_ have a meeting there, and that I might as well go. Well, I did go; traveling eighty miles back to the capital, Montgomery, Alabama, to see the Governor. I knew the Lord had sent me, and how could I meet Him at the Judgment and tell Him I had failed? I knew, too, that Satan had hindered. I asked for the Governor but was told that the President of the Board of Prison Inspectors was the proper person for me to see about the matter. He was sent for and soon came. He was a very kind old gentleman and sat down and asked me what I wished. When I had related the facts he said, "Who dare refuse you holding meetings in that prison camp? You go back there and hold your meeting. I'll write him a letter and let him hear from me." I said, "But he will say he did not receive your letter." He then said he would write a letter for me to present to him. But, how should I get back to the camp? After selling my trunk and such articles of clothing as I could spare, I yet did not have enough money to pay railway fare. MY FIRST FREE PASS. Trusting the Lord to in some way provide means for me to get back to the camp, I went to the janitress of the depot, an intelligent mulatto, and told her of my need, as she had previously assisted me in securing half-fare rates on the railroad, she having known the officials since their childhood. She insisted that I should go to the office of the general manager of the L. & N. R. R. and ask for a half-fare rate to the prison camp at New Castle, Ala. Oh, how I dreaded to go to that office! But tremblingly and prayerfully I went, and presenting to him the letter which I was to carry with me to the camp, I told him my desires. Upon reading this letter he handed me what I supposed was a half-fare permit. I humbly thanked him and returned to my lodging. After making preparation to start early in the morning on my journey, before retiring for the night I knelt by my bedside to thank God for the permit. Thinking I would see just how it read before I prayed, I took it up and began reading, "Pass Mrs. _Elizabeth R. Wheaton_ From _Montgomery_ to _Birmingham, Ala., Prison, Missionary_." What! Did my eyes deceive me, or was it a mistake. No. It was a free pass, and the following note was enclosed to the Superintendent at the other end of the route regarding a return pass if I should ask for it: Louisville & Nashville Railroad Co., Montgomery, Ala., Jan. 15, 1885. L. Hage, Esq., Supt., Birmingham, Ala. Dear Sir: This lady, Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, bears credentials showing her to be a prison missionary. Any courtesy you may extend to her, in the way of pass, will be properly applied. Yours truly, M. S. BELKNAP, Supt. Oh, how I did thank God for this manifestation of His goodness to me--doing above that which I could ask or think! Mr. Belknap, that kind R. R. officer, has been dead many years, and perhaps is forgotten by some who knew him better than I, but I shall never forget his unexpected kindness to me. Since then, through the goodness of God and the favor and confidence of the railroad officials, I have received transportation throughout the country, to carry the Gospel of Jesus to men and women of every class. Upon my return to the prison camp I asked for the officer and told him I had come to hold meeting for the prisoners. I suppose he had received word from the Governor's office, as he so readily consented, asking at what hour I would like to have the service. I thought best to wait till the following day (Sunday) for the services, that I might have sufficient time for my work. The Lord came in mighty power that Sabbath day as I sang the old time hymns, and asked God to forgive and help those precious souls. The Spirit gave me utterance and carried the truth to the hearts of the hearers. Sobs and groans were heard from men in tears who sought forgiveness and gave God their hearts. At the close I took each one by the hand and exhorted them to be faithful to God. I afterwards visited the sick and talked and prayed with them, exhorting them to seek a home in heaven where sin can never come, and where God wipes away all tears. How true the words, "Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter, Feelings lie buried that grace can restore; Touched by a loving heart, wakened by kindness, Chords that were broken will vibrate once more." One Sunday morning I was going to a prison camp to hold meeting. There was no way to get there excepting to walk through the deep mud. There were a couple of boys going towards the stockade leading an old mule. I said, "O, boys, CAN'T I RIDE THAT MULE?" "Certainly," they said. It was with difficulty that I mounted the novel conveyance, and that I remained on the mule's back. For some reason, I was filled with apprehension. I had an impression that there was danger. I asked the boys if they would not lead the animal, but they kept a good distance from it, saying that they wanted to keep out of the mud. When we reached the camp and the officers came out and helped me to dismount, they looked at me in great astonishment, and one of them said, "What a narrow escape you have made! I only wonder that you got here alive. It is a wonder that old mule didn't kill you. I wonder that the boys let you take it!" I learned that the animal was so utterly uncontrollable and vicious that they could only use him on a dump cart to carry the prisoners' dinner or something of the sort and then he would sometimes kick the cart all to pieces. I raised my heart in thanksgiving to God, knowing that He who stopped the lion's mouth and held the flames of the fiery furnace had in some way kept this ugly creature from doing me any harm and saved my life. CHAPTER XII. Work in Stockades and Prison Camps--Continued. I once had a novel experience in a prison lumber camp. I was being entertained at the home of the superintendent of the camp and was to hold service with the prisoners at twilight. The superintendent came to the parlor and asked if I was ready for the service. We had not far to go, but I was unable to walk the distance; so a carriage, drawn by some of the prisoners, had been brought to the gate for me. I answered that I was ready, but as I was waiting he again asked if I was ready and why I was waiting. I replied that I was waiting for the horses. He answered, "You come on, the horses will be all right." I had learned to obey the officers, so followed on down through the beautiful yard of flowers and reluctantly stepped into the carriage. Instantly four prisoners took hold of the carriage and we were off. The men seemed glad to assist me and I was so thankful to them. God bless them! I do not think a queen with all her body-guard could have felt more secure or have been more appreciated, than I, there surrounded by my dear prison boys. After the service I was conveyed in the same manner back to the home of the superintendent. At another time, desiring to visit a certain prison camp, I found there was no way to reach it but to ride on a flat car with the men going from their work. I was glad to go with them and have a chance to speak a word of kindness and sing some hymns that might cheer them on the way. In the pineries of Florida the stockade prisoners are engaged in taking the sap from the pine trees. The camps are located some miles apart, and in going from one to another the forests are so dense that we were compelled to go in a two-wheeled donkey-cart. We encountered great dangers, there being many poisonous reptiles and alligators in the lakes and rivers which we had to pass. ASSISTING A COLORED MINISTER. I arrived one Sunday morning at a stockade where hundreds of men and some women were kept. I went to the keeper, or captain, as he was called, and asked for the privilege of holding a gospel service with the prisoners under his charge. He not only refused me, but was abusive, cursing me and ordering me away. Of course I was much grieved, as I felt the Lord had sent me there to preach the gospel. I was greatly surprised that an official should use such language to a lady, and without provocation. Weeping, I asked if I might sing for the women prisoners. Again, with oaths, he refused me. But Brother Frank Joseph, a colored preacher who knew me, was there to hold religious services by permission of the governor, and he came and invited me to assist him. Of course the captain could say nothing against it and I went with him. But when he asked me to conduct the service I could not at the first sing, preach or pray for weeping, but I told him I would pray God to give them a kinder officer for I knew the one they had was a cruel man. God used even my weakness and my tears to touch their hearts and we had a blessed meeting. After service I had a chance to talk to the women prisoners. We wept together and oh how thankful they were that there was one woman who would try to help them and make their burdens lighter. They told me how terribly they were treated and said they would be beaten if the captain knew of their telling me of it. How glad I was to carry the message of Jesus' love to them in their distress. Before I left they said they wished they had something to give me, and some gave small tokens of their regards. It was all they had to give and when they urged me I accepted them as from the Lord, feeling that He would in some way reward them and bless their offering as He did the widow's mite. THROUGH DANGER ALONE. Desiring to reach another stockade some miles distant I asked the captain if he could not supply me with conveyance and a guide, but he refused. I determined, however, to find the other prison and started on foot alone. The prison women told me that it was very dangerous because of fierce dogs and cross cattle in the mountains; but feeling that God wanted me to go I knew no such thing as fail. After walking some distance I sank down with exhaustion under a big tree and wept out my heart to God for guidance, protection and success. I arose feeling strengthened and comforted and soon came to a farm house and asked a young man who stood in the garden if he could direct me to the prison camp. "Yes, come in, lady, you look so tired and faint and my mother will give you something to eat and we will show you the way," was the kind reply I received. I stopped and rested a while but would neither eat nor drink as I had given myself to fasting and prayer that my way might be opened for services in the camp to which I was going. After a long walk we found the stockade and knowing the young man who was with me, the officers gave their consent for me to hold a service. After I had been singing and talking to the prisoners a while suddenly my strength failed me. I had only time to say, "Will you sing?" Then I saw and heard nothing more. I HAD FALLEN PROSTRATE among those chained prisoners. When I came to myself I heard singing from inside the walls, such singing as could only come from truly broken-hearted, repentant souls. I had been carried outside and the poor prison women were caring for me. A good old colored sister was holding me close to her and pleading with God to restore me. I heard her say, "She's a woman like we is--and she's given her life for us." They were doing all they knew and were crying around me. I said, "Please carry me back into the prison." When they had done so I asked, "How many of you prisoners will kneel with me in prayer and give your hearts to God, take Him as your Savior and start today for heaven? God loves you, Jesus died for you! And if you will come to Him and confess your sins He will save you." Every one knelt before God, and many with prayers and broken sobs cried out their hearts to Him who is not willing that any should perish, but that all should have eternal life. I expect to meet many of them in heaven; for He is able to save to the uttermost all that will come unto God by Him--and able also to keep them from falling. The following day, traveling from this prison to another stockade, sitting near me in the car was an aged gentleman who on seeing my Bible asked me where I was going. When I had told him, he asked me the nature of my work and how the prisoners were treated in these places; also how I was received by the officials of the prisons generally. Thinking to only entertain a kind old country gentleman, I told him many things which I probably should not have been so free to mention had I known who he was. He asked me many questions about the stockades. I told him that I had never been so cruelly treated as at a camp on the previous day. "Where," he inquired, "Who did such a thing?" In answer to his inquiry I told him who it was. Little did I know that this was God's way of revealing sin. A MEETING AT DAY DAWN. Reaching the small station at the foot of the mountain; we had to take a box car only large enough for six persons. The old gentleman was one of the passengers also. Going to the house of the captain at the top of the mountain (such a lonely place), he thought it impossible to have a meeting with the men, as he said they were so wicked and unruly, etc., but finally said I might do so at day-break the next morning. He was very careful, saying, "These men are so wicked and cruel that never could a woman stand before them." I wept and prayed most of the night and cried, "Oh God, can you let me fail now?" In those early years of my labor I traveled much alone but later I usually had a sister accompany me, or sometimes a sister and her husband. Out in the prison yard at break of day I found hundreds of men all ready to go down into the coal mines. I wondered how to gain their attention and make them all hear my voice. I asked to have the men drawn closer together, as they stood in the prison yard. This being done, I sang a hymn. Oh how I do praise God for the gift of song! I forgot my weird surroundings and the rough appearance of the men and their dangerous looks. I saw them as little boys in the old home far away and then as human souls, hurrying into the presence of God and I felt that I stood between them and the Judgment. Conceive, if you can, how this company must have looked to me, bound in companies of perhaps fifty in a "gang," to a long strong chain to which was fastened a number of shorter chains; these short chains being fastened to the men's ankles. God enabled me to deliver His message and eternity alone will reveal the results of the seed scattered there that morning. After shaking hands with the men I was introduced to the old gentleman whom I had met on the train the day before. To my surprise he proved to be the President of the Board of Prison Inspectors of the state. I saw him no more after that time, but a year later I visited the prison of which I had told him. I saw at the depot a young colored man nicely dressed, but I knew by his clothes that he was one of the prison boys. He had come to get the morning paper for the warden. I walked with him to the prison, and on the way asked him how they all were at the camp. "All so nicely, thank you," he replied. "Who is your captain now?" I asked. "Has there been any change since I was here last year?" "O yes, ma'am, soon after you was here ma'am, just as soon as Massa (meaning the President of the Board) could find a good man to take de place ob de ole captun what treated de men so bad and 'bused you so, he sent him away." "Oh, is that so?" I said. "Yes, an' we's got a good time now to what we had befo' God sent you heah ma'am. He certainly did send you heah ma'am dat time." So I had only suffered these indignities that these abused ones might have better officers and treatment. The new captain received me very kindly and giving me a seat said my breakfast would be ready as soon as the prison women could prepare it for me. Well, surely the Lord had been at work. Such a change all around! We had a grand meeting and much good was accomplished, the captain furnished a buggy to take me to the next camp and bring me back to the depot. HELPING TO BURY A PRISONER. After visiting the hospital department of a stockade where I had never been before, I saw the guards nailing up a long, apparently heavy, box. I said to them, "What have you in that box?" One replied, "A man--a dead man." Soon after I heard an officer say to a guard, "Send five prisoners to go with me to bury that box." I arose from where I had been praying, and hurried out and asked permission to accompany the men with the box, but was refused--the officer saying they had no guard to spare to assist me up the mountain side. "Oh, just please let me go," I said. "I do not need any one to help me to climb the mountain. Please, won't you let me go?" He then consented, and I did not wait for either bonnet or help; but with my shawl over my head I hurried out after the men bearing the corpse. On we went up the mountain side, until we came to a very steep place, and the poor weak prisoners began to tremble under the heavy burden, along in front of the guard who had his gun in hand. I knew if one should fall, the guard might suppose he was trying to escape from him, and fire at him and kill him. I took up a stick in my left hand to steady myself and placing my right arm under the end of the box added my strength to that of the tired men. When we reached the summit of the mountain we found the grave already dug, but it was much too short for the box. I was almost exhausted and came near falling. The grave being too short, they were going to leave the corpse until morning and then return and bury it. But I said, "Boys, you dig the grave longer and I will sing for you while you work." I sang an old time hymn, and they lowered the box, by pounding and jumping upon it and then hurriedly shoveled in the dirt. Then I said, "Let us pray." And there in that dreary place I prayed for the poor men who had performed this sad rite and for the guard. I forgot my surroundings. I thought only of "SOME MOTHER'S BOY," who perhaps died with a broken heart without a mother's care, now lying in an unknown grave far away from home. Perhaps she had prayed for him and God had sent me to pray over the lonely grave. There we left him where all his mistakes should be forgotten. He may have sought and found pardon in God. Who can tell? The stars were now shining and the stillness filled me with awe. The men hurried down the mountain side to the prison, leaving me behind in the dim starlight. I found my way to the stockade, but found the door locked and with great difficulty I made them hear me and was admitted. At about nine o'clock the prisoners were brought together to have a meeting. The guard ridiculed. The prisoners wondered at seeing a woman preaching. How I trembled! Oh, for some one to share my burden! I asked, "Is there one Christian here among you prisoners?" as I shook hands with them and some of them pointing out an old colored woman, said, "She's a Christian." I clasped her hand, hardened by work, and said, "Will you pray for me, sister?" "Yes," she said, "Yes, I will, honey." God was there to touch and tender those hearts. They were unused to meetings of this character, and perhaps had never heard of a woman preaching. I well knew that unless God undertook for me the meeting would be a failure. There seemed to be no way to reach these hard hearts. The men and women stared at me. Suddenly I thought of the great danger I was in, and the risk I had to run in getting back to the village that night. I saw the head of a young prison boy droop over on a man's shoulder, too sleepy to listen longer. Then I heard and saw no more, but fell unconscious to the floor. The weariness from the day's labor proved too much for my strength. But God used my weakness to reach these hearts and when I regained consciousness, men and women with tears, sobs and prayers, were crying to God for mercy and forgiveness--pleading for help to be better men and women. I hope I shall meet many of them in heaven "when the roll is called up yonder" for they truly seemed to bring forth fruit meet for repentance. The following day was spent among the sick and dying in the village. I had asked the privilege in the morning to go with the train men to the prison pest house where the sick prisoners were, but was refused by the train crew, some of them ridiculing me and my work. I had only kindly asked them the privilege, and then exhorted them to come to Christ. I then told them I feared the next message would be judgment from God. God bless the railroad men if some of them do make mistakes! My heart goes out for them as they are always in much danger. I make it a rule of my life to always pray for every train on which I travel with its crew and passengers. And hitherto God has been my help. Bless His holy name! WRECK OF A COAL TRAIN. When I had returned to the boarding house in the evening I lay down to rest. Many striking things occurred in this place. As I lay resting, dishes were rattling and children were crying in adjoining rooms, my room door leading into the open hall was standing open, and in came a drove of little pigs. I looked up to see what it was, and one had walked up to the fireplace where was burning a low fire, and stood warming its nose. But they soon grew tired of indoor life and all quickly scampered out as they had come in. They had seemed as much at home there as myself. Amid this confusion I fell asleep. How long I slept I do not know. I was awakened by heart-rending cries from men and women. I sprang up and throwing a shawl over my head, I ran out in the rain to see what I could do to help, for I knew some one was in great agony. What I saw I shall never forget. The coal train and its crew that had gone out in the morning had come in. THE ENGINE WAS DITCHED in a terrible manner and men were crushed in the wreck. Women were screaming as they ran to see if their loved ones were among the victims. I met the same men I had warned in the morning carrying on a board the fireman badly cut and bruised. I said, "Men, I gave you the warning this morning. You rejected my counsel and I thought judgment would come, but I little thought it would come so soon." They carried the wounded man to an old baggage car. People were so excited they did not know what to do. Here I was to learn a lesson in surgery. I found an old pail and brought some water. Some bystanders gave me their handkerchiefs and I proceeded to wash the blood from the poor wounded head and limb, which was much crushed, and helped the doctor to bind up the wounds. Soon there came a call for help from the scene of the disaster. A messenger came running, saying, "Come quick! there is a man dying whom we found under the engine." It was very dark, but I hurried along through the mud and rain after the doctor to the scene of suffering. They had carried him into the nearest hut, and he was lying upon the floor unconscious. Kneeling beside him I raised his head upon my hand. Consciousness returned. I cried, "Jesus can save you even now; He loves you. He will forgive you now, only believe on Him." He replied, "I do believe He does save me just now." Glory to God! He is a present help in time of need; a friend that sticketh closer than a brother. Dear reader, it is better to be saved before the crash comes. The man was suffering terribly. The women, thinking they must do something, had poured turpentine into the wounds thinking it was camphor. We washed the wounds and I assisted the physician in setting the broken limbs. God wonderfully helped me there to practice what I preached, and I found what it means to love my neighbor as myself. These railroad men were my neighbors, and they were suffering and in a dying condition. One of the poor men cried piteously for his mother. I traveled on the train on which one of the wounded men was taken to the city where his mother lived and helped to care for him on the way. We were delayed at that camp for two days. I will never forget those days of service and suffering. THE SUGAR CAMPS. At one time, I went into the Sugar Refining Stockades in Texas. Leaving the train, we had to walk a long distance to the first camp. The superintendent was angry at us for coming, and ordered us to go to the next camp. He said there were women at the other stockade and that he would not let us have any meeting, any way, with his men. We asked him if he would please send a boy to carry our luggage, and he refused, so we started on alone, to walk a long way. When we arrived at the second camp we found only one guard and a couple of prisoners working, and no women within miles. When the guard saw the situation, he seemed sorry for us, and we were allowed to rest and wait until the return of the prisoners, who were at work at a distance on railroad repairs. In the meantime he sent a man to another stockade some miles away, and the captain's wife there agreed to entertain us, for which we were thankful. We had a meeting after the men came to camp, and the guards came to us and said that the women at the camp mentioned before had sent word that they would not keep us over night. What _could_ we do? Finally I said, "Can you take us to the depot?" They answered that they had no conveyance but AN OLD MULE AND A CART. I said, "That is all right." So they got the mule and cart and helped us in, and handed us our luggage. Then they sent a colored boy to go before the mule with a lantern, and another followed after. In this way we went on until we reached the little country depot, which was all dark. One of the prisoners, who went with us, lighted the lantern inside, and we called to the ticket agent, who had retired, asking him to please check our luggage to San Antonio. This he refused to do, so I said, "We are Christian women and will give you almost any price, if your wife will allow us to stay with her until morning." He was angry, still refusing to get up to check our luggage. He said he was not paid for night work. We could not have gotten on the car had it not been for a gentleman, going on the same train, who had his servant help us. We went to San Antonio before we could get a place to rest and it was then morning, but God blessed us in holding services in the prison there that day. I never reported the agent who was so rude to us, as I was sorry for him, for I was told he was a cripple, and I thought he needed his work to provide for his family. IN A GAMBLING SALOON. From Knoxville, Tenn., I went one night to the coal mine region. I asked the landlord at the hotel for some one to show me a way to the stockade some distance, and he sent his chore boy with me. We had a long walk, and returned after meeting at night. It was late and as we came down the mountain side I saw a light at a little distance, and I said, "Where is that light?" He said, "That is the wickedest place; they kill people there." Without waiting to consider the danger I might be in, I said, "Wait here for me," and I hastened up the valley and into the place, which I found to be a gambling saloon. Then, without waiting, I poured out to them the Gospel message which burned in my heart, I fell on my knees and prayed to God to save them from the destruction to which they were going. Then I rushed out into the darkness again, and found the boy waiting with the lantern and we went on our way. I was thoroughly alarmed next day when I realized the risk I had taken in going into such a place, but God has wrought mightily for me all these years and preserved me from harm. As I write I feel near home and heaven. Jesus is there. Soon I shall be with Him. CONDITION OF CONVICTS. I wish that some who whine so much in church about taking up the cross could see the inside of those stockades as I saw them--see the suffering that existed, the sorrowful, heart-broken prisoners with no ray of hope, no one to care about them; everything poor, scarcely enough to keep them alive; the poorest of places to sleep; men fastened to a large post in the middle of the stockade by a heavy chain, compelled to wear their clothing till it would decay on them, often so ragged that they could not hide their nakedness, and guarded by bloodhounds and armed men. It was not proper under other circumstances for a woman to see men in such conditions, but they had souls to be saved or lost, and the Lord had commissioned me to go to these men and tell them that Jesus loved them and wanted to save and deliver them from the power of the devil who got them into such places. UNJUSTLY CONDEMNED. Judges often sentence men and women to years of hard labor in prison for the slightest offenses. An old colored man employed in a store took a box of cigars, but regretting the act, returned them confessing his wrong, and asked forgiveness. He was arrested and sentenced to twenty-five years in the stockade; one year for each cigar. Another colored man was found on the street at night carrying five ears of corn. He was sentenced to prison for five years. He with others was working where the earth caved in and killed him. Who will answer in the day of Judgment for that man's life and death? Yes, and his soul? Were I to here relate some things I know to be true, awful in the extreme, they would not be believed. Let us have the laws of God enforced. Let those who may be anxious to punish wrong and have men condemned upon circumstantial evidence, look into their own hearts and lives and see if they have been free from condemnation. I do not want to condemn judges nor jurymen, for they are not all to blame. A man or woman should never be condemned until known to be guilty. People are often prejudiced, and without proper investigation many are condemned to punishment for crimes of which they are innocent. The cries of such are come up before the Lord and He will hear and answer prayer. At one time there were forty stockades in one state and about four thousand prisoners in one state. Let us help those that are down. In many stockades I found men and women living together promiscuously and children being born in the camp. The poor creatures were subjected to all kinds of abuse and suffering, the women in great need of better quarters, better food, and care. Ofttimes they were afraid for their very lives. Many were killed outright; in one place where they were far out in the coal mines many were brutally whipped and ill-treated. I went to the Lord in prayer, and then to the state authorities and the Governor went out with men and opened the graves of many, who had died in camps. One of the officers was imprisoned for ten years; another made his escape; others were dealt with more or less severely. I had been out there myself, getting on the engine to ride out to the stockade, and requested to see the prisoners after their day's work was done, and as they came up from the mines they were so ragged that I was compelled to turn my back as they passed. I got permission to hold a Gospel meeting. After it was over, I requested the captain to let one of his men take us to the next house, a distance of a mile or more from the camp. When we knocked asking permission to stay for the night, and telling who we were, the woman of the house said, "You had better go and preach to those prison guards, who are killing off the poor prisoners." She said she could not stand it to hear such awful cries as reached her ears even at that distance from the stockade. She told the guard just what she thought of the brutality shown the prisoners and convicts. He said he was not to blame. He seemed to be a kind young man. In one place I found one old colored man who was condemned to death. He was filthy and dirty and had nothing to lie on but a heap of straw; he was hungry and his cell was dark and damp. My heart ached to see him so shamefully abused. Even condemned men have rights and they should be respected; it is enough for them to know that they are to die a horrible death, without having all kinds of abuse heaped upon them; yet I have seen this in many prisons. How is it that friends are so often denied the privilege of seeing those that are under death sentence or those who are sick and dying? Let the truth be told and let there be some one to investigate these things. I believe that those who are most against prisoners, are those who are not familiar with the conditions. Let good discipline be maintained, but let prisoners never be brutally treated, simply because they are powerless to help themselves. I find many things going on that are not right, but I have never made complaint to the governors of the states, unless compelled to do so, because of cases of extreme cruelty. NEED OF REFORM. There is great need of reformation in the management of prisons, and especially in the prison lease system and management of women prisoners in the south. Oh, the shocking sights that have greeted me on almost every hand! There is nothing more heart-rending to me than the terrible, brutal treatment of helpless humanity. These prisoners are entirely at the mercy of officers who are oftentimes void of feeling, coarse and vulgar in the extreme. To get positions and make money is the aim of many of today. The poor unfortunates shut up in prisons and asylums are in many cases most shamefully mistreated. They are supposed to be there for the purpose of reformation or treatment, but were it not for the grace of God in my soul, I never could endure the torture and anguish resulting from the sufferings I find among these poor helpless men and women. I am not supposed to know the conditions in these places, but twenty years of experience going inside these walls have opened my eyes and I get behind the scenes. There is a time of settling up of accounts and there will be a final reckoning day at the judgment bar of God, for what was done in this life, and how many will be weighed in the balance and found wanting! The following paper by Clarissa Olds Keeler was written to Brother S. B. Shaw and read at the meeting of the National Convocation for Prayer at St. Louis, Mo., May, 1903, and will serve to convey some idea of conditions as they have existed in some parts of our land; though we are glad to say that they are somewhat improved, in many places at least. "LET THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER COME BEFORE THEE." "Now mine eyes shall be open, and mine ears attent unto the prayer that is made in this place."--2 Chron. 7:15. When attending the Christian Workers' Convention in New York in 1887 a man from Tennessee also attending the convention, said to me, "I wonder the Christian people do not take up the work of alleviating the sufferings of prisoners in the Southern States." For years he had been an eye witness to treatment which he described as "most atrocious," and the condition of the convicts, especially those hired to contractors to work in coal mines, as one of "starvation, fear and disgusting filth." Since these words were spoken to me I have spared no pains to inform myself about this new and most revolting form of slavery, and I can find no words more applicable than these: "This is a people robbed and spoiled; they are all of them snared in holes, and they are hid in prison houses; they are for a prey, and none delivereth; for a spoil and none saith, Restore. Who among you will give ear to this? Who will hearken and hear for the time to come?" (Isaiah 42:22, 23.) Each one of the twelve convict leasing states has had its own bloody record which has been written down in God's book. Influential politicians, United States Senators from both north and south, members of state legislatures, private citizens, heartless corporations, have all shared in the money coined out of the bodies and blood of convicts in our southern states. But it is not my purpose now to go over the past. Wherever the convict lease system has been introduced "Its presence has," as a Georgian once said, "been marked by a trail of blood." The accounts of this ghastly institution are too revolting to present. But I want to call the attention of the Christian people to the present condition of convicts, most of whom are colored, and many of whom are guilty of but trifling offences and some of them none at all. A man in Buncome County, North Carolina, wrote to the _Asheville Gazette_, under date of March 15, 1903: "Where are we at and where is the society for the prevention of cruelty to animals that they or the Christian world have never heard the cries from the poor unfortunate prisoners in the buck and the ringing of the cruel blood stained lash? I have seen white men beaten until their persons were blue and blood oozing from the lash from the captain's hands in the Buncome chain-gang. And negroes--there is no use talking." These prisoners, the writer says, have been guilty of some misdemeanor and being poor and unable to pay a fine are "sent to the road prison and there the lash is administered on the naked back contrary to the spirit of the constitution in abolishing imprisonment for debt and the lash at the whipping-post." Now I would suggest that a society be formed for the prevention of cruelty to prisoners. While the good people are praying for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on other lands may they not forget that we need a baptism of fire right here in our own land. Our Saviour's last act of mercy and forgiving love was shown toward a prisoner and shall we imitate His example, or shall we not? His last command was: "Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to _every creature_." How many inmates of our prisons have the gospel presented to them? When we all meet at the judgment, as meet we must, how many will be there from the mining pits and prison pens who can say truthfully, "No man cared for my soul!" Neither do we care for the bodies of these unfortunates; and as proof of this I will give you a few extracts from papers of recent date. When the National Conference of Charities and Corrections was holding its session in Atlanta the first of the present month, some of the delegates were invited to visit the city prison stockade where misdemeanor convicts are housed at night. This was done "just for the amusement of the delegates." Hear what Mr. Timothy Nicholson of Indiana, a delegate, said about his visit to this "school of crime." He says: "I found in one room one hundred and sixty prisoners, white men and women, black men and women and even children, both black and white, male and female, all mixed together indiscriminately. I was surprised and shocked to find such a condition of affairs in a civilized country. It is simply a shame and disgrace to civilization." The delegates declared the place "inhuman and degrading." Yet this does not fully represent the awful pen picture that might be given of this class of prisoners in the county chain gangs all over the state. The following extracts are taken from an account given by an Atlanta correspondent of the _Washington Post_ written under date of May 5, 1903. "Revelations made to the Ware County grand jury in regard to the horrors of the Georgia convict camps reached Governor Terrell today. Hon. E---- M----, one of the leading members of the Georgia House of Representatives, is involved in the findings of the grand jury. "According to the report M---- and his brother operate an extensive camp in Lowndes County. Witnesses before the grand jury testified that in the M---- camp the brutalities are such that it is revolting to describe them. For the slightest offence, it is alleged, prisoners are stripped and chained and unmercifully lashed by the whipping bosses. It is also alleged that the M---- brothers go into counties adjoining Lowndes, pay the fines of misdemeanor convicts, carry such convicts to their Ware County (convict) camp and there keep them in serviture long after the term for which the criminals were sentenced have expired. "The grand jury claims that at least twenty citizens of Ware County are held as slaves in M----'s camp although their terms expired over a year ago. There men are kept in stockade about which armed guards march in order to prevent an escape, and men thus illegally detained who escaped have been chased by bloodhounds and recaptured." Official reports show that this class of convicts are guilty of but trifling offences and some are vagrants. (For further particulars see _Atlanta Journal_ May 5 and 11, 1903.) The penitentiary convicts of Georgia are worked in coal mines and are subject to the same treatment. An experienced penologist said recently concerning convicts worked in the mines: "In the rooms of the mines are perpetrated practices too horrible to mention. They become the nesting places of a bestiality that in many cases lead the liberated convict into that crime to punish which the mob, the rope and the stake are ever ready." (See Atlanta Constitution, May 14, 1903.) Under the heading "Convict Camp Horrors," the editor of the Memphis, Tennessee, _Commercial Appeal_ says in his paper, dated April 11, 1903, concerning the facts recently brought out by the legislative investigating committee: "The stories coming from Brushy Mountain mines, with side lights from the state's convict system, generally, furnish painful reading to the people of Tennessee. When human beings who through fault or fortune's untowardness are condemned to helpless and unresisting servitude and who are subjected to torments and tortures, floggings and flaggellations which are merciful only where they terminated in speedy death, humanity is outraged and a sort of savagery in the public cries out for speedy vengeance." Continuing the editor says: "Convicts have been whipped to death. Convicts have been whipped into physical helplessness. Convicts have been whipped sufficiently to keep them in bed for months and injure them permanently. Torturing them in the prison or in the mine recesses is a sin against high heaven." These are some of the facts brought to light by the prison investigating committee. The average number of prisoners worked in the Brushy Mountain mines is about seven hundred and fifty. These convicts, which form but a part of the number of the state's convicts, and who were so inhumanly treated, earned last year for the state, clear of all expenses, the sum of one hundred and ninety-five thousand, seven hundred dollars. (See Nashville American, March 30, 1903.) Recent developments also show that many innocent men are kidnapped and worked and treated as convicts; especially is this done in Alabama. Women and children share the same fate. During the recent investigation into the enforced slavery of negroes in Alabama by the United States Secret Service, among the abuses which were unearthed was the whipping to death of a negro woman. "This woman accused of being rebellious was laid across a log and given one hundred lashes. Still showing a rebellious spirit her hands were tied, and the rope was thrown over the limb of a tree and pulled up so as to make it barely possible for her feet to reach the ground. The woman, it is said, died two days later." (See Washington Times, May 29, 1903.) The system of peonage slavery has been practiced for years in Alabama and Georgia. One of the most successful plans practiced is to bring a negro before a magistrate on a flimsy charge. As the matter has been arranged beforehand, the negro is convicted, and having no money to pay his fine, a white man offers to advance him money provided the negro will make a labor contract with him for the money and trouble he has taken to keep the negro out of jail. He is taken away and begins what is usually a long term of cruel servitude, frequently whipped unmercifully, and every moment watched by armed guards ready to shoot him down at any attempt to escape. Among the evils which have grown out of the prison contract system, the number of which is legion, is that of turning out men and women, boys and girls, thoroughly educated in these schools of crime. They are thrown upon the world homeless and friendless to poison and destroy those with whom they come in contact. Many soon find their way back into prison, and some end their lives upon the gallows. We sometimes on a Sabbath morning hear the President of the United States prayed for, but what minister ever prays for the poor parish behind prison bars? When the book is opened and we hear the words: "I was sick and in prison, and ye visited me not," what are we going to answer? 1415 A. St., S. E., Washington, D. C. CLARISSA OLDS KEELER. For about four years at times Mrs. M. A. Perry, of Washington, D C., traveled with me. In answer to my request for a brief report of the work during that time I received a lengthy letter, from which I extract the following: Dear Sister Wheaton: I praise God for the privilege of adding a few words for your book. May the blessing of God rest upon it. To the readers I will say: I first met Mrs. Wheaton in Boston, in February, 1893, in the home of H. L. Hastings, the well-known publisher, where she was a guest. She had then spent ten years in prison and other evangelistic work. I had visited a jail and stationhouses, but never a penitentiary. We first went to the Boston and Maine Railway office. Sister Wheaton said: "You pray while I go and ask for a pass to go to the Thomaston, Maine, prison." In about ten minutes she returned with the desired transportation. By the kindness of the railroad officials from ocean to ocean they have helped to forward the work of God. Many earnest prayers are offered by Mrs. Wheaton for these men. We never boarded a train without asking our Heavenly Father to bless the train men from the engineer to the flagman. Many times we have spoken to conductors who have said, "No one ever talks to railroad men about their souls." At Thomaston we had to wait until Sunday morning to enter the prison. If ever the Lord Jesus Christ revealed Himself in a prison chapel He was in the midst that Sabbath day. While "Mother Wheaton" preached, I prayed for her and the presence of the Holy Spirit was so manifest that every man expressed a desire to serve God. The result of that day's work for the Master will not be known until we meet when Jesus will reward his servants. We next went to the jail in Bangor, Maine, and God blessed the work there in the salvation of souls. Then we went to the prison in Wethersfield, Connecticut, and from there to the Vermont State Prison at Windsor. But I cannot tell about them all! But wherever we went I saw that the prisoners, both men and women, greeted "Mother Wheaton" with a heartfelt welcome. We went to the prisons of New York state--to Auburn, Sing Sing, the Troy jail and on to Buffalo. We visited the penitentiaries in Philadelphia and Baltimore, and the workhouses of Maryland and the District of Columbia. We met in these places many precious souls whom the Lord gave his life to redeem and many of them were Christians. The blood of Jesus is all powerful to reach any man or woman who will repent and forsake sin and believe in Him. We have great reason to praise God for the power of the Holy Spirit to reach the hardest hearts. But O, there are behind the bars and "in the shadow of the walls" loving and tender hearts. O, that professors of religion would wake up to the fact that when Jesus, the King of Glory, shall come He will say, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren ye have done it unto me." May God by his presence and power reveal to the managers of penal institutions in every land and nation that Jesus Christ is the friend of sinners in every condition. I believe the dear Lord Himself has put such love for prisoners in the heart of our sister Wheaton that she is willing to take a mother's place--no matter when she sees them. In riding along on the trains sometimes we came to prisoners (leased out to hard labor) in the most unexpected places. We were soon off the train to look after these men who were marched from the camp or stockade. I must speak of some of the experiences we had in the prisons, stockades and prison farms of the southern states. We were, in most cases, courteously received and entertained by the wardens and their families. God bless the men who have done what they could! But O, how I have been shocked at things we saw in these places, many of which I cannot write. I wish I could give some idea of how glad the poor manacled prisoners were to see their white-haired "mother" come again. I believe the seed sown shall not be lost. The women on the farms are required to roll logs, clear land and do all kinds of drudgery. We went to the camps, the phosphate mines, saw-mills, coal mines, and the turpentine camps. Sometimes we rode for miles in wagons. I think Mother Wheaton never felt that any place was too dangerous or too out of the way for her to go in order to say a word of comfort and to encourage hearts. We sometimes rode on the engine up the mountains to camps where hundreds of prisoners were working. We saw men with iron rings around their necks and a chain and ball attached, some with chains around their waists and running down to their ankles with a ring attached. I want to speak especially of a visit to one of the state farms where all the prisoners, with two exceptions, were colored women. When we arrived at the station there was no vehicle in sight but a buggy and mule which a little boy was driving. She asked him to take us to the women's prison, which he kindly did. When we got there between seventy and eighty women were at dinner, sitting on the ground under the trees with their little tin pails which held boiled bacon and cowpeas, with a piece of corn bread in their hands. They had worked from sunrise. How they welcomed "Mother Wheaton"! Many of them were in tears as she began to sing. She asked how many of them had seen her before. Many hands went up and they told where and when they had seen her in the past. How they shook her hand and said, "O, 'deed I is glad to see you once more, honey." But soon they had to go back to the field till dark. After all had their supper we went to the stockade where they were to sleep, to hold a service. Such singing I never heard. Then "Mother Wheaton" preached, prayed and sang. If ever God answered prayer He surely did for those poor women and in place of that stockade there is now a new prison house with things reasonably comfortable. We went to other farms, stockades and prisons. I do thank God for the privilege of going into these places where "Mother Wheaton" was the first white woman to visit or to pray and sing. Regardless of danger in approaching these out-of-the-way places, her love for God and for those who were despised and downtrodden, carried her through untold hardships. We were at times in danger of bloodhounds, alligators and venomous reptiles. I am sure that through her intercession with governors and wardens and superintendents "Mother Wheaton's" work has proved a blessing to thousands of prisoners. I have seen the results of her work in many of the states. Her preaching and singing have been used of God, but above all I knew that the hours of prevailing prayer have been a still greater power for good. In answer to prayer God has opened doors and done many wonderful things whereof we are glad. Again we went to the South to visit prisons and stockades where we had been in former years. Great changes had been made. There was much improvement in their condition. I hope the time may soon come when only the law of love and kindness shall prevail. We held street meetings in many places. One night after holding one of these open-air services we boarded a train. A man and wife came on the train. She told us that her husband had attended the street meeting and was under such conviction for sin that he could not rest. There on the train, while we knelt in the aisle of the car, he was converted to God and went on his way rejoicing, while we went to visit a penitentiary where hundreds of men and women needed the same work of grace wrought in their hearts. Often we saw answers to prayer in the healing of prisoners who were sick. God's Word is true. He says He is no respecter of persons, and He is able to do more than we can ask or think. May God bless every soul for whom we have prayed. Sister Wheaton and myself have spent many long hours at a time together pleading for the men and women behind the bars. It means much to be divinely called to this work. Oh! how many with broken hearts lie in the lonely cells every night! May God help everyone who reads these pages to remember that there is one MOTHER of all the prisoners who weeps and prays in sympathy with them. I wish every mother and wife, or sister, who has a precious one "in the shadow of the walls," would pray for "Mother Wheaton," that she may be helped of God in preaching the Word, and that God's blessing may rest upon her for her kind loving words and the hand-clasp that reaches so many hearts. Pray that health and strength may be given her as she comes in and goes out among these erring ones. I know she has been through deep waters and great sorrows. Her life has been one of self-sacrifice in behalf of the unfortunate. May God bless and help her and give her the crown of righteousness that is laid up for the faithful. One night after worship at the home of the warden with whom we were stopping, Sister Wheaton was singing a hymn, when suddenly the warden asked, "Sister Wheaton, will you come over into the prison-yard and finish that hymn?" She replied she would gladly do so if he thought it would do good. So we hastened to the prison-yard, some little distance away, and quietly entered the enclosure, and she began singing. Her clear, strong voice awakened the sleeping prisoners. The incident was so unusual that some of them (as we were told afterward), negroes especially, awaking suddenly, thought that the Judgment Day had come, and tumbling out of bed, fell upon their knees and began praying for God to have mercy upon them and save their souls; so God evidently used the song to bring conviction to hearts. After the singing we returned as quietly as we had come, trusting the results with God. [Illustration: NEW MEXICO PRISON, SANTA FE, N. M.] CHAPTER XIII. Work in Fort Madison, Iowa, and Santa Fe, New Mexico Soon after starting out in my work, when changing cars in an Iowa town I saw a crowd of people who were curiously gazing upon three young men who were handcuffed, and bound together being taken to the state's prison at Fort Madison. I went up to them, shook hands, and said, "I am sorry for you. Don't be discouraged. Cheer up. Give God your hearts. Obey the rules. Do the best you can and God will do the rest." They seemed cheered and relieved seeing I neither feared nor shunned them. I inquired their names and told them I would try to see them in prison, but did not know how soon. A few weeks later I went to Fort Madison and obtained permission of the Chaplain, W. C. Gunn, to hold a meeting the following Sunday. This was my first effort to hold divine service in a prison. Then I inquired for the three young men I had seen when on their way there, but could find no record of them. I assured the Chaplain they were there and observing the prisoners closely I saw one of them at work. As our eyes met, I saw a look of distress on his face. He recognized me and was afraid I would tell who he was. He had given a ficticious name--as had also the others. But before Sunday came I began to think: "What if I should make a mistake and could think of nothing to say when I come before all those hundreds of prisoners?" And then there were the officers in their suits of blue with brass buttons! It all seemed too much for me, and, like Jonah, I took ship and ran away. That night I started by steamer for Mobile, Alabama--but God knew I did not mean to disobey and He let me work among the stockades in the south until I got boldness to enter other prisons. After a year or more I returned to Fort Madison and was granted the privilege offered me before and from that time to this I have always been made welcome there and have had many blessed seasons within these walls. There is no place where I have been more kindly received by both officers and prisoners than at Fort Madison. Chaplain Gunn and wife were always true and loyal friends. 'Tis now several years since he crossed over to the better shore. I shall ever remember with deep gratitude the kindness of himself and family. Chaplain Jessup and wife, and Warden Jones and wife, as well as other officials, have been especially kind and courteous. To the prisoners at Fort Madison, also, I must give the credit of contributing freely from their small savings to my necessities. While I would gladly mention all who have especially befriended me I feel that this tribute is due to the officers and men of Fort Madison. That it is deserved may be easily seen by the following communications and selections from letters which I find among my papers: Warden's Office, Iowa Penitentiary, Fort Madison, Iowa, August 3, 1889. The bearer, Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, a devoted Christian woman, has for years been visiting the prisons and jails of this country seeking to do good to their inmates. I think she should be kindly received and encouraged by prison authorities. I do not think any one has ever spoken to the convicts in this prison with better effect and I am sure that no one who has ever addressed them will be longer or more kindly remembered by them than Mrs. Wheaton. I heartily commend her and her good work to those engaged in prison management and to good people everywhere as most deserving of their aid and encouragement. It affords me all the more pleasure to give Mrs. Wheaton this testimonial because it was unsolicited and because of the unobtrusive way in which she goes about doing good. G. W. GROSLEY, Warden. * * * * * Ft. Madison, Iowa, Oct. 5, 1893. Rev. J. M. Croker, Chaplain State Prison, Anamosa, Ia. My Dear Brother: This will introduce to you our dear sister, Mrs. Wheaton, the prison missionary, who would like to address the prisoners. Any favors shown her will be duly appreciated. Yours truly, W. C. GUNN, Chaplain. * * * * * Fort Madison, Iowa, June 4, 1897. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa. My Dear Mother: I will first ask your pardon for not answering your letter sooner. But I am always so busy the last days of the month, also the first days, as I have all the time of the contract men to make up to send to the contractors, also have my monthly report to the governor, and as we give the boys a holiday Monday I think you would readily see I have had my hands full. I sometimes think it is more than I can stand. I want to do right by the men but it is so hard at times to tell just what is right. I sincerely thank you for your kind interest in me. And may our great and good God always be with you is the wish of your true friend. J. R. JONES, Deputy Warden. * * * * * Fort Madison, Iowa, Sept. 6, 1899. Mrs. Wheaton: Enclosed please find draft for ----, the poor boys' free-will offering in appreciation of your kindness in visiting them. You are thought more of by them than any one else living--even their relatives. Please sign the enclosed receipt, and send it back to me, that I may have something to show what became of the money. Thanking you for your visit. Yours truly, W. C. GUNN, Chaplain. * * * * * Fort Madison, Iowa, Feb. 13, 1901. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Tabor, Ia. My Dear Sister: Enclosed find draft for ---- from prisoners--entirely a free will offering, given without other solicitation than what you heard me say when you were here. Please excuse delay in forwarding, partly due to uncertainty as to your whereabouts. Perhaps you will write me a short message for the men, who will be glad to hear from you. With best wishes and prayers for your welfare and success in your work, I am, Very sincerely yours, A. H. JESSUP, Chaplain. * * * * * My acquaintance with Mrs. Wheaton began four years ago, at the first Sunday service I held as chaplain of this prison. Standing by my office window before the men had come into the chapel, I saw a motherly-appearing lady enter the prison, escorted by the assistant deputy. A few moments later we met on the chapel platform, and I was introduced to "Mother Wheaton," the woman who for many years had, in prisons and jails, all over the country, sought to quicken in the prisoners' bosom a new life, and lead to the Savior those who all their lives have been rejecting Him. It was my first service with the men, as I have said, and I felt constrained to preach as I had come prepared to do, although on subsequent visits I have gladly granted all the time to Mother Wheaton. After I had preached, Mrs. Wheaton talked, and sang, and prayed, and many of the men were visibly affected, some to tears, by her earnest pleading. Later she went to my office and met a boy who was soon going out, and prayed and talked with him in a manner that must have made him determine to strive for a better manhood. Our prison has received several visits from Mother Wheaton since then, and always, I believe, with lasting good to the men, over many of whom she has exerted an influence for good. Earnest, apt and ready in speech, always seeming to live close to God, and to hold instant communion with Him, and consecrated soul and body, time and means, to her work--these perhaps account for her useful service. That she has a ready sense of humor, too, is perhaps one reason the "boys" listen to her so well. I recall one incident. She had come down from Burlington, where she was obliged to secure a pass on the railroad. The proper officer not being at hand, she went from one to another, until at last one was found with authority to issue a pass, but who did not know her or her mission. "On what ground do you want a pass?" said the railroad man. "I am working for God, and He owns the railroads," was the unexpected reply. "But, madam, where are you going?" gasped the official. Quick as a flash came the answer, "To heaven!" But by this time the railroad man had recovered from his surprise, and seemed equal to the emergency, and proved himself to be a gentleman as well, for he said quietly: "If that is your destination, madam, I am unable to accommodate you, for I regret to say the place is not on our line; but if you want a pass to any place on our road you can have it." In relating the incident in the prison chapel Mother Wheaton added that she secured her pass to Fort Madison, and that when she reached here she thought she was next to heaven, for here she had first attempted her work for souls, in State's Prisons, and here she believed many precious trophies for the Master had been given her. I noticed on her last visit that while she seemed in usual health, her hair was whiter, betokening the gathering years. I could wish that now she who for so many years has not known the blessing of home, might find a place in which to spend in rest and communion with God, and helpful but gentle ministrations, the balance of her life, until He whom she has followed in her efforts to do good, may say: "Come up higher, thou blessed of my Father. Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these my brethren ye did it unto me." A. H. JESSUP, Chaplain Iowa State Penitentiary. Fort Madison, Iowa, April 18, 1904. WORK IN SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO. Several interesting experiences have occurred in connection with my visits to the prison at Santa Fe, New Mexico. At one time I found there a good old Christian man, "a trusty," who had charge of the Superintendent's horses, driving the family to town, etc., and had much liberty given him. One day he sat in front of me, driving to town, and I said to him, "I am going to pray to God to remove the 'stripes' from you." He said, "Pray for my release--I know God hears prayer." I did so, as did also my good co-workers, returned missionaries home from Africa on a visit. In three or four days the warden gave him citizens' clothes; and soon after the governor gave him his pardon. We were led to pray for a pardon for brother T. of the same prison, and in three months he was a free man. At the time I had a sister with me from Japan. On my return from the Pacific coast we again held services in the prison at Santa Fe, and during the meeting I said, "What do you want me to sing, boys?" One said, "Sing, 'Some Mother's Boy.'" I did so, and in the morning, before I left the prison, the officer said to me, "Here is two dollars a man sent in from the prison for you." Upon inquiring the name of the prisoner I found it was J. L. As they told me he was a good man, a Christian, and a good prisoner, I took his case also to the Lord in prayer. Within three weeks he was given a pardon by the governor. The three men mentioned were all Christians. In none of these cases did I go to the governor, but just left all in God's hands, and prayed if God was pleased to set these men free, that He would impress the governor to give them their release. These cases occurred at different times. I am sure that the hope of pardon has in many cases saved the lives of prisoners, and also saved them from insanity. I give below a letter received from Brother T., also quote from a sketch of his life, as published by McAuley Water Street Mission, N. Y., and sent me by himself; also letters from the Secretary of the Christian Endeavor Society of the Santa Fe Prison, and very kind letters from Governor Thornton, Superintendent H. O. Bursom, and Brother S. H. Hadley, of Water Street Mission. May 26, 1903. Dear Mother Wheaton: I suppose you will be surprised to hear from me. The last time I saw you was in the Santa Fe Territorial Prison. You had a meeting in the cell house. I was the trusty who went with you to the depot. If you remember, you prayed for the removal of the number from the back of No. 917 and that he would be freed; you also told me you would pray that I would get out of prison. Your prayers have been answered. I was pardoned last Christmas, and am here working among the criminal classes as a missionary. You remember of my having been converted before your visit to the prison. It is a great blessing to me to spend the balance of my life thus, who had been sent to prison for forty years, under conviction and sentence for a crime of which I was perfectly innocent, although I was a great sinner in other respects. Yours in the grand work, E. U. T. SENTENCED TO FORTY YEARS IN PRISON. On the night of July 6, 18----, I was playing the banjo in a notorious gambling house in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It had been my business for years and I liked the surroundings; they suited me exactly; in fact, I have traveled from my home in the East, from city to city, through all the slumdum of the western cities playing my banjo; I thoroughly enjoyed it and the company which it brought me. * * * I was arrested on suspicion and locked in jail. I had no money, no friends and no character, and I began to realize for the first time what my life was bringing me. I was finally brought to trial and convicted on circumstantial evidence, and sentenced to forty years in prison for a crime that I knew nothing more about than the judge who sat upon the bench. Dear reader, can you enter into this story with me; can you form an idea of my despair as I received practically a life sentence for something which I did not do? My heart was hard and bitter against myself and everybody else as I was taken to the Territorial penitentiary at Santa Fe, New Mexico. I was in the prime of life, only 28 years old, but, oh, what steps I had already taken in the downward path that leadeth unto death. Every evil habit had fastened itself upon me, and after I had taken my place in the prison I almost went wild with terror and despair when I realized what was before me. I was soon set to work with pick and shovel digging out trenches on the grounds, and I tried to do the work the best I could and be a good prisoner. I presume I was, for a little time afterward I was placed in the library, and had charge of the greenhouse as well. One Sunday afternoon in the chapel the speaker took for his text, St. John, 3, 14th and 15th verses: "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up;" "That whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." The speaker dwelt at length on this actual occurrence and also how God commanded Moses to erect a pole with the brass serpent, and although there were there people dying by the thousands, those that looked on that brazen serpent were healed. He brought the application home to us prisoners--how the serpent of sin had stung us so deeply and our only remedy was to look to Jesus Christ, who was lifted up on the cross, and my hard heart began to melt and a desire came to me to be healed of this terrible serpent's bite. The speaker instructed us when we got back to our cells to read this whole chapter, and when I got back to my cell I took up the book and read, and I prayed to God to open my heart so that I could understand what He wanted of me, and as I read the blessed Holy Spirit came to my poor soul and showed me what a sinful man I was, and I then and there became a child of God. Great peace came to my soul, which at first I could scarcely understand, but although still a prisoner and wearing the stripes, I was a free man in Christ Jesus, and I rejoiced in my new found life. After this, prison life was not so dreary as it was before. Among the many different workers who came to the prison was Mr. and Mrs. J. E. Wood, of Santa Fe; he is Mail Agent on the road. He is a blessed man, and one who loves the prisoners. Another person I would like to mention is the person known as "Mother Wheaton." I think I should speak of a little circumstance that happened to one prisoner who went by the number 917, and who wore this number in great big cloth figures on his back; he drove "Mother Wheaton" to town, as he was a "trusty," and she said that she was going to pray that the Lord would take that number off his back, and in a few days after that the Warden came in with a new suit of clothes for him without the stripes or number--citizen's clothes. She once said to me: "I am going to pray to the Lord to get you out of here," reminding me of the prayer she made for No. 917. "Mother Wheaton" prayed for my release. On Christmas day, 1902, three months after the above conversation took place, I was in the chapel of the prison in the entertainment that was going on. Governor Otero sat in the balcony. The custom is that someone shall receive a pardon on Christmas day, and no one has any intimation who it is excepting the Governor. I had not the slightest idea that I would be the lucky man, and after the Assistant Superintendent asked that I play a certain composition of my own, he requested me to step out and he read the pardon; to my surprise my name was in the pardon, and, oh, the joy that came to me when I began to realize that I was a free man, but, dear reader, this pardon, great as it was, did not compare with the joy that came in my soul as I realized that I had received the pardon from my Redeemer, and that all my sins were forgiven and all my past crimes blotted out. While in the prison I read an account in a paper of the experience of S. H. Hadley, who was then in New York connected with the Jerry McAuley Mission, and I was desirous of going to New York to meet this man. I did so, and before I had been ten minutes in his office he told me what already was filling my soul, that I should be a worker for Christ and try to save those who had fallen, and the down-trodden. I stepped out on the Lord's promises with but very little knowledge, except the knowledge of sins forgiven, and a big hope in my soul of eternal life, and a love that I cannot express, without one dollar in my pocket, but with the simple faith in Jesus. I am working every night and day at every door that is open, and every one that I can open, where I can tell the wonderful story of Jesus' love to sinners. Dear reader, pray for me that God may wonderfully use me. "The dying thief rejoiced to see The Fountain in his day, And there I do, though vile as he, Wash all my sins away." * * * * * New York, ---- 18, 1904. Dear Mother: It gives me much pleasure when I think of your going from prison to prison telling the poor boys and girls behind the bars of Jesus. It always gave me great joy when I heard that our dear mother was going to speak to her boys at ---- Prison; because I knew you were our friend. I wish to again thank you for the day that you prayed that God would open the prison doors for me. God answered your prayer, and after serving about seven years of a forty years' sentence the prison doors were opened for me, and God sent me to New York to labor for souls. He sent me to Mr. S. H. Hadley, the present superintendent of the old McAuley Mission, and he has been indeed a father to me. I am so thankful that God sent me to such a good man--one who loves the lost sinner; and one who is willing to do anything in his power to help the helpless. May God's richest blessings be your portion is the prayer of your son in the Gospel. E. U. T. * * * * * McAuley Water Street Mission, New York, Sept. 11, 1903. "Mother Wheaton," as the boys behind the prison-bars, yes, and those who have by her prayers gone out from behind the prison-bars, affectionately call her, is one of the unique, missionary characters in this country. She travels all over this land with but one object in view and that is to tell sinners of the powerful, deathless love of Jesus and how no one can be too bad for Him to save. She brings sunshine to many sorrowing hearts and hope to thousands who never knew what hope was until they met her. An ex-convict, who is one of my helpers now, was prayed out of practically a life sentence by Mother Wheaton. I have seen her curled up in some seat in a day coach at three o'clock in the morning on a Southern railroad because she had not money enough to take a "sleeper" and had to travel all night or lose an appointment to speak at some stockade or prison. God bless her book and speed it on. S. H. HADLEY. * * * * * Santa Fe, N. M., May 26, 1903. Elizabeth Wheaton, Prison Evangelist, Los Angeles, Cal. Dear Friend in Christ: Yours of 23d received, and am happy to say that Mr. Trout (No. 99) has been pardoned, and is now engaged in bringing souls to Christ down on Water street in the McAuley Mission, New York City, using his musical talents to further the cause in which he is now devoting the rest of his life. I am sure he would be more than pleased to hear from you. All the boys are as well as could be expected, and a visit from you would be much appreciated. The C. E. S. has increased by seventy, making a total of one hundred and five. God bless you in all your efforts in the cause of Christ is the wish of all. Respectfully, P. M., sec. Prison C. E. S. * * * * * Santa Fe, N. M., July 28, 1903. Dear Mother: ... Your letter to Mr. J. W. L. came to hand in due time. I wrote you at Tabor, Iowa, in regard to the God-given gift, sweet liberty, which came to him on the twelfth of July. God has answered your prayer sooner than he had expected. He left the prison gates with full trust and confidence in the mercies of the omnipotent power of God. He is now in W---- with his brother. May God's benign countenance look down upon you and increase the manifold blessing and grace that He has so richly endowed you with. I will distribute the tracts and learn the song. All your boys send their respects and wish to be remembered in your prayers. Yours in Christ Jesus, P. M., Sec. C. E. S. * * * * * New Mexico Penitentiary, Santa Fe, N. M., Sept. 19, 1903. Dear Mother Wheaton: I was pleased to hear from you, and was exceedingly happy to know that you are going to put your experiences and noble work of the past amongst the unfortunates in prison into book form. Certainly, dear mother, no one knows the heartaches and sorrows of this class better than yourself. God has blest you in preparing you for this work and sending you from prison to prison to gather in the wavering souls from eternal destruction. God grant you many years more of service in the field where souls are perishing and when your earthly career shall have closed, the shining crown of eternal bliss in the presence of the King of Heaven and Earth, will forever be your beacon light to make you think of the ones below. Many, yea many unfortunates not yet born will read from these same prison cells of the work of "Mother Wheaton" in the prisons of our country. My every breath and prayerful utterance is "God be with you till we meet again." As ever, one of your boys in Christ Jesus, PHILIP M., Sec. C. E. S. * * * * * TERRITORY OF NEW MEXICO. Office of the Executive, Santa Fe, N. M., Oct., 1895. Judge E. V. Long, Las Vegas. Dear Sir: This will introduce to you Mrs. Wheaton, traveling in the interests of the prisons and asylums. She may want to hold a service at the asylum. If so please see that the opportunity is afforded her. Yours respectfully, W. T. THORNTON, Governor. * * * * * New Mexico Penitentiary, Sante Fe, N. M., Sept. 19, 1903. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton has been paying our institution visits on various occasions for some years past, and during these visits has done very much valuable work towards furthering the discipline of the institution. Her words of comfort and wholesome advice together with her teachings of Christianity has cheered many a poor, unfortunate soul up to believing and hoping for a better future; to realize that justice demands that some punishment be meted out to wrong doers and violators of the laws of the land; that such punishment is not eternal; that they can receive consolation and comfort their conscience even inside of the prison walls by resolving to be better men, by a closer observance of the moral laws as dictated by their conscience, a faithful compliance of their duties as men or women, and a strict obedience to their overseers acting under the law and, above all, an abiding faith in the Almighty God. Mrs. Wheaton has taught them to understand that they must not only resolve but must demonstrate by their actions in every day life a sincerity of purpose. The management feels very grateful indeed for the splendid work so generously devoted in the interest of humanity, which I consider also a most valuable assistance to the prison management in maintaining discipline and turning out discharged prisoners as better men and women, better equipped morally, physically and spiritually to meet and solve the problem of living an honest and upright life, earn and care for those who may be dependent upon them. H. O. BURSOM, Superintendent. CHAPTER XIV. Gone Home from the Scaffold. "Let the sighing of the prisoner come before thee; according to the greatness of thy power, preserve thou those that are appointed to die."--Psalms 79:11. "Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer." One of the most touching things, and to me the most important of all this God-appointed work, has been my special mission to those who are doomed to execution. If there ever is a time in our lives when we need a friend, it is when we are sick, in trouble, or about to die. The last words of our loved ones are very dear to us all. Nearly every home has at some time had a call from the death angel. And looking through the bureau drawer, you might see the little garments, shoes and playthings that used to be our darlings' before they went away. Turn the leaves of the old Family Bible and you will see hidden between its pages a lock of hair, perhaps father's or mother's. We look up to Heaven through our blinding tears, and cry out between our sobs: "Oh, God, help me to say 'Thy will be done.'" In looking over my packages of old letters from the departed ones who have paid the penalty of a violated law, dying either in the electric chair or on the scaffold, I find them coming to pieces, some so badly worn I can scarcely read them. And I know the hands that penned them are now returning back to dust. In order to show how God saves when they are truly penitent, even men of this class, who are counted the worst of criminals, I will give an account of a few instances which have come under my own observation, and extracts from some of the letters I have received--written before execution. And let us remember that our Savior declared that every sin shall be forgiven to men, except the sin against the Holy Ghost. INDIFFERENT BUT FINALLY CONVERTED. The first one who was converted under my ministry, before going to the scaffold, was executed in August, 1885, in the state of Kentucky. On going to jail I found this young man there with the sentence of death upon him. The burden of his lost condition came upon my soul in great power. I felt I should die unless he was saved, and cried mightily to God for his conviction and conversion. I held several meetings there and was entertained a part of the time by the sheriff's wife, who was a Christian lady. She, too, was very anxious for this young man's salvation. As I took the train to leave the place, his mother accompanied me to the depot--crying and pleading, "Oh, pray for my poor boy. It will surely kill me." The bitter wail of that mother's heart seems to still ring in my ears. Letters from the sheriff's wife came often, telling me of the boy's still seeming indifferent. But she said that he often inquired about me and wanted to see me. I prayed for this soul almost incessantly for forty-five days, being scarcely able to sleep at night; and he was finally converted. After his conversion I received from him the following letters: ----, KY., August 5, 1885. My Dear Friend: I received your card this morning and was very glad to hear from you indeed. Mrs. Wheaton, I feel my Savior in my heart. I know that He will save my soul. I am praying to my God every hour in the day. I am praying for God to place something in my heart to tell the people when I go to the scaffold. I want to tell them what my Savior has placed in my heart--the man that suffered and died that I should have everlasting life. I wish you could be with me once more on earth to sing and pray with me, but if not, I will meet you on that other shore. My friend Charley is praying and singing with me every day and night and says he will meet us in the kingdom. They are all well here but Mrs. N. (the sheriff's wife). She has been sick, but is better now. I would like to be with you once more before I die, and if not, look out for me when you reach that happy land. Good-by, good-by. Remember me in your prayers. I have yet nine days to live. From your friend, H---- F----. * * * * * ----, KY., August 12, 1885. My Dear Friend: I received your card tonight at my cell door. I seem to see you now at the door of my cell, praying for me. The sheriff came in this morning and put shackles on me. But I thank God that after two days more I will be at rest. I have been praying to my Father to teach me something to tell the world at my last hour. I would like to tell everybody what my dear Savior has done for me. He has given me what I asked Him for and He will go with me to the scaffold. I will see you again, "In the fair and happy land, just across on the evergreen shore." I am ready to go home to rest. I have suffered enough in this world, so I will bid the world good-by. I will have to bid you good-by for the present. I will see you again. I will watch for you. Excuse me for not answering you sooner. I am in my cell and it is very dark for me to write, but I do my best. I fast and pray most all the time. Good-by once more for a while. From your true friend, H. F. Below is an extract from a letter written by the sheriff's wife to me shortly after the execution took place: Dear Sister: I fulfill the promise I made to poor Henry the day he was executed, to write you a letter and tell you all about him after he was gone to that bright glory land. It would have done you good to have seen him the last three days he lived. He was as happy as he could be. He had a smile on his countenance all the time and never broke down, no difference who of his friends came to see him. He talked to his mother and brothers so nice and gave them such good advice. He told his mother to not grieve after him, but to rejoice, for he would be so much better off after he was gone, for he knew that he would be at rest. And if they would live and do right they could come to him. The people that were here that day (and there were between four and five thousand) were surprised to see the beautiful countenance he left the prison with. He helped to sing that beautiful hymn, "And must I be to judgment brought, And answer in that day For every vain and idle thought And every word I say?" with the chorus, "We are passing away," and he was heard distinctly by all. He clapped his hands while he was singing; then he stepped on to the trap and was soon gone. He had a prayer on his lips when the black cap was drawn over his face, and said, "Good-by" to all his friends, and repeated, "Good-by." He told me to tell you he expected to meet you in heaven. His mother and brothers send their kindest regards to you. May God bless you. Your sister in Christ, S. N. MOTHER'S PRAYERS. The case of C---- was one of most intense interest to the public as well as his immediate friends. For long months I wept and prayed for this young man. He was hoping for a new trial. He was always glad to see me and to have me sing for him. He was refined, educated, a member of "one of the F. F. V.'s," as they say, yet doomed to die on the scaffold. How my heart longed to see him saved--for Jesus, too, was longing for his salvation. I was called to other fields of labor before the fatal day and was not sure of his acceptance with God, but can but hope that his poor mother's prayers and mine were heard in heaven and that that poor, misguided youth whose every wish had before been gratified was forgiven. We can but cast the mantle of charity over the case and leave it with Him who wills not that any should perish but that all should turn to Him and live. He wrote me the following: Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Prison Missionary: I appreciate very highly your kindness and sympathy and more so your prayers. I trust we may all meet in a better land. Return my thanks to Mrs. Gen T----. Respectfully, T. J. C. Aug. 24, 1885. CLAIMED TO BE INNOCENT. The following letter is from one who was executed in 1887. He declared to the very last that he was innocent of the crime for which he was convicted. He always maintained to me that the person he was supposed to have murdered committed suicide under circumstances which threw suspicion upon him. For myself, I do not believe in capital punishment and certainly if it is ever justifiable it is not in any case that leaves a possibility of doubt regarding the guilt of the accused. In spite of great hindrances, being in the place, I was led to visit the jail. After having sung for some of the other prisoners an officer came to me asking if I would go down below to visit a condemned man who had heard me sing and requested that I would come to him. Of course I went--though the opening to his cell was so small that I had to stoop very low to get in. If I remember rightly he claimed to be converted that day. I was obliged to leave the city soon after, but heard from him several times before his execution. Petersburg, Va., April, 1887. My Dear Friend: I received your postal and will answer it at once. I was very glad to hear from you, especially as you remind me so much of my dear old mother--not exactly now, but as she was about fifteen years ago. * * * Mrs. R. sang the same hymn for me that I heard you sing to those in the room above me. She said she would, if she had the chance before she left the city, write it for me and bring it to me, but as she has not been here yet I fear she has left, so I will be very glad if you will be so kind as to write it for me. It is beautiful. I was very sorry you left so soon. I would have been so glad for you to have been in town longer so you could have called at least once more! But if I never see you on this earth it is comforting to know we may meet in heaven. But, O God! had I received justice, today I would be as free as the birds of the field. There is a blessed hope in knowing while we are persecuted by men, it is only the body they can persecute on this earth, the soul is out of their reach. And before the flesh is cold in death my soul will be soaring above in the realms of bliss to be forever blessed! O forever! Forevermore! It is one of the most consoling of all consolations for me to know that it is only the condemnation of man and the so-called law of the land by which I was convicted--not by--no, not by--the great Judge of all hearts and not by justice at all. Only condemned by man--not by my God and justice. But it is all in God's hands and He will repay, for "Vengeance is mine," saith the Lord. Vengeance is not mine nor do I wish to revenge any one. * * * "Revenge is sweet," is an old adage, but not to me to get revenge and by so doing lose my own soul, for what is the whole world to gain and lose your own soul? I am charged with that of which I am not guilty, but my protestation is in no way believed. Neither was the only pure one who ever trod the soil of this earth. He was caught and charged, accused, condemned--yes, more than that, was crucified. Was he guilty? No--emphatically no. But his innocence could not save him. Nor did mine do me any good in my trial at all. But, thank God, it will do me good in the world to come, where I will receive justice and I will not be in danger of prejudice as lies and prejudice are the cause of my being in this lonely cell today. * * * All the boys in the room over me request me to be remembered in my letter to you kindly. Many thanks to you for those tracts you sent me. I hope to be remembered in your daily appeals to our Maker, in whose care I prayerfully submit myself and you to his keeping in the future. God grant it and may we meet in heaven. Hoping this will in no way offend you and that it may be answered soon to one in solitude--yet not alone; condemned--yet not guilty. Your brother in Christ, W. R. P. HARDENED IN CRIME. The case of the writer of the following communications (which were written on postal cards) was one of note. He was supposed to be so hardened in crime and so void of feeling that there was no hope for him--that nothing could reach or save him. But I believed that God loved him just as the Word teaches us, and I laid hold on the promises of the Bible for his soul's salvation. I am sure that God never turns a penitent soul away empty who comes to Him in faith, feeling that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him. "O ye of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" After the light of God broke in upon this poor man's soul he saw that he was a wretched sinner, but that there was pardon and peace for all who truly repent of their sins and who confess and forsake them. To such God has given the promise of eternal life and that the blood of Jesus Christ his Son shall cleanse their hearts from all sin. This man was convinced of his need of a Savior and deeply convicted of sin and we believe was made ready to meet God. He seemed very deeply thankful to me for my untiring efforts in his behalf and surprised at my faith and confidence in God for him, and through these He was brought by the power of the Spirit unto repentance toward God and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. June 18, 1887. My Dear, Kind Friend: I received your welcome postal and it makes me happy to read it. I am now ready to go to my fate. I pray every night and day for God to forgive me. I put my whole trust in Him. Pray for me that God will wash my sins away and receive me in heaven. As I expect God to forgive me I forgive and love everybody. Think of me when I am gone. I wish you could pray with me before I go on my long journey, for I love to hear you pray. Good-bye. From your penitent brother in Christ. A. T. * * * * * Jail, June 23, 1887. Dear Sister in Christ: My time on this earth is now very short (but seven days) and I am now ready to go to my Father, whom I trust and pray will forgive me my crime and receive me in his heavenly home. I pray every hour in the day and, my dear sister, do the same for me that my sins may be washed away in His blood. Pray that He may give me everlasting life. O, if I could but live my life over again, how I would pray and put all my trust in Him. Dear sister, this may be the last time you may hear from me on this earth, but I hope we may meet in heaven. Good-bye, God bless you and your noble work. Yours waiting to go to his Savior, A. T. May God forgive me. * * * * * L., Ky., June 25, 1887. Dear Sister in Christ: If you only knew how much a poor sinner like me needs the prayers of such Christians and lovers of God and His Word as you are, you would pray both night and day that He will receive me in his heavenly home, where there is no sin or sorrow, but where all is love and peace. I have now but five short days until all that is of the world will be consigned to the tomb and I do so pray night and day that Jesus will cleanse me of my sins. I think this will be the last time you will hear from me on this earth and when I go to eternity I do so praising God, forgiving my enemies, firm in faith and the belief that my sins are washed away in the blood of Jesus. Good-bye. May we meet in heaven. A. T. In 1888 I visited a county jail so crowded with prisoners that I wondered how they could live in that poorly ventilated, filthy prison. They had little to eat and evidently no one to care for them. There were Indians, Mexicans, white and colored all together. There I found TEN MEN UNDER DEATH SENTENCE; and I was convinced that several were innocent of the charges laid against them--being condemned by circumstantial evidence. Those ten condemned men were made the subject of constant, earnest prayer. O, if judges and jurymen could only know what eternal destinies hang upon their decisions, surely they would be less ready to condemn on less than positive evidence. Several of the ten were executed--among them the writer of the following letter: ----, April 2, 1888. My Dear Sister: We received your postal. I was so glad to receive it from those who love my soul. I have not forgotten one word you left with me. Jesus Christ is the subject of my day talk and night dreams. I remember you when I get down on my knees to pray. I pray for the Lord's will to be done with me as it is done in heaven. I have forsaken the world for Jesus' sake. His love is shed abroad in my heart. Myself and Brothers W. and A. (whose sentences have been changed) are still serving God--also Brother S. I could not tell you how it is with the other boys, but I talk to them every day. Brothers W., A., and S. join with me in sending their love to you. God bless you. I am your brother in Christ. ---- ---- * * * * * April 26, A. D. 1888. Sister Elizabeth R. Wheaton. My Dear Sister in Jesus Christ: My days have been numbered here on earth by man, but there is no end to the number of days that my God has promised me in heaven--no more a prisoner here on earth, but to live with our Lord forevermore. Let not your heart be troubled about me, for all is well! Yes, indeed, all is well. The love of Christ will bear me home. Jesus Christ is in me and I am in Him. In God I trust, in Him I die. I could not tell you how the case is with the other boys, but I do know for myself I am ready at any time. My dear sister, I have sent the lovely handkerchief you gave me home to my old mother. I told mother who gave it to me and for her to place it in my Bible and put it in her trunk and then I said: "Here is a picture of mine and a lock of hair for my poor, old mother and sisters and brothers." I leave a mother, four sisters and two brothers. If you wish sometime to write to my mother her address is ---- ----. Farewell until we meet again. I am your brother in Jesus Christ, ---- ---- CONVERSION OF A JEWISH BOY. In the same year, I found in one of the prisons of California, a young Jew under sentence of death. While under the influence of drink, he shot the girl he truly loved. He never realized it till he became sober and found himself in prison. Naturally he was surprised and greatly shocked. Wondering why he was there, and being told of his crime, he was overwhelmed with grief, and remorse of conscience. Poor boy! His was a sad ending. He was so grief-stricken! And yet the courts were against him, and the world at large, for the sin was pronounced murder in the first degree and he must die--_a boy in his teens_. As I looked through the grating at the poor doomed boy, an old gentleman spoke to me and said something very unkind about him. The boy said, "That man is a _hypocrite_. But I like those hymns you sang. _Won't you sing for me?_" So I sang for him, and he requested me not to talk to him then. So I said, "Can I come and see you again?" "_Oh, yes, come again, do."_ This poor boy was one of the lost ones, and Jesus touched his heart while I sang, "Meet me there." This was from that time on his favorite hymn, and I sang it for him just before he went to the scaffold. I went back and forth from San Francisco to other places for six weeks, but his case lay very heavy upon my heart. I knew that on the 14th of September he was to go, and that worse still, he was in danger of eternal death. I pleaded and wept for him day and night, that he might be brought to see his lost condition and his need of Christ and yield to God. How I bless God that He hears and answers prayer! "If any man see his brother sin a sin which is not unto death, he shall ask, and he shall give him life for them that sin not unto death."--1 John 5:16. Before his conversion I received from him the following letters, beautifully and correctly written: San Francisco, Aug. 9, 1888. Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton: As to religion I do not profess any creed. I do not mean by the above that I hate them--on the contrary, I love religion and hate hypocrisy. I am not an atheist and must admit that I believe in a true, just and most merciful God. I appreciate your visits very much and hope you will call to see me as often as opportunity and convenience will allow, so I now close this brief epistle by sending kindest regards and best wishes. I am Respectfully, ---- ----. "Condemned Cell." P. S.--Kind thanks for singing. * * * * * San Francisco, Sept. 7, 1888. Mrs. Wheaton: I am pleased that you called to see me and hope you will repeat your visits. It grieves me to see you shed tears, and although I say nothing, remember that "still water runs deep." I have faith and believe in prayer, so I believe that the cause of a condemned boy will be heard in heaven and will come to pass. I am not allowed to shake hands, much less give my mother a comforting kiss. I now end by thanking you very kindly for your kindness and consideration to me. I am, respectfully, ---- ----. I went, the day before the execution, to see him. No one was allowed to go inside the doomed boy's cell, so I was compelled to submit to the law. The sheriff said positively, "No, you cannot go inside." But the chief jailer said, "I promised that this lady should go inside the boy's cell before the execution, and I must keep my word. I will go in with her." He opened the door and we went in. He was a grand man. Myself and the sister who was with me prayed for the prisoner's salvation. We sang and read and prayed, and at last the presence of the Holy Spirit seemed to fill the gloomy little cell, and to touch the poor boy kneeling there with the shackles on his limbs. (They frequently put shackles on some days before the execution, and place them in the "doomed cell.") We kept on praying and singing and at last the light came into his heart, and God owned him as His child. On the morning of the execution, I went early to the prison; and as I hurried along there met me a young Catholic priest, who was our mutual friend, and very kind. He said, "_Come quickly, the boy wants you._ He has called for you all night, and they could not find you, so they came for me. I have been waiting for you." This priest had labored with me to convince the poor boy that Jesus was the Christ and that He alone could save him. I hurried on into the prison for my last greeting on earth with the poor condemned boy. There was no loud demonstration--he was going to die, and knew it; but he felt that he was ready. He said to me: "I can hardly wait the hour to go home. I am willing and ready to die. O sing for me my favorite songs. I wish you could go with me to the scaffold, but that is against the law for women to go to the execution in this state." Mothers could not endure such things, but I feel, when permitted, as if I must stay till all is over. I took a white silk handkerchief and gently folded it around the boy's neck, and said, "I think the rope won't hurt so bad, and the pain won't be so severe with this around your neck." I shall never forget the grateful look on his face, as he smilingly thanked me. He was a very refined young man, and only for whiskey he might be living yet. As I bade him good-bye he said, "Please sing for me _once more_ before I go." I sang and passed out among the crowds of people. I seemed to be lifted above the things of earth--I was so thankful for his salvation. Reader, do you know what it is to travail for a soul and then count the hours and moments till you see them go over the river of death, and by-and-by with the eye of faith see them enter the pearly gates into the presence of Him who was crucified for them? After the execution I received the following kind letter from the young priest to whom I have referred: San Francisco, Oct. 13, 1888. Dear Madam: It was with great pleasure I read your kind and welcome note. I thank you very much for your pleasant remembrance and hope that God will bless your efforts and sacrifices on behalf of the poor prisoners. In regard to A., I can say that he was resigned to the last and died well prepared, in my opinion. I was with him almost constantly during the last twelve hours. I think his family placed the silk handkerchief in the coffin with him. Please give my regards to your kind companion and say sometimes a little prayer for me. I hope to see you soon in San Francisco and have the pleasure of renewing my acquaintance. I have the honor of remaining, Yours truly in Jesus Christ, Rev. N---- F----. MYSTERIOUSLY GUIDED. In April, 1891, I was in Kansas City, Mo. After waiting upon the Lord for some days asking Him where He would have me go next I was impressed to go to the depot and that there it would be shown me what I must do. I did so, but even then was left for several hours in uncertainty as to what train to take, as I had passes on four different lines. I spent the time in earnest prayer. At last, toward evening, I was led to take the Rock Island train for Chicago and impressed that the Lord would show me when and where to stop. I had two sisters and a little boy with me and they could not understand my indecision. As our train hurried on during the night, I kept asking the Lord where I should stop, and He made it very plain to me that I was to stop at Ottawa, Ill. I knew no one there, and there was no state-prison there, but the Lord showed me to go to the county jail and when I did so found there were several men there soon to be executed. I was told that no one was permitted to see them; but we went praying and the Lord touched the hearts of the officers and we were permitted to hold a service. We were much helped of the Holy Spirit and I believe some of these condemned men were saved--at least they seemed to give evidence of it. One of them afterwards wrote me two letters. These I give to my readers. It is well to remember, however, that not many such prisoners are accustomed to expressing their thoughts in writing and hence their letters fail to express the depth of feeling clearly shown in their words and manner when I am with them. Again all their letters are to be read before they leave the prison, so they do not open their hearts as freely when writing as when speaking with me alone. La Salle County Jail, Ottawa, Ill., April 28, 1891. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. Dear Sister: We are doing very well. As for Mr. C. and myself, we will do the best we can to reach that Beautiful home in the New Jerusalem, for the Lord saith: "He that believeth and abideth in Me shall have everlasting life." As you must have seen, our belief is a little different from yours in some respects, but, nevertheless, we are all working for that one place and that is heaven. He that leaveth his sins behind him shall be saved. The example of those who died for Christ, for the faith and for virtue's sake are also continually placed before us that we may learn to endure sufferings and even death rather than be unfaithful to God and stain our conscience with sin. The Christian's motto is, "Death before dishonor." Hoping that you will continue to pray for us that we may be cleansed from sin and be saved, we send you our sincere and hearty wishes for your welfare. God bless you and keep you ever for your sincere effort in our behalf. Hoping that we may meet in that beautiful place where the penitent shall find rest, I remain yours in respect, CHARLIE ----. * * * * * La Salle County Jail, Ottawa, Ill., May 6, 1891. Dear Sister: I was glad to receive your letter and to hear that you are still praying for us. Mr. F. has gone out, so there are just two of us--me and Mr. C., who, I think, will get a new trial. He sends his kind regards and is doing well. As for me, I am very close to the grave as I have only four more days to live, but hope that it will be all for the best. I am preparing myself for death as much as possible for so short a time. My thoughts are not of the outside world, but of a higher world, where there is no sin or trouble or care, but everylasting life and happiness. I also hope that we may meet in that haven of rest. I will do as you say, put my trust in God and believe in Him. Life is very short at best, but we all have our cares and troubles and must bear with them the best we can, as we are helpless without the grace of God. Thanking you sincerely for your kind efforts in our behalf, I remain your brother in all sincerity. Farewell. Yours in respect, CHARLIE ----. IN LONG EXPECTATION. I first saw E. B---- in the jail in Wichita, Kansas. There were many prisoners there at that time and especially in the Oklahoma ward. It was soon after the opening up of Oklahoma territory and the rush for claims. There was great excitement and many lost their lives. Some were thrown from their horses and killed. Others died from exhaustion, running as for life to get the property they so much coveted. There were many things done that were wrong. Some are still lingering inside prison walls for "defending their rights" as they thought. I do not remember just what E.'s trouble was, but he was sentenced to death and the day and the hour were set. I went often to the prison and sang and prayed for the prisoners. They were my friends. I knew and loved them as a mother would, and especially this young boy--the youngest of them all. I went away to Europe and on my return I again visited the jail in Wichita to hold a service. While singing the first hymn the jailer came into the apartment where I was and said, "The Oklahoma boys have heard you singing and want you to come at once to their ward. They did not know you had returned from Scotland and are so anxious to see you." And such a welcome as those dear boys and men gave me I had received no where else since my return. Some were under death sentences. O how my heart aches even now as I think of the tears they shed and of their warm handclasp. Then I could only fall on my knees and sob out my sorrow for them and my heartfelt thanks to God for the warm welcome and as I wept and prayed I believe good was accomplished and souls saved. Some are dead and gone. Others are in the asylum for the criminal insane. A few were pardoned out. Eddie's case lingered. While hoping for a commutation of sentence he wrote the following letter: Wichita, May 3, 1891. Dear Friend: I received your kind letter. Was glad to hear you were well and still at your post, working for others. I am still in my little cell awaiting what comes and have not heard much yet regarding commitment, but hope it may come in time. I am feeling as though I have a heavy load on my shoulders for a boy, but I hope and pray for the best to come. I want to see the light, if there is any for me. I sometimes think that I am forgotten; and then again I know better, for there is One who never forgets us. I have read those nice tracts you sent me and they are all true. The boys are all well and send their best respects to you and hope to meet you again; and you know I do, for I feel the need of your kindness and appreciate it highly. I know what a kind mother is. I have a good Christian mother and father. Oh, if I were only free again, so I could enjoy life with my dear mother! No one knows how lonely I am. You are only one hundred miles from my home in ----, Illinois. If you go there you could find them by enquiring for them. They would be glad to see you, as I have told them about your being here. I hope some day that you can come and see me on the outside. What a happy boy I would be! If not, I hope we may meet in that brighter home. I have been reading my Bible and find relief. What a book it is, and the good that can be gotten from it! I wish you success through life and that you may save many a poor lost sinner. No one knows the good they can do until they try. May God bless you, is my prayer. EDDIE ----. SENTENCE COMMUTED. Many of those acquainted with the case were anxious for his release but met with little encouragement. I continued to pray earnestly that at least his life might be spared. When the day appointed for his execution came I was in a distant state some miles from a telegraph office, but I sent a little boy to the office with a message telling him that the Lord might even yet deliver him and if not would sustain him in his dying moments. The same day a wire came for him from the governor changing his sentence to imprisonment for life. He was transferred to a northern prison, but only lived a few years. So far as I could learn he lived and died a Christian, and I hope to see him again by and by in heaven. A MAN DECEIVED. At one time I held a service with the prisoners in the county jail in Sedalia, Missouri. Among them was a poor old man awaiting execution. He seemed unmoved, stolid, indifferent. I talked and prayed with him and asked him about his soul's salvation. He said it was all right with his soul and that he was saved. I knew the Lord showed me that he was a deceived man and that the devil had deluded him into thinking he was all right. I was faithful to my convictions, to my God and to his soul. I said to him: "You are not prepared to face the scaffold and death." He seemed indignant that I should doubt his word, but I left him with the warning, "Prepare to meet thy God." I went to the wife of the sheriff, who was an excellent woman, and found she too was very anxious about his soul. I told her of my burden for him and asked for a room where I could wait on God in prayer and she kindly furnished it. In an hour the old man sent word to the sheriff to send for me to come and pray for him as he was not fit to die. In company with others I went to him and the poor deceived old man repented of his sins and confessed them to God and to us and was blessedly saved and died in the full assurance of faith. His last words were of his hope in Christ and of his acceptance with God. I fully believe that the blood of Jesus--who died on the cross for sinners and was the friend of sinners always--did cleanse his soul. The sheriff's wife told me of his last words and that all was well. We give a clipping from a Sedalia paper concerning the case. VISITORS EXCLUDED. WILLIAMSON WILL RECEIVE NO MORE VISITS--PREPARATION FOR THE EXECUTION. Sheriff Ellis R. Smith has commenced to make his arrangements for the execution of Thomas A. Williamson, and everything will be in readiness before Saturday morning. The rope with which John Oscar Turlington and Bill Price were hanged will be used, the sheriff having received a telegram yesterday from Sheriff Mat S. Ayers, of Saline county, stating that it had been forwarded to him by express. On the day of execution the police force will assist the county authorities in preserving order in the vicinity of the jail building. No more visitors will be permitted to see and talk with Williamson, except his spiritual advisers. This is in compliance with the condemned man's wishes, which are contained in the following note which he sent to Sheriff Smith yesterday: "Sheriff Smith: I would like a cell by myself the rest of my time. You can put me any place. I will give you no trouble. My mind is on God. I would like to be upstairs; it is lighter up there. I will go where you put me. T. A. W." I received from him the following letters written after his conversion. One of them reached me after his execution: Sedalia, Mo. Sister Elizabeth R. Wheaton: I am well this morning. I thank God for it. I hope this will find you well. I prayed to God to watch over me through the night, and He did. I feel happy. I will meet you across the river. We will have a good time. May God keep you. I am going to heaven. I will meet you in that bright land. I am glad to hear from you. THOS. A. * * * * * Sedalia, Mo., October 29, 1891. My True Mother: I got your letter right now. I read it and got on my knees and prayed to God to have mercy on me. My sister, I have my mind on Jesus all the time. I feel happy this morning. Mother, I will meet you on the other shore. Mother S. (the sheriff's wife) is so kind to me! My mind is on God so I can hardly write. I will pray for you. THOS. A. INTERCEDED FOR THE LIFE OF A BOY. I went to a city in 1898, where there were four under sentence of death, and when I went into the jail found many waiting trial. Some were going to state's prison. Others were to die on the scaffold. I was especially impressed with the case of one boy who was under death sentence. I held a service with the prisoners and talked personally to those condemned to die. One man was wonderfully saved and I believe went to heaven from the scaffold. I then went away to other states. But I was so troubled I made inquiries and found that the young boy to whom I referred _was not charged with being a murderer_, and was not deserving of death. I plead to God if there was nothing the law could find in him worthy of death, that his sentence might be commuted, and the poor boy might live. Upon my return I went to the capital to see the Governor, and asked him to grant the boy a life sentence in prison. My request was granted, it was soon all settled and the boy's life was spared. Yet the Deputy Sheriff was very angry at the Governor for granting the commutation! WENT TO THE SCAFFOLD SINGING. In May, 1899, another poor prisoner ended his life on the scaffold. The Friday before, two died on the same gallows. I visited them the day before the execution, talked and sang hymns (their favorites), and then we three kneeled together in prayer in the little "condemned cell." Kneeling between my boys, clasping each by the hand, we gave ourselves to the blessed Savior, who said just before he expired on the cross, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." I shall never forget that last prayer meeting with those unfortunate men who had been led astray by evil surroundings and associations, forming habits which finally sent them to early graves, by fearful deaths. Yet, as we knelt there together, just we three and the blessed Holy Spirit witnessing, we promised to meet in Heaven. Jesus met us there and forgave them their sins, and joy filled our souls with love for Him who gave Himself a ransom for us, not willing that any should perish, but rather that all should have eternal life. How my heart rejoiced to hear them say they were prepared to go, and the parting was very sweet. A solemn hush filled the little cell--sweet peace which only comes when souls have been redeemed, fell upon my heart, and I was glad Jesus Himself did His own work for His own name's honor and glory. They sang hymns and prayed all night before the execution. They refused to eat, preferring to sing and pray till the last, and went to the scaffold singing and praising God, and were still singing when the drop fell, and they were gone from earth. My heart cried out for the living that May morning, as another one went to the scaffold, "O God, save his soul! O God, forgive him all his sins. The same scaffold, the same sin, and the same Jesus to blot out all his transgressions." I believe God, where he says, Isa. 1:18, "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow: though they be red like crimson they shall be as wool." If it were not for the promises of God in His blessed Word, I should give up in despair, sometimes, over those cases who have been so deceived by the devil. Yet God is able to snatch them as brands from the burning. Jude 22-23 says, "And of some have compassion, making a difference: and others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire; hating even the garment spotted by the flesh." Jesus said, "Whosoever will may come," I believe His promises are "Yea and amen to all that believe." When I see what saloons and other evils are doing to wreck lives and ruin souls, I wonder how God on His throne can ever forgive such premeditated, intentional sins. The keepers of these places sell themselves to Satan to be used by him to defeat God's plan of saving those who will come unto Him. O that all who claim to be Christians would unite to overthrow the means that Satan uses to lead down to eternal death so many precious souls! The case to which I shall now refer was one in many respects especially touching. The condemned man had occupied _a prominent official position_. The dear, noble wife never turned away from her husband. Hers were the kind heart and hands that ministered to his needs and cheered the long, gloomy hours of his imprisonment. She stood by him in his trial and during those days of agony and suspense. Then came the verdict "Guilty," and the sentence of death! Yet, though her own heart was breaking as she thought of herself and her beautiful, helpless children, she still sought to cheer and comfort as best she could that poor condemned man whose heart was torn with anguish when he realized that because of his sin that faithful loving wife and those innocent children must be left disgraced and destitute. What is to become of the little ones who are powerless to help themselves and of the poor despised, rejected, forsaken mother, trying to earn with her own hands by toiling night and day enough to feed and clothe those helpless babes? O my God, will you not help me to provide a home for such as these? For the sake of these heart-broken mothers whose lives are doomed to be (only as helped by the grace of God) one great unending sorrow--for the sake of the poor children so cruelly robbed of their birthright--a father's good name and protection, these who are worse than orphans, yet for whom nobody seems to care, help me to do what I can--what thou dost require at my hands. This man was brought up in a Christian home and but for the power of evil associations with which he was brought in contact and the curse of the legalized saloon, would today in all probability have been a respected and honorable member of society. I first found him one Fourth of July. While others were spending the holiday I went toiling through the heat to the prison and there I found my reward. My soul was borne upward by the Holy Spirit as I sang many songs of praise and tenderly led this poor man to the foot of the cross where he was saved. His wife was there a part of the time. I seem to see the parting even now of those dear ones! Well, God knows it all. Had I never known a wife's and a mother's love I could not have sympathized with them as I did. I thought--What if _my_ boy had lived and come to such an end--and I wept with that faithful wife as she took leave. O, sisters, there is a power in even a look of love coming from a true heart. I give two letters received from the condemned man and one written me by his wife. I omit the name of place and exact date and even the initials, as so few years have passed and I do not wish to do anything that might bring pain to the hearts of surviving friends. The family was of the most cultured and respected. July, 1899. Dear Sister Wheaton: It was with the greatest pleasure that I read your card this morning. I was wondering where you were; but I knew that if your health permitted you, you were somewhere doing good to some poor unfortunate. Yes, I am putting my entire trust in Jesus. He saves me from my sins and when the cares and woes of this life come to disturb my peace, I look unto the Savior and soon all is peace again. What would I do in a place like this and under such circumstances did not his gentle voice speak unto me and say, "Fear not, I will not leave nor forsake you." My wife was down to see me last Monday, and is coming today (Thursday). She wrote me that your songs and prayer were still ringing in her ears--so you see that your good work is not only felt by prisoners. I hope that you may be able to go on with the good work that so much delights you and that you may yet win many wandering souls and bring them into the fold of God and that when your work on earth is ended you may rest from your labors in the most beautiful palace in the city of heaven. You may think that strange that I said "palace," but I believe that heaven is a real and tangible city--the home of God, from where He sends the Holy Ghost to dwell in the hearts of all those who are willing to receive Him. I will now say good-by, and if I never again meet you on this earth, I hope to meet you in heaven. I am yours most sincerely in the hope of heaven. ---- ----. * * * * * August, 1899. My Dear Mother, for such you seem to me, I will never while I am on this earth cease to think of you. I have remembered your voice since I first heard you sing and pray while in the cells of poor W----and S----, the condemned men. I wished then that I could have seen you, and I told the boys that you were certainly born of God; and from that day I have desired to have your influence and prayers. I am still trusting in the love, mercy and power of the Savior to save my soul in the eternal world and to keep me from sin while I am in this. I have no other hope, no other desire than to serve my Master. I would want to attain to a state of perfection here, if such were possible, but you know that the cares of this life come in to rob us of the pleasure that we would enjoy in the anticipation of heaven. But some day the dark clouds that overshadow us and prevent us for a while from seeing the Savior's smiling face will be rolled away. I am glad to tell you that the sentence of R----, whose cell was next to mine, has been commuted to life imprisonment. He and the man P---- send their regards to you. P----'s sentence is respited until the 17th of November, and in the meantime he hopes for a new trial. I will close, wishing you the choicest blessings of heaven, and I am yours very sincerely, trusting in the hope of eternal life, Your brother in Christ, ---- ----. The following from the _Star_ of ----, ----, explains itself. The men are referred to in the above letter: BOTH TWICE CONVICTED OF THE CRIME OF MURDER. Everything is in readiness at the District jail for the double execution which is to take place tomorrow, when S---- and W---- will pay the penalty of their crimes. So far as outward appearances are concerned, the condemned men are in a better frame of mind than are most of the other prisoners in the big brown-stone prison. Their spiritual advisers are with them most of the time, and when they are absent the men pass the hours reading religious books and praying. S---- and W---- have both been well-behaved prisoners and have given the jail officials no trouble whatever. The former has been particularly friendly with the guards and others, and today he thanked several of them for past kindnesses. He also desired to express his gratitude to his many friends for what they had done for him, and said he desired to do so through the _Star_. S---- has had many visitors during the entire time of his confinement in jail, but more especially during recent weeks. Most of them have been female relatives. They have been endeavoring to collect funds enough to defray the expenses of a decent burial. In the event of their being successful the body will be turned over to them after the execution by the undertaker employed by the government to prepare the bodies for burial. Monday afternoon, just before the prison doors were locked for the day, the bell rang and the guard at the door admitted a woman who handed in her card on which was printed: "Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, "Prison Evangelist. "No Home but Heaven." She had with her a number of tracts which she distributed to some of the prisoners. Her religious work is all done in prisons, and she makes a specialty of laboring with condemned men. She stated to the guards that she had traveled about 2,000 miles to see those in jail here before their execution. The warden admitted her to the cells. She had W---- and S---- join her in prayer and song in the latter's cell, and the men seemed greatly to appreciate her hour's visit. She next saw E---- S----, who is to die on the scaffold next week. He, too, appeared to enjoy her call. ---- ---- _Star_. * * * * * August, 1899. Mrs. Wheaton. My Dear Sister: I must write a few lines to you, in my husband's letter, as you have shown yourself so kind to him, poor fellow. I can see you now and hear you, in my fancy, singing those beautiful pieces. Oh, how sad I felt on that Fourth of July as I sat and listened, especially to the one called "Some Mother's Child," as I looked upon my dear husband and thought of his mother and how tenderly he had been reared by Christian parents, and was always a good and thoughtful son and husband until by reason of evil associations he fell into sin and kept going further and further from God until at last he was led to do the most dreadful of deeds. How I pity him! O how happy I once was! Had a pretty home and everything to brighten it. But alas, they have vanished and now I feel alone, without anything. Did I say "alone?" No, not so, for the God that I have served and who has been with me these twenty years, is still with me; and I feel to say, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust him." I feel that he will open up a way for his children. Now, my dear sister, I would love to see you again in this life and talk with you, but if I never meet you here I trust I shall meet you above, where your voice will be heard with the angels of God. Please remember me to your lady helper. Would be glad to hear from you at any time. Good-bye. Yours in love and the hope of heaven, ---- ----. Two years later, while in the same city, a friend invited me to go to an open-air service and after I had sung and spoken to those who were gathered a dear lady clasped my hand and said: "I am so glad to see you, mother--don't you know me?" As I failed to recognize her she turned her careworn but lovely face so that the electric light shone full upon her and said, "Don't you remember me now?" When I still answered "No, I do not," the tears gathered in the dear eyes as she said, "My husband never forgot your singing and your prayers before he went away," and then it dawned upon me that she was the wife of the man the people hung to gratify the saloon men's greed. She said: "I do wish I could ask you home with me, but I have only a little hall room for myself and children. I am keeping boarders to make a living for myself and them." O how I wished for a home to which I could welcome them, but I, too, am a pilgrim and a stranger, and all I could do was to kiss the dear sister and commend her to the widow's God and her dear ones to the Father of the fatherless. The letters following are from two brothers with whom I labored, and who showed much appreciation of my efforts with them and professed to be saved. I received a number of encouraging letters from them and from others in the same place before they were taken away. We can not always tell as to the sincerity of these poor men, or of their responsibility, some of them doubtless are so nearly unbalanced in mind, under such a strain, but we know the God of heaven before whom we must all stand will judge righteously. October 18, 1903. My Dear Mother Wheaton: While my dear unfortunate brother, Mr. K., has given me space in his letter, I just wish to congratulate you for the wonderful good you did while here with us, as we have not forgotten your topic, "Salvation," and often speak of you and hope you will come again at your earliest convenience. Thank God there is some of us have the Spirit of God with us. Bless His holy name! And I for one can praise Him for the wonderful good He has done me, and through His wonderful love I have been granted a stay of execution, which was to take place the 21st of this month; for God in heaven knows I am innocent of this crime, as is also my brother. I am sorry to say I do not know much about the Bible, but intend to learn more about His wonderful love to man, and will serve Him to the end. Trusting that you will look upon us as your children, I will close, hoping to hear from you again, Your unfortunate boy, B. W. * * * * * Dear Mother Wheaton: Received your letter and was glad to hear from you. It brought great joy to our bleeding hearts. We think of you and wish you could talk and sing for us every day. Your kind, loving words bring me near to God. When I leave this world I will go to my heavenly Father, where there is everlasting life, and if we never meet on earth, I will meet you in heaven. I shall never forget you and the prayer you made for me. We felt bad when you could not come back and tell us about our loving God. Pray for me that I may walk daily with God. I remain as ever, Your dear boy, A. W. Columbus, Ohio. THREE YOUNG MEN. Some cases of special interest to me because of such recent occurrence, are the three young men mentioned elsewhere and from whom I received the following letters. I will first give a note very kindly written me by the son of the warden, in answer to an inquiry about the cases while they were awaiting some decision of the supreme court: Colorado State Penitentiary. Canon City, Colo., December 7, 1904. Mother E. R. Wheaton. Tabor, Iowa. Dear Mother: I have not answered your postal on account of my absence from the city, but I hope you will overlook the delay. The fate of the four prisoners under sentence of death is still undecided, as their case is in the hands of the Supreme Court. There is some doubt as to the legality of the law and it is a hard matter to tell what the outcome will be. No, my folks did not attend the Prison Congress this year on account of my sister's health. The boys at the prison often speak of you and some have started to forget the past and try to do better in the future on account of the good words you spoke to them. I hope you will come to see us before my father goes out of office, but if this is impossible, I pray that we may meet at some future time. I remain, Yours respectfully, Willard Cleghorn. * * * * * Canon City, Colo., May 3, 1904. Dear Mother Wheaton: I have received your kind letter and postal and I am very glad to know that you have not forgotten me. I have not forgotten you either, nor never will. For it was no other than you who put me on the right road to heaven, and I know that if I do all you told me that I will meet you there. I am praying both day and night, and I pray from my heart, and mean every word that I say, and I know that my sorrow is more than I can bear without God's help. I know that God has forgiven me all of my sins, and will save me too. I do not care who laughs at me for praying and asking God for help. There is nothing that can ever make me quit praying and believing in God, for He has done me good already. With love and best wishes, and hoping to hear from you soon, Yours sincerely, F. A. * * * * * Canon City, Colo., May 3, 1904. Dear Mrs. Wheaton. It is with pleasure that I answer your most kind and welcome letter that brother A. and I received some time ago. We also received a postal card this morning. I have neglected my promise of writing, but hereafter will write more promptly. I have not been feeling well, but am better now. I hope you will forgive me this time. It does my heart good to know that you are praying for us. I feel very grateful to you. Us boys pray and read the Holy Bible every day. I am trusting to our Heavenly Father, for He makes right the wrong. We are being treated most kindly by the warden and the officers of the prison. I will close, as Brother A. wishes to say a few words. Hoping to hear from you again, I ever remain Your son in Christ, C. * * * * * Canon City, Colo., May 17, 1904. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. My Dear Mother: I received your kind letter and was very much pleased to hear from you, as all of us were. * * * When I saw and read your letter and those little tracts, they certainly did take effect on me. As I read them and saw the terrible mistake I had made, it caused the tears to fall. I am trusting in God, but I can't come right out and tell you that I am really saved, for I don't believe in deceiving you. But I do believe that God has laid a hand on me, and I hope He will take a stronger hold on me. I know you will think more of me for telling you the candid facts. I have seen lots of people who would tell that they were really saved, when they knew they were not. But "God help my poor soul," is my regular prayer. I realize that I need His help in my present circumstances. I still ask you to pray for me that God will help me to look to Him. I try my best to do what is right, and never go to sleep a night without praying to Him to save my soul and spare me so that I may be of some benefit to His cause, and I do fully believe that He will answer my prayer, for when I pray I am sure I do it with all my heart and soul. I am quite well at present, and hope that these few lines will find you the same. May God bless you and protect you, is my daily prayer. I hope to hear from you again soon. From one of yours, and I hope, the Lord's sons. Yours respectfully, N. A. * * * * * Canon City, Colo., May 27, 1904. Dear Mother Wheaton: I take pleasure in answering your most kind and welcome letter received a few days ago. I am quite well at present. I am taking things as easy as I can and waiting most patiently to know how I will fare. I haven't forgot to pray and read the Bible, nor will I as long as I live. I am trusting in the Lord, for He makes all things right. I will close, hoping to hear from you again. Very sincerely yours, C. P. * * * * * Canon City, Colo., May 27, 1904. Dear Mother Wheaton: I take pleasure in answering your letter. You don't know how glad I was to hear from you. This leaves me well and in good faith and I am trusting in the Lord, for I know He will help me if I will only be good and do His will. I pray and read my Bible every night and day. Oh, if I ever do get my freedom I will make a man of myself and do God's will and make my poor wife and mother and father happy. I will never take a drop of whiskey or anything again. So good-bye. We have heard nothing of our case yet. The time seems so long. From yours sincerely, F. A. The following are extracts from touching letters from the aged mother and young wife of this young man: Kansas City, Mo., July 4, 1904. Dear Mother Wheaton: We received your card and were indeed glad to hear from you. Oh, I am praying to God all the time to spare my baby's life. How can I ever live if they take his life! Why do they want it? He did not kill any one, although the deed he did almost breaks my heart. F. never drank until he got with those people on Market Street. They got him to smoking hop and drinking whiskey. My dear and only child, will God and man have mercy on him? Oh, I thank you for going to see my poor baby boy! God bless him and save his life. I hope you can see the Governor and see if he will do something for a mother to save her only child. I can hardly stand it. It has done F. so much good for you to see him. He always speaks of you when he writes home. Oh, I do hope the Governor will give you some hopes, for if I could get any hopes of F. being spared it would do me so much good! I pray day and night for my boy. He is on my mind all the time. Hoping to hear from you soon, I am Sincerely yours, MRS. A. * * * * * Kansas City, Mo., July 4, 1904. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton: Kind Friend: I was truly glad to hear from you and that you are going to see my dear husband soon. I hope it will not be long till I see him, for it seems like years since I have seen poor F. I hope my loved one will come out better yet, for I can never stand it. I hope and pray that F. will have a show for his life. How short our young lives were together. F. was always kind to me and it almost took my life when I was robbed of my darling husband. I was an orphan girl. My dear mother died when I was five years old. I had a hard time all my life till I was eighteen, when I was married to F., last September. I was so happy with him. He was a good boy and never drank till he met with the Market Street gang and they got him to drinking and smoking that hop. This is the Fourth of July and F.'s gray-haired mother and I are here grieving over the loved one in prison. If a wife ever loved a husband truly I love mine. I remain your friend, MRS. F. A. * * * * * Canon City, Colo., Sept. 22, 1904. Dear Mother Wheaton: I was glad to hear from you, which I always am, for your letters are full of kind words and it is a pleasure to read them in my lonely cell and know there is one true friend who prays for me. Kind words are few for me now when I am in need and going through the most terrible and trying time of a lifetime. But I am living in hopes and trusting God for my future, come what may. I surely thank you for seeing the Governor in our behalf. My mother and wife are well. Their letter to you must have been missent, for they wrote. This leaves me well. Yours sincerely, F. A. * * * * * Canon City, Colo., March 26, 1905. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton: Dear Mother: I was very glad to hear from you as I did not know what had become of you. Well, the law has been found good and the death watch is over us. Poor ---- was hung the 6th. Our time begins the 21st of May. Yes, I am trusting God and I know He has heard my prayers, and whatever comes will be for the best. P---- is getting better again they tell me. A---- is the same as ever. I wrote to my mother today and told her I heard from you. Yours sincerely F. A. * * * * * Canon City, Colo., April 12, 1905. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Los Angeles, Cal.: Dear Mother Wheaton: I was glad to hear from you. Your letters do me so much good, they always give me new hope. Of course you understand what I am going through, and at times hope seems hopeless for the time seems so long to me in this dreary cell, and to think if I had left that horrible liquor alone and stayed away from bad company where I could have been to-night--free and happy, at home with my wife and my poor old mother and father. But as it is I am sad and lonely and my loved ones are far away, heart-broken. But I believe my prayers will be answered yet, for I know God has heard them. But, the Lord's will be done. I know He will do what is best for me. Well, dear mother, the boys are well and send their best regards. Sincerely yours, F. A. * * * * * Canon City, Colo., June 15, 1905. Dear Mother Wheaton: I received your kind and welcome letter and was glad to hear from you again. I will never have the pleasure of reading another letter from you in this world, for I have been put back in a horrible death cell again and the Board of Pardons and Governor have refused to save me from the terrible death I am doomed for, but I expect to meet you in heaven, dear mother, for I know God has forgiven me all of my sins. I want to thank you again for all you have done for me, for I know you have spent many a sleepless night on account of me. I felt a great deal better after seeing and praying with you the last time you were here than I had since I've been in this trouble. I am glad things are most at an end for I am very weary of these lonesome death cells. Of course I don't want to die nor am I glad of it, for I have lots to live for yet as you know, but the Lord's will be done. I know it will be for the best. Well, I will close for this time. I am to be hung in the next twenty-four hours, so good-bye, dear friend. Think of me sometime in the future. From your son in Christ, F. A. * * * * * Mother Wheaton: Dear Mother: We just received your loving letter last night and was glad to hear from you. Oh, dear mother, my darling boy is gone; never can I see his loving face in this cruel world. Oh, it is terrible; it seems too hard for me to stand. Just think, my only darling child. But I know he is in heaven. He died on the 16th. We went to see him and he was so glad to see us. He kissed his papa and all of us and said he wanted us not to grieve any more than we could help.... His last words were "Good-bye, mamma," with a smile and wave of his hand just like I was coming back again. He said he would like to be buried close to home. Poor, darling boy; he loved to be close to home and mamma in life, but it is hard to think that he had to spend his last days away from us, all on account of whiskey. Your friends as ever, MRS. A. AND L. (The above was from the aged mother and the young wife.) Think you, dear reader, that these experiences are passed by lightly when I must enter into the sorrows of these mothers and loved ones who must give up their dear ones in this way? Only the grace and love of God can sustain me and these dear bereaved ones in these trials. This was one of my saddest experiences, as I was personally acquainted with the parents and the dear young wife of one of these young men, having been entertained at their home some days at a time during their sorrow. This is only another example of what strong drink is doing in our land. God pity those who in the least favor this traffic. I give below short extracts taken from _The Daily News_ of Denver concerning these cases: "Not yet has the final word for F. A., C. P. and N. A., under sentence of death, been said. "It is likely that it will not be said for at least a week or ten days. The Board of Pardons adjourned late yesterday afternoon without deciding the fate of the three boys.... "But, though the tragic element was lacking, there was present throughout the meeting an undercurrent of deep human woe. The mother of A. was there, clad in black, with a hopeless expression on her face pitiful to see. Beside her at all times was the wife of A., young, pretty in an indefinite sort of way, her blue eyes holding ever before them the wreck of her shattered girlish romance. Both women wept freely at times. "With the two women were a dozen of their women friends, whose coming had been actuated by a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. FRIEND OF ALL PRISONERS. "Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, friend of prisoners the world over, was there too. She sat next Mrs. A., the elder, and wept copiously in sympathy. 'Mother' Wheaton visited the boys at Canon City, and she told the board the impression of her visit, how, she was sure, they had repented of their deed and had their sins forgiven. "She also pleaded for their lives on the ground of opposition to capital punishment. She has been in state prison rescue work for twenty-one years, and her silver hair, refined face and gentle manner have brought comfort to criminals everywhere."--News, May 6. SESSION OF THE BOARD. The Board of Pardons met in special session at 10 o'clock yesterday morning for the purpose of passing finally upon the applications of the three boys for commutation of sentence from death to imprisonment for life. Interest in the proceedings of the morning centered around four women, two mothers, a sister and a wife of the condemned boys. They were Mrs. J. A., bowed with the weight of her seventy years, who had come all the way from Buffalo, N. Y., to be present at the meeting; her daughter, Miss A., of Denver; Mrs. J. A. and Mrs. F. A., mother and wife, respectively, of F. A. All four were present throughout the hearing and made personal pleas to the Board. After the hearing was concluded they went together into the outer office of the executive chamber and sat huddled up in one corner of the big room, their eyes fixed on the door which led to the inner office where four men were deciding whether the boys they loved should live or die. HEARD THE BAD NEWS. When the news of the Board's action was conveyed by Secretary C. E. Hagar to the four women waiting in the outer office, their grief was pitiful in the extreme. Mrs. A. very nearly collapsed. She clung to the arm of her daughter and moaned in heart-breaking accents. The daughter, too, was almost overcome, but controlled herself for her mother's sake. The mother and wife of F. A., while it was evident they were suffering keenly, maintained an outward composure except for the tears which welled from their eyes. They hurriedly left the capitol building together. The young wife will go to the penitentiary Friday to say a last good-bye to her husband. PLEA OF ATTORNEY. W. E., attorney for A., made a wonderfully eloquent plea for his client's life. It was logical, pathetic and at times scathing in its denunciation of the methods used by the police to extort confessions from the boys. He said these methods, in their horrible brutality, were without parallel anywhere. "The only evidence upon which N. A. was convicted," he said, "was the alleged confession wrung out of him by police brutality. This confession was made after the prisoner had been 'sweated' and intimidated. One ear had been almost torn off, he had been cuffed, kicked and trampled upon, and then, under the influence of threats, he made his alleged confession." NEWS THAT SON IS TO HANG BROKEN TO AGED WOMAN BY HER DAUGHTER AND CAUSES COLLAPSE. Sitting and staring with a blank look into space, at intervals relieving the tension of her misery by low moans, and then again ejaculating pitifully, "Oh, my boy! My poor, poor boy! Can I live and know that you died upon the gallows?" Mrs. J. A. is now hovering on the borderland of life at the home of her daughter in Denver. It was not until noon yesterday that Mrs. A. was told that the pardons board had refused to grant her son, N. A., a commutation of sentence from death to life imprisonment. Up to that moment when the terrible knowledge became hers she had a mother's hope that the pardons board must save her boy. From the moment she heard from her daughter's lips that the son and brother must die, Mrs. A. has been verging upon a semi-comatose condition, and under the constant care of a physician. She was illy prepared to hear the news yesterday, for she had spent the night previous without closing her eyes in sleep. It was not until 5 o'clock that slumber came to her mercifully, and even then she merely slept in a fitful doze until 8 o'clock. SUPPRESSED EMOTION. The serious phase of Mrs. A.'s condition, her physician regards, is that with her it is all suppressed emotion. She does not cry out or rave, but endures her intense suffering in quiet. It is but seldom that tears come to her relief, and the only vent her emotion has is in her low moans for her "poor boy." After the news was broken to her, Mrs. A. spent most of the day in bed. Late last night she was still in the same condition, and the gravest anxiety is felt by her relatives. Mrs. A. is 70 years old. She lives in Buffalo, N. Y., and made the long trip of 1,500 miles to personally plead with the State Board of Pardons for the life of her son. TO TEST GALLOWS. Warden C. will today test the automatic scaffold upon which N. A. and F. A. will be executed next week. He will see that everything about the device is in perfect order and will make a final test just prior to taking the first of the two to his death. The execution house, where the men will be confined until the final summons, is 28x30 feet. It contains three condemned cells and across the hall from these are two large rooms. In the center of one is a large iron plate and on this the condemned is asked to stand after the noose and cap have been adjusted. The weight of the man causes the plate to drop about an inch. This closes the circuit of a current connecting with a bucket of water which stands on a shelf in a closet in an adjoining room. By a magnet arrangement a plug in the bottom of the bucket is pulled and the water begins to flow out. As soon as the vessel is empty an automatic connection releases a catch holding a bag of sand on the end of the noose. The sand, being heavier than the man, falls, causing the body at the other extremity of the rope to be jerked off the floor to the height of three feet. The sandbag is in the room containing the closet where the bucket is and the rope from the noose reaches that room over a pulley and through a hole in the wall. The condemned man does not see any of the details of the execution when he enters the death cell. The iron plate in the floor and the noose around his neck are the only parts he can see. He does not hear the dropping of the water nor the working of any of the mechanism. The instant the man is jerked off his feet and suspended at the end of the rope his neck is broken. The time intervening between the pulling of the plug in the bucket and the falling of the sand is usually about a minute. The suspense to the prisoner, however, is not regarded as any more cruel than that experienced by a man in the electrical chair or on the scaffold while he awaits the fatal current or the springing of the trap. The hanging apparatus was invented by a convict fifteen years ago.--_News_, May 20. As shown by foregoing letters these cases were continued till June 16. Such is the suspense, sorrow of heart and grief through which many are constantly passing in this world, all on account of sin. What are we trying to do to lend a hand of relief? Such, dear reader, are a few of the many, many cases of this class with which I have had to do in these more than twenty years of ministry to those that are bound. Some were hardened criminals, others innocent of the crime for which they were condemned and others no more guilty than thousands that the world honors. For all, Christ died; and many others beside these I have mentioned have given evidence of saving faith in the blood that is able to cleanse the deepest stain that sin has made. One case is just as near and dear to my mother heart as another and yet how different in many respects are these condemned men--different in their natural inclinations and unlike because of their different circumstances in life. Among them are found the refined, the educated, the gifted, the beautiful as well as the low, the ignorant, the degraded. All must share the same fate. All are shown in the worst possible light to a gaping, sensation-loving, curious world. Let us, dear reader, take these cases home to our hearts as if they were our very own and so learn to have that charity that suffereth long and is kind. Even Moses and David took life, yet they were forgiven, and Moses who in haste slew the Egyptian, became the prophet so wonderfully used of God because of his meekness of spirit; and David in his thankfulness declared, "This poor man cried and the Lord heard him and delivered him out of all his troubles." CHAPTER XV. Work in Churches and Missions. As stated in preface I have always as opportunity offered been ready to preach the gospel to all men. In this chapter I speak very briefly of some of the work done in churches and missions and give some letters from pastors and friends referring to this part of my labors. STRANGELY LED. I once had a young sister with me whom I had taken from Toronto, Canada. I had told her mother I would return her safely and had given her money to pay her fare home. As we returned through a field to the city from the poor farm where I had held a service, I said to the sister, "I am so hungry." She replied, "O wait till we get to heaven, then we shall have of the twelve manner of fruit, and drink of the water of life," and I was cheered and blest as I went along the way. The Lord showed me to trust Him. When I reached my lodging-house I was so weak and tired that I sat down to rest a few moments before ascending the stairs to my room. The landlady sat by her well-filled table after the boarders were all gone. She asked the servant for a plate, and I watched her while she cut off a nice piece of turkey and a piece of roast beef and then put some bread on the plate and handed it to me. I was, O, so glad, but feared she was going to ask pay for it, and I had only a dime. I asked, "How much is this?" and she replied, "Nothing." I was so overcome with gratitude to God for His goodness that I hastened to my room and thanked God for answering prayer, in giving me food I needed to give me strength for the meeting that afternoon on the street, and in the evening at the colored people's church. At the close of the meeting in the evening the preacher said: "The sister has given us a good sermon, and the gospel must be carried, so come up and give us a good collection." The people responded heartily and gave a very liberal collection, but after the meeting the preacher handed me 25 cents, keeping the rest. I felt very badly as I had prayed for money which I needed so much. I must go to another city, and no money for traveling expenses. I had been obliged to have some work done by the dentist which must be paid, and no money, but I kept believing, yet no open heart or door. I wondered why I was led to go to another place with no means provided. When I had gotten the amount needed I left, heart-sick, lonely and weary to go on alone in the work, and the sister to go home to Canada. A few days later I was walking along the streets of Lynchburg, Va. I met a man who said, "I am Rev. B---- from Chicago. I have met you several times in your work. Sister Wheaton, won't you come with me to church?" I said, "Where?" and he said, "To the First Baptist church." When we entered the beautiful new church building the evangelist introduced me to the young pastor, who hurried by indifferently. He then presented me to some fine looking ladies who also passed by on the other side. When the evangelist had closed his sermon he said, "Now, friends, this is the lady I told you about who has done more good than we preachers. I know her, but she don't know me. Receive her as a sister. She is worthy." When the service closed, one after another came to speak to me and gave me their hand and invited me to their homes. A gentleman and wife came up and said, "We claim you as our guest." The husband said, "The carriage is at the door. I will walk and you may ride with my wife." I was at a loss to know just which invitation to accept, when the evangelist came up and said, "These are the people for you to go with." I did so and the Lord went with me. I was invited to preach that night and the Lord was there in mighty convicting power. At the close of the meeting the evangelist said, "Sister, how did it happen that I met you just as I did this morning?" I said, "Brother B., things don't happen with me. The Lord sent me to this place." The next day a young lady called at the house and inquired for me. I went to the door and she handed me a small parcel saying, "Your friends from the First Baptist church sent you this." Thanking her I went inside and found it was fifteen dollars. I was the guest of one of the F. F. V.'s, so was welcomed everywhere. Other churches and other preachers invited me to their pulpits. In a few days Mrs. Col. O. asked me if I would conduct a meeting for women only at the M. E. church if she would arrange for it. I was impressed that the thought was of God and agreed to do so. The meeting was appointed for Wednesday at 4 p. m. On the way to the church I was so burdened with the responsibility of the meeting that I told the sister (the kind friend who entertained me) that I could not talk, I must pray the rest of the way to church. To my surprise the place became crowded. I had expected perhaps a dozen women and no men; and here the place was full of elegantly dressed ladies, and the pastor of the church, Brother H., and a policeman were also present. I tried to proceed with the service, but seemed unable to do so. After prayer and singing, "How firm a foundation," I arose and said: "Is any one led of the Spirit to give me a text. I have no message." A sister arose and timidly said, "The 14th chapter of John." Well, the flood gates of Heaven were opened to my soul. God spoke and waves of salvation rolled over the church, and women, God bless them! arose and said, "I thought I was a Christian until today, but I find I have never begun to serve the Lord yet. I promise, by God's help, to begin anew today for Heaven." The dear Lord touched proud hearts and melted them together until the place was filled with the glory of God. The pastor and people asked me to hold another meeting the following day for both men and women. I said I would do so in the fear of the Lord, and the Lord wonderfully blessed the services. Souls were brought in touch with God and saved. I said to them, "Friends, begin a revival at once. God is ready to work with you if you follow Him. My services are ended in this church. The prisoners, my special care, need me, and the poor and the colored people." I remained three weeks in that city, wonderfully blessed of God. When I left there were over fifty dollars in my hand, of free will offerings. I see why the Lord sent me to the city to arouse the sleeping church members and preachers, both white and colored, from their cold, lifeless spiritual condition. Soon after leaving Lynchburg I received the following letter from the sister who planned the meeting, which greatly encouraged me: Lynchburg, May 2, 1887. My Dear Sister: I received your letter several days since. I am truly rejoiced to know that you receive that peace and comfort which a child of God knows to be her portion. My thoughts have followed you since your departure from our city and prayers from many hearts have ascended to the throne for your safety and success in the great work God has called you to do. I have not known of a revival such as is now in progress at Dr. Hannon's church. Men and women are flocking to the meetings, old and young, to know what they must do to be saved. My son was happily converted last Friday night. He had long been cold and indifferent, but now all is joy and he works and speaks for God with willingness. He is in solemn earnest now in working, praying and speaking in the great congregation. Surely goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life and I will dwell at the feet of my Master forever. Though God has sent tears to my eyes and grief to my heart, thanks to His dear name He has kept me from falling. I think you left a good influence among the fallen women here. I have been sent for to go to some since you left. I have sent this day a request to the official board of my church to give me the use of one room in the church where I can always meet them for the purpose of hearing of their desires to lead a new life. In this way my pastor can meet them and help me in this work. I await the result. Your friend with sincere love and prayers, Mrs. Lucy K. O. I went on my way, and some time after was in San Francisco, California. Hearing one day, as I left the jail, of a holiness convention, I was impressed to attend. When I arrived a testimony meeting was in progress. I arose and began to sing, "Yes, I will stand up for Jesus," and the minister in charge came down the aisle to me and said: "Is this Sister Wheaton who held meetings in my church in L----, Va.?" I said, "My name is Elizabeth Wheaton, and I held meetings in that city. Are you Dr. H.?" and he said, "Yes." He returned to the platform and told the people of my work in his church and that about four hundred had been saved, and told the people to receive me as a child of God. So homes were opened. The work of God moved on. As I was a stranger in a strange city, I blessed God for the leadings of the Holy Spirit in all my pilgrim way. I have not seen Dr. H. since that time. He gave me a pressing invitation to his church in San Francisco but work on other lines prevented my acceptance. LETTERS FROM OTHER FRIENDS. Wetumpka, Ala., Jan. 12, 1885. My Dear Sister: It would be impossible for me to express in words the Christian sympathy and love I have for you--one that has left all; yes, all--denying yourself and taking up the cross of Jesus, carrying the glad tidings of salvation to the despised, to the outcast, to the poor in spirit and to the oppressed. I pray daily that the good Lord may bless you. Dear sister, those in the world whose minds are carnal, cannot understand your work, for your life is hidden in God, and cannot be discerned in any other way but by the Spirit. Our crosses will soon be over. Jesus will not let us suffer for Him long. He is coming for us soon. Then "Be not weary in well-doing, for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not." We are not the only friends you have in Wetumpka. Long will you live in our memory. I pray that the Lord may ever guide and lead you as He knows and sees best. I am your brother in Christ, A. J. ROGERS, Pastor. * * * * * Fort Wayne, Ind., Sept. 2, 1897. Dear Mother Wheaton: We were so glad to hear from you. Our meeting closed on Sunday evening, August 22, with twenty-eight persons asking the prayers of the church. We are beginning special services three evenings in the week. We are planning to begin another revival meeting about the middle of October. Would be glad to have you with us. We are praying that the dear Lord may so order it if it is His will. The Lord is leading and we are expecting great things. Remember us kindly to Mrs. H. I hope you will write again, so that we may be posted as to your movements. We are praying for you. Do not forget us. Mrs. Cooper and Merrill wish to be remembered to you. "The Lord bless and keep thee and cause His face to shine upon thee." Good-bye for a little while. Fraternally, M. C. COOPER, Pastor St. Paul's Church. * * * * * Fort Wayne, Ind., Sept. 29, 1897. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. Dear Sister in Christ: Your letter received and I must say I hold it very sacred and dear. I think of you often, and not only I, but a large number of others. We cannot tell the good you did while here, but God above knows and He will reward you. Many have been more willing to do their Christian duty. They seem to realize more fully what it means to be a Christian. O there is so much in it! Dear sister, the Lord being willing, we are going to hold another revival campaign, commencing Sunday, October 17. I am so anxious I can hardly wait. I enjoy myself so much when I can be doing work for my dear Lord and Master, who did so much for me. I wish the Lord would see fit to send you this way during our revival, and my prayers shall be to that end. It is God's work and you are one of His workers. You have the constant prayer of St. Paul's church, and we are sure that we have yours. May God's choicest blessings rest upon and abide with you. "The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace." LOUISE ROUX. * * * * * (From the _Gazette_, Fort Wayne, Ind.) MRS. WHEATON, FAMOUS PRISON EVANGELIST, "LED BY THE LORD HERE"--HER FAITH IN THIS ABSOLUTE--OPENS INTERVIEW WITH PRAYER--LARGE AUDIENCES HEAR HER. Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton is in town and last night and yesterday afternoon addressed a large audience at the revival services which Rev. Mr. Cooper, of St. Paul's M. E. church is conducting in a tent situated near his church, on Walton avenue. She reached this city Saturday evening over the Pennsylvania. Having missed a train at Warsaw en route to visit a sister who lives at Elkhart, she was directed, she said by the Lord, after prayer, to come to Fort Wayne to spend the Sabbath. On the way over her singing and praying on the train attracted attention to her and a member of the Wayne Street Methodist Church, on learning who she was, invited her and her sister, Mrs. Hoffman, to spend the night at his home. She had heard, she said, of the meetings that Mr. Cooper is conducting, and she said, with a manner of absolute confidence, that she had been directed to attend these meetings. Rev. Mr. Cooper said yesterday that the meeting was in progress as she and her companion entered and that he was impressed to speak to her. On learning her name he knew her instantly by fame as the widely traveled and much beloved prison evangelist. She was given a welcome and was at once asked to participate in the services. At the night meeting there were a thousand people, it is said, who listened enrapt to her prayers and moving appeals to the sinner to accept the salvation in which she so thoroughly believes. The prisoners at the jail were her first concern Sunday morning. She told Mr. Cooper that after arising she turned to her Bible for guidance and her eyes fell upon certain Scripture which contained the word prison three times. She took this as evidence that she should first visit the jail and thither she went. It is quickly apprehended by those who come in contact with her that she pauses not when directed, as she believes, to do a service in the cause of the Master, but goes at once. She has no questionings of faith. A Gazette reporter found her last night at the home of Mr. Bower, No. 136 Walton avenue. Her physical appearance marks her as no ordinary person. Her face beams with a kindly smile, being plump and fresh with the vigor of apparent health, though gray hair indicates her past the prime of life. She dresses modestly in black and carries with her a satchel in which she keeps a Testament, her pass holder and some tracts. Her handshake is a model of firmness and heartiness, conveying the impress of intense earnestness. Before permitting the interviewer to proceed further than the salutations, Mrs. Wheaton kneeled and prayed for the Lord's blessing upon the interview. This unconventional prelude was novel in the experience of the reporter, but coming from such a woman seemed perfectly in place. There is reverence and piety proclaimed by her presence and no thought of incongruity obtruded. The prayer took the range of ready invocation and communion with the Lord, and as is probably the evangelist's wont, the prisoner and the fallen woman were not forgotten in her petition to the throne of grace. Mrs. Wheaton was not inclined to talk about herself. "What has been done by me," she said, "was done of the Lord--His be the glory. I was called to this work thirteen years ago, and I walk by His guidance. I have never asked and could not accept a salary. I have never had a collection taken for me. It is a wonderful thing how He has led me. Here are some of the railroad passes that have been given me." And here she unrolled a leathern holder full of passes from all the leading roads. Some were "Account of Missionary Work" and some "Account of Christian Work." It is evident that she has traveled this country over, and her ministrations have also extended to the old world. Mrs. Wheaton again attended the services last night, and moved all by her stirring words. Many could not repress the tears. Her address was not anchored to a formal text, but was a strong appeal, nevertheless, to the sinner to repent. The audience was slow to pass out after the meeting, being anxious to meet the speaker. The following from Bro. Snyder and his estimable wife who are my very dear friends and whose home is always open to me when I am in Baltimore, are very much prized. They explain themselves. Their work for God and souls is very exceptional: During the winter of 1894, Mother Wheaton was conducting a service at the state prison, when one of our men expressed his desire that she should attend our services. This was my first introduction to this noble child of God, and since then she seldom comes East without visiting our church; we all love her, but she rarely stays over a day at one time, as her work calls her away. In 1898, we induced her to remain with us a week. At this meeting hundreds of people attended and many souls were saved. One of the wealthiest ladies of the church received her pentecost and is now one of our best workers. During the day Mother Wheaton would visit the outcast of the city. I recall a case of an old colored woman that we found in a miserable hovel, dying without Christ; how, after preparing the room and then praying to Father for the body, she seemed to be brought back to life by the prayers of God's saint that she might be led to Christ, and after she gave her life to Him we administered the Lord's supper. Mother Wheaton has always been a blessing, whenever she has come to my church; good people are made better, bad people made good. [Illustration: CHURCH OF THE REDEEMER, BALTIMORE, M. D.] The church was dedicated to God by "Mother Wheaton" before it was finished; while the building was in course of erection she paid us a short visit; with the moon shining through the open windows, mortar, bricks, etc., around us, she was prompted to take the church to God in prayer. I will never forget the scene. Thousands have been saved and many sanctified. The work is still spreading. * * * * * Baltimore, Md., January 19, 1901. Dear Mother: Your kind letter to your children received today. Began special meetings Wednesday night, the 16th. The three nights have been blessed and owned of Father. Those in and out of the church saved. Thirty-three at the altar. You were mentioned last night in the meeting. I told them they could look for you to come in at any time, as I believe Father is going to send you. Never in my ministry did I feel more in harmony with the divine Spirit. As I am writing I am thinking of our citizenship in heaven. What a time we will have! How I longed for you to shout with me Wednesday night over the conversion of a man 60 years of age, who never knew Christ. I could not sleep, but praised the Father all that night. He had his wife and daughter with him in church last night. Mrs. Snyder joins me in much love to you and Sister Taylor. As ever, Your son in the Gospel, J. K. SNYDER. * * * * * Baltimore, Md., October 20, 1902. Dear Mother Wheaton: Your kind letter came today. Mrs. Snyder and Eddie often speak of you; and once a day, at least, we pray for you. Yesterday several of the boys in the Sunday School formed a committee, and without a word being spoken about you, came to me and asked of you and wanted to know when they would have you with us. Last week had fifteen born again; four last night. So you see Father is still blessing your children. God bless you and keep you, is the prayer of your son, J. K. SNYDER. * * * * * 1737 North Broadway, Baltimore Md., June 23, 1903. Dear Mother Wheaton: Your long expected letter received. Our dear heavenly Father continues to bless us at home and at the church, souls saved and believers sanctified. Glory! The Blood covers our sins. Eddie was glad to know you had not forgotten him. He is a great help in the church; your prayers are not in vain. We remain Your children, J. K. SNYDER AND WIFE. * * * * * (From the Whosoever Will Rescue Mission.) New Orleans, La., May 24, 1897. Dear Mother Wheaton: We are getting along nicely at the Mission. The Lord is blessing our work and many souls are being saved. We have started a branch mission further downtown. We call it "No. 2." We will never forget you, dear mother; your visit did us so much good. The boys at the Mission often talk of you and Sister Kelley. We would like to have you visit us again soon, the Lord willing. Mother and all send kindest regards. Wife sends love to you both. Pray for us. I remain Your brother in Jesus, J. H. HAAG. * * * * * (From the Mission Worker, New Orleans.) PRISON EVANGELIST. "Mother Wheaton," the noted prison evangelist, arrived in the city on the evening of February 21, and spent several nights during her stay. This sister in Israel has visited nearly all if not quite every state prison in the United States and some in foreign countries, preaching to their inmates the glad tidings of great joy. She is a forcible speaker and very deeply in earnest. Her visit to this city was a pleasant one and resulted in much good to many. During her stay here Mother Wheaton has been kept very busy about her Master's business. She has visited about all the prisons and eleemosynary institutions in the city, singing, praying and exhorting the inmates to a better life. She has been at the Mission every night, and we have had some wonderful meetings. Sister J. H. Haag has been her almost constant companion and the two have done splendid work. On her way from the Mission this Mother in Israel has several times stopped in at saloons, and talked to all present about their soul's welfare. She is intrepid--absolutely without fear--and well she may be for she leans upon the Everlasting Arm. We do not know how long she will stay with us, but probably for some days, as she now has several invitations on hand. She will go when and where the Lord leads her. Our prayer is that she may be made the instrument of winning many souls to Christ that her crown in glory may be studded with precious jewels. She says of herself that she "has no home but heaven." * * * * * (From Pacific Garden Mission.) Chicago, October 6, 1903. My Dear Sister Wheaton, God's Chosen One: How I praise my heavenly Father for your life and that I ever knew you, and for your unselfish mercy to the poor and neglected classes. May you long be spared to "gather them in from the fields of sin" is the prayer of Your sister in Christ, SARAH D. CLARK, Pacific Garden Mission. SUCCESSFUL MEETINGS. During the early years of my mission work I arrived one day alone in a Southern city. Went to the postoffice and was reading my mail when a good old man stepped up and inquired who I was and where I stopped. I told him I had just arrived. He said, "Come home with me. My wife has a room and a home for good women like you." I was praying for an open door. Did not know where I was going to stay over night, but was sure God had sent me to that place. I found them kind, hospitable people. He was an old-fashioned Methodist preacher already superannuated, and he has long since gone to his reward. He sent for the pastor of their church and arranged for me to hold a meeting. I went at the request of the pastor to visit an old lady who was sick; thought best to have an open air meeting on the street and invite people to the church that night. During the service on the street I noticed a very well dressed, fine looking young man. When I closed he came to me and taking my hand asked me to call at his store a few doors away. I did so and he gave me a fountain pen and seemed unusually interested in what I had said. The meeting that night was led by the Holy Spirit; souls were saved, Christians quickened into new spiritual life and power, and sinners awakened. Other services were held in several of the churches. God was honored and the Holy Spirit held right-of-way. Often I would have services in the white people's church till 9 p. m., then hurry to the colored people's church and preach and sing and pray till 11 o'clock. Then at 5 in the morning would meet again, at the Methodist church, such crowds of worshipers--devout, humble seekers after God. I left the city just as the meetings were at their height. In the next world when we all assemble together I expect to see many who were converted at that series of meetings. CALLED TO THE MINISTRY. The young man who seemed so interested in that first street service came to all the meetings. He was clearly converted and was called to the ministry. For some time he was a successful soul winner, manifesting a pure spirit and a godly life; but he afterwards became discouraged and went into business to support his family. In a letter from him in later years I received the following words: "At the time I got your postal I was in serious meditation on spiritual affairs and was fully considering re-entering the Gospel ministry. I know I was called of the Lord through His Holy Spirit to preach His everlasting gospel. Praise His holy name! He gave me the seal of His approval in the witness of His Spirit and the fruit of my labor in the salvation of souls. I know this of a truth from experience. You cannot imagine how I long, Oh, so intensely, to be again filled with His Spirit and to enter upon His work in the salvation of souls. Lovingly yours, I. H. N." A COLORED WOMAN SAVED AND PREACHING. In the year 1886 I was holding meetings in Houston, Texas. Was in a colored people's church one day, and was much perplexed as to how to reach the people's hearts. I wept before the Lord in prayer. I did not know it then, but God was working, using my zeal and grief to help save a soul. Finally a woman who came to scoff and ridicule was converted. She received a call to preach after vowing that women were never called to preach. Well, the years rolled by and one night in Oklahoma City I saw the Salvation Army gathering in a tent. I went in and was invited to read the Word and lead the meeting. I did so, and as the services were about to close a colored woman arose and said she wished to state that she was saved, and told how she was also called to preach by the Spirit of the Lord through what I said in that meeting in Houston, Texas, so long before. She labored for years as an evangelist and so far as I know is still preaching. In her evangelistic work she has labored successfully in many of the states. At one time she wrote of her conversion as follows: "When I was seeking life in the Lord, I did not want to eat for two weeks, and had no appetite, but I prayed on and the change came and I felt brand new. I loved everybody--white and colored. I seemed to have on a white garment, and that death had fallen beneath my feet and had no more dominion over me. It seemed that I had seen the Lord and He told me to go in peace and sin no more, and I was one more happy soul. I wanted to tell everybody what the Lord had done for my soul." STRIKING EXPERIENCES. Once while holding meetings in Wichita, Kansas, I was greatly troubled. I knew not why. I could neither preach nor sing. I did not know what was wrong. Suddenly a large man rose and rushed from the room taking his wife and children with him. He told me afterward that he came with the avowed purpose of killing another man who was there. And they both came there with the intention of killing each other. At the same mission a man came running in and said that a young railroad man across the street in the jail was dying, having taken poison. I went to the jail where the young man was lying on the floor and kneeling beside him, took his hand and for two hours pleaded with God to spare his life and save his soul. And the Lord answered prayer. The doctors were amazed and perplexed, as they could not understand how the man could live, as all their efforts had seemed to be fruitless. It was simply one of God's miracles. SAVED BY A HYMN. Passing along the street one night in Louisville, Ky., I saw standing in a doorway a group of well-dressed young ladies, also a lady much older. I spoke to them and asked for a drink of water and some favor to further the conversation. When once in doors I saw a piano, and said, "Which one of you ladies will play a piece on the piano? I love music so much." A little boy four years old came in. They asked him to tell me what he intended to be when he grew up. He said, "A preacher. I am going to see my mamma in Heaven." He was their sister's boy. He sang for me while one of his aunts played the piano. In his sweet, lisping voice he sang, "I never will cease to love Him." I was impressed to ask him to come to the mission where I was going to preach that night, and sing that piece, and have the aunt play the organ. Both consented to go with me and when I asked him the little boy came on the platform and sang beautifully. His father had heard of my desire to have the child sing, and had straggled into the mission under the influence of strong drink. He was so convicted and heart-broken he wept, and that four-year-old boy walked from the platform down the aisle to that lonely, heart-sick father, who then and there gave himself up to God, and was saved before he left the hall, through the singing of a hymn! * * * * * God _will_ forgive each penitent whate'er his sin may be, Whose heart is overflowing with _love_ for bond and free. Oh, listen! brother, listen--'tis Jehovah's plan-- And a _time is fixed_ to right the wrongs of Man.... --_Prison Poetry._ [Illustration: ARTHUR C. HOFFMAN, NEPHEW OF E. R. W., SITTING ON FRONT OF ENGINE.] CHAPTER XVI. Preaching the Gospel on Railway Trains. The young man on the front of the engine in the foregoing illustration was my sister's son. I give here an extract from the account of his death June 7, 1890, as published at the time in the daily of Huntington, Ind., where it occurred: KILLED BY CARS. A. C. Hoffman, a switchman in the Chicago & Atlantic yards, was run over and killed this morning. He was employed at night and about 5 o'clock this morning went to the coal dock to run down two cars that had been unloaded there. The track is very much inclined leading from the dock and it requires that brakes be set very tight. When the cars started down the track Hoffman ran from the rear end to the front of the head car to set the brake, but in doing so stubbed his toe and fell from the car to the middle of the track beneath. The car was running rapidly and no sooner did he strike the track than a brake beam of the car struck his right leg near the hip, fracturing the bones and bruising it otherwise. That threw him over and the flange of a wheel struck the lower part of his back, tearing the flesh all off clear to his backbone, exposing it to sight. Hoffman was picked up and taken to the Arlington house, where he boarded, and Dr. L. Severance, the railroad surgeon summoned. He did all in his power to make the injured man easy and alleviate his pain, but it was out of the reach of medical skill to save his life and at about 10 o'clock he died in awful agony. Hoffman's mother and brother live in Lincoln, Neb., where the latter is a physician. He also has a sister in Elkhart county, this state, all of whom have been telegraphed the sad news. He was a good switchman and more than ordinarily intelligent. It is a most distressing accident. The young man was here among strangers and died surrounded by the friends of so short an acquaintance but who did everything within human power to save him or make his end one of peace. His injuries were fatal though and nothing short of death would relieve him. "ALL ABOARD!" So shout the railroad men, year in and year out, daily, hourly, their cry is to get on board the train. I often think if we preachers and mission workers were as faithful in _our_ work to get people on board the old ship Zion, how many to-day would be en route for Heaven who are on the broad-gauge rapid transit to the bottomless pit of destruction. Will we not arise and shine for God as we have never done before? Over fifty years ago when I was a small child, I stood at a flag-station waiting for the train. I was to go alone ON MY FIRST TRIP by this wonderful mode of travel. It was just the grandest thing to know I was really to ride on a railroad train--only four miles, yet I often think of it after these twenty years of constant travel. Have I ever had such a remarkable experience, going alone, too, and as there was no station or ticket office, I was obliged to pay my fare on the train. I had a silver 25-cent piece, and I sat down in the first empty seat I came to and waited to see what next! Along came a tall man in uniform and asked where I was going. I told him and handed him my money. I remember yet how kindly that conductor looked at me, hesitated a little and then handed me back my quarter, and let me ride those four miles free. I have never forgotten that act of kindness on the railroad, and during my pilgrimage I have been shown much kindness by the railroad officials. My work among railroad men has been greatly owned and blessed of the Lord. Many of them saying, "You are the only preacher that ever speaks to us about our soul's salvation." They often say I remind them of their mothers who were good Christians. The following by a railroad man will be of interest and profit to all, and will doubtless have more weight with his class than anything I could say here: TO RAILROAD MEN. BY ONE OF THEM. Dear Boys: One time in my life these words came to me: "_Where will you spend eternity?_" Then and there I turned my back on sin and "set my face like a flint" toward God and heaven, and cried to God for Jesus' sake to forgive me; and near the hour of midnight while kneeling at my bedside I received the witness of the Spirit that I was saved. Then and there I was "born again" into newness of life. I was changed from a man of sin to a child of God, and since then such wonderful joy and peace fills my soul every minute of the time that I want to tell all of you about it. Brother, isn't there in your breast at times an awful aching void? Aren't there times when after trying every pleasure and amusement the world affords, you just quietly sit down all alone before God, and realize that it is all in vain? These things don't satisfy; and there down deep in your heart is a longing that is never satisfied, a hungering for something that will give you complete joy and peace, and soul rest. Brother, there is only one thing that will give you this complete rest, and satisfy every longing of your heart, and that is salvation from sin. Jesus died on the cross that you might be free from sin and live through all the ages of eternity with Him in heaven. "If we forsake our sins he is faithful and just to forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness." If we do the forsaking He will do the forgiving, and then through His atoning blood we become new creatures, and after we have received the clear witness that we are adopted into the family of God and can truly call Him Father, if we feel angry at times or have some desire for the world and the things of it, we can come to Him again and completely abandon ourselves to Him, our will, our life, our desires, our time, our talents to be used for His glory, then He will baptize us with the Holy Ghost and power so that it becomes a pleasure to do right and all evil becomes distasteful to us. By the power of the Holy Ghost He cleanses our hearts, and the Comforter which is the Holy Ghost takes up His abode in us, sanctifying us, causing us to live pure, holy lives. We railroad men whose lives are in danger at all times should be prepared to meet God, for one minute we are here and the next we may be standing at the judgment bar of God to answer for deeds done here on earth. Dear reader, are you prepared to do that? If not, make this the time that you will settle this forever by giving your heart to God, then if this little flame of life is snuffed out you will be borne on angel's wings onward and upward through the gates of pearl, over the golden paved streets of the New Jerusalem up to the great white throne where you will see Jesus in all His glory and majesty and hear Him say to you, "Well done, enter thou into the joy of the Lord." Let me tell you, brother, when the Lord saved me and gave me such sweet joy and peace I told Him that I would never use beer or tobacco in any form, for I knew it was displeasing to Him, for He says, "What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you?" (1 Cor. 6:19). "If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy" (1 Cor. 3:17). "Cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit" (2 Cor. 7:1). And, brother, perhaps you are a slave to tobacco. Many times you have felt that it was a dirty, useless, expensive habit, and you get thoroughly disgusted with it, and perhaps you quit it for a short time, and then how surprised and disgusted you feel because you find what an awful hold it has got on you. It is worse than a spell of sickness to try and quit it, and you soon take it up again, realizing as you do so that you are harboring something that is stronger than you are, appetite; and although you are a strong, robust man you have to admit that it is your master. And when you go home to meet your mother, wife, sister, you notice them shrink away from the breath made foul by the poisonous tobacco. And the times that it almost destroys the taste for anything else, and you use all the more of it till the disagreeable "heartburn" warns you that the deadly poisonous nicotine is eating away at the lining of your stomach, and you are more disgusted than ever, but you can't quit without torturing yourself. Oh, how I loved my beer, plug of tobacco and pipe before I was saved, but I quit them all--drinking, chewing, smoking, swearing and all immoral habits, and I would have died before I would have indulged in any one of them in the least; but the _desire_ was still there; at times I wanted them. And seven days after I was saved I was convicted for sanctification or a clean heart. There were some Holy Ghost Christian people who told me there was a place I could get in the higher or complete Christian life where God through Jesus' blood shed without the gate (Heb. 13:12) would cleanse my heart from everything that was displeasing to Him, and would so fill it with love and the power of the Holy Ghost that I would be _completely delivered from all desires that were wrong_, from anger, malice, pride, love of the world, lust, jealousy, etc., and take away the appetite for beer and tobacco. I found God's Word taught it, and believed He was "strong to deliver," and that it was God's will, even my sanctification (1 Thes. 4:3). And I cried to God to give me "a clean heart, and a right spirit," and he answered my prayer. It was done instantly. I arose from my knees with a sweet sense of complete deliverance, and such joy and perfect peace filled my whole being that I couldn't praise Jesus enough for it. From that moment I have not had the least desire for those things any more than if I never had tasted them, and the very smell of beer or tobacco makes me sick. This is a wonderful, grand deliverance. Now I am as free as the very air--saved, sanctified, and sweetly kept by the power of God. Brother, this is for you if you are willing to give up the foolishness of the world for Christ. The joy that we have in one hour in the service of the Lord is far greater than all the pleasure the world can give in a lifetime. This power of the Holy Ghost within us, this abiding Comforter fills us with glad sunshine all the time, and there is constantly a power like "a wall of fire round about us" warding off all evil. Oh, it's glorious and grows better and brighter each day. "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine! Heir of salvation, purchased of God, Born of His spirit, washed in His blood." Your fellow brakesman, in Jesus' name, M. L. ODELL. Cincinnati, Ohio. TRANSPORTATION. People sometimes ask me how I am able to get transportation on the railroads. Well, in a few words, it is because I pray to the Lord to have the way open to whatever place He wants me to go, and the railroad men know me and of my work for suffering humanity, and are glad to help me in it. A KIND CONDUCTOR. On July 17, 1903, I was on my way from Washington, D. C., on an important journey, and the conductor told me the train I was on did not stop at Sherwood, and I wanted to know where I should stop to get another train that would stop there. He told me at Defiance, and when we reached there I got off the train. Just then the conductor looked out and called for a porter to "put that lady back on the train." I was bewildered at this. He again called "put that lady back on the train." I said, "Isn't this Defiance?" "Yes, but I shall put you off at Sherwood." Who told that conductor to telegraph to headquarters to get a permit to stop the train for me? God did it! That conductor will never know how much his act strengthened my faith in God. Dear reader, do you ever think of the hardships and dangers through which these railroad men must pass? We put ourselves in their care without praying for them. I seldom enter a train without praying God to protect the railroad men and passengers, and give them His blessing. He does hear and answer prayer. How often the dear Lord has heard my cries for the safety of the trains! Some of my MOST INTERESTING GOSPEL SERVICES have been held on railway trains. As I was once leaving Chicago over the C. & R. I. R. R. at night, a request was made that I should sing for the passengers. I was conversing with Mrs. Colonel Clark of the Pacific Garden Mission, Chicago. As she was to soon leave the train I said I would sing when she had gone. I sang some hymns, and then a gentleman requested that I should ask all in the car who were Christians to raise their hands. I did so and quite a number responded to this, and he then asked all who had raised their hands to give a word of testimony. He was the first one to speak and said, "I am a Christian. The last thing before I left my home for Chicago was to gather my wife and four little children around me and commit them to God's care and ask for my safe return. I have for years been a stock dealer and frequently come to Chicago. There is a young man in our neighborhood who is also a dealer in stock, but being unacquainted with the ways of the city, he did not like to go alone and as I was a Christian came with me. When there is an opportunity like this given, if I did not honor God and show my colors this young man could have no confidence in me. I speak for his special benefit." He closed with an exhortation to the unsaved to prepare to meet God and requested me to sing again. Then one after another arose and spoke. It reminded one of AN OLD-FASHIONED METHODIST CLASS MEETING. Prayer, testimonies and singing continued till after midnight. The young stock dealer and others were saved. Toward morning I fell into a sound sleep. I do not know how long I slept, but when I awoke the sun was high and our car was standing alone on the track. A lady passenger spoke to me saying, "How could you sleep during that wreck?" "What! has anything happened?" I said. "Yes, a wreck," she replied. The engine and other cars were gone and they were clearing up the wreck. I heard from that meeting years afterwards. One night a meeting was held in the open air for the special benefit of railroad men. I asked all who wanted to be saved to raise their hands; then said, "Will you not give your hearts to God now?" One year from that time while in meeting a man arose and said that he was in the crowd that night, and raised his hand, and then at once looked to God and was saved then and there. TRAIN SAVED FROM WRECK IN ANSWER TO PRAYER. The Lord has often made known to me when the train was in danger. I could see the plots laid by wicked men to wreck the train, and when I have prayed, He, in answer to prayer, has delivered us from harm and death. He says: "The very hairs of your head are all numbered," and "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." At one time I had been in old Mexico and changing cars at El Paso, Texas, I found a heavy trainload of passengers on the way east. I was impressed all night of impending peril. I could not sleep, and walked the floor of the car in silent prayer. I went to the young sister with me and said, "The train is in great danger, and something will happen unless the Lord delivers us. The text comes to me so forcibly, 'What, could ye not watch with me one hour?' Watch and pray!" That night six train-robbers had determined to wreck and rob the train. They had stolen six horses and gone to a lonely place uninhabited for miles about. They bound and gagged the section foreman and his men, then took the switch-key and threw the switch to wreck the train. When they saw the train passing on they tried to hail it with their lanterns, but by some mysterious power of God their lights were put out, so that the engineer did not see them. Then they tried to board the train but were unable to succeed. It was a most remarkable occurrence. They either did not open the switch properly and the train set it back to its place, or the hand of God closed the switch. The newspapers published quite an account of this incident, from which source the above concerning the robbers was obtained, as they were caught and made confession. A TRAIN IN DANGER. In July, 1889, I was on my way from St. Joseph, Missouri, to St. Louis, having with me a man and his wife. About 1 o'clock in the morning I awoke with awful fear upon me of some impending danger. I told my friends that we must pray for God to save the train, and that no power but God's could avert the coming disaster, whatever it might be. Still the horror as of death was upon me, and later in the night the train suddenly stopped. The train men ran out with their lanterns and found that the engine had become uncoupled from the cars and just in front of the engine was a pile of iron. The iron rails of the track were set so that a wreck would have been the result if God had not interposed. God thwarted the well-laid plans that had been made to wreck and rob the train. This was in a lonely place where no help was near, and the robbers would have the best of chances to rob the train. On our return west a similar terror came upon me and I said, "Pray for this train, or something will happen to it before we reach St. Joe." I was terrified all day. Just as the train stopped at the depot our car was wrecked. The front wheels of the car were turned around crosswise of the track, tearing up the planks, rails and earth. Such a queer looking wreck, and apparently no reason for it! Yet we had been brought in safety to our journey's end and no one was injured. IMPRESSED TO LEAVE THE TRAIN. At another time after preaching at Canon City prison in Colorado, we had our baggage checked to Leadville in the same state. We held meetings on the train and some were moved to tears. When the engine whistled for Salida a dreadful feeling of fear and terror overtook me. Something seemed to say to me, "_Get off the train_." I felt it was a command from the Lord. I told the friends who were with me what the words of the Lord were, and said that we must leave the train. We hurriedly left the train without waiting for another warning. I looked after the train as it moved away and said, "I wonder why I had to leave that train. Perhaps not till the judgment will I know." We went on the street and held an open air meeting, and some one invited us to hold a service that night in a church. We did so, and God poured out his Spirit on the people. After the meeting we went out and visited the saloons, and spoke to many about their souls. At about 11 o'clock at night we returned to the depot and I asked the agent what time the next train would leave for Leadville. He said, "I don't know. The train you got off from was terribly wrecked twelve miles up the road. The east-bound train crashed into it, and I have sent out two wrecking trains already." I told him of my presentiment of danger, and how God had impressed me to leave that train. He asked me to come into the office and explain my impressions and talk to him. We did so, and about 3 o'clock in the morning the wrecked train backed down to the depot where we were waiting and we again got aboard. I told the passengers as they looked at me as I came into the car, "The Lord warned me of the danger and impressed me to get off the train." I have taken the Lord as my guide all these years and He has never forsaken me. A TELEGRAM RECEIVED. Waiting for a train where I changed cars I was invited to sit in the ticket office, as the waiting room was uncomfortable. I was writing at the agent's desk when he handed me a telegram, saying, "I think this is intended for you, Mother." It was an announcement of the death of one of my brothers, and was being sent to another town, having to be transferred here, and the agent seeing my name handed it to me. I could see the hand of God in this. HELPED TO CARE FOR WOUNDED MAN. Once on my way from Burlington to Ft. Madison, Ia., I told the conductor I was impressed to go on that special train. When we were about a mile out of the city, the engine accidentally struck a man and hurt him badly. The man was put into the baggage car and as there were no seats, I stood behind him and held his head, and after we had gone twelve miles, warm water was secured and I washed the blood from his head and cared for him until we arrived at the station, when they took him to the jail, there being no other place for him, and there I helped the doctor dress his wounds. Then I knew why I was impressed to go on that train. CONDUCTOR'S GOD BLESS YOU. Once the conductor on a train said to me so kindly, as he assisted me from the train, "God bless you; let your good work go on. I gave the tracts you gave me to the trainmen--they needed them." How this cheered me, for I had tried to preach to them on the train, and I feared the scoffs or reproof of the railroad officials. How I do long to help and encourage the railroad men--they are so loyal and faithful, and have so much to contend with in their work. "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." A WOMAN'S FAITH ENCOURAGED. On the way from Philadelphia to New York I was one day led to pass quietly through the car giving out tracts. After seating myself, a lady came and asked if she might speak with me about the work I was doing. She said, "If I only knew God could and would heal a person whose mind was shattered, I would give all that I possess. I am troubled about my daughter's grieving over the death of her husband." I told her God never fails to perform his miracles when we fully believe and accept God's way of healing the body and soul. She seemed much blessed and encouraged and kindly invited me to her home. "As ye go, preach." How glad she was to find some one who would tell her about salvation. She was a wealthy lady, as I afterward learned. We became fast friends and she learned of healing in answer to "the prayer of faith." RIDING IN PARLOR CAR. Leaving the Indian School in Indian Territory on one of the coldest mornings I ever experienced, myself and sisters were driven by two young Indian boys to a flag station. We were wrapped in warm blankets and hurried to the railroad. We were in danger of freezing, as the train was long delayed on account of the blizzard and snow drifts, and we sought the only place of shelter--a freight car in which the section foreman and his wife lived, where we shivered with the cold until the train came in sight. We were compelled to stop in the parlor car (a luxury that I never indulge in) as platforms of the other cars were too icy to pass from one car to another while the train was in motion. We were much blessed, and I began singing, and praising the Lord. When the train came to a station, we arose to go into the other car, but a gentleman passenger called to the conductor and said: "How much is the fare for these ladies to remain in this car?" He and his companion paid the amount required and we were permitted to ride in the parlor car to Topeka, Kansas. My soul was so blessed that I felt I must go into the other cars and hold services. We were invited to go to the diner with friends. When we arrived at the station where dinner was served, one after another of the passengers handed me some money. When we came in from dinner I knelt down in the car, and was praying in silence, thanking God for what He had given us, when I felt someone crush some paper in my hands. I looked to see what it was and found it was a ten dollar bill, given by the two gentlemen who had paid our fare in the parlor car. Of course I was greatly surprised, and as Sister Taylor was kneeling by my side, I said, "Sister, this must be in answer to your prayer. Did you pray for money?" She said "Yes, I prayed for hours last night." I said, "Why you should have been praying for souls." She answered, "I knew you needed money, and no one was giving it to you." Thus God hears and answers prayers and provides for the needs of his little ones. I give below a letter received from one of the gentlemen who gave us the ten dollars who was a prominent business man in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania: Pittsburg, Pa., March 25, 1899. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa. My Dear Madam: Your card of the 18th duly received and I was glad to hear from you and to have your good wishes, but was especially grateful for your prayers, for I believe in prayer. Do you realize how much a busy man needs the prayers of God's people? Brother M., my companion whom you met last fall in Indian Territory, is well and I know will be glad to hear from you. I will see him next week, D. V. If you pass through our city on your trip East, and I know of it, would gladly call upon you. With best wishes for your welfare, and Mrs. Taylor's, too, I am, Very truly your friend, T. M. N. The following brief extract is from a report of a service on the train as we were in company with a number of delegates on their way to the Convocation of Prayer at Baltimore, in January, 1903: We left Indianapolis at 3:05 p. m., Monday. After we started Mother Wheaton, who was with us, started up a song, then went to the front of the car, and standing in the aisle she began preaching to the people. She moved down the aisle still preaching, taking about ten minutes to come through the car. This she did several times, then went through the dining and palace cars. As she told of her prison work, how God could save criminals, we could see tears come into the eyes of the passengers. A U. S. marshal sitting near us became much affected, and made inquiry of Brother S. B. Shaw who the woman was, and said he knew what she said was true, and said he desired to be saved. A wealthy Mexican on the train, whose wife had recently died while he was on a trip to Europe, was also brought under conviction, and would have Sister Wheaton take dinner in the dining car; also had Sisters Wheaton and Shaw take a berth in the sleeper at his expense. I must not forget to tell you that Brother Shaw gave us an excellent talk standing in the aisle of the car. FAVOR THE R. R. CO. I sometimes have an opportunity to do a kindness for the R. R. Co., in return for the many favors they do for me. At one time I reached the railroad station at Fort Worth, Texas, before my train arrived. While we were waiting for a Santa Fe train, an old lady who was evidently not in her right mind and who had been sent by friends to go alone to other friends who lived at a distance, of her own accord tried to climb over one train to get to another and was injured. The injury was caused by her own mental condition and through no fault of the railroad men. Before she left us, I wrote a little message of love and put it into her hand bag with my name and address on it. In a few days I received the following letter from her attorneys. Fort Worth, Tex., November 21, 1898. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa. Dear Madam: We conclude from a kind and sympathetic letter you wrote to Mrs. Harper, the old lady who fell from the platform at the Gulf, Colorado & Santa Fe Railway depot at Fort Worth, Tex., on Friday night, the 11th day of November, that you likely saw the old lady fall. And perhaps you can tell us how she came to fall and who else saw her when she fell. Mrs. Harper has employed us to sue the railroad company for said injuries. She claims that she walked off of the platform where there were no railings and fell between two freight cars left standing on the track, left so far apart that she could see the railroad car she wanted to board between said opening so left. Will you please write us all you know about the matter, and who else saw it, if any one, and where such person or persons live if you know. By doing so you will greatly oblige, Yours truly, WYNNE, MCCART & BOWLIN. In reply I assured them that it would be utterly unjust to bring suit against the railroad company--giving them the facts as far and as fully as I knew them. I learned later that this ended the contemplated suit. CHAPTER XVII. Street and Open Air Work. THE MASTER'S QUESTIONS. Have ye looked for my sheep in the desert, For those who have missed their way? Have ye been in the wild waste places, Where the lost and wandering stray? Have ye trodden the lonely highway, The foul and the darksome street? It may be ye'd see in the gloaming The print of My wounded feet. Have ye wept with the broken-hearted In their agony of woe? Ye might hear Me whispering beside you "'Tis the pathway I often go!" My brethren, My friends, My disciples, Can ye dare to follow me? Then, wherever the Master dwelleth, There shall the servant be! Many are the shocking sights and sad experiences I have witnessed in street and slum work. I have endured hardships and privations, suffered arrests and ridicule, and faced many dangers. But withal, the glorious victories have been many and precious souls have been saved: I might give copies of many permits to hold open air services received in the earlier years of my labors, but perhaps these would not be of interest or profit, so I give only a few. PERMIT TO PREACH ON BOSTON COMMON. CITY OF BOSTON, EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT. Under Chapter 42, Section 11, of the Revised Ordinances, permission is hereby granted to Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, to conduct preaching service on the Common on Sunday, October 27, 1889, subject to the directions of the Superintendent of the Common, who will assign a location. THOMAS NAST, Mayor. October 22, 1889. * * * * * STATE OF LOUISIANA, MAYORALTY OF NEW ORLEANS. City Hall, 11th day of December, 1886. Permission granted to Elizabeth Wheaton and Agnes Hill to preach the gospel at such localities within the city of New Orleans as they may select; provided that in so doing they are careful not to interfere with the private rights of individuals or those of corporations granted them under municipal ordinances or the statutes of this state. By order of the Mayor. E. L. BOWER, Chief Clerk. * * * * * MAYOR'S OFFICE. Jacksonville, Fla., December 29, 1886. Permission is hereby granted E. Wheaton and associates to preach the gospel within the city limits at such places as they may select; provided the streets and sidewalks are not obstructed and the rights of private property are not disturbed and there is no violation of City ordinances or statutes of the State. P. MCQUAID, Mayor. * * * * * Galveston, Tex., Jan. 20, 1888. To Whom It May Concern: Permission is hereby granted to the bearer to hold religious services on the streets anywhere within the corporate limits of the city of Galveston, and the police authorities will lend such protection as is necessary to enforce order at such meetings. R. L. FULTON, Mayor of Galveston. * * * * * Office of Chief of Police, Denver, Colo., June 23, 1888. To any Police Officer: This woman has permission from the Mayor to hold services on the street. M. HENNY, Chief of Police. * * * * * Sacramento, Cal., Aug. 24, 1888. Permission is hereby granted E. Wheaton and associates to preach the gospel within the city limits at such places as they may select, provided the streets and sidewalks are not obstructed and rights of private property are not disturbed, and if not in conflict or violation of the city ordinances. EUGENE J. GREGORY, Mayor. FROM MISS JOSEPHINE COWGILL. Some Years a Missionary in Jerusalem. The following is contributed by a dear sister who has spent some years as a missionary in Jerusalem, Palestine, and may be known to many of our readers: [Illustration: MISS JOSEPHINE COWGILL.] Many years ago, while engaged in missionary work in the city of New Orleans, La., I was one evening attracted by a large gathering of people. In the midst was a woman kneeling on the ground engaged in most earnest prayer. Many in the company were of the worst class of people, yet they were quietly listening and looking on with amazement. We were not accustomed to any one praying on the streets in that manner. This was the first time I had the privilege of meeting dear Sister E. R. Wheaton. I can never forget the impressions made upon myself and others by her prayers, exhortations and songs that evening. Standing near me in that company was a woman who had charge of one of the worst houses of prostitution in the city. Trembling and weeping she said to me "I never heard anything like that before. That woman makes me feel that I am an awful sinner, and yet she loves me." That poor woman went to her house, sent for a Bible and read it and spent the night in bitter repenting for her sins. She was gloriously converted and then called her household together and told them her experience and how the Lord had pardoned her sins and made her happy in His love. She then exhorted them to commence a new life; but if they would not, then they must leave her house. While in New Orleans, Sister Wheaton and those in company with her were busily and successfully engaged in mission work among prisoners and others of the worst class. Some years afterward she again visited that city and the Lord greatly blessed her work. One night, on a store-box in front of a saloon, she preached to a large crowd. The saloonkeeper became very uneasy and called a policeman to "take her away." He came, but found it quite hard work to get her down and to another place. The people wanted to hear her. She sang a song, the chorus of which was, in part: "If to Jesus you are true, There's a glory waits for you, In the beautiful, the glad forever." Then with clasped hands she stood quietly gazing upward, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then with much feeling she said: "I am homesick for heaven." I can never forget how those words impressed me and others at that time. Some years after I again met Sister Wheaton in Los Angeles, California, where her work was like it had been in New Orleans. At one time, when she had kindly offered me the privilege of going with her to some other points, I made inquiry about how I should take my trunk. She replied: "Sister Josephine, pilgrims for God do not need a trunk. One valise is enough." Many times I have thought of that reply and the good it did me. I have never known of a more earnest and self-sacrificing Christian worker than Sister Wheaton. The results of her labors as she has gone forth "weeping and bearing precious seeds," cannot be fully known until with rejoicing she comes "bringing sheaves with her." In loving remembrance of her, I am, Yours in His blessed service. JOSEPHINE COWGILL. Haifo, Palestine. MY FIRST STREET MEETING. My first street meeting was in Washington, D. C., near the old postoffice. I had spent the day in the jail, alms-house and hospitals. I was then a stranger in the city. Some one asked me to go to a hall where there was a little mission. We did so, and found they had gone to the open air meeting. When we arrived the meeting was in progress, one after another stepping out to testify or sing. No opportunity was offered me to take any part in the meeting, as no woman was allowed to testify. I looked to God in silent prayer to open some way for me to speak to the people. At the close of their service I spoke, saying, "The Lord has sent me with a message for you dear people, and now the friends have closed their meeting and we will not detain them, as they doubtless have other engagements." I began to sing and God filled my soul with glory. The needs of those poor hungry souls rose before me, as I sang and prayed, and the message of love came welling up in my soul. I spoke to them of righteousness, the coming Judgment and eternity. I had held meetings in many of the principal cities of America, some in Europe and other countries. But that night God anointed me for street preaching and for work in slums, dives and saloons. Closing the meeting, I thought of being alone on the street at night with scarcely any money and not knowing my way back to my lodging place. I said, "Oh, Lord, you know all about it." Walking along I came to the mission and stepping in I took a seat near the door. While I sat praying, a brother rose and told the circumstances of the street meeting I had held, and that one of the worst men in the city had been converted through its instrumentality. The man had told the brother that God had saved him and he was going home to write eight letters to his people, some of them in this and some in the old country, to tell them what great things God had done for him. God knew I was there and sent the message to encourage me. After the service in the hall had closed a young lady who proved to be the daughter of the landlady where I had been staying, came to me and walked to her home with me. I could not have found my way alone, not having their number, but God cared for me. Some extracts are given from reports of the work which were published at different points during the first few years of my labors: CONVERTED TO CHRIST. THE CASE OF THE UNFORTUNATE WOMAN--CARD FROM MR. M. Editor Hawk-Eye: Last evening at about seven o'clock Mrs. Wheaton, the prison evangelist, and another lady of the evangelists and myself held a meeting on the levee. Mrs. Wheaton, who spoke on the future consequence of sin with unusual earnestness, had the effect of breaking down Mrs. A. into tears. Mrs. Wheaton went up to her and spoke to her. In a few moments the unfortunate woman broke into ecstasies of joy and commenced to leap around in a circle. For ten minutes she kept up praising God and leaping, when suddenly she leaped through the great crowd around, some now being horrified, who, like many poor, unfortunate people, never saw a sudden conversion. She ran up Jefferson street, where she was arrested and locked up. Had the woman been rich or popular she would have been kindly treated, but being one of the unfortunate women of our city she was locked up in an unclean, old filthy cell, with a bunk for a bed. The police were informed that the woman was converted and a lady offered to take her home last night. But they kept her in that terrible cell with inmates in adjoining cells using obscene language. It is a sin and disgrace for the city fathers to continue to have women locked up with men in the same line of cells with such a horrifying stench and wooden bunks. The city police are guilty of an outrageous act in confining the woman in such a cell, when they ought to have given her better quarters, as they had the opportunity. This morning she was brought out before the police court; the woman still testified that she had salvation before that court and crowd of people. But good came out of it all as she witnessed a grand confession to the police court and people who never heard the gospel. She was, by the consent of Captain S., taken to Mrs. H.'s and is doing well and is converted. Last evening's _Gazette_ stated that the woman went crazy by attending the street meetings and would be examined before the board of commissioners of insanity, which is every word of it untrue. The woman is sane and was not before any board. A. H. MERTZ, in Burlington _Hawk-Eye_, Jan. 19, 1887. A WONDERFUL CONVERSION. In San Francisco a drunken girl came to my meeting on the street so desperate and dangerous that even the police at times seemed afraid of her. She seemed to be a veritable Magdalene. I was impressed with the words, "Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter, feelings lie buried that grace can restore." How could it be done? I dealt faithfully with her and went away, returning to the city ten months later. She came again to my meetings, once very drunk as she usually was. I talked to her about her need of salvation and she was finally convicted. She waited at the close of the meeting to speak with me, but at first would not yield to God. Finally she sobered up and was wonderfully converted. I took her to my room and cared for her, and as she was a desperate character, and liable to do injury both to life and property, the Rescue Home at San Francisco refused to take her, so I took all the risks myself and took her to Helena, Montana, and left her at the Rescue Home at that place. The following is an account of work in Seattle soon after this as reported by a paper of that city: THE PRISON EVANGELIST. MRS. ELIZABETH R. WHEATON CARRYING FORWARD HER MISSION IN SEATTLE. About three o'clock yesterday afternoon two women, one quite elderly and the other about 25 years of age, whose dress and demeanor bespoke them to be missionaries, walked into the sheriff's office and asked Jailer Leckie if they might hold a short religious service in the county jail. The urbane jailor replied that he thought "a little prayin' wouldn't do them coves any harm," but they were eating and couldn't be interrupted for ten or fifteen minutes. "Then we'll wait," said Mrs. Wheaton, laying her black shawl aside and taking a seat, in which she was followed by her sister evangelist. "Perhaps you would like to know who we are," said the elder of the two women to a reporter who happened to be present. "Here is my card," and she handed over a small piece of pasteboard on which was printed with a rubber stamp, "Elizabeth R. Wheaton, Prison Evangelist. Jesus is Coming Soon; Prepare to Meet Thy God." "That will tell who I am," continued the evangelist.... "Criminals and fallen women are the ones I try to reach. I would rather try to save a murderer or fallen woman than your smooth, respectable hypocrites, every time. Mary and I have just come through from san Francisco." * * * At this moment Jailer Leckie announced that the prisoners were through eating, and the two women went below to pray with them. The younger woman held back, saying that she was afraid some of her old associates might be there, but she was urged on by her protector and a few minutes later the words of "Nearer My God to Thee," from two female voices, came floating through the prison bars. The prisoners gave them respectful hearing, and one or two seemed to be affected by the earnest words of counsel that fell from the lips of the evangelist. Later in the evening they held street services for the benefit of the workingmen near the Armory and relief tents. BECAME A PREACHER. One of the worst women I ever knew was converted in the spring of 1885 on the streets of Kansas City, Mo., where I was holding meetings. She came to the meeting to abuse and ridicule me. She heard my voice, she said, two blocks away, and became convicted. She came to where I was standing on a box preaching. I asked if there was any one there who would seek God and live a Christian life. I said if there was one such, let them come and kneel with me by the box and I would pray for them. She knelt there and cried mightily to God for mercy. But she went away unsaved and prayed and wept day and night. She could neither eat nor sleep. She saw herself a lost sinner. Her father had been a minister of the Gospel, but had died when she was very young. She had drifted to this wicked city in search of work, and you may know the rest. For it is but the story of many a poor orphan girl in her struggle for bread. She fell as thousands fall with none to pity or care. She was driven from one sin to another, until at last disgraced and filled with shame, she had tried twelve times to take her own life. Thus I found her a miserable woman. She came again to the meeting, this time alone, and was gloriously saved, and is still saved so far as I know. She became a successful preacher of righteousness, for she knew how to reach such as she had been. She became a terror to evil doers, brave in danger, and hopeful before discouraging obstacles. She has since told me she has saved many young girls' lives and characters by taking them in and giving them food and shelter when every other door except brothels and saloons was closed against them. Bless God for the homes open to shelter and protect the unfortunate girls. THE BLIND ENCOURAGED. One day while traveling in Montana, I went into a smoking car to hold a little Gospel meeting, singing and distributing tracts, when I found a blind lady there who seemed to be alone and neglected. I spoke to her kindly about her soul and invited her to go with me into the other car. I said, "I am always glad to do anything I can to help a blind person. My grandmother was blind several years before her death." She accepted it all gratefully and seemed very sorry to part from me when we changed cars. I exhorted her to a life of Christian service and to meet me in Heaven. I never expected to meet her again, but some two years later I was holding an open air meeting in California and a lady said, "Would you allow me to testify?" and I said, "Certainly, if you are a Christian. Would be glad to have you." When she began to speak she said: "This lady don't know me, but I know her. We met once. Although I have never seen her, as I am deprived of sight, yet I know her. I met with her on the train one day," and she related the foregoing facts, stating that my kindness had won her heart and she had never forgotten my advice, and was now living a Christian life. FORBIDDEN TO PREACH ON THE STREET. One night when I attempted to hold a street meeting in F----, California--where I had been holding services for a few nights--the marshal said he had forbidden me to preach and sing on the streets. A gentleman looked up the law books and returned saying that it was not contrary to the laws of that city at that time to hold a gospel meeting on the street and that I could proceed, but the marshal came and forbade me, very unkindly and impolitely. At this crisis a gentleman came up and said that a saloon keeper down the street requested me to come and hold a meeting in front of his place. I said: "A gentleman has requested that we come and hold a meeting in front of his business place. We will go there, please," but the marshal in a very ungentlemanly way said I was not to hold a meeting on the street any place in that city. I said we would go to a hall which had been opened for gospel services. It was several blocks away and only a few of the immense crowd would walk that distance. When I reached the place I sat down behind the door and cried and thought, what shall I do? I was sure the Lord wanted me to hold a meeting on the street. The blind lady mentioned in the previous incident was in the congregation and began to sing, "He is able to deliver thee," and I soon had the victory. The same sister had attempted to sing on the street, as this was her only means of supporting her old mother and sickly husband, and the marshal came along and without any warning pushed her off the street. A couple of strange gentlemen came and kindly led her to a place of safety. I heard soon after this that this man became suddenly insane and it took two men to hold him and take him to the jail and from there to the insane asylum. THOUGHT THEY SAW A GHOST. Once, in a city, another lady and myself were walking along a very lonesome street late at night. When passing a large dark building she remarked that it was a very dangerous gambling den. My heart burned within me. I was seized with an impulse to go in that place of iniquity and warn those men of their souls' danger. No sooner thought than done! I was soon in the room which proved to be vacant, but I could see light through the cracks of a closed door leading into the next room. I passed quietly across the room and opened the door and stood confronting a number of rough looking men who were seated at a long gambling table. Without a word I crossed the room with noiseless footsteps and dropping my Bible on the table and falling on my knees before them began to cry to God in their behalf. The men seemed to take an unexpected view of the situation, and rising simultaneously to their feet, they rushed wildly from the room upsetting their chairs in their haste, and I was left alone. The next day the report went out that a ghost had been seen there the night before, and some of the men vowed they would never touch a pack of cards again as long as they lived--that money could not hire them to do it. Truly "The wicked flee when no man pursueth." HURT BY A SALOONKEEPER. While I was at Springfield, Ill., I was led one Sabbath to go to the park to hold a gospel meeting, taking two sisters with me. We had a good meeting, and returning to the city I asked the street car conductor if there was another park where I could hold services. He directed me to a place in another suburb. We went there, and in a grove I saw some tables and men and women sitting at them, drinking. I began to sing a hymn, thinking we were in a public park, when a man rushed out of a house toward me, saying, "You shan't sing here." I said, "Please let me finish this verse." He replied, "No, I won't allow any one to sing here." I knelt in prayer. He did not say I should not pray. The sisters were looking at him, and said he hurried toward me in great anger. The sisters prayed to God to spare me. The man jerked me and pushed me over, when some of the men at the tables called out to him, "Let go of that woman. You don't know who she is. We know her." The men in the meantime running to us, laid hold on the saloonkeeper and took him away. I was very much hurt. I could not walk alone. The park proved to be a beer garden. We went to the nearest house and asked permission to rest till I should gain strength to return to the city. The people where we stopped were very indignant, and said the man had no license to sell liquor on Sunday, and was violating the city ordinance. There were no arrests. The whisky men must have their own way in this land of American liberty. They can ruin lives, break up homes, blight the prospects of the best people on earth and fill the prisons, almshouses, criminal insane asylums, brothels, graves of paupers, and doom souls by the multitude, and who cares? Who votes to put down the saloons? Who tries to save mothers' girls as well as mothers' boys, husbands and wives? Even the parents are overtaken by the demon of strong drink and sink into the most depraved conditions in order to satisfy their craving for alcohol. O, the awfulness of it all! Sisters, brothers, are you and I clear? Are we doing our best to stop this horrible traffic in whisky and girls, for one of these places can scarcely exist without the other. How many girls and boys are sacrificed yearly to fill the saloonkeepers' coffers and fill up hell? Think of these things. WARNED TO LEAVE THE CITY. Upon entering a town in Mississippi I inquired of a woman if she could direct me to a hotel, and she told me her sister and her husband kept one and I would be made comfortable with them. We went to the hotel and left our luggage and went at once to hold an open air meeting. The singing attracted a considerable crowd, and at the close of the service many came to shake hands with me and thank me for the meeting, among whom were a number of colored people, who thanked the Lord in their characteristic way and asked me to preach again which I agreed to do that night. As we turned our steps toward our hotel, we noticed a colored man walking a short distance ahead of us who, when we were out of hearing of the crowd, turned and said to us: "You women don't intend to hold another meeting on the street to-night?" and I said, "Certainly, I shall obey God." He said, "You have shaken hands with the colored people and the white people are angry, and they will mob you. I came along here for the purpose of warning you. If they saw me talking with you my life would be in danger." I told him I was not afraid, thanked him and told him I would do as the Lord led. On reaching our hotel the landlord asked if I intended to hold another meeting on the street that night, and I told him I did. He said that the townspeople had forbidden me to hold another service and that I would have to leave his hotel at once, because I had shaken hands with the colored people. We told him we had made the appointment and we should keep our word. He went to his wife and told her to go and tell those women to leave the house and take the train, as we had associated with the colored people and the white people would not allow us to remain in town. She replied that we had paid our money and our money was as good as anybody's, and that we were respectable, honest women and she was going to treat us as such. When we went down the street we heard a noise as of a mob, and we went praying the Lord to show us what to do, and He showed us our life was in danger and to step one side into the colored people's church where God's presence was revealed in mighty power and souls were convicted and converted. In the morning two colored women called upon me, saying they had come to warn me and assist me to the train. One of them said that two nights before she had a terrible dream about a woman coming to preach on the streets and was so impressed that she sent her husband four miles to see if there was anything in it. This was the man that warned us that night. When he went home and told her what he had seen and heard, she dreamed again and the Lord told her to come and help us out of town, as the people would take my life. They carried our luggage and showed us to the train and got us safely on board, and with a "God bless you, Honey, we's prayin' for you," they were gone, and we went on our way with thankful hearts for our Lord's protecting care. IN JAIL. I have several times been arrested for holding services in the open air, but have been taken to prison but twice--once in Glasgow, Scotland, as related elsewhere, and once in Belleville, Illinois. In 1889, Sister Anna Kinne wrote me from Belleville that they were holding meetings at that place, but had seen but little stir, that it seemed to be a hard field, and that she believed the Lord wanted me to come and help them in the meetings. I was, at the time, in Mississippi, but after praying over the matter I felt that I should go to Belleville in answer to her request. The first Sabbath after reaching there I tried to hold services in the open air, but was stopped by policemen. I tried again with the same results. Then I went to the mayor, but was refused permission to hold any such meetings. When I asked him if he would take the responsibility on the day of judgment, he said, "Yes." I then went to the jail and held services, and the sheriff kindly inquired about my work and showed considerable interest, and took down some notes. I then asked him for permission to hold meetings on the court house steps. This was readily granted, and I took Sister Kinne with me. The marshal of the town had bitterly opposed my work, and while we were singing he very rudely and unceremoniously came and took me by the arm and dragged me down from the steps. I told him that the sheriff had given me permission to hold services, but he was very angry and refused to let me go on. I said to those who had gathered, "We will have no open air meeting, but come to Buchanan Hall to-night, and we will have a meeting there." I think it was the following night that I was impressed just before the opening of our services, to sing a hymn, standing in the mission door. I spoke to Sister Kinne of this and she said, "God bless you, Sister Wheaton, I will pray for you." I went quietly down to the door and was standing there singing an old-time hymn, when out of the darkness there came two policemen. Without saying a word they took hold of me and dragged me along the street. I had no bonnet on, and my shawl was dragging along in the mud. I said, "Please let me get my shawl, and will you please let me ask one of the ladies at the mission to go with me?" But they refused and seemed glad to think that I was being disgraced. As I met two or three Christian people, one of them spoke kindly to me and I replied that I was suffering for Jesus' sake. "You seem to be well acquainted with the men," one of the policemen said. "No," I said, "only with a few Christians." When we arrived at police headquarters they gave in the report that I was on the street holding a meeting and was having a row, etc., which was, of course, utterly false. I was, of course, surprised at the treatment I was receiving. I opened my Bible, which I still held, and began reading in silence. The officer said, "Are you making all of this ado and trouble?" I replied, "I was standing in our mission door singing." He said, "Will you give bail for your good behavior?" I said, "I have no money for bail." Then he asked me if I had no friends. I told him I was a stranger in the city. "Then," he said, "I will have to send you to jail, or what will you do?" I said I did not know. He then told another policeman to take me to the jail across the square, and only a few blocks away. This policeman said to some boys who were standing outside, "You boys stay here, we do not want a mob." But the marshal said, "Go along boys. She wants notoriety--give it to her." And so I went to the jail with a mob crying after me. Arriving at the jail the kind jailor was shocked to see me in the officer's charge, and said, "You are not a prisoner?" I said, "Yes, I was singing in our mission door, but they arrested me." His wife came in and kindly said, "Come into the parlor, and I will make ready for you the spare bedroom." I was, of course, surprised and deeply touched. "No, indeed," I said, "I am a prisoner. Take me into the cell with the other women." Her little daughter came in and knelt down by my side and kissed my hand, saying how very sorry she was for me. It was on a Christmas eve, and the child was going to the Christmas tree. Soon the sheriff came in in a hurry and said, "You are a free woman!" He, finding I had been arrested, had notified friends who had given bail and secured my release. Not understanding the sheriff, I said, "No, I am here in disgrace, and I want you to put me in the woman's cell." But he insisted that I was free. Then I said, "They have put me here in disgrace, and I want some one to come and take me to our mission, as it is dark." They then sent for someone to come for me, and such a shout as went up when I again entered the mission hall. One good old Christian friend said, "I told you that if she was a woman of God, and I knew she was, she would return to the hall before the meeting was over." It seems that a reporter who was at the police station at the time of my arrest and heard the abuse of the officers had hurried to the sheriff's office, and he, as I have said, had secured my release. We give here a verbatim copy of the paper signed by friends, the original of which I still have in my possession. Somehow the case was dismissed, and I was never brought to trial: VERBATIM COPY OF A RECOGNIZANCE. (12th, 24th, 1899.) State of Illinois, St. Clair County, ss. This day personaly appeared before the undersigned, William Bornmann, one of the Justices of the Peace in and for said County, Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, James West and Wm. Meyer, and jointly and severally acknowledged themselves to owe and be indebted unto the People of the State of Illinois, in the sum of Twenty-five Dollars, to be levied on their goods and chattels, lands and tenements, if default be made in the premises and conditions below, to-wit: Whereas, The above bounden, Elizabeth R. Wheaton, was, on the 24th day of December, A. D. 1889, arrested for violation of the city ordinance, was adjudged and required by said Justice of the Peace to give bonds, as required by the statute in such cases, made and provided, for her appearance to answer to said charge. Now the conditions of this recognizance is such that if the above bounden, Elizabeth R. Wheaton, shall personally appear and be before me, in Belleville, on the 27th day of December, A. D. 1889, at 9 a. m., and from day to day, and from term to term, and from day to day of each term hereafter, until discharged by order of said Court, then and there to answer to the said People of the State of Illinois on said charge of violation of the city ordinance and then and there answer and abide the order and judgment of said Court, and thence not depart the same without lawful permission, then and in that case this recognizance is to become void; otherwise to be and remain in full force and virtue. As witness our hands and seals, this 24th day of December, A. D. 1889. Taken, entered into, acknowledged and approved before me, this 24th day of December, 1899. WM. BORNMANN, J. P. Wilhelm Meyer, [L. S.] Jas. A. West, [L. S.] This occurrence caused a great deal of excitement at the time. Some time after I met one of the editors of one of the principal papers of the town, and he stated that a serious calamity had overtaken all those who were active in the opposing and persecuting me, and mentioned some who had died and others upon whom God's judgments seemed to have fallen. The following was taken from a paper published at Belleville: Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, a well known prison evangelist who has labored in nearly all of the principal prisons of the United States, was arrested Tuesday evening by Policemen S. and S., while she was engaged in conducting a song service, standing in the door at the entrance to Buchanan Hall, where a series of meetings are being held by two other evangelists, Mr. and Mrs. S. D. Kinne. The officers, on arriving on the scene, ordered Mrs. Wheaton to stop singing, but as she paid no attention to their command, she was at once arrested and hurried off to the police station, where she was questioned by the captain of police and the city marshal, and a little later she was removed to the county jail, but through the courtesy of the jailor she was not locked up in a cell. A complaint of disturbing the peace was made against her before Justice B., and a hearing was fixed for tomorrow before him, and a bond for her appearance was duly executed; but while these formal proceedings were being attended to Sheriff R., having heard of Mrs. Wheaton's incarceration in the county jail, repaired to the institution, immediately ordered her release, as there was no authority for holding her there, and when the officer from Justice B.'s court arrived with the bail bond for Mrs. Wheaton's signature, he was chagrined to find that the lady had been released by order of the sheriff. No further attempt was made to arrest her, and it is probable that the matter will be dropped. Mrs. Wheaton is an elderly lady and is deeply devoted to Christian work, especially among the unfortunates confined in jails and prisons, and she has a large number of testimonials as to her character and work from prison officials, railway managers and others in all parts of the country. Many prominent citizens expressed themselves yesterday as deeply regretting the action of the officers in arresting Mrs. Wheaton. The same lady, by written permission of Sheriff R., attempted to hold religious services from the court house steps on Sunday evening last, but she was forced to desist by the city marshal. Mrs. Wheaton applied to Mayor B. recently for permission to hold open-air religious meetings on the streets, but was denied the privilege on the ground that considerable disorder had been occasioned some months ago by the holding of such meetings by members of the Salvation Army, who held forth in Belleville for a time. The action of the mayor in refusing to allow the evangelist to hold open-air meetings, and the arrest of Mrs. Wheaton while engaged in conducting a song service in the door of Buchanan Hall, where the revival services are held, is causing a great deal of severe criticism, owing to the toleration of the parading of the principal streets by brass bands on Sundays, as well as other days, to draw audiences for minstrel shows, etc., the gathering of crowds on the public square by street fakirs, patent medicine peddlers, quack doctors and others, who deal out rough jokes, etc., in tones loud enough to be heard blocks away. Belleville, Dec. 26, 1888. CHAPTER XVIII. Rescue Work. A Mother's Plea for Her Fallen Daughter. So tenderly reared in the pure country air, So innocent, gracious and true, A sweet loving daughter, so gentle and fair. Of the great wicked world naught she knew, She roamed on the hillside and plucked the sweet flowers, Nor far from my sight did she stray, Till a shy cunning charmer invaded her bowers, And stole my loved treasure away. With words fair and lovely he won her young heart, Then wooed her far from the home nest, Then hastily pressed to the city's great mart, My darling he tore from my breast; So simple, confiding, ne'er dreaming of harm. She laid her young life at his feet, And the foul, venomed viper pierced her heart with a thorn, And left her to die in the street. All wounded and bleeding and covered with shame, And knowing not wither to go, In the haunts of the vilest she cringed her away, To hide her disgrace and her woe; Could I know she had gone from this cold, cruel world, My grief would be easy to bear, But to satiate vile passions her life-blood is sold, And my broken heart pleads in my prayer. Oh, bring back my darling, a poor bruised thing, The victim of Satan's deceit, O tell her I love her, though cursed by the fiend That crushed her to hell 'neath his feet. O pity my daughter, my poor fallen one, Ye who have daughters so fair, And shield not the monster who spoiled my loved one And drove my poor heart to despair. Chicago, Ill. --MARY WEEMS CHAPMAN. For some years I have been quite intimately associated with friends who have, perhaps, the largest Rescue Home in the world. I am told that they have taken in more girls than any other Home of the kind. Over 1,250 girls have there been confined and never have they lost one of these young mothers by death. But, oh, it is a sad sight to see them, day after day carrying their load of sorrow in their hearts. Often when I am there, as I manifest toward them my love and sympathy, they tell me their story of woe sad as was the cry of Eve when banished from the presence of God. She yielded to Satan's devices because she believed the voice of Satan rather than the voice of God. She became an outcast--and so our sisters are still being deceived by the devil in human form and become outcasts from all that is good. Some of them have been won by a mess of pottage, a mere bauble or a gewgaw. Others have the promise of love--that which every human heart craves. These believe, trust, yield and are ruined and some of them are so young! so ignorant! Then there are some who have been basely betrayed or brutally forced and then left to bear alone their shame and disgrace--for, alas! the "traffic in girls" is not an imaginary thing, but an awful reality. O that the good people of our fair land would awaken and see that justice is done in behalf of the helpless and innocent! Prevention is better than cure. Let us guard the children and put down every influence that would tend to demoralize either our boys or girls! But in the meantime, let us do all within our power to lift up the fallen and win back those who have gone astray and share the burden and sorrow of those who suffer through no fault of their own. Those who have been daring in sin often make the most gifted, consecrated and valiant workers for God and souls when truly and fully saved. I bless the Lord for the privilege of seeking and finding some of these "diamonds in the rough." I have known many Christian workers who had once been criminals or fallen, but who had been rescued by some one who had a knowledge of human nature and a heart filled with the love of God who told them of the love of Christ and His wonderful power to save. O when we all meet in the great Hereafter what a time of rejoicing there will be among the rescuers and the rescued. DRUNKEN WOMEN AND MEN. I find hundreds of men and women, many young women, in drunkenness and crime, and the most open daring sins. In one of the largest drinking dens in the world I asked the proprietor if I might sing a hymn, and he gave his consent. I was obliged to go down stairs and through many rooms and hallways and then up a dark stairway to the platform where the orchestra was playing. When they ceased I sang a hymn which touched their hearts and they cheered the singing. I offered a prayer and they all seemed to appreciate it. There were hundreds of _men_ only, drinking, miners and others. Then I went where there were both men and women drinking, and sang and prayed with them. At near midnight, while I was engaged in prayer, one of the poor, unfortunate girls clasped my hand and put a piece of silver in it, and stood holding my hand till I rose. She cried and spoke of her desire to be good. She was reminded of her old home and her mother. The proprietor then told me I must leave, as he found he would lose her from his den. He said he was once a Christian himself, and on coming west, saw the money to be made in that kind of business, and fell, and went deep in sin, leading others down with himself. ASSAULTED IN A DIVE. While in San Pedro, California, I went, one night, into a saloon to invite the men to a gospel meeting at the mission on the same block, and the keeper sprang up from his gambling table, where he was engaged with several others in a game of some kind, and rushing towards me, violently grabbed me by the arms, and then with both hands clutching me, rushed me to the door, using vile and insulting epithets to me as he went. At the door a lady said, "This is a public house; you dare not throw people out who have done you no harm." He finally released his Satanic grasp upon me. I had only spoken a few kindly words to two young men standing at the bar in the act of raising their glasses to their lips. I had just said, "Don't drink it, boys, please don't," when the assault was made. As the saloonist rushed at me, I said, "Don't touch me, please; I will go out." But he seemed fiendishly happy in injuring and insulting a helpless old woman, who only wished to do them all good, and see them saved in Heaven at last. The only excuse he ever made was that he thought I was Carrie Nation. Commenting on this occurrence, a Los Angeles paper contained the following item: San Pedro, March 29.--"Mother" Wheaton, a well known prison evangelist, was roughly assaulted by John Wilkins, a Front street saloonkeeper, shortly after seven o'clock last evening. Mrs. Wheaton was preaching to a large gathering in front of Wilkins' joint, and hearing loud cursing within, the aged reformer entered, intending to invite the blasphemers to Peniel Mission, where services are held every evening. She had scarcely passed inside the doors of the dive, when Wilkins rushed forward, seized her and thrust her backward. At the same time he applied vile epithets to her, shouting angrily: "Get out of here, woman, and be quick about it!" So badly was Mrs. Wheaton injured that she was unable to return to the mission without assistance. She is confined to her bed and is suffering severe pains from the shock. Wilkins explained today that he mistook Mrs. Wheaton for Carrie Nation, whom the former resembles. No arrests have been made. In a city where I had been preaching the Gospel, a messenger came stating that a young girl had cut her throat. It was an extremely hot day and I had to walk a long distance across the city. Arriving at the house they told me that no one was allowed to go in. But I went right in and everybody stood back. Kneeling down by the poor girl I took her hand already growing cold in death. Poor child! Like thousands of others, she had been disappointed in life. The one who had plighted his troth had broken her heart, and rather than bear her shame she preferred death. Then and there I had the privilege of pointing this beautiful girl to Christ who said, "Neither do I condemn thee. Go and sin no more," and He who never turns anyone away heard and answered prayer. One day I held a meeting in the Crittenden Home for Fallen Girls, in Washington. They all seemed so glad to hear me. (There were thirty girls.) They were deeply moved. After the meeting closed I took each by the hand and exhorted them to live pure and holy lives. And with tears in their eyes they promised to try and serve the Lord. One dear little girl in a short dress (fourteen years old), clung to me crying, and said Jesus had saved her just then, in the meeting, and she would be a good girl and live for Heaven. I clasped her to my heart and thought what Jesus said about him who offends "one of these little ones." Some heartless wretch had ruined the girl and left her to die alone. "Vengeance is _mine_, _I_ will repay, saith the Lord." A GIRL SAVED. Trying to rescue a girl in a low dive in New York city in 1890, as I entered the den the keeper, a large, strong man, sprang up and struck me a blow. The girl caught his arm and cried out, "Don't strike her, she is a lady." But he thrust me out, and I said to her, "Fly for your life--out at the back door." I ran around the saloon and caught her away from an angry mob and with the help of the sisters with me, almost carried her six blocks to the Crittenden Home, and there she was reformed and converted. A GIRL REJECTED AT RESCUE HOME. In Ft. Worth, Texas, I once found in the jail a poor girl who was a very desperate character. She had been at the Rescue Home several times, and she was so very wicked that they refused to have her there again. They said it was of no use trying to reclaim her. I well remember the night that the Lord sent me to the jail to hold a meeting. The service was held after dark, as the prisoners were compelled to work during the day. I was intensely grieved and very much burdened over the case of this poor girl. So intelligent, yet so sinful! In my grief, I fell upon the floor weeping over her lost condition. A sister who was with me, and on her way then to India, prayed for me as well as for the poor prisoners, and the lost girl. The meeting closed, and the next day we left the city, the sister going west, while I started north. After we left Ft. Worth, my heart was still sad and greatly pained for the poor lost girl I had seen in the jail and I wrote to the superintendent of the Rescue Home and pleaded with her to try her just once more--not only for my sake, but for the sake of Jesus. She did so, and the result was that the girl was saved and began a life of virtue and usefulness. A year or so later, I was again at Ft. Worth, and was holding services in the Girls' Rescue Home. As they assembled for the meeting I shook hands with each of them. I said of one of the girls to the matron, "This girl looks like a good Christian--who is she?" The girl herself replied, "Don't you know me, mother?" I said, "No." Then she answered, "I am the girl you rescued from the prison;" and the matron said that she was the best girl in the home. I went back after another year, and she was the matron's assistant. Still later the superintendent told me that she was a deaconess in New York, and was doing a great work. This same lady told me how she had shortly before come across my letter in which I begged her mother-in-law, who was the former superintendent, to help the girl and give her just one more chance! Oh, how wonderfully God had answered my prayers and the yearning of my heart that night when the burden of her soul rested so heavily upon me! ROBBED BY HER OWN BROTHER. A lovely girl was once drugged by her deceiver and left to bear her shame alone. She was led to a rescue home where she was cared for. Sometime after the birth of her child, which she dearly loved, her father died, and left her $1,000. She was induced by her brother to come to the city where he was living, and give him the money, which he and his wife used recklessly. They then moved, leaving the poor girl sitting on the steps without money enough even to buy milk for her babe. The poor girl was almost distracted with grief. I found her a temporary home with Christian people and a little later secured transportation for her to a rescue home in another city where she could be kindly provided for. In that hour of despair, when I found her, she was almost ready to yield to the enemy of her soul, through temptation of the same wretch who had first effected her ruin. She could go hungry herself, she said, but she could not see her babe suffer for want of food. Sisters, let us try by all possible means to befriend our own sex and help all who are thrown in our way, heavenward. NEGLECTED BY THE CHURCHES. I once went to a city where there are many churches and professors of religion, and yet there in the Home for Fallen Girls, where I held services I found the inmates neglected. I then went to the poorhouse where over a hundred poor and crippled destitute people were so glad to hear me sing hymns while they partook of their dinner. They seemed to wonder who and what I was, yet, how glad they were when they understood it was for the love of their souls Jesus had sent me to tell them of His great love. Thank God for the privilege of going to these places. God always finds a way when there seems to be no way. So I must say in concluding that of all those who have my sympathy and my help, my prayers and my tears, prisoners, and all, the poor, abandoned, forsaken girl, who has no one to share her sorrow and her shame claims and receives my deepest sympathy and assistance. There is no one on whom Jesus had more compassion and yet the croakers are often the ones to send her to worse shame by their neglect and cruelty. Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more." "She is more to be pitied than censured, She is more to be loved than despised, She is only a poor girl who has ventured On life's rugged path ill-advised. Don't scorn her with words fierce and bitter, Don't laugh at her shame and downfall; Just pause for a moment, consider That a man was the cause of it all." VISIT TO A HOSPITAL. One Sunday, years ago, I visited a hospital in a certain city and found it in a most terrible condition. There were many sick, both men and women, and how glad they were to see me! The public were not permitted inside the grounds, but the superintendent being absent I was admitted. The patients were suffering with hunger, and were in a most filthy condition. I found both colored men and women in the same room and all covered with body lice. One old colored woman was almost eaten alive with vermin, and starving. They would not give her even a drink of water. I gave her water and she drank a quart and begged for more. I asked her if she would like to have me bring her something to eat. She said, "Oh, yes, Honey." I said, "What can you eat?" She said, "A crust of bread--I's so hungry, been hungry so long." My heart was sick at the sights and sounds of suffering and anguish. I told the Lord about it. All night I cried and prayed. I got up early, got a large, fat chicken, made soup, got provisions and a couple to help me carry the things, and went to that miserable place. I got access to the building with my food and all got a share. I never will forget the looks on the faces of those starving sufferers, and the tears coursing down their wan, pale cheeks, as I and dear Mary, my helper, fed them. One poor old white brother said he was ashamed to have us near him. I took along clothing for the poor old colored woman, and had to take the scissors and cut the garment off from her, and put it in the stove. I found the mattress decaying under her. I told the superintendent's wife I would be a witness against her in the day of judgment for treating the patients so cruelly. She said she did not have help. I said the state, county or city would send help, that that was no excuse for their starving and cruelly treating those sick helpless invalids. The old woman and the men told me they were compelled to live there in that one room altogether. It was terrible! One man said he had killed vermin until he was so tired and weak he could do no more. They said that seldom ever any one left that death hole alive. The bodies were sold for dissection. I went early the next morning to the judge's office to relate my experience and ask him if something could not be done to relieve the suffering of the patients that I found there in such a filthy condition and in such need of care and food and water. I told him I did not see the superintendent, Mr. V. Just at that moment a dudish young fellow in the room arose and said, "So you did not see V. when you went there yesterday; you see him now, don't you?" He was very angry and said I got inside by his absence, and that he would do so and so. The judge said angrily, "Woman, you talk too much." I said, "I have not begun to talk yet." The two men hissed and told me to leave the office. I had taken the precaution to take with me the sister who was traveling with me at that time, also the young man who had helped us to carry the clothes and provisions to the hospital the day before. They could have corroborated my testimony but the judge was evidently in league with the superintendent of the hospital and would not listen. I went to a church in the place to a Woman's Missionary meeting and got permission to speak to the ladies in public about the awful conditions I found in their so-called hospital. They were surprised and greatly incensed, and told their husbands, and so there was awakened an interest that resulted in further investigation. Facts were found as I had stated, only, if anything, worse. The outcome of these things being brought to light was that the old shanties which served as a so-called hospital were replaced by good buildings and kind caretakers took the place of the cruel superintendent--who died some months later after a long illness. ANOTHER VISIT TO A HOSPITAL. The following is a description of a visit to another hospital, as published in a paper at Chattanooga, Tenn. This was also early in my work. A BAT CAVE. A SANITARIUM FOR CATS AND HOTEL FOR DOGS--CALLED BY COURTESY THE CITY HOSPITAL OF CHATTANOOGA. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, the eloquent female evangelist, who has been in the city for the past week carrying on a series of prayer meetings in the jails and houses of ill fame, came into the _Commercial_ office yesterday afternoon and gave a full and detailed report of the neglected condition of the city hospital. She says: "As I approached the building I could not convince myself that I was really in sight of a hospital, for it reminded me more of a stable than anything else I could conceive of. I approached the gate and met a colored female mute who raised her hand in a deprecating manner as if to warn me of some unseen danger that I was about to come in contact with. I motioned the negro girl to lead the way and followed her into a dreary looking house that I had been told was really the only hospital of which Chattanooga could boast. Just as I opened the door six big hounds sprang from the different beds within the building and would have torn me to pieces had not I hastily slammed the door and shut them in. I applied to a poor cripple man who had the appearance of a half-fed mendicant where to find the keeper and I was informed that he was asleep, but if I would wait he (the cripple) would go and wake him up, and in a few moments he returned accompanied by a healthy looking man who seemed to care little whether I went in or remained out of doors in the rain. "As I followed the keeper into the room six well fed hounds and one emaciated looking man occupied the beds that were in the rooms. "I have wandered from one end of the land to the other, I have visited prison cells, opium joints, houses of ill-fame, almshouses, reformatories and every dreary den from New York to San Francisco, from Florida to Montreal, but with all the sights with which I have been confronted I have never seen a more cheerless abode and one so utterly void of comfort and cleanliness as the one occupied by the poor, hungry invalid that shared the beds of the well fed dogs. "The sick man said he was suffering for the want of food and had been shamefully neglected since he was placed in charge of the manager of this cheerless institution. Two inmates have died within the past week and two are left to suffer. "The other inmate was a colored man who evidently has little more of life's suffering to endure in this world. "In this room six cats occupied seats of prominence, two purring on one bed and three others romping from place to place over the apartment, while the sixth was helping himself to the sick man's dinner. "The buildings are without warmth in the winter and have no means of ventilation for summer. The confined air is contaminated with the odor that rises from unemptied and neglected vessels that are allowed to stand neglected from day to day. The keeper seems to be utterly indifferent with regard to the ease or comfort of the sick and it is very evident that while the city pays for food to support the sick and suffering, the countless and useless dogs and cats eat a large portion of the food which should be used exclusively for the unfortunate inmates." Mrs. Wheaton has done much commendable work not only in Chattanooga but from one end of the land to the other. She has consecrated her time, wealth and character to the uplifting of fallen people, and by her devotion to Christianity and her liberality has won thousands of friends throughout the country.--Chattanooga Paper. WORDS OF CHEER FROM OTHER RESCUE WORKERS. The first of the following letters I carried with me on my second visit to Europe, mentioned elsewhere: FLORENCE CRITTENTON HOME, 21 and 23 Bleecker Street, New York. J. F. Shirey, 67 Farrington Road, East Coast, England. Dear Brother: This will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, a prison evangelist. She is alone and unprotected in London. Please make the way for her as best you can where she can speak for God to the poor prisoners. She lives by faith and trusts Him for all. God bless you. MOTHER PRINDLE. [Illustration: MOTHER PRINDLE.] * * * * * New York, October 16, 1903. My first acquaintance with Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton was made in the Florence Crittenton Midnight Mission, New York City, in 1890. She impressed me then and has ever since as one whom God has called and endowed with special gifts for a grand and noble work. Her one strong hold is faith in God. When under the power of the Spirit she verily treads upon serpents and scorpions and all the powers of darkness seem to flee before her. As a singing evangelist for prison work, I do not know her equal. Her preaching is in the demonstration of the Spirit and with power. She gives the Lord's message with holy boldness, fraught with tender love to the sinner, and blessed are the results. The midnight call given on train, when it was my privilege to be with her, was an hour never to be forgotten. Many will rise up and call her blessed in that great day who but for her favored and wonderful ministry would have gone into outer darkness. God bless her and her book. MOTHER PRINDLE. The following taken from "Beulah Home Record," Chicago, Ill., March 1, 1902, is explanatory in itself. Also the letter that follows: We have had with us for a time, as our honored guest, Mother Wheaton, the Railroad Prison Evangelist. Like Jesus, the friend of poor sinners, she goes up and down the land in state prisons and homes where mothers' girls are sheltered, down into the coal mines, into the great lumber camps, and on crowded railroad trains, while speeding along, she preaches the everlasting gospel of our Lord and Savior, and gives out tracts. Thus she goes as God's flaming minister, sowing beside all waters, singing and praying poor sin-sick, tempest-tossed souls into the kingdom of God. Do you ask what is the secret of her success? It may be found in the Psalms, 126:6--"She goeth forth weeping," she has a burning love for souls. So you and I, dear reader, if we are to succeed in winning souls, our hearts must be full of love for them. We give Mother Wheaton a warm welcome to this great and wicked city of Chicago and a hearty welcome always to Beulah Home. * * * * * Berachah Home for Erring Girls, 2719 Lawton Ave., St. Louis, Mo. We feel in Berachah Home that we shall not forget Mother Wheaton. She came into the "Home" and our lives just as God was leading us out in rescue work, and as she stood among us in our first "open meeting," we felt, "Here is a strong, brave soldier of the cross." We found hope and encouragement as she spoke to us of His service, and the Spirit witnessed "This is of God," as she sang one of her songs as only Mother Wheaton can sing them. We did not see her again until in the Baltimore Convocation of Prayer, January, 1904, when God again used her to bring Mrs. Chapman and me to God's full thought for us there. She with others laid hands on us, with prayer, setting us apart for the "work whereunto we were called." May God bless her ministry to others, as He has to us in Berachah Home. MRS. J. P. DUNCAN, Mgr. MRS. B. G. CHAPMAN, Treas. THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER. "To the home of his father returning, The prodigal, weary and worn, Is greeted with joy and thanksgiving, As when on his first natal morn; A 'robe' and a 'ring' are his portion, The servants as suppliants bow; He is clad in fine linen and purple, In return for the penitent vow. "But ah! for the Prodigal Daughter, Who has wandered away from her home; Her feet must still press the dark valley And through the wilderness roam; Alone on the bleak, barren mountains-- The mountains so dreary and cold-- No hand is outstretched in fond pity To welcome her back to the fold. "But thanks to the Shepherd, whose mercy Still follows His sheep, tho' they stray; The weakest, and e'en the forsaken He bears in His bosom away; And in the bright mansions of glory Which the blood of His sacrifice won, There is room for the Prodigal Daughter, As well as the Prodigal Son!" We've a Home for Prodigal Daughters, Our Saviour says gather them in; Will you help rescue these dear ones-- Who have fallen in paths of sin? Your girl may be one of the "fallen," And you long to see her return; Oh, there's room for the Prodigal Daughter, As well as the Prodigal Son. --Horace. CHAPTER XIX. Work in Canada and Mexico. In my several visits to the prisons of Canada I have generally found the officers very courteous. There are sometimes there, as here, changes of administration, making the work of reaching the prisoners more difficult. In the large prison at Toronto the officers were especially kind and gave me the privilege of preaching the gospel to the prisoners as often as I could attend chapel services. Much interest was manifested and I trust good was accomplished. MY SECOND EXPERIENCE IN STREET PREACHING was in Hamilton, Canada. There for weeks, night after night, rain or shine, I sang and preached the gospel in the open air. I was especially helped of the Lord and met with blessed success. In 1886, I took with me from Toronto, a dear young sister, who was called of God to join me in my work. She went with me to Florida and many other states. She afterward married an evangelist but died a few years later, being true to God, so far as I know, to the last. SERVICE WITH Y. M. C. A. During a visit to London, Canada, after visiting the prisons I went to the hospital to visit the sick. While singing, a message came over the telephone saying that the Secretary of the Y. M. C. A. requested me to lead their meeting on Sunday afternoon. Would I come? I said, "Better wait till I return to the city. I can't tell." The secretary had to know at once, so he could announce it through the papers. So I promised to go, as they had no speaker. I felt discouraged, as I could think of no message suitable for that large, mixed audience, and prayed for guidance. Sunday afternoon--still with no message in mind--I started to the hall. As I walked along the street, praying, I said, "Lord, give me at least a text to read." Just then I saw on the ground a scrap of paper, the torn leaf of a Bible. I picked it up, looked at it, and there my message, text and all, opened up to my mental vision. I went into the pulpit depending entirely on God, and the light broke in on my soul, and the power of God fell on the people. I told them how I was depending alone on the Lord for the words as He gave them to me. It was a victorious meeting. I leave results with the Lord. A GIRL RESCUED. In one of the Canadian cities I found in the jail a beautiful girl who was very dissipated and unruly. The officers could not control her--no one had any good influence over her. The Lord laid the burden of her soul on my heart. I treated her with love and respect, and tried in every way to win her for God. Finally, she realized that I loved her soul, though no one else cared for her. Then she sought the Lord. She was a Roman Catholic. I told her I would go to the House of the Good Shepherd and speak to the Mother Superior, and see if they would not take her in, as she had no home. She wept with joy at this, and told me of a plan some wicked men had made to be at the jail when she was discharged at 6 o'clock Saturday evening and take her to haunts of sin. I hurried out to the Sisters early in the morning and found them at mass, and waited, determined to save the poor girl from further downfall, and drunkenness. The Sisters, seeing my anxiety and sincerity, agreed to help me. Then I went to the officers of the jail and got them to release the girl at noon. She was taken to another city and thus saved. When the hour came for her release from the jail in the evening, sure enough several men made their appearance and watched and waited for her to come out. At last they began calling her name. Then the officers went out and told them the girl had been pardoned, and had left at noon for another city, with protectors. Another brand had been plucked from the burning for the Master's Kingdom. SHUT OUT--OTHERS ADMITTED. At one time amidst great inconveniences I reached Kingston Prison. I saw some of the officers Saturday night and they were kind and willingly consented that I should have opportunity to hold or assist in services the next day. The next morning I went to the prison through a drenching rain--without an umbrella, arrived early and waited for the chaplain. When he came, I told him my desire and what the other officers had said. But he refused to even let me go inside to listen to the service. When I asked his reason he said they would not allow women in the prison. Yet while I had been waiting I had seen several Catholic sisters enter. I have had similar experiences in our own land. STONED. One day as I was passing along the street in the quaint walled city of Quebec, some boys threw stones at me, while an old man urged them on, saying, "If it's Salvation Army ye are, ye should be killed." The Lord have mercy upon them and upon all who oppose His work or His workers. For ourselves we must not count these things strange. "It is enough for the disciple that he be as his Master, and the servant as his Lord." AN INFIDEL DEFEATED. While in Toronto, Canada, I often went to the parks on Sabbath days and held services--the mayor of the city, who was a devoted Christian, often himself helping in these open-air services. One stand in the park was usually occupied by the infidel element. They would hold the place all day so that others could not have the privilege of doing work for God--so as the place was public property upon which they had no rightful claim I went early and so secured the place before them. When their leader arrived the people were listening to the gospel in song and testimony from worthy witnesses. He was very angry--said it was his place to speak and he must have it, and ordered me to stop and leave the stand, but I kept on with the service as God directed and he went away a few steps and called for the people to follow him, and he would address them. No one seemed inclined to go and a bystander told him his followers were few and he had better desist from trying to disturb a religious service. So we had the victory and God was honored that day in the work which He sent his servants to do. Among my papers I have found the following letters of introduction given me while in Canada by Hon. John Robson, Provincial Secretary: Provincial Secretary's Department, Victoria, B. C., Oct. 5. Dear Brother: The bearers of this are prison evangelists of a very high and deserving character, whom I asked to call upon you. If you could get up a meeting at Y. M. C. A. rooms for them, it might do good. In haste yours, JOHN ROBSON. * * * * * Provincial Secretary's Department, Victoria, B. C., Oct. 5, 1888. Dear Mr. McBride: The ladies whom this will introduce to you are prison evangelists who are desirous of doing some work in the penitentiary, and I take the liberty of bespeaking for them a kind reception at your hands. They enjoy a high reputation and are well deserving of your kind attention. Very sincerely yours, JOHN ROBSON. A. H. McBride, Esq., Warden Penitentiary. * * * * * Victoria, B. C. Mr. Robson bespeaks for Mrs. Wheaton and lady companion courteous attention at the hands of the warden of the Victoria gaol. WORK IN MEXICO. Not many years after engaging in special prison work I went into Mexico and have since gone there quite frequently. As a rule the people are ignorant and superstitious and consequently hard to reach with the gospel. But though I was compelled to speak through an interpreter it is surprising how soon they know if one is sincere and earnest. In the prisons they are very poorly cared for, often having to wait years for trial and sometimes dying of neglect. I am told that natives of our own land if thrown into prison there fare worse than others. A BULL FIGHT. Once while in Mexico I found there was to be a bull fight not far from the prison where I was to hold service. My heart was sad because of the intense anxiety of the Mexicans to see the exhibition. They came long distances and there were many very old people who seemed impatient for the hour to arrive when Mexicans, bulls and horses should be thrown helplessly together--that they might view the combat. This cruel sport--so long a favorite pastime both in Spain and Mexico--was at one time abolished but was afterward re-established out of policy--in order to please the Mexicans. For me to describe this kind of fiendish pastime would not glorify God, nor help the public, but would have a tendency to brutality, being neither elevating nor refining. But should we not, dear reader, try to do all in our power to lead people to a higher plane of morals and send missionaries to help people to know Jesus who satisfies every longing of the human soul, and gives peace and rest here, and a home in Heaven through eternity? SIX UNDER DEATH SENTENCE. At another time I visited a prison in Mexico where there were six men under death sentence. They could not understand me, but I knelt by those great, strong men and wept and prayed to God who could carry the message of love through my tears to their hard hearts and they were so affected that we all wept together. I am sure they were remembered that day by the God who sent me to show them _His_ love for the lost and who gave me a love for the poor criminals that nothing can destroy. DIFFICULTIES. During my last trip into Mexico, 1902, I found the prisoners in one place in a most deplorable condition. They were almost starving and neglected in every way. I had considerable trouble in getting into the prison on that day, as I could find no one to interpret for me. So we went from one office to another trying to find some one to admit us to the prison. As I entered one public office a fierce dog came rushing at me from an adjoining room. I fled out of the door in dismay with the dog and an old Mexican woman at my heels. I tried to make her understand what we wanted and then hurried away. Finally we found a fellow decorated beyond description with tinsel and other adornings who furnished me an interpreter and admitted us to the prison. It was very difficult to make the poor prisoners understand how deeply I felt for them, but I could put my arms around the poor women who were there and I could take their little babes in my arms and thus show my sympathy, then telling the story of Jesus who said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." MINISTERED TO A SUFFERER. I found one poor wounded man who had just been brought into the prison sitting on the ground with bloody clothing and matted hair. He was weeping and tried so hard to explain something to me. The interpreter was evidently slow to tell me what the poor sufferer wanted. I was heart-sick to know what to do, as we had only a short time to stay and I could not bear to leave him without in some way ministering to him. But I thought of the fruit remaining in my handbag. I thrust an orange into his bony hands. He grabbed it and with both hands thrust it to his mouth eating peel and all. Poor man--he was evidently starving. Reader I wish I could make clear to you the pitiful sight! The sequel showed me why that was providentially left in my handbag. How thankful I was to minister to that poor fellow's need in even a small degree. How I longed to help them all. CHAPTER XX. Across the Sea. I had greatly desired to preach the gospel in other lands and held myself ever ready to go at a moment's warning, anywhere the Lord should lead, and had been given letters of introduction to prominent people in Great Britain. In the year 1890 my mind was much exercised about the regions beyond--and without time for preparation, with but an hour's notice, the call came to go forward. I was in Philadelphia walking along the street praying--"O Lord, where next--what wilt Thou have me to do?" Looking up I saw the large posters of steamship lines and the thought came to me, "Go and inquire the price of a ticket to Europe." I obeyed the impulse and went in and talked with the steamship agent of rates and the time of departure of the first steamer. Then I left the office praying, O God, show me Thy will--make Thy way very plain to me. Then I went back to the office, feeling that I must get alone with the Lord. I asked the agent if I might go into a rear office which was unoccupied, to pray. He very courteously replied, "Certainly, madam." There I knelt before the Lord and inquired if He wanted me to go at once--that very night--on the first steamer, to Scotland. The answer came clearly: "Go, my child, nothing doubting." I arose, went into the front office and explained to the agent the nature of my mission work; and how for years I had obeyed the leadings of the Holy Spirit and that I had a sister traveling with me who was waiting at the depot for my return, to know where we would go next. Told him I would buy two steerage tickets for Glasgow, Scotland, if he would refund the money for the one in case the sister was unwilling to go with me. To this he consented, so I purchased the tickets and hurried to the railway station where I had left my friend. I knew we had only a few moments to catch the train for New York in order to reach the steamer Devonia for Glasgow. Hurriedly I said to her, "Do you want to go to Europe?" "Oh, yes," she replied. "When?" I asked. "Oh, some time," was the answer. Then I said, "I have two tickets. It is now or never. If you wish to go I will take you, if not, I will go alone and you can return the ticket and get the money for yourself." She said, "I will go." So we rushed to the gate, caught the train on the move, and reached New York in time to get aboard the Devonia. ON THE OCEAN. Leaving America's shores far behind us, we found ourselves doomed to a stormy voyage, but with plenty of missionary work to do. There was, in the steerage, much profanity, continual drunkenness of both men and women, and card playing at all times only when the passengers were sleeping or too sea-sick. While in mid-ocean we encountered a severe storm which greatly delayed us. There were only six Christians on board the steamer. I believe it was in answer to prayer that the ship was saved from wreck. After thirteen days on the ocean, we saw the shores of "Bonnie Scotland," and as we neared port there was great rejoicing among the passengers--almost all of whom were going home. But how different it was with me! I felt much as Paul did when he said to the elders of the church at Ephesus, "And now, behold, I go bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there: save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city, saying that bonds and afflictions abide me." Like him I felt that suffering and persecution and perhaps imprisonment and death was before me in that strange land, but Paul was enabled to say, "But none of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God;" and with something of the same spirit I was enabled to say, as I wept before Him, "Lord, I will be true--only give me Thy grace sufficient for me." IN A FOREIGN LAND. I was a stranger in a strange land with only a few shillings and without any great degree of strength of body and, strange to say, for one reason and another I never saw one of those to whom I carried letters of introduction. How the Lord was teaching me not to lean on the arm of flesh! In answer to a letter of inquiry written to one to whom one letter was addressed, I received the following very kind reply from her husband: 11 Walker St., Edinburgh, Oct. 18, 1890. Dear Friend: Your letter of the 16th, with one from Miss Sisson, has just reached me, forwarded from Crieff. Since Miss Sisson's letter was written my dear wife has fallen asleep in Jesus and having left Crieff I am in lodgings for the present in Edinburgh with my sister and five children. I have been praying over the subject of your letter, but I do not have any light on the matter nor am I likely, so far as I can see, to be in Glasgow for some time. Yet if the Lord sent you to Scotland He will certainly show you what He has for you to do. "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not to thine own understanding: in all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths." I enclose a one-pound note towards expenses. Yours in Christ, G. W. OLDHAM. At the landing in Glasgow, I inquired of the policeman on duty and secured a room with his family. Then I went in search of a meeting. Found the car-fare a penny a mile and other customs quite different from ours. The first meeting I found corresponded to our Y. M. C. A. meetings. But our special mission was to the lost. That evening I received permission from the policeman to hold open-air meetings. Going along the street a woman who was drunk spied me and rushed after me beating me on the back. As I made no resistance other drunken women joined their companion in sin and I would have had a hard time of it had not the police protected me. These drunken women thought that I belonged to the Salvation Army, as the bonnet I then wore was quite similar to the one dear Mother Booth had worn and I was often told that I looked like her. I was in Scotland when she passed to her reward in the land where there are no slums, no sinners to rescue, to weep over and save. Had I been near enough how gladly would I have joined the great throng that gathered to show honor to her memory! Nearly every night while in Glasgow found us on the streets preaching, singing, and praying, with those who never went to church--many of them not even to the Salvation Army or missions. In many respects we found worse conditions than in our home-land. The public houses were always filled at night with men and often their whole families--drinking all kinds of intoxicants--women with infants in their arms as well as others drinking with men at the bar. And the most beautiful girls to be found were secured by the keepers of these houses to stand behind the bar and sell the drinks. The prisons, my special burden, I found very difficult of access for missionary work. I found that women were not expected, there, to do that kind of work. Yet I fasted and prayed and wept before the Lord, pleading that the prison doors might be opened to me and at last I was successful in gaining admission to some of them. After some delay I was admitted to Duke Street jail, in Glasgow, and there held several services. It is a large prison, filled with the baser sort and those whom the public houses had been licensed to make drunkards--to cause to reel and stagger and abuse and kill when unconscious of what they were doing. The Lord's presence was revealed in our services there and souls got help from God, and I hope to meet many of them in heaven. We visited the poor in their homes, different penal institutions--all of the missions and Salvation Army Corps and many of the churches. While time lasts we will find much to do to help those around us. MY LIFE IN DANGER. Oftentimes my life was in danger when visiting the saloons, which are there called public houses--the keepers being called publicans. Often the keepers of brothels and other places of sin drew revolvers on me--threatening me with death if I did not leave, as they did not want to lose their customers and their money--which they were sure to do if souls were converted there, but the Lord always delivered me when death stared me in the face. One day I went into a public house where a woman kept a dive. She at once got very angry, demanded my business, and ordered me to leave her place. She clutched me with a fiendish grip, and pushed me out of the door, but purposely fastened one of my arms in the door as she slammed it shut. I prayed God to release me and with the help of the sister who was with me we got the door open enough to release my arm. I am sorry to have reason to say that, as a rule, I find the women who are in charge of brothels and saloons harder to deal with than the men. A woman of judgment and tact when fully saved can, in many cases, do more good than men from the fact that she can go where very few men could go without being looked upon with suspicion. What need, then, that we should be emptied of self and filled with the Holy Spirit, all given up to the Lord in order that we can work successfully for God and souls. One Saturday night, while in Glasgow, I preached in a church. Great crowds had turned out in the city spending their week's wages. There was much drinking of both men and women. At the church was given a "Penny Tea," consisting of a cup of tea and a biscuit, thus drawing the crowds--and afterwards having some one preach to them. A SONG STOPS A ROW. When the services had closed, we were returning to our lodging and were attracted by a great crowd of people engaged in a row and a fight. I soon saw there was danger of bloodshed and stepping out in the street I began to sing an old time hymn. This drew the attention of many and they came running to hear. Then I talked to them of Jesus and His love, and we went on our way and held another service on another street. Then, coming to the quarters of a company of firemen, I asked if I might hold a service with them some time. One of them replied, "Yes, why not now?" It was then 10 o'clock and raining. I stepped into the street and began singing. Across the way there was a dance hall with dancing going on upon the three floors of the hall. As I sang, the windows of the hall were lowered with a crash, perhaps to keep out the rain--perhaps to keep out the sound of my voice. As we proceeded with the service a policeman soon appeared and ordered me to stop. I told him I was not violating any ordinance of the city and only holding the service at the request of these firemen. He was angry and threatened to arrest us. He soon returned with two other officers, and while the sister who was with me was speaking, he took her by the arm and led her down the muddy street. I began singing, "He is able to deliver thee." The other two policemen took me by the arms and forced me through the deep mud in the street quite a long distance to the jail. Before being placed in the cell I was asked the cause of our arrest. I replied, "For holding open-air service on the street, and there is no law in Scotland to forbid us from doing so." We were placed in a room under guard to await the decision. We could hear the shrieks of men and women delirious from drink. I was asked who we were, and replied, "We have come from America to preach the gospel." After cross-questioning and severely reprimanding me they asked if I would hold my peace if they would let me go. I answered, "I do not wish to disregard your request, but I must obey God, for that is why I am here. And according to your law it is no crime to hold open-air services; and it is a custom with the churches." "Then we will put you into the cell." Another said, "No, we cannot do that for this offense." Then he said I should be gone. I said, "Will you not send an officer to show us the way to our lodging, as you have arrested us without a cause and it is late at night?" But they refused to send a guide. I asked if they would give me the name of the policeman who arrested us, and told them the matter was not yet ended; that they did not know with whom they were dealing. At first they refused to give me the names asked for; but I said I should stay till they did so, and I prevailed. When we had started to try to find our way to our lodging place, we met a lady who kindly directed us to the street and number. On Monday a sister who had been preaching among the policemen for some years, called to see me--having heard of my arrest and treatment. She was much surprised and said she could have those policemen all discharged for their conduct toward me. I said, "No, do not do that; I only want to see them and talk to them about their souls' salvation." "Then," she replied, "I will have them come and ask your forgiveness." As she started away, I handed her some recommendations and railroad passes I had had in America and letters of introduction to parties in that land. Glancing over them she exclaimed, "Is it possible? A lady with such a recommend! These letters are addressed to some of the best people in Great Britain. Will you trust me with these till I return?" "Certainly," I replied. She returned in due time, saying the policemen would come and make an apology. I was very glad, for I felt then that I could tell them it was the love of Christ for the lost ones of earth that constrained me to speak on the streets. Many ladies called during the day to give me their sympathy and show their interest. The policeman who caused the arrest came and asked me to forgive him. He bowed with us in prayer, and sobs shook his heavy frame while his tears fell like rain. He said, "It is like mother used to talk, and it is the same kind of religion she had in olden times." I believe that man found Christ his Savior that day. He told us of his wife sick at home and two "wee bairns," and as he could get no girl at home, he had overworked; and on that Saturday night had taken too much liquor in order to keep him awake. He invited me to call upon his family. This I did the following day, and found it as he had said. The two other men that had a part in arresting us came the following day. One of them seemed very penitent when I talked to them, and both humbly begged my pardon for their conduct toward me. While in Glasgow I was invited by General Evans, of the Gospel Army, to conduct special services for ten nights at their hall--commonly known as the Globe Theater. We copy the following from an editorial of the General's published in his paper while we were there: "Hearing of these evangelists we decided to invite them to Globe Theater, and truly we can say God has visited his people. They do not believe in forms and ceremonies like us formal Scotch Christians, but speak as they are moved by the Holy Ghost. They live by faith and do not ask for money or collections; however, they seem to get on very well, and I never yet heard them grumbling about having too little. They take whatever is given them as from the Lord, and give Him their sincere thanks accordingly. They have spent over a week speaking and singing every night in our meetings, and not a few have been impressed by the earnest words of our sisters. Some of the professors have had their short-comings pretty well threshed out, the writer coming in for his share. Our meetings have been well attended and I believe a really good work has been begun in our midst. The elder lady carries about with her a book full of newspaper clippings and numerous testimonials about her work in America. Her special field is in the prisons and among the unfortunates. She takes no stock in sensational worship, but there is always a great sensation wherever she puts in an appearance.... In closing I may say that our heaven-bound sisters have had some severe trials since leaving their native shores. Eternity alone will reveal the amount they have endured for the Master's sake. Before they had been many hours in Glasgow they were marched off to jail for preaching at a street corner, and gathering a crowd. I trust this epistle will open up our cold, hard hearts and that we may receive our sisters as is our duty as a Christian community." TUMULT IN A DIVE. "Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold the devil shall cast some of you into prison that ye may be tried; * * * Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of life."--Rev. 2:10. One Sunday night, as I was on my way going from the meeting, being in company with General Evans and his wife and the sister who traveled with me, I saw a public house open and went in and began to speak to the men and women. I had only talked a few minutes when the proprietor came in and asked, "Are you a customer here?" I replied, "No, I am only speaking to these people about their souls." He said, "Now you leave, or I'll make you." He ran into a back room, and coming out he passed me quickly, running to the door and blowing a long blast on a police whistle. This aroused the people and brought to the scene several policemen and hundreds of people of all classes in general fright. A man rushed in and catching me by the arm cried, "Come out of this place, quick, or you'll be killed. You are in danger. You don't know where you are! This is the Gallow Gate; the worst place in Glasgow." I said to him, "Let me alone, I am obeying God." But as the policemen closed in around me there was a cry raised, "It is Jack the Ripper in disguise." The excitement in those days was intense all over Europe. Jack the Ripper was a fiend in human form that was killing women continually in the most horrifying manner and in cold blood. You might see on a bulletin board in the city that a murder would be committed on such a day and hour and these threats would be carried out. Yet he defied the detectives and police. Large rewards were offered for his capture. I saw that my life was in danger unless I could convince them of their mistake, of which I now saw the cause. I was dressed differently from them. I had on a long black cloak and had thrown my black shawl over my head concealing my bonnet, and carried a bag on my arm which contained my recommendations, railway passes, etc. I said: "You are mistaken, gentlemen, I am not Jack the Ripper" (removing my shawl), "I am a missionary from America; and preaching at the Globe Theater every night. Come and hear me there. There is no cause for this tumult." The General and his wife having come in, we passed out, the mob following us several blocks with shouts and screams giving me some blows as we went. But God delivered us from their cruel hands. A MOB OF DRUNKEN WOMEN. Another night when returning from the Globe Theater in company with General and Mrs. Evans we heard a great noise up the street and soon discovered that it was made by a mob of some kind. On their coming nearer, we found it was an immense crowd of drunken fallen girls. The General said: "Hide yourselves quick! There is no telling what they might do." The policemen had slunk away--not caring to try to make any arrests, as there were so many of them and they were so violent. Poor souls! They were some mothers' girls who perhaps had learned to love the taste of strong drink before they saw the light and were bound by both inherited and acquired appetite. I was told that on an average there were four drunken women in Glasgow for every drunken man. Such a statement seems beyond belief, but during our stay we saw much to indicate that it was true. What could the harvest be? While in Scotland I received a very precious letter of encouragement and sympathy from Col. Geo. R. Clarke and wife of Pacific Garden Mission, Chicago. I give it here and the reader can easily realize how comforting it proved to me. Chicago, October 29, 1890. My Dear Sister Wheaton: We received yours written from Glasgow last night. I am sorry they treat you so badly there. But that is the way nice appearing people treated our blessed Lord when on earth, and the way they would treat Him now should He come to earth in the flesh. But it is blessed to us, said Jesus, when men persecute us. We have a right then to rejoice as He told us. The Lord will stand by you as He did by Paul. He "will never leave you nor forsake you." So you can boldly say: "The Lord is my helper and I will not fear what man shall do unto me." The Lord's work is prospering at our Mission and we are much encouraged in it. We have large meetings and many precious souls for Christ every night. We have started a noonday prayer-meeting for both sexes. The Lord is greatly blessing the meetings. We have souls converted there right along at every meeting. We will pray for you and may the dear Lord greatly bless you in your work and labor of love which you do in His name. We have only a little time left now to wait for Him. The signs are thickening and He will soon rush into view and then we shall hear Him say, "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou in to the joy of thy Lord." Praise His dear name. Glory to God! Hallelujah!!! What a meeting that will be! It will be our time to laugh then, but our persecutors will weep and wail. May God be merciful to them now and give them repentance before that awful day. Don't be in a hurry to die and go to heaven. You are more needed by the Lord down here just now than in heaven. There are no sinners there to whom to preach His gospel and He tells us to "Go and preach" not "go to heaven." He will take us all home in His own good time. Let us patiently wait for Him and "occupy until He comes." With much Christian love we are yours in Christ. COL. AND MRS. GEO. R. CLARKE. IN PAISLEY. I was summoned by telegram to go on to Paisley, Scotland, to hold services for the Gospel Army in that place. We went immediately. Found the city well informed of our coming by large striking posters which read: "Hear the American Prison Evangelists--Be sure to hear these ladies who have preached on the ruins of the Johnstown horror! Who have visited all the prisons of note in America--led murderers to the scaffold," etc. I was not accustomed to such sensational advertising and tore down the posters I came across and chided with the General for advertising us in such a way. He kindly explained that it was customary in their work in order to arrest the attention of the people and arouse interest in our meetings. Perhaps he was right but it was something of a trial to me to be brought before the people in that way. We found much to do in Paisley, not only in the night services but on the streets, in the homes of refuge and in homes. Found twelve hundred girls employed in the Coats Thread Works and eight hundred girls in Clark's Thread Works. Found great poverty among the laboring classes, as there was much dissipation among both men and women. Just before leaving Paisley I was called to go and hold services in the Refuge for Fallen Women. During the services there did not seem to be much feeling concerning their soul's salvation. It seemed I could not reach them. At last, near the close of the meeting, I said: "Girls, I am going away to my own land. I will never see you on earth again. Will you not try and live so you will meet me in heaven? If so, raise your hands." Not one hand was raised. Then I said, "Girls, won't you pray?" No sign yet. "Girls, shall I pray for you when far away? If so, raise your hands?" Not a hand went up. I was almost discouraged. Could I leave that great crowd of lost women to go on in their awful career without at least one manifesting a desire for a better life? How could I meet them at the Judgment? At last I said: "Girls, I leave to-morrow for America. I am all alone. Only this young woman with me. How many of you will pray for _us_ as we cross the ocean again to go to our own land? If any one will pray for us, won't you raise your hand?" _Every hand went up_, and God's Holy Spirit crept unawares into their hearts--so long unused to prayer, and the spell of evil was broken, and God reached them. O the melting, tender spirit which filled the room! And that company, I believe, gave God their hearts. In learning to pray for us, their sisters, they found God, and I trust to meet many, if not all, of those dear souls in heaven. Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more." And then the confessions, the tears, the promises! Bless God, His word will not return void. Shortly after my arrival in America I received the following letter, which explains itself, from the matron of this Home: Female Refuge, Paisley, Scotland, March 23, 1891. Mrs. Wheaton. Dear Friend: Glad I was to know that you had in God's good Providence arrived safe at home among your dear ones, and rejoice also with you that the work is prospering in your hand. I have been called upon to part here with dear ones since I saw you, but they are gone before me only a little while. My assistants are all with me yet, and with myself had much pleasure in your card. We often talk of you and your young friend that accompanied you. I do hope she is still with you. We have now a household of thirty inmates, many giving proof of a new life being theirs for time and eternity. With our united kind regards, I am Yours truly in the Lord's work, ANNIE J. BLUE. I have already mentioned the fact that I found it difficult to gain admittance to the prisons of Scotland. I waited in Edinburgh for days, on expense, seeking opportunity to hold at least one service in the large prison there. While waiting I held services in the jail and missions and open air. Our meetings in the open air were largely attended, not only by the working classes, but also by others who would stop and listen, being attracted, at first, by the singing which usually drew large crowds. We were much blessed in these services and especially in the slums where large numbers of neglected children gathered around us, ragged and dirty, but with hearts glad to learn to sing with us. RETURN TO AMERICA. Various circumstances combined that seemed to require my return to America and after nearly two months of constant toil in Glasgow, Edinburgh, and Paisley, we hurried to Liverpool and November 15 took shipping for New York on the steamship Wisconsin. On this return voyage we encountered another fearful storm in which many ships went down. The storm raged about four days. Men and women were in great fear; some weeping, some screaming, some praying, and some cursing. Among all that multitude there were only four Christians; only four souls ready to face eternity! But our God is a very present help in time of trouble. There in that terrible hour, I was conscious of His presence and I knew that He was able to deliver us. When the storm had abated, with a heart full of gratitude and thanksgiving, I tried to sing, but could only utter softly the words of one old-time hymn: "How firm a foundation ye saints of the Lord." So wonderfully did God deliver us that in spite of that fearful storm we reached New York harbor after being only twelve days at sea. On board these steamers a religious service is held every Lord's day, but it is usually led by the captain who is often an ungodly man. Many seemed to ease their guilty consciences by observing this form of religion. But my heart was often left more hungry and sad by a service which seemed to me mere form if not a farce and mockery. During this return trip I supposed I was about out of money, and was somewhat tempted to doubt the promises, and I prayed much for guidance. When almost ready to land I took from my purse my small stock to have the steward get it changed for U. S. money, and to my glad surprise I found in another part of the purse a pound note. I could not tell how it came to be there. So I felt reproved for my lack of faith. Among my old papers I find a touching letter written by a dear young sister to whom I became much attached while in Scotland. Had it not been that her family were largely dependent upon her she would have gone with me in my work. I give the following extract: Glasgow, Nov. 17, 1890. My Dear Sister in Jesus: I received your card Saturday night; and was very much surprised to learn that you had gone so suddenly. But not our will but God's will be done. Dear sister, I hope you and Nellie will have a safe passage across the ocean and may the dear Savior be very present to both of you. You have His blessed promise, "Fear them not; for I am with thee." Mrs. P---- and the husband were asking very kindly after you. Mr. L---- could scarcely credit that you had gone home so suddenly. Several others also in the hall wish you a special blessing in your effort to win souls for the Master, who will reward you in His own time. Dear sister, you do not know and you will never know until you are within the Pearly Gates, how many precious souls have been brought to the knowledge of the truth through you. May the dear Lord make us truly Holy Ghost workers and may we have a desire to point sinners to Jesus--the all-sufficient one--the author and finisher of our salvation. Glory to God! May we be more and more like Jesus, humble, meek and mild, loving one another as the Lord has also loved us. May we be clean, empty vessels for the Master's use. Dear Jesus, do strip us of everything that would hinder the blessing and would keep our joy from being full. Write soon; and if we do not meet again on earth, with God's help we will meet in heaven, Praise God! Your loving sister in Jesus, RACHEL SMITH. SECOND VISIT TO EUROPE. In the year 1896 the Lord made plain to me that it was His will that I should again go to Europe. While in Washington, D. C., I was led to return to Iowa, and there found that a band of missionaries who were ready to start for Africa had been praying that I might come and go with them as far as New York. When they saw me alight at their door, they shouted and praised the Lord. When I asked them the reason they said because God had answered prayer--that they had prayed God to send me to see them off for Africa. While we were holding a few meetings in Philadelphia I felt directed to go on with them as far as London, so purchased my ticket with theirs, taking steerage passage across the ocean for the third time. Immediately after getting my ticket there came upon me a wonderful outpouring of the Spirit and an assurance that was unmistakable that I was in divine order. When I told those young missionaries I was going with them as far as London they told me they had been praying that I might be led to do that very thing. After a safe voyage we reached Southampton in seven days. One Sabbath afternoon in London when we were holding an open-air meeting on the street, God opened the flood-gates of Heaven, and I with others sang and preached under the power of the Holy Spirit. A Christian came and said, "Sister Wheaton, there is a preacher here who wants to speak to you." I refused to go, as there were drunkards and toughs on their knees under conviction of sin. I thought he was a preacher who wanted to criticise my methods. They called me again, and I went to see what was wanted. I found a fine-looking, well-dressed man much past middle age under awful conviction of sin. He was a backslider, and had stopped in passing, being attracted by a hymn I was singing--one his mother used to sing. Yet he was unwilling to yield himself to God. Some of those in the company had talked with him and begged him to kneel. At last his stubborn will was broken, and he knelt there on that London street and confessed his sins to God. When he arose from his knees he said he had been on his way with a dagger then in his coat sleeve, to commit suicide, but was attracted by that song his mother used to sing, and could go no further. Thus by the power of the Holy Ghost that Presiding Elder was saved on the streets through faithful, honest trust in God, where the preacher and the drunkard knelt side by side in the dust. I hope to meet them in Heaven, and trust that all found peace with God. The word says, "Go out in the streets and lanes of the city, and in the hedges and highways." "Jesus came to seek and to save that which was lost," not the righteous but sinners. He came to save. How often people are waiting for Christians, who profess to have salvation, to speak to them, and how glad they are to receive the message if delivered in love. I was located for a time at Woolwich, near the London Arsenal. There were stationed thousands of soldiers and they were often found in the public houses under the influence of drink. I would plead with them to quit sinning, turn to God, and seek salvation. Often tears were shed, and resolves made to serve the Lord. There are many incidents of souls being saved on the streets, in the slums and public houses, but space forbids my going into details, but suffice it to say that I have been given many proofs of God's love and mercy from among the thousands who have heard the gospel in those far-off lands, as well as in our home land. Then let us encourage our missionaries everywhere to press on until the Master says, "It is enough, come up higher." I was much pained, while in England, to see so many young women there, as in Scotland, selling beer and other strong drink to customers in the public houses; beautiful girls selling their souls to the tempter to be lost forever unless in some way rescued before it is too late. During this second visit to Europe I was often stopped on the street and asked to sing to the people, which I frequently did, regardless of remarks or criticisms, and the Lord blessed my singing to the good of many souls. While in London, night after night I would sing and preach the gospel to people who longed for salvation, but knew not how to get saved. How often we neglect an opportunity to do good. Years after some of our missionaries returning from Africa, passing through London, heard the people calling to them, "Where is that old lady who sang for us?" So we labor not in vain. In due season we shall reap if we faint not. After spending several weeks in England (most of the time in London) I saw that precious band of young missionaries take the steamer for Africa. The next day I embarked for home at Southampton. Soon after starting we sighted the vessel on which they sailed and I could distinguish some of them waving their handkerchiefs in farewell. One of them died in Africa ten months later. By and by we shall meet again in the Kingdom of heaven, each one, I trust, bringing with us sheaves to lay at Jesus' feet. During the return voyage the sea was stormy at times, yet the voyage was made safely, and on Sabbath morning, the day after my arrival in New York, I went to the Tombs prison to hold services. I was very tired, and after the services I was so faint I prayed for the Lord to open the way for me to have some refreshments, as I was to preach in the afternoon at a Rescue Mission. There were many elegantly dressed lady visitors at that meeting, but they all passed out and left me alone, when a young, humble-looking man came to me and said, "We are very poor, and are able to afford but one meal a day, and not a full meal at that, but it would be such a blessing to my wife and myself if you would come and share it with us." My heart was touched that this stranger should offer to share the little they had, when others never thought of my needs. I did not go with him, although I thanked him; it was so far to his home, but God will reward him. For Jesus said, "I was a stranger and ye took me in, hungry and ye fed me; I was in prison and ye came unto me, sick and ye visited me." Behold a homeless wanderer, poor and thinly clad, To biting cold a victim, with hunger almost mad, Entering yonder mansion, dares to boldly steal What none should e'er deny a dog--the pittance of a meal! See the greedy sleuth-hounds of the outraged law Wage against this robber an unrelenting war; While _Christian_ judge and jury, with ready wit, declare His crime an awful outrage, that merits prison fare! But he who rears his costly domes O'er wreck and ruin of human homes, Plants in the breast a raging thirst And leaves his victims doubly cursed, Can roll in luxury, loll in pride And, with _the law_, his gain divide! Tho' every dime he pays the state A thousand cost in wakened hate! --_Geo. W. H. Harrison._ Learn that in many a loathsome cell A prisoned genius or a saint may dwell, Whose power, developed by an act of love, May lead a million to the Courts above. Shall it be yours to touch that vibrant chord And share the honor of the great reward? What heaven endorses that alone can stand; All else is stubble, built on shifting sand. --_G. W. H. H._ [Illustration: STATE PRISON, JOLIET, ILL.] CHAPTER XXI. Travel and Toil. TWO NIGHTS' SERVICE. At one time when suffering from nervous prostration I was lovingly cared for for some weeks in the home of dear brother H. L. Hastings, of Boston. One night while there I said to him: "I must go to the city tonight." He replied: "Sister Wheaton, have you prayed about it?" I said, "Yes." He answered, "Go and pray again." I did so and returned to his office, saying, "I must go to the city tonight." They were having watchnight service in the city. Again he replied: "The night is very cold and you are sick. Go and pray and find out the mind of God." Again I went to my room to inquire diligently of the Lord and was sure that the call of the Spirit was that I should go. Again I returned to his office and told him I must go to the city that night. Once more he replied: "Sister Wheaton, go and pray." As I wept before the Lord He showed me the city given up to idolatry and sin and again I went to Brother Hastings' office and said: "I must go to the city." He dropped his pen and hurriedly said: "Wife and I will go with you." It was one of the coldest nights Boston had known for years, but from one saloon to another the Lord led us and from one watchnight meeting to another until near midnight we entered a Mission hall. A fine-looking, well-dressed young man from the platform hurried down and said to me: "Mother, I am so glad to see you. Come on the platform and speak to the people." I looked at the man and he said: "Don't you know me, mother?" When I said "No," he answered: "Don't you know your boy?" I looked at him--so beautiful in the service of God--and then he said: "I was in prison and you came and prayed and sang for me. I was in the hospital, and got saved there, and God is still blessing your boy." Reader, did it pay? Yes, that night my heart rejoiced in my Savior for all He had done for me and for my "children" in prison walls. For seventeen years now this man has been a blessing in helping to save others. Another watchnight I spent in St. Louis, Missouri. Feeling weary, I was about to retire for the night, when the Lord showed me to go on the street and do service for Him. So, doubting not, I pressed out for a cold night's work in the slums. The sister who entertained me went with me to the places of sin and also to six different watch-meetings, at which we witnessed for the Master, leaving the results with the Lord, who said: "And the books were opened, and another book was opened, which is the book of life; and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works." ONE WEEK'S WORK. A few years since, on arriving in Omaha after returning from the East, I telephoned the jailer at the county jail: "Can I have a meeting?" "Yes," came the reply. There were a good many prisoners and we had a good service. Sister Kelley, of Tabor, Iowa, was with me. Our singing seemed much appreciated. Went from there to the city jail. Held services there, and in the evening in a Rescue Mission. At midnight we boarded the train for Deer Lodge, Montana. En route our train stopped for a couple of hours at Ogden, Utah, and while there we visited the Florence Crittenton Rescue Home--where we were warmly welcomed by both the matron and the girls and had a blessed service. God bless them all! [Illustration: PRISON AT DEER LODGE, MONT.] We arrived at the State prison at Deer Lodge on Saturday, and had the privilege of preaching to the many prisoners the following day. God blessed me in speaking, both to the men and women. We sang many old-time hymns and some new ones. Took each prisoner by the hand as they passed out, visited the sick prisoners and went to two churches that night, and visited the women prisoners on Monday morning, and had real victory in prayer for them. Then bidding goodbye to all we left for the prison at Boise City, Idaho, where we arrived Tuesday. Telephoned the warden asking permission to hold service at the prison. The privilege was granted and a team was sent for us. We found a large number of prisoners and the officials kind, and had a good service of an hour. Visited the poor, condemned men in their cells, prayed and wept with them, and commended them to the great loving God who said: "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." After seeing the sick we left the prison; but my heart was greatly drawn out for those men under death sentence. I felt that one of them (a foreigner) was innocent. I was almost overcome with sorrow. They were my "children" and I never would see them again in this world, and yet I was powerless to help them! From Boise City we went to Salt Lake City. When we arrived at the penitentiary there and mentioned our desire to hold a service the warden's kind wife said: "The warden is in the city and they are under contract and must get their work done immediately--but you lie down and rest--you are worn out" (and I was). So I slept until I heard her tender voice, saying, "Mrs. Wheaton, lunch is ready and the warden says he will give you forty minutes after dinner in the chapel with the men." I was so glad and said: "This is all through your kindness and God will reward you." I found the men seated, waiting for me, in the chapel and thankfully I improved that opportunity, knowing that eternity would reveal the results of that service. I was permitted to see the two men under death sentence and sing and pray with them, and tell them of a Savior "mighty to save and strong to deliver;" then with sad heart I left them--never to meet them again till the trumpet should sound. Precious in God's sight were those poor, forsaken, criminals! And, reader, as I write these lines down in the slums of Chicago, I see opposite me the saloon open day and night luring men and women inside, fitting them also for the prison and perhaps for the scaffold! Leaving the prison at Salt Lake, we hurried to the county jail, held services in two departments, and had a good time with the prisoners; then left for the city jail. Did what work we could there in the Lord's name and hurried to the depot, only stopping on the way to get a little lunch for the long journey before us. Weary and faint we reached the train just as it was leaving. Too weak to go further I got in the first car, which proved to be a dining car. I said: "The boys will allow me to sit here awhile," and I heard a voice saying: "Come in, mother, sit down. You are welcome in my car and you must have something to eat. You look tired and hungry"--and wasn't I? And when I told him of my friend in another car he had me bring her also and gave us both a good supper, and was I not thankful to God for that kind welcome from the dining car conductor, who knew me? Surely God will reward him. I hope to meet and know him in that land where we shall never get weary and hungry. We arrived at Rawlins, Wyoming, at nine the next morning. We hurried to the prison. It was Decoration Day and most of the guards were off for a holiday--the men being locked in their cells. The warden kindly said to us: "I wish I could let you talk to the men, but my officers are gone and there is no one to guard them, and I am compelled to remain at the office to see after business." I was sure God had sent us, and said: "Will you permit us to see the men in their cells?" After much deliberation he said: "I'll tell you what I will do, I'll turn the men loose in the dining room if you think you can control them, and let you have an hour to talk to them." I said, "Surely I can manage those men--why, they are my children, sir," and so down the men came from their cells and O such a meeting! I was at home and my "boys" were on their honor and I talked to them as a mother and we sang together hymns that they knew, and bless God He was guarding the men, and I had nothing to do with the matter only to obey Him and tell them the old, old story of the redeeming love of a Savior who died to save us from our sins and give to us eternal life. As I grasped each one by the hand at parting, I found the men quiet and peaceable, humbly begging me to come again. Then I saw the heavy iron doors close between us and knew I would probably never see them together again as we were there, but looked forward to the great day in which, if he would, each man could have a part in crowning Jesus Lord of lords and King of kings. After having dinner with the few officers present in their own dining room we hurried to the jail. There we were permitted to preach the gospel to the prisoners and they received us gladly. As I left the jailer expressed his appreciation of the visit, saying it was so good of us to come to help the prisoners--especially the girls. Arriving at Lincoln, Nebraska, we attended the evening service of the National Campmeeting then in progress there and the next morning went to the prison. The warden kindly granted us the privilege of a gospel service with the prisoners. After holding this service and visiting the sick in the hospital we returned to the camp ground. Reached there during a testimony service just in time to be invited by the leader to sing a certain hymn. Instantly I was on my feet and soon on the platform saying, "Yes, I will sing, but first I must sing, "The toils of the road will seem nothing When we get to the end of the way." And shouts of praise went up to God all over that ground, for He especially anointed me to sing that hymn. I felt every word of it, for though weary and tired from the journey, I knew God had been with me and had given victory all along the way. In this brief sketch I have failed to mention some services held in missions and also special services on all the trains on which we traveled--perhaps bringing to some their last warning. One night during this week's journey a crowd of drunken men boarded the train. They were so abusive to me that I went outside the car door. When I went in the next car I found the same kind dining car conductor I have before mentioned. At his inquiry as to what was the matter I just knelt and prayed and then told him how the drunken men had acted. He said: "Come with me. This won't do. I will see that you and your sister have a sleeper." He went with me into the other car, and when the men saw the man in uniform with me they tried to be very polite. They were under the influence of drink and in a sense not responsible for their actions. Who is responsible? The saloon, the brewery, the devil who uses these things to make men and women oftentimes more like fiends than creatures made in the image and likeness of God, and all who fail to use their influence against the liquor traffic are responsible. From Lincoln we went to Omaha where we parted feeling that the days had been spent for God and souls--the dear sister to return to her work in the missionary training home at Tabor, Iowa, I to hurry on to Chicago, taking with me one of the sisters I met for the first time in the slum mission work in Omaha a week previous. So we turned over that week's work to the Lord of the harvest, who will see that the seed scattered along life's pathway shall bring forth fruit unto eternal life. A PROFITABLE TRIP. Walking along the street in Chicago on my way to the Cook County Jail to see the "car-barn bandits" and one or two others under death sentence, I was impressed that I must go to some State Prison for Easter, only two days off. I stopped and prayed, inquiring of the Lord where he would have me go. I had been east and just arrived in the city, weary and worn, but I knew the voice of God was saying, "Go!" but where and by what route I knew not. I stood still until the Lord made it plain to go westward--to what place I need not know, but to go to the railroad office and get transportation. When I entered the office the kind official said, "What can I do for you, Mother?" At first I answered, "I hardly know what to ask for, as it is not yet plain to me just where to go;" but a little later I said to him, "I must go to Canon City, Colorado." "All right," he said, and gave me transportation. It was then too late, under ordinary circumstances, to visit the jail, but I felt that I must see those condemned boys before their execution, and I prayed that God would open my way and incline the heart of the jailer, Mr. Whitman, to grant me the desired opportunity. To my surprise I found Mr. Whitman on the street car. I told him that I must leave the city at once for western prisons and asked if he would kindly give me permission to see the condemned men who were in his charge, before I left, as I could not return before the day set for execution. He was very kind and answered, "Yes, I will send an officer with you to see the boys." That hour will never be forgotten. Instead of tough, rough looking men I found "mother's boys" in the prime of their young manhood. Kindly, tenderly I talked to them, thinking to myself, what if it were my boy, now safe in Heaven? O sisters, it seemed to me my heart would break as I placed my hands on their heads, so soon to be cold in death and commended them to the God who sent His only begotten Son, who, when on the cross, said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!" I left the prison, praying that my message might not be in vain. Upon leaving Chicago over the Santa Fe railroad on my way west, I prayed earnestly for direction as to what prison I should visit on Easter Sunday and was impressed to stop at Joliet. The warden, Mr. Murphy, and his estimable wife were kind and hospitable, as they always are, and the chaplain was willing that I should have a part in the services on the Sabbath. God was present in power in all the services. Many of the prisoners partook of the communion with their teachers and chaplain. The Lord alone can reward the warden's wife for her special kindness to me at this time, for I was taken sick from overwork and detained over Monday. I then left at midnight for Topeka, Kansas, where the Lord sent me to the railroad shops to hold services at the noon hour while the men were resting after lunch. Our meeting with them was signally owned and blessed of God. At its close I shook hands with each of those hundreds of men and then went to the jail where the Lord again graciously met with us. Reaching Pueblo on our way to Canon City we telephoned the jailer--also the matron of the Rescue Home--and obtained permission to hold services at each on our return. At Canon City the warden and his wife gave us a most kind and courteous welcome and he granted the privilege of holding services for the prisoners in the chapel, also at the hospital and cell houses. I visited their night school. It was very interesting to see so many teaching other prisoners. The most important part of my work at Canon City, however, was seeing three young men who were under death sentence. While I prayed day after day for them, they came to see their true condition before God and, I believe, gave evidence of true repentance. I hope to meet them all in Heaven. But oh, what a sad sight to see those young men in the prime of life, sentenced to die; and all on account of strong drink. How pitifully they talked of home and mother and innocent childhood days! Their hearts were melted and broken. Poor boys! far away from home and friends, with few to care and many to cry out, "They deserve to die"--never seeing the cause, the rum traffic. Why not stop that which sends our young men by the thousands to a drunkard's or a criminal's grave? When I bade these young men farewell they were cheerful and confident that the Lord had forgiven them. Arriving at Pueblo on the return trip, we went to the Rescue Home where we received a kind welcome; also held services in the prison there. I forgot to mention services held in jail and almshouse while in Canon City. At Denver we found friends who received us kindly. We held services in their mission church. Also held service in the large jail in which I conducted the first meeting ever held after it was built. Leaving Denver we went to Lincoln, Neb., to hold services in the State Prison on the Sabbath. Found there my friends, Warden Beemer and wife, who have always been so kind to me. Our meetings were crowned with success and victory. Also did personal work, which is important. While I was there, two new prisoners were brought in. Left Monday for Omaha and went at once to the County Jail and held meetings in the three different wards. God blessed His own word to the good of souls! There, as elsewhere, I met some who knew me. From Omaha I went to Chicago, where I spent some time in missions, etc. SIX WEEKS' SERVICE. About July 1, 1904, I spent some time in St. Louis, visiting the slums, dives and saloons, faithfully warning the multitudes I found in sin. Left there for Jefferson City, where I held services in the State Prison. We give here the following extract written by the sister who accompanied me on this trip: MY TRIP TO JEFFERSON CITY. I was glad to have the opportunity of visiting the prison in Jefferson City with Mother Wheaton, who is one of our oldest and most successful prison workers. We were off early Saturday morning, July 2, and arrived there at 2:30 o'clock. We had dinner, then went to the prison. The guard first took us to see the women. They were all seated at machines, sewing very rapidly, and I was told I was not allowed to speak to them. My heart ached and I could not keep back the tears as I looked on the precious girls I had labored with in the jail at St. Louis, some seven or eight of them. At 6 o'clock we had a short meeting with a hundred and fifty shop girls. Many of them were moved to tears, and we believe good was accomplished. Sunday morning we had a good meeting in the jail, then at 2:30 went back to the prison and gave the gospel to twenty-two hundred convicts. It was a blessed time. I never saw such attention, and while Mother Wheaton spoke and we sang "He Pardoned a Rebel Like Me," I saw some of them wiping the tears from their eyes. These men are not all hard-hearted. As I looked at them and heard almost all of them join in with us and sing "We'll Never Say Good-Bye in Heaven," somehow I lost sight of the stripes and prison walls and bars, and thought how precious they are in God's sight, and I believe many will be gathered to praise Him, who was pierced for us all. After the meeting a young man asked permission to speak to us; his face shone with the glory of God as he told how he had been there five years, and had been saved two years and a half and called to preach the gospel. He proved his earnestness when Mother Wheaton asked if he would let her try to get him pardoned, and he answered: "No, I am guilty, and I not only feel it my duty to serve my time, but will make restitution as soon as I am out. Then I shall give myself to the Lord's work." Returning to St. Louis I next went to Denver, Colo., to see Governor Peabody in behalf of the three young men who were awaiting execution. The governor was very kind and willing to do what was right. In Denver I had services in the jail, also spoke at two meetings and preached at night at a mission church. Next visited the State Reformatory for Young Men at Buena Vista, Colo. Most of the officers and all the boys attended the services. Leaving here in the evening arrived at Salt Lake City next day about noon. I hurried to the State Prison and was surprised to find a new warden, as the former warden had died. It being a working day had only a short service with the prisoners, but it was blessed of the Lord. Then visited the county and city jails, holding three services. Leaving here, traveling all night, arrived the next evening at Canon City, Colo. Hurrying to the State Prison we were kindly received and permitted to hold services in the cell houses till 9 o'clock. The warden informed me that one of the boys under death sentence had gone insane just the day before and could not be seen. One of the other boys under sentence of death said the last thing that this one had done was to write me a letter, of which I here insert an extract: CANON CITY, COLO., July 12, 1904. Dear Mother Wheaton:-- It is with pleasure that I answer your welcome letter, which was appreciated. We are waiting patiently to know the verdict. If it is God's will that I must be taken out of this world, I will go, but it is very hard, as I have done nothing worthy of death, but they look at it different, I suppose. Whatever got me into such a scrape I cannot tell. I have always worked hard for my living. Dear Mother, I have done as you requested. I commenced to read the New Testament on the 28th of June and completed it on the 10th of July. I never forget to read the Holy Bible and to pray. You wished to know if we boys had any work to do. It is beyond the warden's power to let us work under the circumstances, though he is very kind to us; also the other officials. We are allowed all the reading matter we can use and have exercise each day. Dear Mother Wheaton, I hope that we will meet again on earth. If not, I pray we may in heaven. And may our Heavenly Father protect you in the work of His cause. I ever remain your son in Jesus. C----. P----. Leaving Canon City we hurry on, visiting next the State Prison at Lincoln, Neb. There we found another poor man under death sentence, who gladly listened while I taught him the way of life. Oh, the joy that filled my soul as I told him of the Savior who would pardon all his sins. After seeing the other prisoners who are always glad to see true friends, we hastened on to Omaha, Neb. Here I held four services in jails and Rescue Homes. When leaving Omaha as I was singing on the train I found some ladies crying; one of them, grasping my hand, said, "When you sang 'My Name in Mother's Prayer,' I thought how often my mother, who is in the baggage coach, has prayed for me, and I will never hear her pray again." I soon changed cars and bade farewell to the sorrowing friends, hoping to meet them with that mother where there is no death nor tears. [Illustration: CRIMINAL INSANE HOSPITAL, CHESTER, ILL.] Resting for a short time at Tabor, Iowa, I then went to St. Louis and on to Chester, Ill., to hold services in the State Prison. We were here four days and held services in the State Prison, jail, and Criminal Insane Hospital, where there are more than one hundred inmates. Once while holding services here one young man was saved and his mind restored. He has now been preaching the Gospel for several years. "Is there anything too hard for the Lord?" We next visited Gatesville, Texas, where is located the Reform School for Boys. Obtained permission to see the boys and it fortunately being a holiday I was allowed to hold services in both the white and colored wards. The way the boys seemed to enjoy the meetings and to hear them sing was encouraging. Leaving for Huntsville, Tex., we went to different towns, holding services in jails and on the streets till Saturday, when we arrived at Rusk, Texas, and were met by the chaplain, Mr. Dawson, who treated us kindly and gave me the privilege of holding meetings on the Sabbath. Had a very impressive service in the afternoon in the prison yard where we gathered round a coffin to pay the last tribute of love to a departed prisoner, after which we held a meeting in the prison hospital. We next visited the State Prison at Huntsville, Texas, where we were kindly given the entire time in chapel service, and also the privilege of holding services in the different wards of the hospital. Here all seemed encouraged and were much effected, the tears flowing freely upon many of the pale faces. I received upon this visit the following kind tribute from the Assistant Superintendent and Prison Physician: I was present at the services conducted by Mother Wheaton at the Huntsville Penitentiary, on August 7, 1904, and noticed with much satisfaction that her remarks and singing were very much appreciated by the men, and many of them seemed very much affected, and I think that the service will be conducive to much good hereafter. T. H. BROWN, Assistant Superintendent, in charge Huntsville Penitentiary. [Illustration: PRISON AT HUNTSVILLE, TEXAS.] Mother Wheaton visited the Huntsville Prison Hospital this morning and I think her words of cheer and advice given to the sick will be the means of doing great good. W. E. FOWLER, Prison Physician. At the Woman's Prison, also located at Huntsville, we found over one hundred women prisoners all working on the farm except the few white women. We held meetings with these women in the afternoon and evening for three days, which were blessed of the Lord. While I wept with them I thought of the Scripture, "Weep with those that weep." Jesus loved me and saved me and has put a real love in my heart for those souls. The kind chaplain took us with his invalid wife on Sabbath afternoon to visit the consumptives' prison a few miles from Huntsville. Here the prisoners sick with consumption are located on a farm. Had a blessed meeting with them. The weather being so warm my health would not permit me to visit the several stockades in this state, where are mines, sugar refineries or farms. Returning to St. Louis, Mo., worn and weary, we were kindly entertained at the Berachah Home for Girls. Again we visited the slums, missions, and dives. The sin during these fairs and expositions is awful in the extreme. I have no time or desire to go to see the sights, but am after souls. Next we went to Leavenworth, Kan.; was kindly given the hour for service Sabbath morning, at the State Prison at Lansing, also a service with the women prisoners. Also visited the Soldiers' Home, and by the kindness of the superintendent was permitted to speak to the aged soldiers. We then found a welcome in the home of Sister Two-good, who accompanied us to the Old Ladies' Rest, where I held services in their lovely new home. In the evening till after 10 o'clock we were speaking to crowds on the streets who seldom attend church. Returning then to Tabor, Iowa, weary with this six weeks' constant service, I was for some weeks unable to travel. One night when as I thought, near death, I cried mightily to God and he heard my cry, touched my body and healed me. After a few weeks' rest, yet scarcely able to travel, I started again on my mission seeking the lost. RECENT WORK. During these weeks of waiting the responsibility of finishing this book then in preparation, and getting it to its readers bore heavily upon me. Knowing that I could not attend to this and continue my work, I was in answer to prayer assured that I should be relieved of the burden of managing the publication, sale, and distribution of the book. After much prayer about the matter I was relieved of this burden in a very satisfactory manner, Bro. C. M. Kelley taking the management of the same for the Lord. While yet weak in body, receiving indication from the Lord that I should be about His work, I went on my way, taking with me a young sister from the Training Home, who expects to devote her life's service as a missionary in Japan, the Holy Spirit assuring her also that she should accompany me on this trip. I leave it for her to write the account of the following few weeks' work. I was blessed with an opportunity to travel a few weeks with "Mother Wheaton" in her work in prisons, etc. Leaving the Home at Tabor, Ia., September 28, 1904, we first visited the jail at Council Bluffs, where Mother Wheaton held a Gospel service. A number of the prisoners asked for prayer. We next went to Chicago, where on the Lord's day we visited the county jail, where were about 540 men and a few women. After their chapel service we were given access to the corridors where we could talk to all. We also took part in several services at the Beulah Rescue Homes, some missions, etc. On October 15, we were at Ft. Madison, Iowa, and visited the several wards in the State Prison and sang and prayed with the sick. On Sabbath Mother Wheaton conducted services in the chapel, also at the county jail and the Santa Fe Railroad Hospital. We next attended the National Prison Congress in session at Quincy, Ill. We here had opportunities to witness for God. Monday evening, by invitation, Mother Wheaton spoke at the Soldiers' Home, where God poured out His Spirit and melted the hearts of some who were steeped in sin. The following morning we visited the hospital and prayed and sang with the sick who seemed very glad to hear the good old-time hymns. We then went to the jail where one woman accused of murder was especially touched and broken up, seeing there was someone who loved and cared for her. It is the love of Jesus that brings sinners to repentance. The day following, October 18, we held service at the Chaddick Boys' School which is under Deaconess' management. Here Mother Wheaton spoke to ninety young boys. Provision was made for those in attendance at the Prison Congress to take an excursion down the river, but instead of going with this company we went to the House of Correction, where the superintendent seemed glad to have Mother Wheaton speak to the prisoners, both men and women, even calling in the men from their work. [Illustration: GROUP OF DELEGATES AT THE NATIONAL PRISON CONGRESS, QUINCY, ILL., OCTOBER, 1904. Mrs. Wheaton in upper right hand corner.] October 19 we returned to Chicago. The next morning we took the train for Marquette, Mich., on the shore of Lake Superior, where is located a State Prison. Upon our arrival there we went to the chaplain, who kindly gave permission to conduct the next Sabbath morning services. We then visited the poor house, where we sang and prayed with those who were lonely and sad, and knew nothing about Jesus. On Saturday it was stormy, but Mother Wheaton held a service at the county jail, which God blessed. The Lord's day, October 23, was a day long to be remembered by many of the prisoners, who that day received a ray of hope. The Spirit of God so anointed Mother Wheaton to speak that the prisoners seemed to be held spellbound, with hearts open to receive every word and song. In the afternoon we were given the privilege of talking and singing in the corridors and speaking to the prisoners in their cells. It was told us that these were the worst men in the state, twenty-four of whom were serving life sentences. But God touched their hearts, many being moved to tears. We left some of them with new hopes, calling upon God for help and asking us to pray for them. Mother Wheaton said they were all her own dear boys. Journeying eastward we held services in Indianapolis, Ind., also in the State Prison at Columbus, Ohio, and in the Woman's Prison at Allegheny, Pennsylvania. Sabbath morning, November 5, Mother Wheaton spoke in the corridors of the State Prison in Philadelphia, and in the afternoon at the House of Correction. Here the Lord wonderfully spoke to the hearts of many young girls. Many men were moved upon by the Spirit. The officers looked on with amazement to see how attentive they all seemed to be. At Trenton, N. J., at the county jail God moved upon hearts and many asked for prayer. At the State Prison at Trenton, N. J., we received a warm welcome and Mother Wheaton was given opportunity to preach on the following Lord's day in the chapel. We visited the woman's department and held a service with them, all stopping their work and giving attention. God melted the hearts of those women who have gone away from Him. Jesus' blood is able to cleanse from every stain. After a few busy days of service in New York city we returned to Trenton, for the service in the prison on the Sabbath. We then returned westward by way of Baltimore and Washington, D. C. We next held a service in the prison at Canton, Ohio, and then went to Mansfield to the State Reformatory, where were nearly a thousand young men. Here God wonderfully answered prayer. The superintendent and chaplain were very kind, supplying us with such things as we had need of. We arrived in Chicago November 20. Leaving there we went by way of Marion and Anamosa, Iowa, where we held services. We arrived at Tabor on Thanksgiving day, November 24, which was truly a thanksgiving day with us, for the wonderful way in which God had answered prayer and brought us safely through so many dangers and given us such glorious victories in His blessed service. ROSA MINTLE. [Illustration: INDUSTRIAL REFORM SCHOOL, HUTCHINSON, KAN.] Leaving Tabor December 15, taking with me Sister Taylor, who for several years has accompanied me at intervals in my work, silently praying for me while I preach, sing or pray, I started for San Francisco, California, via Santa Fe, New Mexico. We stopped at Hutchison, Kansas, where is located the State Industrial Reform School for Young Men. We net the wife of the superintendent of that institution, who kindly took us to the school. I had held service here with prisoners who were working on the buildings when they were being erected. The officers arranged for a service in the chapel though it was a week day and just before Christmas. The meeting was owned and blessed of the Lord. Also at Santa Fe we were kindly entertained by the wife of the superintendent of the prison, and the officers gave us a service in the chapel and the prisoners, both men and women, privilege to attend. About half the prisoners being Mexicans I had to speak to them by the aid of an interpreter. This service was also signally owned of the Lord. We also held special service with the women. We then left for the coast and had several services en route with the passengers and railroad men; also with a hundred soldiers who were going to their winter quarters. I had warned the soldiers about drinking. It seemed so sad to see them drinking and gambling. Poor boys, there seems to be no way of restraining them from strong drink so long as they can get it. Some trouble arose between them and other parties and one of the soldiers was badly cut in the throat. In a town in California I held services in a number of saloons and dance halls. It was Christmas day and I never saw more drinking among the people and I never want to witness such again. Why will people indulge in strong drink, when God has said no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of heaven? We arrived in San Francisco and found many open doors to preach the Gospel. I visited the State Prison at San Quentin. The chaplain was very kind, giving me privileges of the chapel services and a special service with the women. This prison was first opened to me in 1898 in direct answer to prayer. I also held services in the city prisons. We also visited the Federal Prison on Alcatraz Island, where we held three services with the manifest blessing of God upon our souls. The kindness of the officers and the appreciation shown by the prisoners there will not be forgotten. I am sure God will reward those who are kind to His children, and who assist His workers in any way. During the first four months of 1905 we found much to do for the Lord in Los Angeles, San Pedro and other places in California, one of these of special importance was the Reformatory at Whittier. [Illustration: INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL, WHITTIER, CAL.] Early in May, having received a letter from one of the boys in Colorado under sentence of death, I hastened to that state to see the new governor in their behalf. I was kindly received and heard by the governor, but as the Board of Pardons was to soon meet he declined to make any promises. Tarrying several days for the board to meet, I met with them and made a plea for the lives of the boys who had, under the influence of drink, accidentally, as they claimed, taken life. They received a reprieve for four weeks, but the two who were adjudged sane were executed June 16. I give elsewhere an extract from a letter received from the mother of one of these boys shortly afterward. Also an extract from a paper concerning the mother of the other. After returning to Iowa and remaining but a few days, accompanied by a young sister from the Home, I returned to Colorado, visiting, en route, the jail at Council Bluffs, Iowa, and the State Prison at Lincoln, Nebraska, where we held service on the Lord's day. We then proceeded to Canon City to visit the condemned boys, and held services in the corridors of the prison till late at night. We next went to Buena Vista, where we held service in the State Reform School for Boys, and in the jail. On our return east we stopped at a camp meeting at Newton, Kansas, where the Lord blessed in the jail and in the work on the street. Going next to Chicago we held service in the county jail with about four hundred men. We next visited the prison at Joliet, Illinois, but only had service in the prison hospital and proceeded to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, for services on the Lord's day; then returned to Tabor, stopping in Omaha and holding a service in the county jail. Taking with me the young sister whom I have elsewhere mentioned as having first known as an orphan girl, now starting for India, I spent a day at Plattsmouth, Nebraska, where we talked and sang in a tent meeting, on the street, and in the jail. The time set for the missionary band to sail being near, we hurried westward, stopping at but a few places till we reached Sacramento, where we had work to do for souls in the prison and other places. We next visited the prison at Salem, Oregon, and also made a short stay at Portland. Upon reaching Tacoma we learned that the time of sailing had been put off a week, so we improved the time seeking out the lost in mission work, etc. The company of nine missionaries, including one child, boarded the steamship "Minnesota," and by the kindness of the general superintendent of the company we were permitted to spend a night before sailing on board the vessel with them, which was a time very much enjoyed in the Lord. The parting was not one of sadness, but of sweet peace and calmness. As we looked into the faces of the dear ones as they were being borne away we rejoiced that God has a few whom He can trust to carry the precious Gospel to the heathen. As the vessel bearing its precious burden sailed from our view, the little company of anxious watchers kneeled down and committed the dear ones to Him who has said that His children are as dear to Him as the apple of His eye. We were afterward delighted to hear that they had a most delightful voyage, reaching Yokohama, Japan, in eighteen days, just in time to escape a very disastrous storm on the sea. As a sister had accompanied some of the missionaries to the coast and was to return with me, assisting me in the work, we turned our attention to the needs of the lost ones about us. I will let this sister here give a brief sketch of our return trip, on which we trust much good was done for souls: RETURN FROM PACIFIC COAST. Mother Wheaton's companion to the coast, Sister Yarrett, having sailed for India, it was my privilege to accompany her from Seattle to Iowa. From the wharf, when we had committed the company of dear missionaries to the Lord, we went to the rooms of the Y. W. C. A. and held religious service while the young ladies had lunch. About two hundred young women lunch in these rooms daily. At night Mother Wheaton spoke at the Life Boat Mission with the anointing of the Holy Spirit, and many hearts seemed touched. Early the next morning we left Seattle on board the S. S. Whatcom, en route to Victoria, British Columbia. This was a most enjoyable trip to me. At Victoria we had a very profitable service in the W. C. T. U. Rescue Home, and the Lord especially blessed the visit and service. Later we spent five days very profitably in Portland laboring in the Exposition Camp Meeting, visiting the jails, saloons and slums, preaching and singing the Gospel. We next went to Boise, Idaho, where we held services in the Soldiers' Home and in the State Prison. Service with the women prisoners and prayer with the men under death sentence were special features of our visit to this place. We next spent a day in Rawlins, Wyoming, visiting the state and county prisons, holding short but profitable services in each. In the county jail here a raving maniac was quieted by Mother Wheaton's singing. Another night and day's travel across the plains and beautiful country and we were in Omaha, Nebraska. Here we spent several days, being entertained in the Tinley Rescue Home. This indeed is a refuge for the fallen. Our time here was well occupied in the jails, missions and churches. Then we hurried on to Tabor. I to resume duties in the school room, and Mother Wheaton, after a few days' rest, to continue her pilgrimage seeking the wandering and the lost ones of earth till she shall be called from toil to her reward which shall surely be one worth gaining. EMMA H. HERR. ANOTHER TRIP. After attending Prison Congress at Lincoln, Neb., Oct. 21 to 26, I left for western prisons and other institutions. Held services at Old Soldiers' Home, Grand Island, Nebraska, the 27th, then went to Rawlings, Wyoming; held services on Sunday at the prison chapel with all the prisoners, then at the county jail. Had great liberty in both prisons. Left at night for Salt Lake City, Utah. Found open doors. Held services at state prison jail on Monday afternoon; also in the county jail, two services. Left that night for Ogden; held services in the county jail and at Crittendon Rescue Home. Left for Deer Lodge, Montana, where I was kindly received by the warden, Frank Conley, who has ever proved one of the best of friends to me in my work in prison--always arranging for services Sunday or week day and entertaining myself and any one I brought with me, and never letting me go away without something to help defray expenses along the way. Sunday afternoon at Butte City held two services at the county jail; took train at night for Walla Walla, Washington and arrived there at 3:30 a. m., and went to Chaplain Lacornu's home. After resting, prayer and breakfast, we went to the state prison, where I held services with the twelve women prisoners; then in the dining room, held services with the men--about eight hundred prisoners. The Lord was present in both services to own and bless and many were helped to a better life and higher aims. Left there for county jail where we had profitable service with men and women. Left that night for Portland, Oregon. Was kindly entertained by one who has been preaching the gospel for nearly twenty years, who was convicted in prison while I was preaching in the prison in Bismark, N. D., one night after nine o'clock. He was converted and has done great good in the work, both in prison and outside ever since. Much of his success is due to his faithful Christian wife, who has ever been his true friend and helpmeet. Called on Mrs. Smith, a prison missionary, who for years has done mission work in Salem and Walla Walla prisons. Then left for Salem, Oregon, where I held services with the prisoners in the jail on the Sabbath day, also with the women prisoners on Saturday afternoon. Was kindly received by the Superintendent of the prison and his family, also by the Bible school in charge of Brother and Sister Ryan, where I held services on Sunday night in the chapel with students and citizens. Left Monday morning for the South. Stopped in Sacramento, and went to the Rescue Home and held services for the girls while I waited for the train to Carson City, Nevada. Changed cars at Reno and waiting for neither rest or food hurried on to Carson City to see the Governor and the Attorney General about prison work. Found four men under sentence of death. I pleaded with the Governor for a commutation of sentence. Governor Sparks asked me if I could meet with the Board of Pardons and himself at 2 p. m., and gave me a letter to the warden to allow me to see the condemned men and hold services with them--also with all of the prisoners. The Governor also arranged for me to go to the prison with one of the officers. Found the poor men heart broken over their condition, and really sorry for their sin. They had all been drinking, and among the four of them they had killed a young man, and all were doomed to die. When I entered their prison with the death-watch I was overcome with sorrow for the poor unfortunates who so soon would be in eternity, and as I came in the door one of the prisoners said, "O, it is Mother Wheaton." As I clasped his hand he said, "Mother, I knew you twenty years ago." I said, "Where?" and he said, "In San Francisco." Reader, you may try to sympathize or criticize at such a time, with them and me, but you never will know what the suffering is until you have passed through this ordeal of just standing alone with the good Lord and the condemned, so soon to die that horrible death. You cannot picture it, for death is awful to those not prepared to die--filled with remorse of conscience and sorrow for the deed done while under the influence of whiskey and possessed with the devil, which the strong drink causes--and then to have no hope in this world or the world to come, and alone with their conscience, the death-watch, myself and our God. I knelt in prayer. First to ask wisdom of the blessed Christ who never turned anyone away, and then, taking each one by the hand through the iron bars, I was lost to this world and its opinions and criticisms. I entered into their heart-sorrow, and at once took hold on God for the salvation of their immortal souls. Quietly, but with strong faith in God and the atoning blood of Jesus our Saviour, I believed for their salvation. Human sympathy will not avail. It is the suffering and death of Christ which avails in the face of death. And I believe, if Jacob prevailed in prayer as a prince, it is our privilege to believe God hears and answers prayer and saves to the uttermost the vilest sinner who truly repents of his sins, and claims His promises. "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." Isa. 1:18. We wept and prayed together, and while I sang the good old hymns our mothers knew and loved and sung for us in childhood, we took hold on God by faith for their souls' salvation, and I believe God heard and answered our prayers, that fifteenth day of November, 1905, in that prison, and that those men that day were forgiven their sins. I know God's Word is sure, and I depend daily on the Bible and its holy teachings, and accept His promise, and receive the answer from God that His pardon is sure. I told the men I had no hope for their lives to be spared--that the Governor had not given me any encouragement for them, but had invited me to meet with him and the Board of Pardons at 2 p. m., and see what they would do in the case. I pleaded with them to let go all hope of a life sentence, and prepare to die, for there was only one more day for them to live--that I had nothing to give them of hope, only in the precious blood of Jesus--that their days were numbered. O, the human heart is susceptible to suffering, and my suffering was intense for them. I was weak and weary, having traveled two days and two nights without rest. Yet I could not rest when there was so much at stake for them. I abandoned myself to the Holy Ghost to guide me in the service, and then as I took each hand, so soon to be cold in death, I knew only God could save them. I shall not forget the parting with those poor, unfortunate men, all in the prime of life and strength of manhood. I will meet them again soon in the presence of God. I was so weak in body that the officer kindly assisted me to the main prison, where I was to hold services with all of the prisoners. It was high noon, and the warden and officers urged me to take refreshments. I said, "No, I am soon going to the judgment, and I want to go with a clear conscience. How could I eat, when all these prisoners need the gospel so much?" And they kindly gave me the privilege of an hour's service. Then, after a hurried lunch, which was both breakfast and dinner, the state carriage was ready to take me to the Capitol to meet the Governor and Board of Pardons. But there was no hope, the Board refused to commute the sentence, and all four were executed November 17, for the death of one young man. Soon I must stand together at the judgment bar of God, with those whose lives were taken, one by the four under the influence of whiskey, which makes men and women crazy and worse than brutes; licensed by the laws of our land--the others by the men who, in their right minds, as executors of the law, put to death the helpless victims who had truly repented of their sins and promised to obey God and the rules, and live good law-abiding citizens. I want it understood that I believe in law and its enforcement. I sympathize with both the murdered and the murderers. I believe in obeying God and His laws and enforcing discipline, and I assist the officers of the state to maintain law and order, but I say, give deliverance from the abominable saloon and all the evil that follows in its wake. Give us judges, jurymen and officers, who, in every sense try to banish and abolish the liquor traffic and the dens of sin, and there will be no need of our state officers having to take life which none can give. Leaving the Capitol after the decision was made by the Board of Pardons and Governor, I went to the hotel to tell the two sisters of one of the condemned men that all hope of their brother's life was gone, and that they must prepare to face the awful sorrow of losing their brother. That scene was O, so pitiful! The brother and these two sisters were orphans. He was a good boy and supported the two sisters after the parents had died, but he had fallen into bad company who had led him astray. The sisters were heart broken. It seemed as if they could not give up that dear brother who had done so much for them. I helped them on the train, and went with them as far as Reno, Nevada, and we parted to meet again after all the sorrow and mistakes of our lives are forgotten and forgiven. After leaving them I held services for the Salvation Army friends and on the street. Then left that night, though very weary, for the east. After taking the train, I could see in my mind those poor condemned men, waiting the few last hours until the law should have its way. Eternity alone will reveal all hearts and lives. Arrived at Ogden, I went to the Crittendon Home, then on to the State Industrial School for Boys and Young Men, and had a service in all the cottages. Was with them two evenings. They all seemed cheered by the old good songs and the services. Saying "Good-bye" to all in their dining room at their daylight breakfast hour, I left them for the east. I stopped at Columbus, Nebraska, a day, and at Omaha, where many railroad friends and others met and greeted me kindly. Then hurried on to Joliet, Illinois, State Prison, where dear Mrs. Murphy, wife of the warden, gave me a warm welcome to her lovely home in the state prison. Went with the chaplain to visit the hospital and spoke with the men at the Sabbath School hour, and then to the women's prison, where I was given the privilege of addressing all the female prisoners. Many were much affected, and shed tears as I spoke or sang to them "My Name in Mother's Prayer," "Is There Anyone Can Help Us" and "Old Time Religion." Shook hands with most of the women, prayed and sang for a sick girl in the prison hospital, and left for the jail. Spoke there, then on to Chicago. After some days in the city, busy for the Lord, I made a trip to Washington, D. C., and returned before the close of the year, and proceeded to the Pacific coast early in the new year. O, how I praise the Lord for His grace and love, and the strength and endurance He gives me to keep going to carry His messages of love and good cheer to the lost ones in low and in high pursuits of life. Dear Reader: We must here close the account of our travel and toil in the Master's vineyard, and we feel that it will all soon be over, and the victory be won. When I shall have finished my course I want to be able to say, like Paul of old, that "I have fought a good fight." I want, too, to know that the crown is laid up for me as one of those who have been faithful and that love the appearing of my Savior. Though but sixty-one years of age, the excessive toil, the wearisome journeys, the heart-rending scenes and experiences for more than one-third of my life, have told upon my once strong body until I am now a physical wreck. Only in the strength of Jehovah and leaning upon His everlasting arm am I able to pursue the calling He has given me. "But the toils of the road will seem nothing when we get to the end of the way." You and I shall meet again, on that great Judgment morning, and must give an account to God. "Grace be with all them that love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity." [Illustration: PRISONS AT JACKSON, MICH., DEER LODGE, MONT., AND FOLSOM, CAL.] CHAPTER XXII. Letters from Prisoners. The extracts from letters found in this chapter are gathered from my correspondence with those within prison walls who have been encouraged by the way and have received help; many of them having borne testimony to a clear conversion and a life of service for the Lord, even within prison walls. These will serve to show their appreciation of any effort made in their behalf. They have been a source of great encouragement to me in my work. I should like to give more of similar character, and all more in detail, would space permit, but let these suffice as examples of the thousands of letters I have received during these twenty years from my "children." The names and that which might identify the individuals, I have omitted; for many of them are now good citizens and some are engaged in the work of the Lord. I have omitted many references to the instrumentality which God has seen fit to use in carrying His message of love to these souls, giving only what others thought were needed to show the writers' appreciation and gratitude. I have ever dealt with these, when present and by correspondence, as souls whom I must meet at the Judgment. The honor and praise for what good may have been accomplished belongs to Him whom I serve, and who has given me the commission, "Go and preach the Gospel." Inman, Tenn. Dear Sister in the Lord: We write you a few lines praying that God will allow you to call again and preach for us, for we believe that the Spirit of God is with you. We need thy aid here. So, our dear sister in the Lord, we do wish to hear you once more, so will come much good in the name of the living God! THE PRISONERS. * * * * * Boise City Penitentiary, July 29, 1890. Elizabeth Wheaton, Portland, Oregon. Dear Madam: I am instructed to thank you in behalf of all of us for your kind visit. We fully appreciate your labor, your courage, and integrity; your singleness of heart and purpose, your purity of motives; but above all do we appreciate your sincerity. Your indefatigable efforts, even in your old age, to reach the criminal, to lead him upward and onward to his true destiny under so many disadvantages, without money and without price, without the support of state or church, and, I may add, without the support of public sentiment which appears to be against you and us--all this, I say, inspires us with faith and confidence in you. And when I am paying you this tribute, I am at the same time aware that I am paying it to Him who came on earth to seek and save us, for without Him you would not love us as you do. Come again, say we all. PRISONERS. * * * * * Lancaster, Nebr., Oct. 25, 1903. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Dear Mother: We, the undersigned, as a token of our appreciation of your efforts in our behalf, respectfully request that you accept our assurance of appreciation of to-day's services, and especially the song service held in our cell-house, and best wishes for your future success. Signed by 199 prisoners, each giving his number. * * * * * Bushy Mountain State Prison, Petros, Tenn., May 4, 1896. Dear Mother Wheaton: We, the undersigned, unfortunate children, assemble together to try to show you how grateful we are for the devout interest you are taking in the welfare of our souls. We hope and trust that the Lord will continue to be with you all along your journey, trusting that if we don't meet again on earth, that we may meet in Heaven. Pray for us. We enclose the following sums for each of us: W. J. 25 cents W. S. 10 cents C. R. R. 10 cents * * * * * Walla Walla, July 11, 1889. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, Dear Friend: Your postal received. You have the appreciation and kind thoughts of many here for your kind remembrance of us all in our secluded prison home. Aside from your own particular means and the many other ways adopted by religious people to draw the attention of the indifferent to the subject of their spiritual welfare, the evident disinterested motive which characterizes your extended labors, is of itself sufficient, to highly recommend your kind endeavors to all fair-minded people, and to give you a hearty welcome, from prisoners especially, wherever you may find them. We would all, therefore, send you a kind word of encouragement and Godspeed in your good work and _labor of love_, believing that your gospel message is fully adapted to meet the spiritual wants of the whole human family under whatever condition found. PRISONERS OF WALLA WALLA PENITENTIARY, Per F. S. * * * * * Richmond, Va., August 23, 1885. Dear Madam: I take much pleasure to introduce myself to you, and stating to you how I first found rest for my sinful soul. I am a stranger to you by name, but not by the love of Jesus Christ, and I was highly delighted to hear you speak to us. It lifted up my downhearted feeling and caused me to look around myself, and I do truly hope that those words that you have spoken may be as seed sowed in good ground, and take root and the future may tell. And for myself, when I first came to this place I was a vile sinner and thanks be to the good Lord that I have my soul awakened in Christ Jesus, and if it had not been for this place I think that I would have been a sinner until now, but now all my trust is in the Lord Jesus Christ and Him alone. Although I have many crosses and trials and temptations, my trust is in the Lord, and I truly pray and trust the Lord that after awhile we shall all meet in heaven where there will be no more parting. I trust you will be successful in this work of the Lord. I desire your prayers. I am your humble servant, H. T. * * * * * Massachusetts State Prison, October 25, 1885. Dear Madam: It is with much pleasure that I listened to your address to-day. Please accept my thanks for the interest which you take in the poor unfortunate prisoners. There are many skeptic ones among us because we see so much hypocrisy. May God bless you, and let me inform you that your motherly-like appearance sank deep into the hearts of many. Our chaplain tries to do all the good he can, but no one knows what a prisoner's life is but a prisoner. My poor mother used to pray like you. I will not forget your earnest advice. I wish there were more like you, for then there would be a true reform in prisons. These places ruin young men. O it is not understood by those men who govern us even. Some of the officers are not fit to be over young men. Every officer should be a religious man, but we have few in accordance with the text: "Love your neighbor as yourself." Many of them take God's name in vain. I shall try to think much upon what you said, with God's help. Please pray for an unfortunate one. May God bless you. J. J. * * * * * New York, Nov. 26, 1885. My Dear Friend: Your postal reached me this morning and I can assure you it gave me pleasure to hear from you and see you had not forgotten Ludlow Street Jail. Today is Thanksgiving Day, and to us poor unfortunates I can assure you it is a gloomy one, but we must give thanks to our Heavenly Father that we are not in a worse place than this. I for one do pray to Him and thank Him for His kindness and pray to Him to give us strength of mind to resist all temptations. I cannot remember who you enquire about. I am the small man who introduced you to my wife and sister the first time you called. We were treated today by our kind warden to a good Thanksgiving dinner and I pray before another Thanksgiving Day that I may have the pleasure of seeing you under more favorable circumstances. May God be with you in your good work is the prayer of, Sincerely yours, I. L., Ludlow Street Jail, New York City. * * * * * Cell No. 35--Tombs, New York City, Sunday, Nov. 1, 1885. Dear Sister Wheaton: Forgive me for calling you so as I cannot rightly call you otherwise. Your prayer today came from your very soul. I felt it deeply. It has entered into mine. I feel a new man. You were a Godsend to me. Your words have given new life, they have inspired me to live in the future a real Christian. I feel so light of heart since you were here, that I cannot find words adequate to properly express myself. I pray your good work may be crowned with success. I feel now that I am again a child of God. I shall pray and try to live as Jesus desires. I pray to Him that He will give me all encouragement to lead a Christian life and do His will only. O! how I have learned to love Jesus through your inspiring words of comfort and goodness. I shall daily pray for your health and prosperity in Jesus. Do likewise for me, and may we meet in Heaven. To this end I shall ever pray and so sign myself, A brother in Jesus, J. M. S. * * * * * New York, November 10, 1885. Dear Sister Wheaton: Many thanks for your kind visit today and for the memorandum book and envelopes you brought me. I herewith reiterate every word and the combined meaning contained in my letter to you of last Sabbath. You were a Godsend to me from heaven. Formerly it was a hard task for me to stop to think as I do now. Now I can pray so easy, and it seems to do me so much good. Such a blessing I have never experienced heretofore. With pleasure I give this evidence of the goodness of our beloved and only Jesus. Him I shall worship daily, aye, at all times and in all places. I think of nothing more grand and noble than to believe in our Redeemer who offers His salvation for our souls. He is my God and no other will I have but Him. I love Him truly. In my prayers I have vowed to devote the rest of my life for His good cause. I sincerely hope that many, through you, may come out of darkness into light. God grant you good health to do His good work here. I will pray for you and ask you to do likewise for me, and others. I pray to God daily that He may give me renewed strength to keep on in the good path which I have chosen, and may His spirit and love be alike with you and me, is the wish of Your brother in Christ Jesus. J. M. S., Cell 35, Tombs, New York City. * * * * * Charleston, January 4, 1886. My Dear and Much Esteemed Friend: As I sit here in the prison tonight I ponder upon the kind and good advice you gave me, and my heart of hearts goes out to you in gratitude. My past life has been a blank, in fact, an utter failure. But since I saw you I have come to God in all simplicity and have asked Him to give me a new spirit and pardon my past sins; and since I have offered up this petition my heart seems lighter. How often have I cried out in my despair, O I am weary of the conflicts and strife of this life! weary with the constant struggle for a higher and better life! And when I see the lives of yourself and others--so Christlike, and hear you say mid darkest shadows: "Not my will, but thine be done," then I think of the rebellion in my heart and so oft find when I feel the path I am treading leaves the sunshine all behind. As the way looks dark before me and the end I cannot see, Oft I long to drop the burdens and from sorrow be set free, But I know such thoughts are sinful; God knows best the way That will lead from earth's dark shadows to the brighter realms of day. Words cannot express the comfort I have received since I saw you. I have prayed to God to help me every night and morning since and as I sit and ponder upon the past and think of the wasted hours that have drifted by, it puts me in mind of a song I learned when I was a child. I will only write you a couple of verses to let you see how true they are. "Oh, the wasted hours of life that have drifted by; Oh, the good we might have done, lost without a sigh; Love that we might have sowed by a single word, Thoughts conceived but never penned, perished all unheard. Take the proverb to thy heart, take and hold it fast-- The mill will never grind with the water that is past. "Oh, love thy God and fellow men, thyself consider last, For come it will when thou must count dark errors of the past, And when the fight of life is o'er, and life recedes from view, And heaven in all its glory shines midst the pure and good and true, Then you will see more clearly the proverb deep and vast-- The mill will never grind with water that is past." May God bless you for what you have done for me. You have saved me from that downward road to ruin. May God bless you and permit you to return to us once more. W., Charleston State Prison. * * * * * Nobesville, Neb., April 17, 1886. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Kind Lady: I will, according to promise, drop you a few lines. I am some better now than when you were here to see me. How glad I am that I met you last Sunday! I have felt better ever since, and I do believe that the good Father will answer your prayers. Don't fail to pray for me, that, if it is God's will, He will heal me, for God has got the same power that He had when He raised Christ from the tomb. And pray that He will give me the guidance of His loving Holy Spirit to lead me into all truth and at the last take me to Heaven. There has not a day passed since you were here that I have not thought of you and prayed for you. You did more good here than you know. My candle is going out. Direct to JOHN W. C., Nobesville, Nebraska. * * * * * Charlestown, Mass., Jan. 10, 1886. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, To My Dear Sister in Christ: "Whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life." I believe and trust in God. My faith and my belief grow stronger every day of my life. I pray to God to keep me from evil, and to make me worthy of His kingdom, that I may meet you there, for I am a better man for knowing you. God bless you, my dear sister! My heart is full of love for my God, and for my fellowman. I cannot find words to express my feelings or to tell you how happy I am, and how precious Christ is to my soul. It passes my understanding. But I am satisfied, for I know that Christ has come into my heart to dwell. There are no doubts, no fears, everything is well with me. I thank God for it, and I want to see every one around me enjoying this great gift which comes from God. O how it would have rejoiced your soul to have been with us the last evening of the old year. We had a prayer meeting. I am told that there were one hundred and forty men in the chapel. Our warden was the first to testify. Many acknowledged Christ to be precious to their souls. There are many here that are feeling uncomfortable. They will be at the feet of Jesus yet, crying for mercy. Pray for them. Pray for us all. Only think of it, one hundred and forty prisoners on their knees and their warden kneeling with them! O it was a blessed sight! I never heard Chaplain Barnes pray as he did that night. His whole soul went out to God. How he did plead with God for the salvation of our souls. God bless the chaplain. God bless everyone on the face of the earth, and may every one see as I see, and enjoy what I am enjoying. In His paths there is peace, and that in keeping of His commandments there is great reward. There is a young man here by the name of Charles B. He has formed good resolutions with beginning of the new year. I tell him that he cannot keep them without he gets divine help. I am praying for him. Please make mention of him in your prayers, and with the help of God we will have him at the feet of Jesus crying for mercy. We had a prayer meeting last week and I am informed that we are to have them often. How good it is of the warden! God bless him. He is always looking for some way to benefit us. I praise the Lord for it. I leave the prison this year. I hope that I may meet you again on earth. If not permitted, I will live a life that shall make me worthy of the kingdom and meet you there. I thank you for the letter read this day to us by the chaplain. Your brother in Christ Jesus, J. L. W. * * * * * Jeffersonville, Ind., May 22, 1887. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, My Dear Kind Lady: In answer to your request I address this note to you trusting that this may be the commencement of life in a different sphere to that which I have heretofore moved in, so do not think that I am flattering if I tell you the truth. I have traveled from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the British Possessions to the Gulf of Mexico. I have moved in all classes of society and have been a close observer. I have made myself acquainted with all kinds of religious sects from the Jewish synagogues to Mormonism, Protestantism in all its various forms, Catholicism, as well as Spiritualism, and I found so much hypocrisy and inconsistency existing that I felt inclined to believe Christianity a fraud, but I could see plainly that there were in every church some few that I could feel were true Christians. I could feel a secret convincing power almost irresistible when in their society, but it always seemed strange to me why more true converts were not made in proportion to the great work done. It seems to me that the handling of God's cause should only be entrusted to those that are godly--then the fruit will bear witness to the quality and health of the tree. God will prosper His own, but it is not natural that the Lord can or will prosper one who is half God's and half Satan's. That is why I have remained in the world. I am earnest in everything I do. It is my nature, I cannot help it. Therefore, if I ever become a Christian, bold and true and faithful, too, I'll be. I must refer to that now which I spoke of in the first of this note. All the convicts in this prison have been moved by your godly advice and teaching as this prison has never been moved before, either by man or woman. You won the hearts of the hardest criminals and a noticeable change for the better has taken place. We all pray God to bless and protect you wherever His wisdom may lead you, and even though this prayer comes from convicts, perhaps God will hear us. Some of us have been convicted by man, while God, being just, and our own consciences declare us innocent. Those of us who are innocent and can suffer with patience, what a virtue we possess. Such strength comes only of God. I must close for want of room. Please answer if you have time. We hope to see you soon again. Your humble servant, H. McL., Box 340. * * * * * Tracy City, Tenn., Dec. 3, 1887. Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, Dear Friend: Your visit to this place was a great blessing. A great many of the men often speak of you and say that by the help of God they are going to live better the rest of their days. I will thank you for every paper or good book you may send to us. The way that we do about papers and books is to place them among our fellow prisoners. You have our prayers and best wishes and we hope you will come to our prison again, as your work will be remembered here for years to come. May God bless you all the way along. There have been deaths here since you were here. Neither of those parties belonged to the church. Lots of the men spoke of the great warning you gave before you left, what you said about the last warning some of them would ever get, and sure enough it was true. Yours in Christ, W. A. M. * * * * * Carson City, Nev., Sept. 23, 1888. Dear Kind Friend: Through the kindness of the Warden, we received your letter, with the song and accompanying texts, and I take the liberty of answering it and thanking you for your kindness in thus remembering us. I was seriously impressed by your kind words of sympathy and exhortation when you came to the prison and I should have liked to have spoken to you, but feared to trespass too much on your time. I am here under a life sentence for the crime of murder, committed during a fit of delirium resulting from drink. I have been here three years. Hitherto my life has been anything but a happy one. I was driven from home at the age of ten years, after the death of my mother. Since then I have associated with gamblers and men of that stamp, and the result of my ill-directed course is my present unhappy condition. What I have suffered, no one but myself will ever know. I would gladly end my life, if my death could blot out the crimes for which I suffer. I have one friend, who has taken an interest in me, and who has written me several kind letters and I thank God for letting me have one kind and faithful friend. She is weak in body, but strong in mind, and a faithful servant of God. She has advised me to give myself to God, and since you were here I have resolved to try to do so. Peace of mind is what I want, but fear I shall never attain it. I hope to hear from you again. Most of my fellow prisoners have read your letter and all entertain the greatest respect for you. Some to whom your kind words and motherly advice have brought tender memories, desire to be remembered to you. You are passing through ... , where I have lived and where I spent the happiest of my boyhood days, but they are gone. I hope you may meet some of my old companions and that they may be benefited by your kind words. Your humble, grateful servant, M. * * * * * Stillwater, Nov. 2, 1888. Dear Sister Wheaton: I was pleased beyond expression to receive your letter. It came like a benediction. I shall never forget you. The few words spoken have left an impress upon the tablets of memory that time can not efface. You can tell the boys wherever you see them in prison or out that Jesus is near--ever near. Tell them that I know that no locks ever were made that can lock the Saviour out. He came to me when I was, oh, so lonely, so broken-hearted and despairing! You know just how it was I was saved. I am innocent in the presence of God, and still I am here; but never alone. Jesus is ever with me. Oh, how I wish every one in the wide, wide world could know our Saviour! How true is the fourteenth chapter of John, and especially the eighteenth verse: "I will not leave you comfortless. I will come unto you." Never in all my persecution and imprisonment has my Lord failed in that promise. I am very hopeful. My innocence is recognized and I hope soon to be at liberty. Had any one told me twelve months ago that this was all for my good I should have laughed them to scorn; but, thank God, I know it now. This life is but a few days at most compared to the home beyond, and I can and do say, "God's will be done." He can do no wrong, and right must prevail. God bless and prosper you until you go home. Yours in His name, H. R. [Illustration: A WARD IN PRISON HOSPITAL.] * * * * * Stillwater, Nov. 14, 1888. Dear Mother Wheaton: I received your letter and it came just right to comfort me, for I am in the hospital. In prison--not alone. In the hospital--not alone. Jesus is always with me. How I love Jesus who died for me! My heart always turns to Him, and when I heard I had to come to the hospital I just prayed to Jesus and left it all to Him, and I am cheerful and happy and hopeful even here. He is the Great Physician. I can do anything for Jesus' sake but I am in such a queer position! Poor mother has been nearly killed and heart-broken about this, and she claims my presence for a time at least if I get out. Poor mother is nearly worn out but full of faith and hope. May God bless you and be with you forever. Your son and brother in Christ, H. R. * * * * * Little Rock, Ark., June 10, 1888. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. Dear Sister: I will take the liberty and let you and Sister M. know who I am. My name is C. S. I guess you remember the coal mines and that evening when I was singing with Sister M. in her book. O I wish I had them songs! I am so happy in Christ. I am going home to my mother above. I hope it will be very soon. That song "A Ruler once came to Jesus by night To ask Him the way of salvation and light," made me a different man. O the happy thoughts of a home which Christ our Redeemer has prepared for us and calls us to come to Him. "Come unto me all that are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest." O, such a Saviour! Pray for me and I hope we may meet above. I hope to hear from you soon. From your servant, C. S. * * * * * Little Rock, January 13, 1889. Mr. J. M. Ryder, Indianapolis, Ind. I received your most welcome letter and thank you for the information you have given me, but I haven't heard yet from your sister. The last letter I got she said that she was going to California. At that time she was at Salem, Oregon. Have you heard from her yet? There are some boys and men here would like to hear from her, for she came where some of us could not see the sun in a week, and about 150 feet under the surface of the earth. That was at a coal mine. We all hope and pray to God, our dear Redeemer, for her to come back to us again. Please answer this for I am a convict and glad to hear from such friends. In hope to hear soon, I remain, Yours sincerely, C. S. * * * * * Germantown, Ark., Nov. 29, 1889. My Dear Sister: I am at Germantown at the present time working on Mr. W. H. Ward's farm or plantation, and the Warden of the camp and the guards are followers of Christ. There are several of the boys with me which were at Coal Hill at the time you were there. O sister, God worked that all right, His name be praised. One of the Coal Hill wardens got five years in the penitentiary. That is God's work. God be with you and bless you is my daily prayer, that you will keep strong and well to preach to the poor prisoners and pray for them that they will "flee from the wrath to come." O sister it is terrible to think and study over how the Book of Life tells us about that everlasting torment, and how sweet it is to think that there is a life eternal. Sister, there are three ways, "a broad road," "a narrow way" and "a highway," that are thus brought to our attention in the Scriptures. The broad road to destruction, the narrow way to life, the highway to holiness. "And an highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called the way of holiness; the unclean shall not pass over it; but it shall be for those, the wayfaring man, though fools shall not err therein. No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon; it shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there." Isa. 35: 8, 9. Sister, am I right or wrong? The first great judgment (trial and sentence) was at the beginning, in Eden, when the whole human race, as represented in its head, Adam, stood on trial before God. The result of that trial was the verdict--guilty, disobedient, unworthy of life; and the penalty inflicted was _Death_. "Dying, thou shalt die," and so "In Adam all die." But, dear sister, the sweet and dear thought in "Christ we all shall live" is a great comfort to our poor souls. Ours is a rugged, steep and narrow way, and were it not that strength is furnished for each successive step of the journey, we never could reach the goal, but our Captain's word is encouraging: "Be of good courage, I have overcome"; "My grace is sufficient for thee, and my strength is made perfect in weakness." The difficulties of this way are to act as a separating principle to sanctify and refine "a peculiar people," to be "Heirs of God and joint-heirs with Jesus Christ." In view of these things, "let us come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need," "while we fight the good fight of faith and lay hold of the crown of life." Immortality, the divine nature. Sister, I hope that we may meet together here in this world once more in life so we can talk about what Jesus has wrought, God will be with you. I know He is with me. Sister, I gave myself to Jesus and I feel more satisfied, and how sweet it is to have Jesus with you. THE DAY IS AT HAND. "Poor, fainting pilgrim, still hold on thy way, The dawn is near; True, thou art weary now, but yon bright ray Becomes more clear. Bear up a little longer; wait for rest; Yield not to slumber, though with toil oppressed. The night of life is mournful, but look on the judgment near. Soon will earth's shadowed scenes and forms be gone. Yield not to fear. The mountain's summit will, ere long, be gained And the bright world of joy and peace attained. Joyful through hope, thy motto still must be-- The dawn is near. What glories will that dawn unfurl to thee! Be of good cheer. Gird up thy loins, bind sandals on thy feet, The way is dark and long, the end is sweet." I hope to hear soon from you, dear sister. Meet me in heaven. Jesus is with me. Because He cometh to judge the earth, let the heavens be glad and the earth rejoice. Your brother, C. S. * * * * * Germantown, Jan. 27, 1890. Dear Sister: I received yours of the 28th. I am so glad that you have not forgotten me, and the words which I heard you say, although it is a long time since you said them at Coal Hill. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." Acts xvi., 31. Jails are dark, dull, damp, loathsome places even now; but they were worse in the apostolic times. I imagine tonight we are standing in the Philippian Dungeon. Do you not feel the chill? Do you not hear the groan of those incarcerated ones who for ten years have not seen the sunlight, and the deep sigh of women who remember their father's house, and mourn over their wasted estates? Listen again. It is enough. Oh, it is the cough of the consumptive, or the struggle of one in a nightmare of a great horror. You listen again, and hear a culprit, his chains rattling as he rolls over in his dreams, and you say: "God pity the prisoner." But there is another sound in that prison. It is a song of joy and gladness. What a place to sing in. The music comes winding through the corridors of the prison and in all dark wards the whisper is heard: "What's that? What's that?" It was the song of Silas and Paul in prison, and they cannot sleep. Jesus went to prison then, and as you say He will and does come nowadays also to visit the prisoners as they are shut up. God will be and is our helper. I will not fear, He leadeth me in pastures green. Your brother in Christ, C. S. * * * * * Germantown, May 16, 1890. Dear Sister: Your letter of February 17th duly received, and glad to hear from you. But, sister, I am so glad to have some Christian friend to write to me in a place of temptation and trouble. I know that Jesus is my rock and my salvation and a shelter in a storm. Jesus is with me right now. He is waiting for us every day and hour. O, how many will there be that will call on Christ on that day, when the book of the Lord will be opened, with the seven seals, and who will be able to open the seals? No one is able to open it but the Lamb. Sister, this is my idea and opinion about that Day: There will be a great big scale, with a cross beam and Satan will be on one side of it and the people of all trades will be weighed, and if Christ the Son of God and our Redeemer is not there to balance them, what will become of them? Won't they be thrown down in hell? Hoping and trusting faithfully that there be many of the poor prisoners among the hundred and forty and four thousand with the Lamb on Mount Zion, with the Father's name written in their foreheads and the harpers will be harping with their harps and singing the new song which no man could learn, but the hundred and forty and four thousand which were redeemed from the earth. O, what a day that will be! O that song is so true. O sinner give your heart to God and you shall have a new hiding place that day. O the rocks in the mountain shall all fade away and you shall have a new hiding place that day. "O sinner turn, why will ye die? God in mercy asks you why." O, I am so happy tonight! Your brother, C. S. * * * * * Germantown, Ark., Dec. 18, 1890. Dear Sister: Your kind words gladly received, and may God bless you and give you strength in your undertakings. Sister, forgive those wicked men who put you in prison for preaching the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, for He, the Lord, said: "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do," and Silas and Paul in prison sang praises to the Lord our God and He delivered them from the prison in which they lay, and the jailor got saved. Oh! my dear sister, I trust and pray to the Lord that we could safely say with Robert McChane, the ascended minister of Scotland, who, seated on the banks of Galilee's Lake, wrote, in his last sick days, and just before he crossed the Jordan (not the Jordan that empties into the Lake of Gallilee, but the Jordan that empties into the "sea of glass mingled with fire"), these sweet words, fit to be played by human fingers on strings of earthly lute, or by angelic fingers on seraphic harps: "It is not that the mild gazelle Comes down to drink thy tide, But He that was pierced to save from hell, Oft wandered by thy side. Graceful around thee the mountains meet Thou calm, reposing sea; But, ah! far more, the beautiful feet Of Jesus walked o'er thee. O Saviour! gone to God's right hand, Yet the same Saviour still, Graved on thy heart is this lovely strand And every fragrant hill." O! is it not good to be with one's Lord and to think how sweet He says in his Book of Books: "I am the way," and in danger He speaks again: "Fear not, it is I." The Lord is with me for I do not have to work in the ranks any more, and by His help I am assistant postmaster of this place. Until we leave, and that time will be Christmas, address your next letter to Little Rock. That you may save many souls from everlasting torture is my prayer every hour. My love to the poor sinful prisoners and to you, my dear sister in Christ. A happy Christmas, and may God bless you to live and see many more. I will sing now: "I was once far away from the Saviour" and "When Jesus shall gather the nations before Him at last to appear." Oh! I am so happy! Goodnight, Ever, S. * * * * * Wichita, Kansas. Dear Sister: This is to acknowledge yours of the 15th inst., and was glad to hear that you have received my letter. Well, sister, we have our regular meeting every Sunday, and I will never cease praying to the Lord that He may help me to live my life, and that I can say, like our great Brother said, that no man can measure the glories which God has revealed to us. Glory to Thee, O God, glory to Thee! * * * It is said that religionists make too much of the humanity of Christ. I respond that they make too little. If some doctor or surgeon of His day, standing under the cross, had caught one drop of the blood on his hands and analyzed it, it would have been found to have the same plasma, the same disk, the same fiber, the same albumen. It was unmistakably human blood. It is a man that hangs there. His bones are of the same material as ours. His nerves are as sensitive as ours. If it were an angel being despoiled, I would not feel it so much, for it belongs to a different being. But my Saviour is a man and my whole sympathy is aroused. Jesus our King is dying. Let couriers carry the swift dispatch. His pains are worse; He is breathing a last groan; through his body quivers the last anguish. The King is dying; the King is dead! His royal blood is shed. I can imagine something of how the spikes felt; of how the temples burned; what deathly sickness seized His heart; of how mountain and city and mob swam away from His dying vision; something of that cry for help that makes the blood of all ages curdle with horror: "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" * * * O! Jerusalem, my happy home, When shall I come to thee; When shall my sorrows have an end? Thy joys, when shall I see? Jerusalem, my happy home, Would God that I were there! Would God my tears were at an end, Thy joys, that I might share. I am so glad that I can write to you. I never will cease praying for you. I remain, your brother. C. H. Z. * * * * * Washington County Jail. Greenville, Miss., Jan. 29, 1889. My Dear Sisters: I cannot express my feelings when I read your kind letters. They make me feel as though you were still at my prison door. I know I am not the same boy that came to prison. I feel much better in every way. I read my Bible instead of novels, and find more pleasure in it. I expect to get out of prison soon, and when I do I want to write you a long letter. Mr. McL. was to see me to-day, and read your letters. He said he would also write you to-day. There is a great change in him since you were here. All the boys send love. Direct me as before, care Geo. S. If I get out I will work for him here. I am, as ever, Your true friend and brother, J. F. D. * * * * * Penitentiary at Yuma, Ariz., May 19, 1889. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. Dear Friend: Your kind letter, written from Los Angeles, Cal., has been received, after much delay. We are all glad to hear from you, and thank you very much for your kind remembrance and the good advice given to us in your letter, and when you spoke to us here in the prison. Most all the boys hold you in kind remembrance and often express their wishes to see you and hear you talk again, and I sincerely hope it will be convenient for you to call and see us in the near future. The short visit you paid us awakened earnest thought in a number of the boys, and I am confident a few more such visits would result in much good to many of the inmates of this institution. Asking your prayers, I remain, Respectfully, J. E. W. * * * * * [Illustration: KITCHEN AND DINING ROOM OF PRISON, DEER LODGE, MONT.] Deer Lodge, July 15, 1889. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. Madam: I received your postal last Friday, and was very pleased to hear from you and to know that although far away you still hold us in kindly remembrance. There are so few who think of us after the prison door has closed. The boys who were so fortunate as to meet you, and even those who only heard of your good work, wish to be remembered to you. So far as we are personally concerned, there have been no changes, and we will very probably go through the same routine day in and out until our several times have expired. I can safely say that you have made a greater impression upon us than any others we have been privileged to hear. In the intercessions you make with the Ruler of All, we ask to be remembered, and hope that you will receive all the returns of good which your work so richly merits. If you can find time in the future, you can give us no greater pleasure than writing us, even if only so much as may be placed upon a postal. Yours very sincerely, HERBERT A. M. (Librarian). * * * * * Cole City, Dade Co., Ga., July 5, 1890. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton: Yours of May 25th received yesterday in this camp and contents duly noted. How it thrills the hearts of the boys to hear the reading of a letter written by the hand of "Mother Wheaton," the friend of the unfortunate ones. Dear Christian Mother, you can't imagine the encouragement it gives to the boys here, especially those who are trying to do right. Your work has been implanted here so very deep that God cannot, according to His promise, obliterate it, for He approves of all good works. You shall have our prayers, and we desire to have your presence again when possible. I intended to take your letter to Rattlesnake Camp No. 4 to read to the boys up there, as Capt. Brock promised me I might go, but for some reason, I know not what, I failed to get off, but I do hope and believe the way will be opened for us prison-bound boys who desire to do a work for Him to do it without fear. I received also enclosed in your letter a most interesting pamphlet of "Capt. Ball's Experience," which is so grand. Also another of the "Widow and the Judge." We have a very good Sunday school here now, and I am trying to make it as interesting as I possibly can, and any books and Sunday school papers and catechisms you can send us will be quite a favor. That would have been my business at No. 4 Camp to-day, if I could have gone, to organize a Sunday school. I must close by asking an interest in your prayers. Write often. Your friend and brother in Christ, J. W. S., Camp No. 3. * * * * * Eastern Penitentiary, Philadelphia, Dec. 15, 1890. Dear Madam: Your invitation given any of the prisoners who may wish to write, I for one accept. I was greatly impressed with your words of truth and the earnest, determined manner in which they were spoken. I believe they proved an exception to the routine of professed Christianity we are used to, and have set more than one mind to thinking of their spiritual condition. I assure you they were not without effect, and that you are engaged in a noble work, of which I and others would be glad to hear more. True it is that in the world around us are many persons struggling with poverty as great as ours, who are loaded with cares and anxieties which seem to hinder them in the service of God. There are many who cannot offer him a pure heart which has never been stained by sin, yet in the grief for misspent time and neglected grace would gladly atone for the past by fervent, grateful love, casting themselves upon the mercy of the Saviour. I am an old soldier, have fought in the late war, but the greatest battle I have yet to fight is with myself--the battle of reformation. Almighty God, in His wondrous wisdom, has chosen His saints from every rank of life--some poor and unknown to the world while they are in it; others great and powerful; no two have been exactly alike, even in their way of pleasing the Lord. The "boys" here are satisfied your mission was for good, and left them knowing that for once they were not locked up within the hearing of false professors. To say that "locks" would not be necessary to hold a congregation within your hearing would be well founded. For a great many others this could not be said. The boys from Block 9 send you their respects, and would be glad to hear from you again; would be glad to hear that you received this and that our appreciation of your service be accepted. Respectfully yours, A 2552. * * * * * Washington County Jail. Greenville, Miss., Jan. 9, 1890. Dear Sister: Your postal of the 5th to hand. The boys are all glad to hear from you. Mr. McL. was acquitted and was the proudest boy I ever saw. The St. Louis boy also got free and went home to his mother. There has been a great change in the prisoners since you were here. They are always praying and singing, and you are remembered in every prayer. I don't think I am the same boy that came to jail; I know my poor old mother will be proud of me when I see her again. She lives in Mobile, Alabama, and it has been three years since she saw me, but I am praying to meet her soon and be a son to her, as I never was before. I feel like I could teach young men some good lessons if I get out of this place. We received some reading matter from you a few days ago. Please let me hear from you whenever you can spare the time to write. All the boys join me in love and hope to hear from you again soon. Your friend and brother, J. D. (alias the Artist). * * * * * Penitentiary, Salt Lake City, Utah, April 14, 1901. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, Dear Madam: Your welcome and interesting letter to hand and contents noted, being exceedingly pleased to hear from you. In response would state, your letter, though a great surprise, has been read by many of the inmates of this institution with great interest, you being the only one, so far, who has shown enough respect for us to address a few lines to us by mail. For this kindly remembrance and respect, please accept our united thanks, with the wish that as you are journeying along life's pathway you may escape many of the annoyances which you have been subjected to in the past, while dispensing the gospel tidings to a class of unfortunates. After your departure from here, am pleased to state, the "Boys" have taken a deeper interest in Jesus and His works than ever before, and I verily believe that were you to come again you would have no difficulty in bringing many of them to the foot of the Cross. Bibles that have lain for months in cells, covered with dust, have been taken up and read with avidity, selecting texts as you suggested for future guidance, and many are the prayers and kind words which ascend nightly to the Throne of Grace in your behalf--prayers for your future guidance and welfare, with health to sustain you in your glorious work of reclaiming the erring and fallen. God speed the good work along! We wish there were more like you, to bring a few kind and cheering words to sustain us, while undergoing this isolation. Your voice has lingered in our ears ever since you left, and many of the boys here would like to secure, if they possibly could, a copy of that wonderful song you sang for us, "Throw Out the Life-line." If you would kindly forward a copy, as it is not in our hymn-books, it would be very acceptable. You may rest assured, no firmer, truer or better friends are to be found than those you possess in the Utah Penitentiary. Allow us to hope that when comparing this institution with some of the grander ones you may visit in the East, you will not speak disparagingly of your boys out West, but remember there are as many honest hearts beating beneath striped jackets here as you will find anywhere, with none more willing to do you a favor. In conclusion, accept our united and kindest regards. Hoping that after your life's labors are finished on this earth, you may find that "Haven of Rest," where it shall be said to you, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant; enter ye into the kingdom of Heaven," trusting these few lines may give you further encouragement, and hoping to hear from you again, with united thanks for past remembrance, I remain, Yours most respectfully, M. M. * * * * * Baton Rouge, La., October 11, 1891. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. My Dear Sister: Yours addressed to the boys in prison here was received, and I shall take the responsibility of answering your letter, which is so full of the Word of God. Your songs I shall never forget. I wish you could come and pray for us and sing those sweet songs to us every day. I have got a life sentence in this prison. I do not know whether you remember me or not, but I remember you and always will, I hope, and I pray to meet you in Heaven. Since I listened to the songs you sang, I have felt that I was nearer Heaven than ever before. Your few minutes with us in this prison helped me more than all others that I ever heard preach the Word of God. Your service enlightened me more. I feel better and I think that every one in here will long remember your few minutes' talk with them on that blessed Sunday morning. I shall constantly pray and try to become as pure in heart as I think you are. Your home is surely in Heaven, and I will endeavor to reach that home and meet you there. Pray for me that I may become acceptable in the sight of our Lord. I pray the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the communion of the Holy Ghost be with you. B. P. * * * * * Lancaster, Neb., Oct. 25, 1891. Our Dear Sister in the Lord: I received your kind note through our Brother Burge. I am thankful for your words to us and for the encouragement I received through you. I am trying to live a Christian life, to follow the teachings of the words of God in the book He has given. I am persuaded of myself I can do nothing, but by the help of God and our Saviour I am able to resist temptations and sin. The world looks down upon me from two standpoints--the one because of my color, and the other because I try to serve the living God through Christ our Lord. I feel that I am weak and need much help, both from the Lord and from the brethren and sisters. I need your prayers daily to help me in my surroundings and trials. We are hated and mocked, but this does not move us. My faith is strong and I will, through the grace of God, meet you in Heaven. In my imagination I still hear those words that you spoke to us, and I hope they will continue to ring in my ear. I do not fail to mention you in my prayer to God the Father, in the name of our Lord and Master. Our chaplain has just returned from the prison congress and he gave us a talk on prison reform. From your brother that is colored, that had a talk with you in the warden's office. J. H. No. 1579. * * * * * West Virginia Penitentiary, Jan. 31, 1892. Dear Sister Wheaton: Your letter to "Boys in the Penitentiary" was received, and it gave me pleasure to read it to them in the chapel, as also that enclosed for the female prisoners; and after reading the latter the officer in charge gave it to the sisters, and they can digest its helpful contents in the quietude of their own apartments. At the very mention of a letter from you I could see many faces light up with interest, and I am sure your earnest and faithful appeals for recruits to the Master's cause on your visits to this place will never be forgotten; also that many hearts feel to thank you for the kindly and unabated interest that prompted your letter of cheer and encouragement. God bless you with power by His Spirit in your noble work. Twenty-six lifetime men are confined here, and I am one of the number; but I am glad to tell you that even here I have learned a freedom which is not compassed by iron bars, and I am looking forward with confidence when I will come into the full enjoyment of that inheritance which is "incorruptible, undefiled and fadeth not away." Have been here over thirteen years; converted twelve years and nine months ago, and have been trying to do something for my Master ever since, and I feel glad that He has wonderfully blessed and kept me in His love. Pray for us that God will save the fallen. Yours in Christian love, W. S. D. * * * * * Oregon State Penitentiary. Salem, Ore., April 3, 1892. Dear Mother Wheaton: Your kind letter was handed to me by our Superintendent to-day, and we were more than pleased to hear from you. May our Father in Heaven protect and keep you for many years to come in the faithful work of rescuing the souls of men who are so far astray that each one saved seems like a miracle. Many a prayer has gone up from the solitudes of our prison cells for Mother Wheaton's health and success, and many of us in conversation have oft repeated, "God bless Mother Wheaton!" But we have not lost sight of Jesus, always our Friend. We have services every Sunday. Mother Smith (God bless her!) comes once a month, and each Sunday our pulpit is occupied by some minister from the city. Then some night during the week our choir has rehearsal; so you see, we have plenty of opportunity to worship and listen to the divine Word, and in consequence we are very grateful to our kind officials, who earnestly look out for our spiritual welfare, especially Mr. Downing, our good Christian Superintendent, who would not rest easy if he thought one of us was in want of anything that he could obtain for us that would be for our good. We often think of the difference between some other prisons and ours. "Oh, Father in Heaven, not as we will, but as Thou wilt, but spread a little divine love in those quarters where it is so much needed"--that is often our prayer. God bless you and protect you in your noble work, and may the jewels in your crown be many, are the prayers of many of the inmates of this institution, and when you come again many an honest hand will unite with yours in our expression of love and faithfulness for Him who died on Calvary, not in the arms of a loving mother, but between two such men as many of us have been; yet one of them dwells with Him in Paradise, which proves to a certainty that He saves to the uttermost. God bless you again. Write us often, and when you reach those pearly gates there will be those to meet you who will say, "You showed me the way." Yours in Christ. WM. AND YOUR BOYS. * * * * * Lancaster, Neb., Aug. 20, 1892. Dear Sister in the Lord: Yours of the 5th at hand. I always rejoice to hear from you, or to hear you speak, for your words are words of comfort, and are after the doctrine of our Lord and Master and according to the Scripture. It is a great comfort to me to hear or speak with those that live in Christ Jesus. No I have no thought of turning back to the poor and weak elements of this world. By the help of the Lord I will press on to the ends that I may claim all the promises, and I want to be found faithful in all good works, and in doing good to those that have need. The promise you spoke of can be found in Revelation, 14:12. You ask if I will seek to be such. Yes, with all my heart. God, that knows all our hearts, knows that my desire is to live and work for His sake and for His glory. As for me, I am not worthy to be called His child, but only a servant, because I have wasted my life in sin when I ought to have served my God and Lord. But four years ago the Lord drew me unto Him. I repented of my ways, gave my heart and soul to God the Father, and Jesus our Lord. I received forgiveness of my sins, and not many days after I received the promise of my Lord. That was the promise of the Comforter, which came to me--even me. And now shall I turn back? No, God helping me, I will endure all things; for He is able to keep me in the hour of temptation. And oh! His promises are so true to them that put their trust in Him. In Isaiah, 41st chapter and 10th verse, and again in 1st Kings, 19th chapter, 7th verse, we are told the journey is too great for us without God's help. But if we accept the help we shall be faithful to the end. And here is another promise that He will help in time of need: "Lo! I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." (Matt. 28:20.) He has promised to reward us according to our works. (Rev. 22:12.) I have done nothing worthy of reward. But you have labored and have kept the faith, and God will reward you for all your trials and tribulations, and give you a crown that will never fade. Yes, God helping me, I will meet you in Heaven, where there is no more sorrow and no more weeping, but joy in our Saviour. May God bless you. May He give you health and strength to the end, is my prayer. Pray for me, for the prayer of the righteous availeth much. Yours in Jesus, P. B. * * * * * Ionia, Mich., October 21, 1894. Mrs. Wheaton. Dear Madam: I write to thank you for those pamphlets you sent me, and I think I can say they did me good. At any rate, I am trying to faithfully follow their suggestions. I practically devour any of that kind of reading, for, thank God, I do hunger and thirst after instruction in His word--I should like to have said righteousness, but I don't--there! I cannot finish what I was going to say, for a blessed thought has just come to me--that is, Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him for righteousness. I not only believe God, but Jesus Christ also. So I believe I may say I hunger and thirst after righteousness. Anyhow, I pray every day to get nearer to God. You will be glad to hear that I have decided to leave all and follow Him. I have consecrated my life to His service. When I get out, wherever I feel that He calls me, I shall go there, if it is to China. I am praying for sanctification. I want to get so close to God as to always be able to feel His presence. This is just two weeks since you were here, and I started to serve God. Praise the Lord, I think I am justified in saying that I am a new lad. I have given up tobacco and don't feel the need of it any more than if I had never tasted it. I have given up profanity just as easily. Now I want to read the Bible every day. Since you were here I have read Corinthians I and II, Revelations, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Ruth, and am now reading the Acts of the Apostles. Before you came I had thought a little of being a Christian, but had not taken any steps towards it, but you decided me, and I thank you for it. I must close now or my paper will give out. Pray for me that I may receive sanctification and have the indwelling of the Holy Ghost. God bless you. I remain, yours sincerely and respectfully, M. J. B. * * * * * Lancaster, Neb., Feb. 3, 1895. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. My Dear Sister in Christ: Yours was received with welcome and thanksgiving to our Lord that comforts us through His Holy Spirit. Yes, God has given me grace to overcome many temptations. He is my whole trust and confidence, and I know He hears my prayers, and He will open a door for you here. There are some hungry souls here for the truth. I believe if you had been permitted to have service, some would have been saved. About the first of December there were some seeking quite sincerely. My desire is that I might be found faithful to the end, and I ask your prayers for me to Him who is able to save to the uttermost. I am so glad you had the Spirit of God in your service in Lincoln December 25. We had the follies of this world without the Spirit of God. But the world knows its own and they please not our Lord. And because we are not of the world, the world hates us, and that without a cause. I have been praying for you that God will give you the victory in all things. And now may the peace and grace of God our Lord be with all His saints and them that truly love Him. From your brother in Jesus, P. B. B. * * * * * Cole City, Ga., April 26, 1896. Mrs. Wheaton. Dear Mother: I take the pleasure of writing you a few lines. I do hope that I can meet you and tell you the good you have done me. God is the one and the only one I look to. I want to go to Heaven and believe I will. I believe some day, if we do not meet on earth again, that we will meet in Heaven. Poor and needy though I be, God, my maker, cares for me; Gives me clothing, shelter, food; He will hear me when I pray. He is with me night and day, When I sleep and when I wake. Keeps me safe for Jesus' sake, He who reigns above the sky, Once became as poor as I. He whose blood for me was shed, Had not where to lay His head. Though I labor here awhile, He will bless me with His smile. And when this short life is past, I shall rest with Him at last. I hope and pray that you will have power and strength to obey the Master's will. Good-bye, P. McM. * * * * * Boise City, Idaho, May 11, 1896. Mrs. Wheaton. My Dear Mother in Christ: I hope you are well and enjoying the love of the Lord. It is a great thing to be in a position to work for the Lord Jesus. We are having good services now every Sunday, and we have a good Bible class of our own. The Lord has wonderfully blessed this place, and I hope to see many souls saved. Praise God! All the boys send love and wish to see you, and we all wish you success. God bless you in your good work. W. B. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., Feb. 26, 1897. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton and Mrs. Kelly, Dear Friends: Enclosed please find P. O. order for $6.66, which is sent you with the best wishes of the inmates of this institution, as a slight token of the appreciation which we have of your efforts toward the uplifting of fallen beings like ourselves, and the upbuilding of Christ's Kingdom. Although most of the contributions came from the C. E. members, yet they were not confined strictly to them. It was a surprise to me, when in conversation with many of the boys, during our short time of liberty on Washington's Birthday, to find among them such a general feeling of friendliness and respect toward you, even from those who usually scoff at everything religious, and who are thoroughly hardened in sin and crime. I am sure it will be gratifying to you to know that God so blesses your efforts that even the most hardened ones can feel the influence of His Holy Spirit in your ministrations. Rest assured that we shall always hold you in kindly remembrance, and shall never cease to pray that God's richest blessing may crown your efforts. While our contribution is very small, we know that you will receive it remembering only the motive which prompts its bestowal, which is the only method by which the value of a gift can be determined. With renewed expression of our wishes and prayers for your success, we are, Yours for Christ, WAUPUN PRISON C. E. SOCIETY. A. I. W., COR. SEC. P. S.--The enclosed order is sent in the chaplain's name, W. G. Bancroft. * * * * * Eddyville, Ky., April 18, 1897. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. My Dear Christian Friend: It is with pleasure that I write you these few lines to let you know that your visit to Eddyville was not in vain. Many of my brothers here express their appreciation of your visit. We have some earnest workers for the salvation of men in this prison. We are praying for you that God will strengthen you for His work. We hope to see you again soon, and receive a message from Jesus, for we receive you as His messenger. All my brothers send their thanks to you, for they say you seem like a mother to them. Some of us have not seen our mothers for thirteen or fourteen years, and only live in hope of seeing them in heaven, when we can lay down these stripes and greet them there. O my dear Christian friend, when I think of a wasted life and how easy a poor frail being like myself is led off, it almost crushes my heart, but thank God that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin, and that is my only hope. I want to meet you in heaven and, by the grace of God, I'll be there. We will not be in prison always. Jesus will come to claim his children soon. Those who oppress us now will all have to stand before that just Judge and give an account of what they have done to crush the hearts of their fellowmen. May God forgive them, is my prayer, for they know not what they do. I hope to hear from you soon. May God bless you in His service. Your friend in Christ, L. P. * * * * * Laramie, Wyo., May 31, 1897. Dear Mother Wheaton: I got your letter some time ago and also the papers. Was real glad to get them and to hear from you. I also get the paper regularly, and when we are through reading it I send it to a little boy in Montana that I used to know. We still continue our Bible class and have several new members. We have changed the time from Thursday until Sunday, on account of some of the boys who work on the farm. I got a good letter from a friend in Kansas not long ago. He tells me that my wife and little girls have joined the Christian Church. The happiest days of my life were spent with them, and if there is one of us four who has to be lost I hope it may be me. I want your prayers for our Bible class and that God will make me a better man; and especially for my wife and children I want your prayers. It will be four years to-morrow since I have seen them. Some of the boys often speak of you, and I can assure you of a welcome by us if you ever come this way again. May God bless you and sustain you in this world for many years to come, is my prayer. The text of the sermon we heard to-day was John 3:16. W. J. T. Luke 15:15. * * * * * Waupun, Wis., July 4, 1897. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. Madam: The privilege of writing is accorded me by the rules of this institution, and as I have no friends to whom I write, I will address this letter to you. I have not taken any great interest in your work, but have heard you speak before you visited this place last February, and under similar circumstances. All are doing nicely here and are looking forward to the treat we shall get to-morrow by being allowed the liberty of the yard, as we celebrate the Fourth then. The Christian Endeavor Society is getting along nicely, I guess, though I have not been present at their last two or three meetings, but some of the boys seem to take considerable interest in the work. The front yard is very pretty. All the flowers are in bloom and nature seems to bless the convicts as well as those whose conduct permits them to remain out in a cruel world. Flower Mission Day was observed here June 20th. Some ladies of the W. C. T. U. distributed some flowers and spoke in the chapel. Told us of the sufferings of Jennie Cassidy of Kentucky, the originator of Flower Mission Day, invoked a divine blessing on us, and sent us to our cells, feeling that our lot was not so bad as others have had to endure. The prison is about the same, six hundred males and ten or twelve females; some changes in the discipline; the lock-step is dispensed with; we are allowed two books a week from the library, and other changes which lighten our burden. Believing you will pardon this liberty I have taken, I am, Most respectfully, No. 6965. * * * * * Laramie, Wyoming, May, 1898. Dear Mother: Mr. ---- requests me to answer your kind and most welcome letter. I was thinking of you this morning, and of your mission on earth, and how you had spent your life in the service of the Lord, and in trying to benefit others. We regard you as the Good Samaritan, and pray that the Lord will bless you in your work wherever you may go. The members of the Bible class unite in sending you their love and best regards, and will be delighted to have you visit us again. According to nature, your earthly mission will soon come to a close, but your acts of kindness and deeds of mercy will live on forever. Remember us in your prayers. It is written that the prayers of the righteous avail much. Our class has increased considerably since you were here. Some of the boys seem to be very much in earnest and sincerely repent of their past conduct. I hope to live the remainder of my life in the service of the Lord, and I hope to meet you in a brighter and a better world, where parting and sorrow are no more; where our tears are all wiped away, and the light of the Lord shines forever. Sincerely yours, F. P. 309. * * * * * Eddyville Prison, March 17, 1900. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, Prison Evangelist: Though it has been one year the 5th of February past since I heard your kind, sweet, motherly voice, how glad and proud I am to see you once again and hear your kind voice, full of a mother's pity for her children. May God bless you, mother, in your journey from prison to prison to teach fallen men that there is a Jesus who loves them and will forgive their sins if they only believe on Him. Thank God for His Son He sent into the world to save sinners, for Jesus has pardoned all my sins, and I mean to serve God for the remainder of my life. You are welcome--thrice welcome. If you did not love us you would not come to visit us each year so faithfully. May God bless and go with you wherever you may be or go. Though I have only about three weeks to serve here yet, I thank God I will leave a saved boy through the blood of Jesus. Bless His holy name! I highly appreciate your kind words and the advice you gave me. I will take your advice. I will close by saying, "May God watch between me and thee." Amen. My motto through life is, "In God I trust." I remain, Your son in Jesus, F. P. K., Jr. * * * * * Yuma, Arizona, May 25, 1903. Dear Sister Wheaton: Our kind Superintendent handed me your letter of the 22d inst., also the tracts you sent, which I distributed to those who I knew would read and appreciate them. I also showed your letter to several, and intended reading it, or having it read, during church yesterday morning, but our minister was late, so I thought best to wait till next Sunday. During the week I will pass it around to as many as I can. All to whom I showed the letter seemed glad to hear from you, and requested me to ask you to remember them in your prayers, and said to tell you they hoped you would be able to visit the prison again soon. I am sorry I haven't a more favorable report of Christian progress in the prison; but Satan seems to hold the upper hand, and there has been no conversion for some time, and there has been quite a number of Christian boys sent out, and a great many new men came in of late, which may account for the small attendance at services. I hope the Lord will open the way for some good revivalist to come to Yuma and stay for a while at least. This place needs a real stirring up. I hope that the Lord will continue to bless you in your work for Him among fallen men and women, and that you may lead many to live better lives and be prepared for heaven. Your brother in Christ, R. C. * * * * * Frankfort, Ky., October 8, 1903. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, Prison Evangelist. Dear Mother Wheaton: It is a matter of the deepest regret that I am in prison, but I am very proud to have you call me one of your boys. My dear mother was named Elizabeth. I was her pride and joy, but rejoice to think that my fall did not occur until after her death. It would please my sweet wife if you could write her a letter of encouragement and good cheer. I hope that your latter years may be many, and am certain they will be filled with the joy and blessedness which come to those who are serving the Master in such a noble work as yours. Most respectfully yours, H. E. Y. * * * * * [Illustration: DRUG DEPARTMENT IN PRISON HOSPITAL.] Frankfort, Kentucky, November 15, 1903. Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa. My Dear Mother Wheaton: Your visit to those who were confined to their beds in our prison hospital October 6th was a great blessing to them. Your gospel hymns gave them visions of angels singing the praises of their Master, and your prayers carried them before the great white throne for mercy and pardon. Prisoners need Christianity more than any other class of men, and when they get the love of God in their hearts they immediately become better prisoners, are more contented, and have more hope for this life and the life to come. Surely your work is a noble one, and each song and prayer for prisoners makes your heavenly reward more glorious. With many thanks for the kind words spoken to me, I remain, Most respectfully, H. E. Y. * * * * * Jefferson City, Mo., Sept. 2, 1904. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa. Dear Mother in Jesus: I thought I would address you in behalf of a Christian friend by the name of J., as he is sick. He requested me to write to you, and as I would like to hear from a Christian from the outside world, he said you would answer my letter. I am trying to live a Christian life. When I was almost ready to give up and go back to my sinful life, there was a bright light came in my pathway to refresh my soul and to point out the dark places wherein I stood. And this light was Brother J. When he talks to any one it is in a loving way, and to talk to him five minutes one can tell that he is one of God's true children. I enjoy greatly to hear him talk of Jesus' love, for it does my soul good. Have you any Christian papers and tracts that you would please send to me? I would enjoy reading them greatly. I am your boy, saved in Christ Jesus. Geo. W. R. * * * * * Huntsville, Texas, Feb. 17, 1905. Dear Mother Wheaton: Yours to our chaplain, Dr. M., has just been handed to me, and it affords me great pleasure to write you, for I often think of you, and the good lady that was here with you, and I knew it would be gratifying to you to know how sincerely the boys appreciate your words of kindness and Christian advice for their spiritual welfare. I have heard many of them speak of you, and it was always with heartfelt wishes for your success and happiness. I trust and pray that many lost souls will be brought to Christ through your noble work in the meeting you mention. Through reading the Christian Herald I have been much impressed with the need of missionary work in India. And I pray that Miss Grace, who was with you here, will be abundantly blessed in her undertaking. I assure you that we will all be glad to see you at any time. God's richest blessings upon you. I beg to remain, Yours in Christ, W. H. S. CHAPTER XXIII. Kind Words from Friends. We give here a few letters from dear friends who have been especially interested in the Master's work, some of whom have given me many words of encouragement, or otherwise been helpful to me in advancing the work of the gospel. FROM H. L. HASTINGS AND WIFE. 47 Cornhill Place, Boston, Mass., January 27, 1886. Blessed Sister: Your card came duly. Glad to hear. Sorry you could not call. Mrs. Hastings wanted to see you. Come to our house when you will. If you go to New York, call on Miss Annie Delaney, Fruit and Bible Mission, 416 E. 26th St., New York, opposite the Bellevue Hospital--right in the middle of prisons and prisoners. Tell them I sent you. Miss D. is superintendent and has lived with us and can open doors there. I was at State Prison one night. Heard many good testimonies from your friends there. Surely, your labors have been blessed. May the Lord direct your way in all these things, and guide your endeavors. How much you need the Heavenly Father's guidance. He will guide you with His eye. Pray that you may know and do His will, and pray for us that we may please Him in all things. Do you need some tracts or papers? Let us know. Yours in the work, H. L. HASTINGS. * * * * * Goshen, Mass., March 9, 1900. My Dear Sister: I am very glad indeed to hear from you, and to know that you are still alive and still at work. It was a great shock to me when Mr. Hastings left us. But the Lord has been very good to me, and I feel that He means what He says: "E'en down to old age I will never leave thee." "I'll never, no, never, no, never forsake." This is a beautiful and a comforting thought to me at this time. May God bless you, my sister, and keep you in health to do His work, is the prayer of Your friend, MRS. H. L. HASTINGS. (Per E. B.) * * * * * E. E. BYRUM, AUTHOR AND EDITOR. September 11, 1903. During the past few years I have been acquainted with Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, and known of her earnestness and zeal in behalf of the unfortunate prisoners of our land. For many years her time has been almost wholly given to the work of relieving the distressed and discouraged in their cells, and in prison chapels. Her songs and words of encouragement, mingled with tears, have caused the feelings of depression and sadness to flee away, and those bowed down with sorrow to grasp a ray of hope and look forward with renewed energy to a higher life, trusting in Him who is able to keep. Many years of continued evangelistic work in the penitentiaries and prisons of America have given her a wide range of experiences of prison life, a description of which cannot fail to be of intense interest to every reader. It was partially due to her untiring zeal that I was moved to write the book entitled "Behind the Prison Bars." Her written words will continue to warn and comfort after her departure from this world to her home beyond the cares of life. E. E. BYRUM. Moundsville, W. Va. FROM MOTHER OF PRISONER. Chicago, March 4, 1900. Dear Friend: I was greatly surprised and glad to hear from you, for my son has often spoken of you and has regretted that the quarantine has kept you away. I feel very grateful to you for taking an interest in my dear boy, for he is still very dear to me. You cannot imagine my feelings all these years, knowing he was behind gloomy walls. My health has given way two or three times on account of it. Like so many others, he thought he knew best, and left a good home to go roving. The cause of his downfall is due to bad company, but then, his time is up in October. I hope to see him once more and keep him with me, for I am growing old--am nearly sixty-two. I shall be very glad to welcome you to our home. If you should see my dear boy before you come to Chicago, tell him I am waiting patiently until I see him. This letter hardly expresses my feelings, but, sleeping or waking, my thoughts are nearly always with my absent boy. Once more accept thanks from a broken-hearted mother. Mrs. M. E. F. FROM A PRISONER'S DAUGHTER. Denver, Colo., Jan. 7, 1903. My Dear Mother Wheaton: Praise God for salvation this afternoon! I am glad I found your address, for I have wanted to write to you for a long time and tell you the result of your visit to R. State Prison, where you talked with my precious father. He wrote me soon after you left and said you left him under awful conviction. He confessed and forsook his sins and is now a man saved by the blood that was shed on the cross for him. He said that he was restless from the time you left until he found Jesus. He told how you and a young lady talked and prayed with him, and how, after he retired, he rolled and tossed in awful agony until about eleven o'clock, when he cried to God for mercy. God heard his cries and came to his release. O hallelujah! It just makes me shout to read his letters now. I can tell by them that he is really resting in Jesus. He before seldom wrote more than two pages, and now he writes from fifteen to twenty-four. And oh, such letters! I just can't help but cry for joy when I read them and realize that my precious papa is serving the only true and living God. I give God the glory and all of the honor for what has been done; and I praise God for using you as an instrument through whom He worked. Eternity alone can reveal the result. My heart is full of praises to Jesus my King this evening. He has done so much for me lately. He blesses me in soul and body and supplies all my needs. I may go to C. soon and try to do something for my father. Pray that God may lead me and that the devil may not hinder in any way, if God sees fit to release papa from prison. I am perfectly resigned to God's will. Your sister for Jesus, M. H. (This daughter was a successful Christian worker.) FROM AN EDITOR. Ashburn, Ga., May 12, 1897. Dear Sister: Grace and peace be multiplied to you. I received your letter and communication for "Holiness Advocate," which will appear in the next issue. Always let me know where to find you. I would have written sooner, but have been away to Macon, where I saw Sister Perry. She has been here and visited the convict camps since you were here. I have been visiting those camps pretty regularly since you left here. You put it on me and I am trying to be faithful. You asked me in your letter if you knew me. Yes, I met you here. It was in front of my store. You held the street service here at Ashburn, while waiting for the train, and I was with you until the train left. Well, sister, I will never get done praising God for ever meeting you. It marked a new epoch in my experience. I want you to take my paper on your heart. Ask the Holy Spirit to run it for me and the Father to supply financial help. I am trusting Him for it. How glad the prisoners in the camp will be to hear from you in this way. I will send up to both the camps a bundle of the issue containing your letter. I want you all to pray for the South, that a deeper work may be done in the hearts of the Holiness people; that the missionary spirit may get hold of us so that we will send out our sons and daughters to tell of Jesus' love to a perishing, dying world. May the Lord bless you and use you in the future even more powerfully than in the past. Come and see us when you can. Yours, bound for Heaven, J. LAWRENCE, Ed. Holiness Advocate. * * * * * Ashburn, Ga., August 25, 1898. Dear Sister Wheaton: Your letter came to us all right, and you have no idea what gladness it brings to us all to hear from you, and yet conviction. For it certainly convicts us for the little we are doing when we see how the Lord is enabling you to put in full time. Pray for me that I may be more zealous. Things are taking a deeper move in the South. A great number of the Holiness people are getting down for a real experience. We have been satisfied long enough with a profession. So you may expect something from the South in the near future. Men and women giving themselves for the foreign field and for the home field, working in the slums and in the prisons and wherever God may lead them. Love to all the saints at Tabor. I have never met any of them, but I do love them and the work they are doing. "Blessed be the tie that binds." God bless you, and may you be preserved blameless unto His coming. Yours in Jesus' love, J. LAWRENCE. FROM AN EX-PRISONER. Sioux City, Ia., Jan. 31, 1901. Mrs. Wheaton: I don't suppose you will remember me, but possibly you may, as I think I was one of the most wretched in or out of prison at that time. It was at Sioux Falls, So. Dak., between three and four years ago, if I remember correctly. You visited the prison and spoke to us in chapel, and later in the day you and a lady with you, came around to the cells. I was in cell No. 13. You shook hands with me and asked, "Are you a Christian?" I replied, "No." Again you asked, "Have you ever been one?" "No." "Will you meet me in Heaven?" you asked again, and I answered, "I will try to." You spoke only a few words, saying, "Do not be discouraged." These few words and that warm hand-shake helped me very much. I was indeed much discouraged. Life seemed dark indeed. I was serving an eleven years' sentence. I was under deep conviction of sin. Not long after that the blessed Christ came into my heart. I believed on His name and He saved my soul. Two years ago last August I was pardoned from the prison. The 17th of last March I became Superintendent of a Rescue Mission in Dakota, and for ten months or nearly that I was there and the Lord blessed our efforts by saving souls. I am now married. My wife was converted in the mission last June. She is an accomplished musician and singer and, the Lord being willing, we expect to go out and preach the gospel among railroad men in the near future. I have often thought of you and your labor of love among prisoners. May God bless and encourage you in the work, is my earnest prayer. I heard that you were in Sioux Falls at the prison a short time ago. I did not know it in time to see you. If the prisoners only knew what joy and peace there is in the service of Jesus, it seems to me they would yield their hearts to Him. Again I wish you godspeed in your work. May you have many precious jewels for the Master's crown. To Him belong the praise and glory. Good-bye, and God bless you and the sister that was with you. Never be discouraged. Jesus loves and uses you. Yours, in His service, T. F. M. * * * * * Sioux Falls, S. Dak., Feb. 9, 1904. Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. Dear Sister: Your card of November was received. Hope you will pardon me for not writing before. I am glad that you are still trusting Jesus, and working in His vineyard. May God bless, comfort, strengthen and keep you. Jesus is coming again, perhaps soon. It may be that we shall be alive when He comes. If so we shall be caught up together with the dead in Christ to meet Him in the air, so shall we ever be with Him. Blessed be His name. (I Thess. 4-17.) I want to exalt Him. I want my daily life to be a testimony of His power to save and to keep. Many years of my life were spent in sin. Finally I was tried, convicted and sentenced to state's prison for a long term of years. God says: "Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap, for He that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption, but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting." (Galatians 6:7, 8.) God's word is true. I found my mind giving away and my body a physical wreck. I read the Bible and God showed me that I was a lost man. I tried to destroy my life, but God in his love and mercy would not permit it. I was in great darkness. I said to a friend, there is no hope for me in this life or the life to come, but I did not know Jesus Christ nor His saving power. God sent His ministers each Sunday morning to preach the blessed gospel, and one Sunday morning He sent "Mother Wheaton" to us. In the afternoon, I believe it was, she visited us in our cells. I had quarreled with my cell-mate, and he had left me. Mrs. Wheaton came and shook hands with me, and asked if I was a Christian. I said, "No." Again she asked, "Have you ever been a Christian?" I replied, "No." She said, "Will you meet me in Heaven?" I said, "I will try." With a warm hand-shake and a few words of encouragement, she left me. God helped me to believe in Jesus Christ, and there came into my life joy and peace such as I had never known before, even in my best days on the outside. After my conversion I asked God if it was His will that I might be pardoned out. He also heard and answered that prayer. God is love. He loves the vilest sinner. To-day I have a loving Christian wife and two lovely children. I have no desire for the old life of drinking, gambling, etc., but my desire is to love and serve God and help my fellowmen to find Jesus, who is mighty to save and to keep. To Jesus belongs all praise and glory. If it is his will, may He use this testimony to bring souls to Himself. T. F. M. * * * * * 4064 Washington Avenue, St. Louis, Mo., October 25, 1899. My Dear Mrs. Wheaton: I thank you so much for your letter. I was greatly pleased in reading it. I will be so glad to see you when you come. I realize, as you say, that I have never fully let go of myself in the Master's work, but I have given my life to Him, and if I know my own heart, I am willing to be and do anything He shall choose for me. I love to help lost ones, and if the Lord should use me as He does you, I believe I should be the happiest person in the world. Do pray for me, won't you, that the Lord may lead me into all His will? Time is flying, and soon all of our opportunities will be over and our Lord will take us to Himself. Pray that the Lord will keep me busy serving Him. I love you and pray for you. May you be kept rejoicing in hope even though you see nothing but sin and sorrow around you. (Psalm 125:5, 6.) Lovingly yours, TULA D. ELY. * * * * * Sapphire, N. C., August 15, 1901. My Dear Sister: I received your letter to-day. I have been thinking about you and praying for you often, and see by your letter that God has made all of your trials a blessing to you and know that God can make up for any loss He lets us have. What a hard time you did have, dear sister. I praise God for bringing you through it with such joy. Sometimes it seems true He does with us like He did with Job--just tells Satan he may do everything but take our lives, and when our self-justification and friends are gone, He joins us in with Himself and makes us powerful in His own power. He knows whether we want Him, and if we do we will be taken through death to self and put to hard tests. It seems sometimes as if He hides His face to let us suffer and say, "Though He slay me yet will I trust Him." I am glad you are with the people who hold you up in prayer. We need one another's prayers in these times when Satan has so many snares. Tula is well. She and Mildred send love. Affectionately and in Jesus, love, CLARA D. ELY. * * * * * S----, Colo., June 24, 1903. Dear Mother in Christ: May this find you well and happy in the Lord Jesus. We have not forgotten you and we never shall. Our gospel tent meeting at P. was a blessed time. Souls were saved and sanctified. We give all the glory to Jesus. We are holding meetings here in our tent. The Lord is blessing the preaching of His Word. The Lord willing, we will begin a meeting at Raton, New Mexico, the 2nd of August. We would like to have you with us if it were the Lord's will. The Lord is helping us while we are here to open a home for poor girls. We have rented a five-room house and He is giving us everything we need for the home. Glory to God for all things! My brother H. is with us in the gospel work. God is blessing him in singing the gospel. Remember us all in prayer. May the Lord give you many souls in your work. We both send love to you. Your children, J. E. AND WIFE. The above is of especial interest to me though the reader may have to read between the lines, as it were, to understand why it is so. The writers are faithful and efficient workers in the Master's cause. A TESTIMONIAL. Columbia, South Carolina. To Christian Women: Dear Sisters: We have long known the bearer, Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, and can testify as to her arduous labors for the most needy classes. It was our privilege to have her in our Home for one week and we certainly received the Lord's blessing during that time. We are working for Christ, but her labors are more abundant, her trials far greater. As she goes forth without commission or salary she must depend entirely upon God. He usually supplies her through His people. Few of us could work where and as she does, but we may lovingly minister to her necessity and the dear Lord will surely bless in so doing. Yours in Christ, MARIA JONES, ELLA F. BRAINARD. The writer of the following sketch was an orphan girl making her home, when I first met her, with some of my relatives in Iowa. She was raised by her aunt and was kept in school and in society till she was grown. Having been converted at the age of twelve years and engaging some in Christian work, soon after my first acquaintance with her she received a call from God to devote her life wholly to His service. Being an orphan the Lord gave me a mother's love and care for her. She went with me to the Missionary Training Home at Tabor, from whence she went as a missionary to India. While at the Home she was faithful in caring for orphan children, etc., and traveled with me some, staying at one time several months as a worker in a rescue home in Chicago, and later spending some time in evangelistic work. I have elsewhere mentioned her trip with me to the Pacific coast on her way to India. It was my privilege in the fall of 1903 to travel with Mother Wheaton in Gospel work in prisons, jails, missions, churches, etc. God made her a blessing to many souls who needed a mother's love and sympathy. She always lifts up Jesus, that souls might be drawn unto Him and be saved. We first visited the Reformatory for Girls at Mitchelville, Iowa. We were kindly received by the Superintendent who had been a friend of Mother Wheaton's for several years. He gave her the privilege of holding services in the chapel with the several hundred girls. She also visited the girls in their cottages, singing, praying and talking with them. We then visited the prisons at the following places: Moundsville, W. Va.; Baltimore, Md.; Allegheny, Pa.; Columbus, Ohio; Waupun, Wis.; Stillwater, Minn.; Frankfort, Ky.; Nashville and Brushy Mountain, Tenn. In the hospital of the prison at Waupun we visited Mr. Colgrove, a prisoner who was converted fifteen years previously when Mother Wheaton was holding a service in the prison. He was a life prisoner but he yielded to the conviction of the Holy Spirit and was saved. During these years he proved by his daily walk that he was a Christian. He often conducted the devotional exercises, and he had taught three Bible classes, two in German and one in English, until his health failed. As I bade him goodbye he said, "I will meet you in the better world if I never meet you here again." He was in poor health and a few months later died a triumphant death. The prison physicians gave permission to visit the sick, for they know the words of comfort and songs of cheer by Mother Wheaton will give them encouragement and a desire to live for the better world. In a Gospel Mission I heard an ex-convict testify to how God had saved him from a life of sin. He said that he knew "Mother Wheaton" but perhaps she did not know him dressed as he was; for when she had met him before he was behind prison bars. He praised God for such a person who was willing to work among that class of people. I am sure there is much good accomplished in the prisons for individuals as Mother Wheaton stands at the door after services and shakes hands with the hundreds of prisoners as they pass out. Her "God bless you" is not soon forgotten. When her work is ended and the rewards of the righteous are given, many will arise and call her blessed. GRACE YARRETT. [Illustration: MOTHER WHEATON.] CHAPTER XXIV. Sketches from Press Reports. My call being not only to the prison bound but to every creature, the newspaper men have received their part of the Gospel message and were often instrumental in heralding some truth to their readers whom I have been unable to reach in person. I have often been interviewed by reporters regarding my work for the Master and they frequently give accounts of meetings held in the prisons, on the streets, etc., very correctly, though sometimes in a humorous style and from that standpoint of the onlookers or the prisoners. In this chapter I give a few sketches from reports of my work clipped from the papers. A LABOR OF LOVE. A WOMAN WHO LEFT A LUXURIOUS HOME TO SERVE THE UNFORTUNATE. MRS. WHEATON AMONG THE CRIMINALS AT THE PENITENTIARY. SHE VISITS THE HOSPITALS, JAIL AND WORK-HOUSE--AFFECTING SCENES WHILE SHE PREACHED. A white-haird lady, clad in deep mourning, carrying a volume bound in morocco, visited the penitentiary yesterday. This was Mrs. E. R. Wheaton. In a few minutes she was delivering a sermon to the convicts. She is a remarkable woman. Four years ago she left a luxurious home in Ohio to preach the gospel to convicts, and since then has exhorted in the penitentiaries of thirty-seven States. She visits hospitals and the abodes of fallen women, also, and has ministered to the wants of thousands of unfortunates. An _American_ reporter asked her how she happened to be engaged in the work. "No member of my family was ever in a prison or afflicted as are those to whom I speak," she exclaimed; "my evangelical work did not originate in any morbid sympathy because of personal bereavement. I simply felt called of God to preach his word to the people, and have entered upon it for the remainder of my life. My heart and soul are in it, and though I am far from my dear ones I am happy." She had been speaking to the convicts but a few minutes when the effect of her words of exhortation was visible. At first the majority were listless, but as she warmed to her cause they responded with closer attention and in fifteen minutes every eye was fixed intently upon the gentle, earnest woman, who sought to save their souls and bring a divine light to their benighted lives. When she closed her discourse and asked if any desired her prayers twenty hardened men of crime, with tears in their eyes, raised their hands and three advanced to the mourners' seat. With these she prayed and every word was fraught with all the potent power with which the voice of woman in prayer is capable. The three unfortunates were moved as men seldom are and at the close of the meeting professed conversion. Mrs. Wheaton then visited the hospital department of the penitentiary, after which she went to the jail, work-house and city hospital and at each place delivered a discourse. To-day she will see fallen women.--Nashville American, Nashville, Tenn., 1887. A PRISON EVANGELIST. ELIZABETH R. WHEATON TALKS AT THE COUNTY JAIL. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, the celebrated prison evangelist, visited the Buchanan county jail yesterday, and conducted a religious service of forty minutes' length. The evangelist pointed out the errors of her hearers and advised them to make early amends. The evangelist assured the audience that all they needed to be saved was faith. Wife murderer Bulling was one of the evangelist's most attentive hearers, and the horse thieves, burglars and other criminals were among her closest listeners. Sheriff Spratt thinks much good will result from Evangelist Wheaton's visit to the bastile.--St. Joe, Mo., paper, Aug. 8, 1889. PRISON EVANGELIST. Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, prison evangelist, held services in the county jail this afternoon, lecturing and singing to the eleven prisoners there. She told in few words and four songs the whole plan of salvation, and it didn't take her but twenty minutes to do it. She talked a little while and sang "I Will Tell the Wondrous Story," following with a few words of comment her rich contralto voice burst into "You Must Be Born Again," followed in the same way. Then "It Pays to Serve the Lord," and "Parting to Meet no More," closing with a short prayer. These songs coming in the order they do, tell the whole story and make a very pretty one.--Unidentified. EVANGELISTIC SERVICE AT PRISON. Elizabeth Wheaton, a noble Christian woman who has consecrated her life to work in prisons, jails, reformatories, houses of correction, houses of refuge and hospitals, visited our city Saturday, and after presenting her credentials was given hearty permission to hold services at the prison on Sunday, Father Murphy, the Catholic chaplain, whose day it was to officiate, kindly consenting to this arrangement. Her manner would probably not be agreeable to an æsthetic Christian audience in a fashionable, upholstered church, but she knows how to reach the hearts of the men and boys who wear the stripes, one of the prisoners, a Catholic, who has been behind the bars for almost seventeen years, remarking that this was the best service they had had there during his long term of imprisonment. No one, be he Christian or pagan, could have listened to the service at the prison chapel last Sunday without being convinced that there was an opening for unselfish work among prisoners and that this lady was pre-eminently fitted for such work. There is no mawkish sentimentality about her, but an all absorbing zeal in the work of leading the criminals, the erring, the lowly, the sick and the afflicted to Christ and a better life. It is doubtful if there is an ordained minister in the land who can do as much good in this field as this plain, unpretentious, but thoroughly consecrated woman. She has now been nearly five years in this work, and has visited nearly every prison in the United States and Canada, a few in Mexico, and also the jails, reformatories, houses of refuge and hospitals in all the prominent cities through which she has passed. She has traveled almost 100,000 miles and has never met with an accident. Wherever she goes she is kindly received, non-Christians in fact treat her better than those whose sympathy and co-operation she has a right to expect. Thus does the world ever recognize and honor earnest, conscientious and capable laborers in the cause of God and humanity. She never allows a collection to be taken up in her behalf, though frequently invited to speak in churches, but accepts such offerings as may come without solicitation. Last Sunday, while she and the citizens in the audience were retiring from the chapel, a Swedish servant girl, whose name is unknown to the writer, took from her scanty purse a silver dollar and gave it to Mrs. Wheaton. If the lesson of the story of the widow's mite be true this humble girl's gift was greater than that of the millionaire who gives thousands of dollars toward the erection of a magnificent church edifice.--Stillwater, Minn., Messenger, Oct. 27, 1888. MRS. WHEATON'S ELOQUENCE. CAUSES A SUFFERING WIFE TO FORGET HER BRUISES AND FORGIVE HER CRUEL HUSBAND. The case of Henry Cooper was brought up before 'Squire F. yesterday afternoon at 2 o'clock. Catharine Cooper stated that her husband had beat her brutally on last Saturday afternoon and that this was not the first ill treatment she had received at his hands. The court room was converted into a prayer meeting and Mrs. Wheaton's prayers presented an affecting scene; before the trial was ended Mrs. Cooper asked to withdraw her prosecution and was willing to forgive her cruel husband. 'Squire F. ordered the prisoner to be taken to the workhouse to work out the cost of the suit.--Chattanooga, Tenn., paper. FROM A PRISONER IN THE PRATT MINES STOCKADE, ALABAMA. To the Chronicle: Supposing a line or two from our prison, its surroundings, happenings, etc., would be acceptable, prompts me to drop you this. The monotony of prison life is such that hardly anything transpires, that would command the notice of a news reporter, or draw an article from a newspaper correspondent. But, Mr. Editor, we had something to take place here last night that beats anything we ever saw or heard of. About the time all the convicts had finished eating the evening meal, Captain P. J. Rogers announced that all should remain seated awhile, to hear preaching. Now to hear preaching is no uncommon occurrence here, Brother Rush preaches regularly for us, and occasionally other ministers deliver discourses upon the importance of living the life of a Christian, so when Capt. R. announced that we were about to have preaching, no one experienced much motion of spirit. The minds of those who gave the matter any thought were picturing in expectation, a man, perhaps baldheaded, clad in a long priestly robe with Bible and Hymn-book in hand, and of a solemn, or sanctimonious countenance, others, perhaps, drew a different man in appearance, but none had drawn the picture correctly. Imagine our surprise when instead of a man, a woman of mature age, clad in the usual mourning apparel worn by the ladies, armed with Bible and Hymn-book, mounted the rostrum, and announced that she was going to preach to us. This announcement at once produced the most profound and reverential silence imaginable--every eye was at once riveted upon the face of the fair preacher, whose countenance wore a pleasant smile and indicated an affectionate and amiable disposition, and complete surprise or amazement was vivid upon the countenance of her entire audience. The discourse was one worthy of the attention of all who heard it--the sufferings of Jesus in and around Jerusalem--His temptation and trial of toil and misery--His holy life--His triumphant death and resurrection--His grand ascension to the realms of the blessed, were eloquently delineated. The certainty of death--the shortness of life--the never ending of the life beyond the grave were theories eagerly pressed for reception upon the minds of her hearers. Taking all in all, the discourse was well delivered and spiced with enough enthusiasm to produce good effect. But, Mr. Editor, the idea of a woman canvassing the world in behalf of the church is simply an incident so unusual that quite a number of us here eagerly inquire, what has become of the men? * * * * Elizabeth R. Wheaton, for such is the name of our distinguished visitor, related among other things, that she was called and led by the God of Glory to go all over the world and preach the gospel to the lost children of men, that the prisons, saloons, dens of sin and pollution were the places of her special care. The huts of the poor and outcast were by her to be visited and that she did not ask for money, that her Master had promised to provide all things for her and did so daily. SAW MOTHER WHEATON. THE NOTED PRISON EVANGELIST VISITED THE COUNTY JAIL PRISONERS TODAY. A kindly faced, white-haired old lady walked into the county jail this morning and asked permission to address the prisoners. She was "Mother" Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the prison evangelist, who is known from coast to coast. As soon as her identity was made known Turnkey Reynolds and his corps of assistants did their utmost to assist the generous old lady. She was shown through the building, and then allowed to enter each ward. From 11 o'clock until long after the noon hour she remained with the unfortunates, visiting them separately and then preaching to all. Tears were in the eyes of many of these hardened criminals before she had finished. "Mother" Wheaton was met at the jail entrance and asked to explain her system of working. "It is all done by faith," she said. "I have faith in God, and that is sufficient. He will provide me with all that is necessary to carry on this work." "Under whose guidance do you work?" was asked. "The Lord's, and His only," was the reply. "But are you not employed by some religious sect?" "No. I do this on my own responsibility, and for the glory of God. For the past fifteen years this has been my life's work. I go where I please and do as I please." "How far have you traveled?" "Thousands and thousands of miles. Last year I was in Europe and have been all over America." For the past forty years "Mother" Wheaton has been a professed believer in Christianity. Fifteen years ago she started in the work of visiting prisons, and has been in every place of detention in any city of note. She is received with the utmost courtesy both by the officials and the prisoners. Many of the latter have met her at different places, and most all the officials are acquainted with her and her work.--A Detroit paper. THE PRISON EVANGELIST. MRS. E. R. WHEATON DELIVERS AN ADDRESS AT THE PENITENTIARY CHAPEL SUNDAY MORNING. The service at the penitentiary chapel Sunday was made memorable by the presence and discourse of Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, the world-known prison evangelist. Chaplain Winget conducted the services and offered the invocation and in a few explanatory remarks introduced Mrs. Wheaton. Mrs. Wheaton's hair is white as silver, but she still retains her ever-youthful appearance and sprightly step. She sang in an indescribably sweet, but powerful, voice "Some Mother's Child." At the conclusion of the singing Mrs. Wheaton preached a wonderful discourse. "I was on my way to Jerusalem," said she, "and had gotten as far as London, England, when the Lord turned me back to my own country and to my suffering boys in prison; and I said God bless my children, my boys, for I am their mother. "Oh! how sad and discouraged many of you are, but if you will believe in God and read your Bible you will be comforted. How can any man have the heart not to believe the Bible and rest his case upon the bosom of the good Lord who died for us? I thank God that the good old-time religion still lives. The devil, my children, causes you all your sufferings and sorrows. Exchange him for Jesus. He will keep you. Forgive your enemies and submit yourself to the officers of the prison. You must obey--it is the Lord's will. He has placed you here for his own purpose, maybe for your soul's good and salvation. Jesus says, 'Come to me all ye that are heavy laden and I will give you rest.' Have faith. I am so sorry when some of you do wrong for the innocent must suffer with the guilty and society becomes stern with you. God bless you all."--Columbus, Ohio, paper. MRS. ELIZABETH RIDER WHEATON PREACHES TO UNFORTUNATES. VISITS THE BRIDEWELL AND HEARS THE COMPLAINT OF ONE OF THE CITY'S CHARGES. "What's the use? What have I to hope for? Who cares for me? Who'll help me? What can I do when my time expires? Everybody's hand will be against me! A hopeless drunkard is past redemption." Tears came to the eyes of Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton yesterday afternoon as she heard these words fall from the lips of a dejected prisoner at the bridewell. The prison and train evangelist whose work for fifteen years among convicts had brought her many such questions, which she was unable to answer to the satisfaction of the prisoners, spoke to the wretched man in tender tones, and told him of the consolation offered by religion. "But," she said, turning to a reporter, "what can I do in one conversation? It needs many. I'm going back to Chicago next week, and I intend to devote considerable time to every prison and house of refuge in the city. I haven't done any work in the city since the anarchist execution." Mrs. Wheaton's methods of evangelizing are sometimes dramatic. For instance, Mrs. Wheaton arrived in Chicago from St. Louis on a Wabash train early yesterday morning. Night before last, while the train was speeding along in the darkness, the occupants of the reclining chair car were startled. "Look out!" cried a voice in shrill tones. "We're coming to a high bridge. Before we reach it we pass over a curve. The rails may be all right, the bridge may be safe; but who knows?" The passengers turned around in their seats. They looked frightened and appeared anxious to know whether there was really an impending danger. They saw only a woman whose face, softened by grief, bore lines of pain and care. She was Mrs. Wheaton. "But the Christian is not afraid to die," she continued. "He welcomes death as a release from care and a blessing." Then the evangelist preached a sermon, to which all listened with attention. Although Mrs. Wheaton has visited every state in the Union many times during her fifteen years of missionary work, she has been in a sleeping car but once. Railroads give her passes. She has no property, and, of course, can collect no money from convicts, though occasionally she receives a contribution on trains. "The trouble of it all," said she after her talk with the man in the bridewell, "is not in the prisons. It is after the convicts get out. For that, humanity is to blame. Prisoners have not much hope, and some of them accept religion in a tentative sort of way. "When they are released they are hounded by the police, marked by all citizens as ostracized men, unable to get employment, and, in fact, the second termers tell me they are reduced almost to the necessity of choosing between starvation and stealing. Those whose conversion is real do neither, because no man need ever starve in this country, but the weak go under and are brought back to jail. What the world needs is more Christian charity. We should forgive, as our Saviour did, seventy times seven." In addition to her charm as a speaker, Mrs. Wheaton is a singer of no mean ability. She is not a believer in men who accept religion for the sake of business and put on a sanctimonious air. The view that she takes of life meets with favor among the convicts, and she sings a song called "The Twin Ballots," which illustrates her opinion on the temperance question. The song is about two rum votes that sanctioned the license plan, "but one was cast by a cunning brewer and one by a Sunday-school man." The evangelist left last night for Pittsburg, but will return next week. She said she wished to impress upon people the fact that converted prisoners are not hypocrites, although the guards often suspect insincerity and treat a converted man worse than any other, because they think he is seeking to curry favor.--A Chicago paper. A DISGRACEFUL PROCEEDING. Thursday afternoon, Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, the noted prison evangelist, accompanied by a sister, asked permission from a policeman, which was granted, to hold a street meeting for religious purposes. After singing some hymns, which, from their superior rendition, attracted a large crowd, Mrs. Wheaton, an elderly lady who has devoted seven years of her time entirely to prison evangelical work, began an earnest exhortation to sinners. After preaching for a few minutes Officer C. came up and said that the mayor had ordered him to put a stop to the proceedings. Mrs. Wheaton said she would do her duty without fear of man and continued for a moment longer. Then the party knelt on the snow and began to pray for the mayor and the policeman. While they were praying the officer came up closely followed by Mayor J., and roughly pushed Mrs. Wheaton over. The mayor with fire in his eye as well as his complexion, spoke in a very rude manner to the ladies, practically endorsing the rough treatment already accorded the party. Mrs. Wheaton showed _The Dispatch_ credentials from very high sources and a very bulky bundle of railroad passes which gave substantial evidence of the manner in which she and her work are regarded elsewhere. She has traveled over the United States and Mexico, and parts of Europe, and it remained for a Leadville mayor to break the record and treat her with indignity. She was very much shocked and grieved and said she felt deeply sorry for Leadville, which she had often heard spoken of as a wicked city. _The Dispatch_ is free to say that Mayor J. acted without adequate provocation and displayed an unnecessary exercise of authority. If the services had been prolonged to any great extent he might have sent a request to have them discontinued, but there was no occasion for any such arbitrary exhibition of power as was made. Far greater blockades with less meritorious objects have existed without protest in Leadville. A medicine faker who pays a few dollars license can yell and sing and make night hideous for hours and it is all right, but a humble evangelical missionary, whose sincerity and good intentions are not doubted, however persons may differ concerning the methods, is unceremoniously made to move on. If the authorities displayed as much zeal in suppressing vice as they do in shutting off missionaries, Leadville would be a model city. The prison evangelists, after having been ordered off Harrison avenue, visited both city and county jails, where they were kindly received and permitted by the officers to hold services among the prisoners. It is said that this is the first religious service held in the Leadville jails.--Leadville, Colo., Dispatch, March, 1891. DISGRACEFUL. Last night, when the ladies who have been conducting religious services in the park, were preparing to close, some miscreant in human form threw a small torpedo at them and struck Mrs. Wheaton above the right eye. It did not produce any serious injury, but was very painful at the time, and may terminate worse than at first supposed. This act evidently issued from some low, depraved fiend whom the darkness of the hour shielded from justice. The ladies departed from the city this morning, and the exact result of the disgraceful episode cannot be learned. As soon as it was done some man in the crowd offered $100 reward for the identification of the party who did the dastardly trick, but of course no one knew who the miscreant was except he himself.--Jacksonville, Ill., paper, June 26, 1887. THE PRISON EVANGELIST. "Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, prison evangelist, Chicago, Ill. Meet me in heaven. No home but heaven." This is what is printed on the card of a remarkable woman who visited the penitentiary and talked to the convicts at 11 o'clock on Sunday. This woman has been engaged in this work for about nine years, and she has visited nearly every prison and jail in the United States, Canada and Mexico. She is the Moody of the convict world. She asks for no money. She gives her services free, and trusts to Providence for her support. "The Lord provides," she says. She has held services in a different state or territorial prison the past five Sundays, from Stillwater, Minn. (where Cole Younger is confined and assists in and sometimes leads religious services), to Salem, Oregon. Mrs. Wheaton also visits reform schools. She is one of the chief advocates of the reformatory system being adopted in some of the Eastern prisons whereby convicts of different classes are graded and kept separate, wear different uniforms, etc., and are also let out on furloughs on trial or probation. Mrs. Wheaton devotes her whole time to prison work. She certainly accomplishes some good from all this effort. She was a Methodist before taking up this life work, but now holds to no sect.--Salem, Oregon, paper, Nov. 16, 1891. A NOBLE WORK. Among the evangelistic workers who go out among the people seeking the low and degraded and trying to lift them up to be better men and women, Elizabeth R. Wheaton is one of the chosen few who is well adapted to this work. She asks no pay and receives none, but with noble purpose and with heart and mind fully in the work which has been given her, she travels from Maine to California and from British Columbia to the Gulf of Mexico. Her work is chiefly among the state prisons, county jails and reform schools. Here she meets a class of people schooled in vice and who have been kept face to face with the different evils all their lives; these are the people whom she seeks to save. Mrs. Wheaton has just returned from a successful trip through Mexico and the South and is now on her way to Walla Walla, Portland and British Columbia. She stopped off here to visit our penitentiary and jail. Through the kindness of the warden she held a song service last Sunday at the State penitentiary, and the amount of good which she did was shown by the eager attention of the convicts, and the tear-stained faces of some who, when the good old-fashioned hymns were sung, thought of their far-away homes and mothers. Sunday evening she held services at the jail and on the street, both of which were much appreciated.--Unidentified. GOSPEL FOR THE PRISONERS. THE INMATES OF ATLANTA'S PRISONS HEARD PREACHING YESTERDAY. The prisoners at police headquarters, at the jail and at the city stockade listened to the gospel of Christ yesterday. Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the famous prison evangelist, of Washington, held services at all these places. Her talks were of the most interesting character and evidently made deep impressions upon her hearers. The service at the jail was held in the morning, the one at the stockade in the afternoon, and the one at the police station at night. Mrs. Wheaton is perhaps the most famous evangelist of her kind in the country. She makes a specialty of this work and follows it closely week after week. She has preached to convicts and prisoners in every state in the Union, frequently traveling as far as 700 miles between Sundays in order to make an appointment. She has letters of introduction from the governors of many states, and free passes on railroads. She is here with the Christian Workers, but is not a delegate.--Atlanta, Ga., paper, Nov. 14, 1893. PRISON EVANGELISTS. THE INMATES OF THE COUNTY JAIL TREATED TO A SERMON. Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the prison evangelist, who has been traveling over the United States for ten years past, and two sisters from Washington, D. C., and Kansas City, arrived in the city this morning and held religious service in the county jail. The twenty-four inmates of the bastile were much pleased with the service. Mrs. Wheaton and her companions held services yesterday at the prison at Lansing, Kan., where 900 convicts are confined. Lately they have come from the convict camp of South Carolina and Mrs. Wheaton can tell many tales of the sufferings endured by the prisoners there.--Unidentified. THE NEWS AT LEAVENWORTH. MOTHER WHEATON, PRISON EVANGELIST, VISITS THE UNITED STATES PRISON. Religious services at the federal penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth yesterday were somewhat out of the usual order. Mother Wheaton, the prison evangelist, late of Washington, D. C., now of Iowa, preached to the convicts at the morning hour. Her address was a most effective one and men all through the audience were moved to tears. At the close of the service she stood at the chapel door and shook the hand of each prisoner as he went out. Her head is white with age, yet she has visited the prisons of the United States and many in Europe, bearing messages of hope and cheer to the condemned. She is not alone a woman of ready speech, but is a sweet singer as well. Her life is dedicated to her work, and many is the unfortunate who has cause to bless the visit of Mother Wheaton. Mrs. T., of this city, accompanied her to the prison.--Leavenworth, Kan., paper. JAIL SERVICE. The inmates of the county jail were honored yesterday by a visit from that well known prison evangelist, Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, who was accompanied by a Mrs. S., of Kansas. Mrs. Wheaton conducted religious services and her talk had a deep effect upon murderer Williamson, the old man being visibly moved. Mrs. Wheaton has made the visiting of prisons, condemned men and fallen women her life work, and in the course of her travels during the past seven years has visited Europe, the British provinces, Mexico and the United States. As an example of her earnest efforts it may be mentioned that during the past thirteen Sundays she has visited and held services in fourteen different state penitentiaries. Mrs. Wheaton is a lady of striking appearance. She has a motherly countenance and a magnetism which attracts the closest attention to what she says. Her discourse yesterday was eloquent, yet at times plain and pointed to severity. Mrs. Wheaton left yesterday on the afternoon train for the Pacific coast.--Sedalia, Mo., paper, November, 1891. PREACHED TO CONVICTS. Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the noted evangelist, and Mrs. Perry, who are engaged in preaching and working among the prisons, visited the Virginia penitentiary yesterday and held services in each chapel. Their exhortations and singing were of a high order and produced a powerful effect among the prisoners. Many of them made a profession of faith. Mrs. Wheaton has preached in most of the penitentiaries of the United States. She has also traveled and preached in Canada and Mexico as well as in the Old World. The ladies are being entertained by Superintendent Lynn and will remain in the city several days. POLICE STATION SERVICES. MRS. ELIZABETH RIDER WHEATON TALKS TO THE MEMBERS OF THE FORCE. Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the evangelist, was at the police station last night at roll call and held a short service for the benefit of the members of the police force. She delivered an interesting address to the officers and offered a prayer, after which she led them in a song. The officers expressed themselves as having been greatly benefited by the service, and the evangelist was invited to call again.--Unidentified. SERVICES AT THE WORKHOUSE. "Mother" Wheaton, the prison evangelist, who was mentioned last Monday as holding meetings in Island Park the day before, called at the police station this morning to ask permission to talk and sing to the prisoners confined in the workhouse. The permission was granted. The lady has traveled extensively in her evangelistic work, making flying trips all over the United States especially. Within the last thirty days she has talked to prisoners at Walla Walla, Tacoma and in other northwestern cities. While in this city she is the guest of her sister, Mrs. Huffman, of Kenwood.--Elkhart (Ind.) Paper. A STRANGE LIFE OF DEVOTION IN NEGLECTED FIELDS. The prisoners in the Dade coal mines made the acquaintance yesterday of two women--two religious tramps, if you please, using the word literally--whose adventures in evangelizing are probably without parallel. They are Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the famous prison evangelist, and her temporary assistant, Mrs. P. Mrs. Wheaton has for ten years been preaching in prisons, convict camps, houses of ill-fame and the like, not only in the United States, but in Canada, Mexico and Europe. One, upon meeting her, would naturally be very uncertain as to where one might or might not meet next this spirit-led traveler--recognizing which uncertainty, perhaps, she has printed upon her cards, in lieu of an earthly address: "Meet me in heaven." The two women visited the jail Thursday, becoming very much interested in the case of P. S., it seems, on account of his relationship to Rev. S. J. Mrs. Wheaton spoke of P. as a "beautiful black-eyed young married man." They took part in the Christian alliance meeting Friday afternoon at 51 James street, at which over thirty people were present. They will hold special services at the coal mine convict camps to-day, returning to Atlanta within a few days. They carry this letter--an "open sesame" to every prison and camp in Georgia: "Atlanta, Ga., June 30.--To the captain in charge of convict camps in Georgia: I desire that each of you extend to these ladies, Mrs. Wheaton and Mrs. ----, any courtesies possible during their stay with you; that they may be given opportunities to talk to the men and women in your charge. I will particularly appreciate any kindness shown them. The governor also requests that they be shown courtesies." It is signed by George H. Jones, the principal keeper. "Courtesies," by the way, is spelled "curtisys" in the letter, but it's official, and "it goes." Return to Atlanta--that is to say they will return unless the spirit moves Mrs. Wheaton to go on from Chattanooga to St. Louis, or Montreal, or Berlin, or somewhere else. Coming to Atlanta on the Richmond and Danville, Mrs. Wheaton was moved to hold services in the smoking car. Just as the train was rolling out of Calhoun, S. C., Mrs. Wheaton spied some convicts at work. Convicts! Instantly she decided to stop over. She and Mrs. P. bundled up their wraps and packages and got off after the train had started. They knew nobody there. They had no money--that is, "not enough to count." Somehow or other they got transportation to and from the station, and supper, and to other works, and arranged a meeting. It was a glorious meeting, they say. Mrs. Wheaton's faith--and railroad passes, she adds laughingly--have kept her going for ten years. She traveled 5,000 miles between one Sunday and the second Sunday afterwards, collecting only fifty cents on the way. The Lord will provide, she knows. The faith that removes mountains is here in reality. Always on the go--never stopping but a day or two in one place--meeting men to be hanged the next day--praying with fallen women--interceding with governors for human life--blindly following, without regard to time or distance, the mysterious dictates of what she calls "the Spirit." She is so well known now throughout the United States--having been engaged in this work for ten years--that she is rarely refused a railroad pass. She has letters of commendation from governors and prison authorities. * * * Mrs. Wheaton's services in the jails and convict camps are unique, remarkable for their fervency and impromptu character. Singing plays an important part. * * * Mrs. Wheaton has made many wonderful conversions in the slums and prisons, and has seen many famous criminals in their last hours. She is the guest in Atlanta of Mrs. J. H. Murphy, at 267 East Cain street.--Atlanta (Ga.) Herald, July 2, 1893. PREACHING ON THE STREETS. Thursday evening the sound of an alto voice singing a familiar hymn on Sandy street, near Murphy's corner, soon gathered a crowd, when a lady, whose hair was beginning to silver with gray, mounted a box and preached to the mixed assemblage a sermon, after which the singing was resumed, the meeting concluding with a fervent and earnest prayer. A reporter called at the hotel and learned that the lady was Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, a prison evangelist. Heretofore she has had a "sister" to travel with her. She showed the reporter stacks of letters from the wardens of various state penitentiaries, commending her, and praising the work she has done in this specialty. She has preserved files of newspaper criticisms, many of which are complimentary of the work she has done, and some from the secular press making light of her work. That she is in earnest no one who considers that she has given up home and friends and roamed all over the United States, Canada, Mexico and in part of Europe to preach to unappreciative street crowds, prison convicts, etc., can doubt. And whatever may be said of the method, as was illustrated on the streets here last night, there are many reached with a sermon that have not perhaps heard one for months.--Unidentified. PRAYER SERVICE IN JAIL. Through the efforts of Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, the prison evangelist, the county jail was turned into a house of prayer last evening, and for an hour or more the walls of the building resounded with the shouts of prayer and praise of this earnest woman. During the afternoon Mrs. Wheaton called on Gregory, the horsethief and desperado, and was the first to bring to the surface in his case any signs of remorse or sentiment of any kind. When the gray-haired and motherly woman took the hand of the confessed thief and ex-convict in hers and prayed for him great tears flowed down his cheeks and he was affected as none of the other prisoners had been. Gregory said he had known Mrs. Wheaton for fourteen years. She does not remember him, but says it is not unlikely that he has seen her if he has been in the several prisons in which it is said he has served time, as she has been visiting them all off and on in her work for a great many years.--Council Bluffs, Iowa, Nonpareil, Jan. 19, 1900. THEIR WORK IS IN PRISONS. Party of Evangelists Pay a Visit to the County Jail. Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the prison evangelist, was in Butte for a short time yesterday on her way west, and between trains conducted services in the corridor of the county jail. In addition to being an earnest exhorter, Mrs. Wheaton, despite the fact that she is well advanced in years, is the possessor of a fine voice. When she sings in a prison the most hardened criminals never fail to listen to her with great respect. During the services in the jail yesterday clerks and court officers ceased from their duties and with the people who had business in the building, blocked the passage ways leading to the jail to listen to her. The other members of the party also delivered exhortations and joined in the singing. The farewell hymn, given in a clear soprano voice by Mrs. Wheaton, "God be with you till we meet again," was especially sweet. Whether the services made any lasting impression on the men behind the bars cannot be known, but the fact remains that when they were over there was an unusual quiet in the jail and the air seemed more wholesome. From Butte she went to Deer Lodge to visit the penitentiary.--Butte, Montana, paper, 1897. STREET SERVICES. On Wednesday and Thursday our town was visited by two lady missionaries or preachers of the gospel. They were perfect strangers here and claimed that their mission was to try to open the eyes of sinful people and beg them to come to Christ. They sang, prayed and preached upon the streets, and at the colored church, having been refused the use of some of the white churches. We know not whom these persons are, or from where they came, but we do know that they were very lady-like in their conduct, and there was a terrible earnestness about their work. They preached pure gospel in the most Christ-like manner that it was ever our privilege to hear--down upon their knees in the streets, surrounded by a motley multitude, begging God in a most pleading and fervent manner to save the sinners of this place, and singing glorious praises to Him on this beautiful day of national thanksgiving, was a spectacle that we had never expected to witness. Whether or not this is proper in the eyes of the world we cannot say, but if their work is earnest as it seems, they will be rewarded in heaven.--Unidentified. FOR PRISONERS. TOUCHING SCENES IN BANGOR JAIL.--GOOD DEEDS THAT SHINE IN MORAL DARKNESS. Never were gospel hymns--words of comfort set to hopeful music, sang more sweetly and earnestly, or with better effect than were the songs of a plainly dressed woman of tranquil face and gentle manner in the echoing corridors of Bangor jail Tuesday afternoon. This woman was Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton whose home is everywhere in earth's saddest ways. She is a prison evangelist and her card bears the simple admonition: "Prepare to Meet Thy God." She came lately to Maine, and arrived in Bangor Tuesday noon from Belfast. On the train Mrs. Wheaton talked of Christian things, and she sang hymns to the passengers--"Throw Out the Life Line" and other well-remembered songs--in a way that reached the hearts of all. When she got here she went for a few minutes to a low-priced hotel, and thence to the county jail. The officials received her kindly, and the prisoners, who, after their dinner of soup, had gone into the work shop, were brought in to hear some of the kindest words and most touching songs that they had listened to for many a day. Those innocent and comfortable Christians who have only heard hymns sung in churches or chapels to well-dressed and presumably good people can have no idea of the sweetly weird effect of gospel melodies swelling in the vast and dismal spaces of a jail, while gathered around are the very lost sheep that the shepherds of churches are commanded to find. It is a reproachful picture from the realism of blasted lives--a startling, chilling glimpse of the depth of wretchedness, lighted up by a feeble ray from the goodness that yet survives amid it all. Some old and hardened habitues of jails mock and sneer at the voices raised in their behalf and scoff at the hands held out to lift them up, but most men, in jail or out, treat women like this with silent respect. It was so in the jail Tuesday. When the men had filed out to the broom shop again Mrs. Wheaton went to a cell occupied by two elderly women and talked and sang to them. The women, whose wickedness all lay in drink, seemed pleased and affected. They thought this evangelist the kindest they had ever met. The evangelist may hold some meetings here before she leaves. She was much pleased with her reception in Bangor, and would like to remain a few days. She has letters of recommendation from the governors of several states and from the officials of numerous prisons. She belongs to no army or organization, but travels independently, doing what good she can.--Bangor, Me., paper. ELIZABETH R. WHEATON. THE NOTED PRISON EVANGELIST PAYS THE TRINIDAD JAILS A VISIT. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, the well-known prison evangelist, arrived in the city Monday evening and yesterday visited the county and city jails, where she talked and prayed with the poor unfortunates confined therein. * * * More than one poor fellow has blessed the short hour when her motherly presence and sweetly spoken words of comfort have made his fate seem easier to bear, while repentant tears have filled the eyes of many a hardened criminal when listening to her pleadings. She approaches the most degraded with a familiar motherly air, which at once wins their most profound respect and reverence. * * * Mrs. Wheaton expects to leave today for Pueblo where she will be joined by a sister in the work, when they will continue their journey together. She spoke very highly of the courteous treatment received from the officers and of the cleanly condition of the jails.--Daily Advertiser, Trinidad, Colo. VISIT FROM MISSIONARIES. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, better known as "Mother Wheaton," the prison evangelist, and Mrs. Elizabeth Taylor, of Tabor, Iowa, called at the Institution Thursday afternoon on a missionary errand. Mother Wheaton has spent fifteen years in evangelical work among the inmates of the various prisons throughout the United States. Her friends among the convicts are numbered by the thousands. We so rarely meet with any one who really sympathizes with us in our misfortune that when these two good women come inside the walls for no other purpose but to encourage us to do better and give assurance of their love and good wishes, we are made to feel that we are still human and may hope for a better day. By reason of the chapel building undergoing repairs, it was impossible for them to meet many of the boys or hold services.--A Prison Paper. A REMARKABLE SCENE. A WORK OF LOVE BY AN ELDERLY LADY.--THE SCENERY OF OAK CLIFF. Last night the moon shed its full luster slightly dimmed by thin clouds. The crowd stood by a negro church at the point of the hill, just above the creek banks at their intersection. The view from the top of the hill was enchanting. The lady passed the crowd and stopped in the moonshine in front of the church. Here she was joined by a party of three other ladies and two men, whom she had preceded a little. Two of the ladies held babies in their arms. In a strong and beautiful alto voice a song burst forth from the lips of the elderly lady: "I Will Tell the Wondrous Story of the Christ Who Died for Me." Her companions joined her in the song and the refrain echoed far and near over the hillsides: "Of the Christ who died for me." The inhabitants heard it. But this is the part of Oak Cliff inhabited by negroes. In response they swarmed out as would have done the followers to the signal of Roderick Dhu. Pretty soon the church was filled and a few white people were among the audience drawn thither by the song. The services were begun with prayer by the elderly lady, whose hair, when she had removed her bonnet, shone silvery gray. It was nothing out of the usual order of prayers except that it was accompanied with unusual fervor and simplicity being adapted to the circumstances. If any had assembled through curiosity she prayed that their hearts would be turned. Then came other singing and prayer by a good colored sister named Cynthia Maria, who wore a white bonnet, and chanted her words, making the scene a wierd one. Then the elderly lady rendered in beautiful solo, "Oh Christ, I am lost forever. I am to confront an angry God," from which she began her discourse, pleading to her colored hearers to open their hearts that night. She said she had the old time religion. This announcement was greeted with religious laughter from the congregation. The women had not been allowed to preach and she thought that there were souls in perdition on this account. People said that she had no business there last night. She had business in glory and was going to help crown Christ the Lord of Lords. For seven years she had been a pilgrim and had traveled from ocean to ocean and from state to state without receiving a salary or taking up a cent. There was the same God with her who was with Daniel in the lions' den, and who led the Children of Israel through the Red Sea. She had seen sore trouble, but there were few who knew it. She had the old-time religion, and that was what her hearers needed. She forsook home and country to go and preach the gospel to convicts and fallen women and most of her friends had forsaken her for this. She used to be proud. She had given up pride and given up style. She was glad that God had called the meeting. She did not know that she was to preach there until yesterday afternoon when someone informed her that the colored people wanted her to preach. She had visited the county jail last Sunday and prayed and sang with the prisoners. Some of them had forgotten about the old-time religion and requested her to sing the song having that title. Here the woman began that song joined by the congregation, a large number of whom got happy. It required the efforts of several of the colored portion of the congregation to hold down one sister who wore a straw hat and got shouting happy and paid no attention to her surroundings. After a short talk by Rev. B., colored, the congregation was dismissed. AT THE COLORED CHURCH. MRS. ELIZABETH R. WHEATON LECTURES ON THE IMPORTANCE OF CONVERSION--SHE SAYS THE HARDEST PEOPLE TO CONVERT ARE PREACHERS. As a News reporter and a News special artist, guided by a friendly star, wended their muddy way last night to the little negro church upon the hill at Oak Cliff, they overtook two solemn looking figures going up an incline. One of them proved to be the famous prison evangelist, Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. This lady turned her face to the News emissaries and inquired in a sweet silvery tone: "Going to church, brothers?" "Yes, ma'am." "Oh, God bless you, brothers, come on." A few minutes later the church was reached. The penitent sister with the white bonnet, who was inspired on the previous night and started to shouting, had already arrived, as also had the good sister who called on the baseball man to run from the devil. What influence drives those simple worshipers to shouting and to imitate flying, is a question for the psychologists. Certain it is that the little and the great are linked together in this life and perhaps the present is linked to the future. Quien sabe. The meeting last night was free from shouting, but fervid with emotion. On arriving in front of the church Mrs. Wheaton turned her face to the pale moon, which had sailed high in the heavens, and sang "Sweet are the tidings that greet the pilgrims' ear." As she sung she gesticulated and her gray hair shone like silver. She had not gone beyond the third line of the said stirring hymn before the penitents inside of the church started to sing a hymn and then the scene was as impressive as the music was discordant. The hymns over, Mrs. Wheaton knelt on the wet ground and prayed while Deacon Banks did likewise inside of the church. The interjections were so many that he was forced to use short sentences. "Come one, come all, while it is day." "O, yes, Lord, we come, we'se a'comin'." "O Lord, put the move on and call us away." "O, yes, good Lord, we come." At this point Mrs. Wheaton entered and ascended the low pulpit from which, for a moment, she silently surveyed the assembled multitude of black faces. She was wreathed in smiles, looking like the sun of righteousness shining on a dark, murky cloud of suffering humanity. "God grant," she observed, "that nobody goes down to the lake of fire." "God grant it, ma-a-a-m." "Oh-oh-bo-bo." "Nobody knows de trouble I see," and any number of exclamations each giving vent to an exclamation suited to the feelings of the penitent. The mention of fire seemed to cause a panic among the good colored people with a single exception. He was a dude who did not deign to sit down, but stood near the door seemingly watching the females. Only once did he drop on his knees and that was when he discovered the News artist in the act of tracing his outlines on the flyleaf of a prayer book. Mrs. Wheaton then lectured upon the importance of conversion. As she proceeded, describing the fate of convicts and other sufferers, the iron of the ways of the world seemed to enter her soul and she wept. Nobody who hears her doubts her sincerity. She does not criticise the fallen; she weeps for them. The folks in heaven do the same. Only once last night did she criticise, and she said she did it for a benevolent purpose, and as she did it (as indeed throughout her entire remarks) the colored woman with the man's straw hat interlarded her remarks with her own opinions rendered in a whanging, chanting voice. This was how it ran: "The churches have got away from the old land marks [yes, ma'am; deed they has, ma'am]. It is hard, hard work to reach preachers [yes, ma'am; yes, ma'am]. The big white preachers and the colored preachers are nearly just as bad [O Lord, yes; good Lord ye-e-s, ma'am.] They put on plug hats, jewelry and the trickery of the devil. If preachers would do their duty I would not have to visit the penitentiaries. Oh, the hardest work I have is to preach to preachers. [Dat's so, ma'am; dat's so!] How many of you are living in lasciviousness, the sin that's hidden but that God sees? It is going on in the churches among some of the preachers. [Ah, yes, ma'am: good Lord! Deed'n 'tis, ma'am]. Ah! I have got to go to judgment and I will tell you the truth. There are other sins, but I do not want to mention them because I feel that you know all about them; but they won't be hidden and unless you have a pure spirit and a clean heart you can never see the face of God. Now say you will sin no more. [Several voices in alto: A-a-a-men.] These white churches," proceeded Mrs. Wheaton, "are a little worse than the colored churches, for there is a little Holy Ghost left in the colored churches. Oh, how many of those white church members are going down to hell! It grieves me to think of it. I'm going to meet some of you in glory. After I get there the first ones I want to see crowned are the poor convicts who have been murdered on the scaffold after they had turned their faces to God, and those poor convicts who have suffered, oh, you know not how much, how much, without human sympathy." At this point a sad-looking man volunteered a hymn, during the singing of which much of Mrs. Wheaton's remarks were drowned. Mrs. Wheaton resumed: "It troubles my heart to see the people drifting down, down to hell. I feel like getting down to the foot of the cross and crying mercy. For the attractions of this world I have no use; I have no use for newspaper puffs. [They's no good, ma'am: yes, ma'am.]" The way in which the penitents chimed in as Mrs. Wheaton proceeded rendered it impossible to report her fully. The best that could be done was to catch sentences on the fly. The stronger she appeared to her colored listeners to seek for mercy the longer they sought it. Their bodies were moved by their souls. Some swayed from side to side; others placed their faces on their hands and wept; others wrung their hands, and there was weeping and wailing. This was the state of affairs at the conclusion of the address. Just then Deacon Banks started a hymn and a few others drifted off into different familiar hymns, so that the music was varied. It was a spontaneous outburst of songs of praise from away down in the bottom of afflicted hearts which pays no attention to the measures of music. The singing was awful. One female screeched and no two voices were in harmony. At the conclusion of the hymn a deacon kneeling by a chair prayed, striking the chair with his fists while a hundred voices accompanied him. It was impossible to follow him throughout, but among other things he said: "I know that hell is broad and eternity too long. Oh King, King, Lord have mercy on us. Guide us by the still water's side and give us new pastures. Bless this congregation in the hollow of thy hand, amen." Mrs. Wheaton informed the News reporter that she will not go to Galveston.--Dallas News. PRISON WORKER VISITS TACOMA. "MOTHER" WHEATON CALLS AT COUNTY JAIL AND FEDERAL PENITENTIARY.--KNOWN ALL OVER THE WORLD.-- TWENTY-ONE YEARS OF HER LIFE DEVOTED TO LABOR AMONG UNFORTUNATES OF MANY NATIONS. "I trust in God and the railroad men." This is the explanation of her ability to carry on her work, expressed by "Mother" Wheaton, the prison evangelist, who has an international reputation for her work in the penitentiaries of the United States, Canada, Mexico and Europe. Mother Wheaton is in Tacoma carrying on her work among prisoners, work that has taken her into every penitentiary in the United States and Canada. For over twenty-one years she has carried the gospel to the men in stripes and to those who wear the broad arrow of England's displeasure, and it is Mother Wheaton's boast that during all that time she has never asked for a contribution or received a cent of salary. Mother Wheaton came to Tacoma from her headquarters in Tabor, Ia., accompanying Miss Grace Yarrette, a young woman who is going as a missionary to India. MANY YEARS IN PRISON WORK. There is no woman in the world, and perhaps no man, who has had the prison experience of Mother Wheaton. The last twenty years of her life have virtually been spent inside prison walls, and there is not many in the country in which she is not a familiar figure. Long terms and lifers all over the land know her. Frequently she inquires for some prisoner whom death or the leniency of the law has released, whom she has not seen or heard of for years. Dressed in a soft gray suit, with a gray bonnet, Mother Wheaton's appearance is distinctly motherly, and her smile the personification of kindness and tenderness further bears out the "Mother" by which she is known to thousands of unfortunates. She is the guest of Mrs. Ellen M. Bates, 1211 North Prospect street. She is at work from the time she arises in the morning until services are over in the evening. While her principal work is in the prisons and penitentiaries she takes part in evangelical and religious work and finds time to visit rescue homes where her advice is eagerly sought. MANY EXPERIENCES. "Experiences?" Mother Wheaton exclaimed, when asked if her life had not been productive of many events out of the ordinary run. "Experiences, why I have had so many and such varied experiences that they are all a jumble in my head. I have been in nearly every prison in the land. I have consoled men who were but a few feet from the gallows and I have held the hand of those unfortunates as they sank into their last sleep in a cheerless prison hospital. "I have seen sights that made my blood run cold and then I have had the joy of seeing the word of God prevail and the most case-hardened sinners the human mind could conceive of have reformed before me. It has been a curious mixture of sunshine and shadows, but after twenty-one years I think I can say that the sunshine has predominated. I put my trust in God for my work and I trust the railroad men for transportation, and between the two I believe I have been fairly successful." ONCE TAKEN FOR CARRIE NATION. "I have spent nights in the toughest slums of New York, Chicago and St. Louis, places where men by force of habit always carry their hand near their hip pocket, and I have not always been welcomed. Sometimes I have been roughly handled, yes, indeed. Why, one time I was mistaken for Carrie Nation. Of course I don't look like Carrie Nation, and I would never think of adopting smashing methods. I was holding services in San Pedro, California, one night, and went into a saloon. There were two bright looking young men standing at the bar and I asked them to come with me. The owner of the saloon was sitting at a faro table in the back end of the saloon, and as soon as he caught sight of me he rushed at me and literally threw me out into the street. "When he learned afterwards who I was he was very sorry and avowed that he would never have treated me in that manner had he not thought that I was Carrie Nation and that I had a hatchet to chop up his expensive bar fixtures." OPPOSES CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. "As sad an experience as I ever had in my life was my effort to save the life of a young man who was condemned to hang in Colorado. I heard of the case through the young man's mother, who was heart-broken. I interceded with Governor Peabody and secured a reprieve for a year, and when Governor McDonald took office he fixed the date for the death of the young man. I tried to save him the second time, but public sentiment demanded his death. I don't believe in capital punishment. I have seen how a man can be punished in prison and I don't believe in taking a life to avenge a life, for stripped of all the specious arguments which surround capital punishment, it simmers down to nothing more than revenge." ESTABLISHES NEW RECORD. "I think I established a prison visiting record upon one trip. I visited five penitentiaries in as many states in a week. I started at Deer Lodge, Montana; from there I went to Boise, Idaho; then to Rawlins, Wyo.; then to Salt Lake City, and from Salt Lake City to Lincoln, Nebraska, all of which I call pretty fast traveling. I hold meetings on the train, in depots, at water tanks, any place I can gather a little knot of people together, and I could tell of some queer conversions in out of the way places, the last places in the world where you would expect the seed to sprout and bear fruit. "I was over to the federal prison on McNeil's Island Saturday, and this morning I went to the county hospital. This afternoon I called at the county jail. I will be here a day or so longer and then must start East, as I have work to do in New York City. You see I will have to stop at the prisons on the way back and I have to make allowances for delays." Mother Wheaton has become interested in Grace Russell, the young woman in the county jail, who is addicted to the use of morphine. Mother Wheaton will try to secure a place for her in some home.--Tacoma, Washington, paper of July 31, 1905. I give the following extract from a Baltimore paper published while I was there attending the Convocation of Prayer in that city, January, 1903: SPIRITUAL ADVISER OF FAMOUS CRIMINALS. WORK OF "MOTHER" WHEATON IN PRISONS ALL OVER THE LAND. For twenty years Mrs. Wheaton has been traveling throughout the United States, Europe, Canada and Mexico, working among prisoners in hundreds of prisons and penitentiaries. On a number of occasions she has converted criminals under death sentence. She has preached in the Maryland Penitentiary. Mrs. Wheaton came to Baltimore direct from Ohio, where she had been holding prayer in the cells of the state prison with eight men condemned to die. She was in San Francisco a number of years ago when Alexander Goldenson killed his sweetheart, Mamie Kelly, and after Goldenson had been tried, convicted and sentenced to death "Mother" Wheaton prayed with him for forty days. The day of the execution, September 14, 1888, he was converted through her instrumentality, and just before walking to the gallows she tied her silk handkerchief about the condemned man's neck. IS NOT A STRANGER. OLD-TIMERS AT COUNTY JAIL GREET MRS. WHEATON AS LONG-TIME FRIEND. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, of Tabor, Ia., famous in this and other countries as a worker among the inmates of jails and penitentiaries, yesterday morning went to the county jail and prayed and sang hymns with the prisoners in the tanks. Although her time was very much circumscribed, Mrs. Wheaton shook hands with most of the prisoners, many of whom had heard of her, and some of whom had met her in other prisons. John King, awaiting his transportation to Walla Walla, and one of the most admittedly professional criminals in the jail, stated that he had met "Mother Wheaton" several times before, both at Salem and at Walla Walla. Both he and J. H. Le Roy, another old-timer, had many anecdotes to tell of her kindnesses in past years.--Paper of August 9, 1905. The above sketch was accompanied by a cut from protograph taken by the reporter and a nicely finished photograph presented me. From this photograph the cut was made that is inserted at the beginning of this chapter.--E. R. W. PRISONERS ON BENDED KNEE. INMATES OF COUNTY JAIL BOW IN PRAYER WITH MOTHER WHEATON. On bended knees and with low bowed heads nine prisoners at the county jail reverently followed a prayer addressed to the throne of grace in their behalf yesterday by Mother Wheaton, the noted prison evangelist. Under the remarkable influence of the woman who came among them as a messenger of soul-saving, every rough instinct of the men was quelled and every scoffing word hushed on their lips. No more devout prayer meeting was ever held in a sanctuary than that which took place in the jail corridor. Mother Wheaton and a younger woman called upon the prisoners and sang a song such as the men might have heard their mothers or sisters sing in the long ago, when their feet had not strayed from youthful paths of innocence. If there was any inclination to ridicule or make light of the service at the start, it was entirely subdued inside of five minutes. Mother Wheaton talked to the men and told of the work she has been doing for twenty years among the inmates of jails and penitentiaries. She declared that she and her assistant wanted to help save them. There was no hesitation whatever when Mother Wheaton asked the prisoners to get down on their knees. One and all, the nine assumed the attitude of humble submission to the deity and remained in that position until their patroness had finished her petition for the pardoning of their sins. Some of the men were seen to blink significantly and wipe their eyes with handkerchiefs. When the prayer was done and another hymn rendered, the men joining in, hands were shaken all around before the visitors departed. Mother Wheaton has been coming to the Council Bluffs jail for several years. She was in the city on her way from Nevada to Wisconsin.--_Council Bluffs Paper._ CHAPTER XXV. Furnished unto Every Good Work. Who will man the life-boat, who the storm will brave? Many souls are drifting helpless on the wave; See their hands uplifted; hear their bitter cry: "Save us ere we perish, save us ere we die!" See! amid the breakers yonder vessel toss'd, Onward to the rescue, haste, or all is lost; Waves that dash around us cannot overwhelm, While our faithful Pilot standeth at the helm. Darker yet, and darker grows the fearful night, Sound the trump of mercy, flash the signal light; Bear the joyful message o'er the raging wave, Christ, the heavenly Pilot, comes the lost to save. Who will man the life-boat, who will launch away? Who will help to rescue dying souls to-day? Who will man the life-boat, who will breast the wave? All its dangers braving, precious souls to save? --_Sel._ The dear Lord wants workers, both men and women, whom He can trust in every line of Christian work, and what do Christians most need in order to be successful soul-winners for God? First of all, it is to be born of the Spirit; then to be filled with the Holy Spirit, whereby we are sealed unto God. Then the fruits of the Spirit will be manifest in our lives. Of course, we should not presume to go out as mission workers without a divine call from God. The first thing, then, is to know God and then to know ourselves as utterly helpless without the cleansing power of the blood of Christ on our own souls. Then the especial anointing for service in the vineyard of the Lord. If to these be added a thorough knowledge of human nature and a sincere desire for the salvation of souls, then the glory of God will be revealed in us and we will be forgetful of self and alive to the needs of others. We must see men and women lost, going down to eternal death and must reach them at any cost and be willing to gladly suffer the loss of all things that we might gain Christ and win souls for Him. We should acquire from the Lord the gift of adaptation to any and all kinds of work, people and places. We must see the people from their own standpoint and then from God's standpoint and then have implicit confidence in God and in the power of the blood of Jesus to cleanse from all sin. We must be humble and meek and yet strong, through faith in God and His promises. Is anything too hard for the Lord? And has He not told us, "Greater works than these shall ye do because I go unto my Father?" Is He not at the Father's right hand, interceding for us and for the souls to whom He sends us? We must be all things to all men that we might win some. We must watch for opportunities for service and be quick to use them when they are given us. We must be ready to launch out into the deep at the Master's command. We must have grace, not only to serve, but if need be, to die, in order that souls might be saved--souls that are going to destruction for the want of a kind word or a helping hand at just the right time. I have often found them upon the verge of suicide. Men and women in despair, both in prison and outside, were goaded into desperation and the enemy of their souls was urging them to end it all--that nobody cared, and God had forgotten them. How glad I have been to clasp their hand and tell them there was One who cared; that He loved them still and I have seen the long pent-up tears start from their eyes and hope has sprung up once more in their desolate hearts. I hope to hear God say in the Day of Judgment of some, "Here are the discouraged, the tempted and tried ones, who were almost lost, but who were won through your faithfulness." To God be all the glory. We must not seek our own ease. Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, would have died in agony, only that an angel came and ministered unto Him, yet he prayed, "Not My will, but Thine be done." Such must be our heartfelt cry and we must abandon ourselves to God's will in all things and forgetting ourselves and the opinions of the World, seek to please Him only. Then He will make even our enemies be at peace with us. Multitudes all about us are going down to despair for want of true love such as Jesus had when He said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do," and "Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more." Having this spirit, God has promised to furnish us unto every good work. That is, every work to which He calls us. We each have our responsibility to meet, our especial capability, our gift or talent. Then let us adapt ourselves to the work which God has given us to do--not ignoring the work of others, nor lording it over God's heritage, but each abiding in the calling wherein we are called, having charity for all, whether saints or sinners. Surely, with the field so wide and the work so great, there is the greatest need for love and the unity of the Spirit among all Christians. Why there are so many divisions, I know not. I find true and earnest hearts among all classes, all denominations and all nationalities. Jesus prayed, before He ascended on high, for his children, that they all might be one as He and the Father were one--one in purpose and one in heart. If we manifest this oneness, sinners will come flocking home to God and souls will be saved and God will get all the glory. The lack of oneness among God's people stands in the way of souls and the poor and ignorant are at a loss as to what to think or believe. Surely, there was never greater need for Holy Ghost, Spirit-filled Christian workers than now, when false doctrine is proclaimed on every side and in every form. But let Christians unite, losing sight of everything but God and souls and it will not be long until God will fulfill his promise that a nation shall be born in a day. Oh, that there might be a rallying of all of God's true children of every class and nationality; that they might, with united forces, charge upon the enemy and soon the world, which now seems to be at variance, would be won for God and for our Christ. THE MASSES ARE NOT REACHED through the ordinary channels of the churches. Look at the need of the Gospel being carried to the railroad and street-car men, the soldiers, sailors, policemen, firemen, and postmen. Are we seeking to reach the people? We must get the love of God in our hearts to that degree that we will not only be willing to suffer, but to die for them, and mean it--mean business, and fast and pray and call mightily on God for help and direction, and look to Him for results. Don't expect an easy time--don't let us expect to be above our Master. Jesus had no place to lay His head. He went among the despised, the poor, the fallen, the lowest of earth; and if He were to return now, how many of us would He find filling the places appointed us? The Lord is ready to do exceeding abundantly above all we can think or ask, and will bless every unselfish effort on our part to help save a lost world. When the end comes for you and me, dear one, let us have our lamps trimmed and burning, ready to go in to the marriage supper of the Lamb, which is to soon take place. God help us do our part, to be instant in season and out of season; to keep free in our souls; to be filled with the spirit of Jesus; to be ever ready with a kind word, a "God bless you," a silent prayer, a warm hand-clasp. Let us be quick to follow the leadings of the Holy Spirit, humbling ourselves under the mighty hand of God. Let us take a firmer hold on God and be ourselves in His hands. Let us see our own responsibility as God sees it, and by His grace measure up to it. Then the hosts of hell shall not be able to prevail against us and God will use us to his glory, and with hearts filled with love and compassion, we will go forward and God will go with us and give us victory. MY BOY IN INDIA. Some years ago the Lord made plain to me that I should support a famine orphan in India, and since that time He has enabled me to give twenty dollars per year for the support of my adopted son, John Ryder Wheaton, named for my brother, who departed this life a few years ago, and for myself. I give his picture and a copy of his first letter to me, translated by one of the missionaries; also some letters from Brother and Sister Jarvis, in charge of the Orphanage in Lahore, India. We ask the prayers of our readers for this dear boy, and if God should lay it upon any of your hearts to provide for one of these famine orphans, any money sent to the Missionary Home in Tabor, Iowa, will be promptly forwarded to any orphanage or missionary you may designate. God has laid this boy upon my heart, and the tie is dearer, perhaps, because I am alone in the world, having laid my only child in the grave with my husband. My heart was touched when I received this letter from John's own hand, and sometimes I long to see and know him for myself. He is being trained for a missionary, and when my labors are ended, I hope to see him coming home from India, bringing his trophies with him--precious souls from his own native land, and that there we may praise the Lord through all eternity together. Lahore, Frontier Faith Mission, April 12, 1904.--Dear Mama:--Salam, I am well by the grace of Lord Jesus Christ, and hope you are well. Matter is this that I live here very happy, few days ago that the fever and cough attacked me so I went to the hospital, now I am well and do my duty. I learned the work of Gardener. I pray every day. May God help me and make me His true Christian and grant me abundant grace. I also hope that you do pray for me. I pray for you. Here are all well. I am also with other boys well. My compliment to you, Your son, JOHN WHEATON, Head Gardener. [Illustration: JOHN RYDER WHEATON, INDIA FAMINE BOY.] * * * * * Frontier Faith Mission and Orphanage, Lahore, N. India, Dec. 11, 1901.--Dear Sister Wheaton--We have chosen for you a bright little boy by the name of Ruthena, about ten years old. He is one of our brightest little boys, one that bids fair to be something for God. He is a shoemaker by trade and is doing well at it. We are endeavoring to teach the boys trades, wanting them to be like Paul where they can preach the Gospel while they make tents for a living. Ruthena is a bright boy in every way and will be named John Ryder as you wished. We do not have time to write often but our hearts are with you. Yours for India's redemption, LAURA E. JARVIS. * * * * * Lahore, N. India, Sept. 18, 1902.--My Dear Sister--Your dear boy is healthy and well. He is such a help, and seems to know just what to do at the right time. We feel that we can count on him at all times. He is a precious Christian boy, and God is using him. God is blessing our precious children, and the work is going forward. We are so glad to be on our own land. Our homes are only temporary, but our faith is in God for the permanent ones. He says no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly. Your Sister seeking the lost, L. E. J. * * * * * Lahore, North India, August 20, 1903.--Dear Sister Wheaton--Your kind offering of twenty dollars for the support of your boy, John, is very thankfully received. The Lord bless and repay you. Continue to pray for him, and for the rest of our great family. God is hearing prayer for us. There are some slight fever cases among the children. This is our sickly season. Unite in prayer that our workers may keep well. We are all burdened because of the lack of workers and much has to remain undone. Though burdened, we will stand at our post until Jesus comes. (R. V.) Our faith is in God. So many young people at home seem to be wasting their lives and talents, when they might be doing so much for God in this land. Your brother seeking the lost, ROBERT JARVIS. * * * * * Lahore, N. India, March 16, 1904. My Dear Sister Wheaton--Greetings in Jesus' name. "Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields, for they are white already to harvest." I write to tell you today that your boy John is quite poorly. He has been having an attack of lung fever. I believe that in answer to prayer God will raise him up. I felt he would have better care in the hospital than we could give him, so we took him there, but we go to see him frequently, and I will keep you posted as to how he is doing. I know you are interested and are praying for him. We thank you much for your interest, and all you are doing for him. I hope you are keeping well and seeing souls saved. John was a real help in the garden outside of school hours. He has always been a willing little worker. God bless you much, dear Sister Wheaton, and use you greatly, is our prayer. Your sister, L. E. JARVIS. * * * * * Lahore, N. India, April 12, 1904. My Dear Sister Wheaton--Greeting in Jesus' name. I am glad to write you this time that John is all right again. I think his sickness has drawn him closer to God. He is writing you a few lines that I will translate for him and send it with this. Yours to be faithful, L. E. JARVIS. PREACHING IN THE PEST-HOUSE. Just why the dear Lord saw best to permit me to take the loathsome disease of smallpox into my system, I know not; but I do know the same God that made man and pronounced him very good, permitted Job and many others of His people to suffer many things. Of one thing I am certain, the Lord permitted me to preach the Gospel in the pest-house. No one was allowed there but the physician of the Board of Health and those in charge, and there were many lost ones there and no gospel services for years and not even the superintendent and his family were allowed to go to church. I had held meetings in almost every other place and I now had opportunity to go there, this being the only way to get to them. During the summer of 1901 I was taken very ill and the sixth doctor pronounced the disease smallpox. There was no alternative but to prepare for the hospital, which I did unaided. This was remarkable; for I had been very near death, the suffering both mentally and physically was so intense and the agony so great. Surely God heard the prayers of His believing ones and raised me up to once more go forth to glorify His name by preaching His gospel and singing His praises. Bless His holy name! I was hedged in with God. He got the glory of my healing. I bless the Lord that in answer to prayer He never let one person take the disease from me that we knew of. When leaving the minister's home where I was taken sick, I was shouting and praising the Lord. I told the mission workers I was sure I could go to Heaven even from the pest-house, with the smallpox. I told the young sister with me to bring the tracts for service in the hospital. I had told her that morning that there would be several doctors call and hold a consultation and pronounce the disease smallpox and they would take me to the pest-house, and I expected I would die there. I had such victory in my soul that I just shouted and praised the Lord. In the hospital I was given the privilege of all the wards to sing and pray and talk with the patients. Some were in a very dangerous condition, and others convalescent. Others were trembling with fear, having been exposed and quarantined here to protect the public from contagion. Those were weeks of suffering, although full of service and song. The hymns were listened to with the greatest delight even by foreigners who could not understand our language. I often wonder why professing Christians are not as careful about the spread of sin as people are about the transmitting of disease. The same day I left the hospital the Lord sent me out on a long journey to preach the gospel on the train. As I was talking with the conductor, there was a sudden stop and he ran to find the cause. Our engine had become disabled on a bridge, and as a train was coming behind us, the trainmen ran to flag the coming train before it should overtake us; but it was too late. I dropped on my knees on the platform of the rear car and asked God to spare our lives. I arose, took in the situation, went to my seat in the center of the car and again knelt in prayer. I turned to look just as the engine struck our car, raising it about five feet in the air, crushing timbers and glass, and causing a panic among the passengers. I was blest of God through it all, and went immediately to work holding meetings while we waited some hours for help to come. I see so plainly the hand of the Lord in all this. I might have left the train when on the rear platform, but I felt impressed to stay with those on board and call on God for help. Do you wonder that when all our lives were spared I felt that as the Lord gave all on the ship into Paul's hands, so in this case, as in many others, the wise Master gave me those who traveled with me? "As thy days so shall thy strength be." "A thousand shall fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee." HOW THE LORD PROVIDES. One night in San Francisco while holding a meeting in the Old Adelphi Theater, I was impressed to give a dollar to a sister who often sang and exhorted in our service and who assisted me that night. At the close of the meeting I handed her a silver dollar. She seemed much surprised and said, "No, I should not take this from you." I told her God showed me to give her that dollar and I must obey Him; so she took the money. The next day, while waiting for the street car on a public thoroughfare, I saw a man giving out ladies' fashion plates. I spoke kindly to him and suggested how much more good he could do by giving out tracts. He replied that that was the way he made his living--that the firm paid him for his services. I told him that God would care for him if he only trusted and served Him, but he evidently thought me somewhat of a fanatic. Just then a well-dressed old gentleman spoke to me and said, "Do you belong to the Salvation Army?" I said that I did not and he then asked, "What is your work?" I answered, "I am a missionary to the prisoners and lost girls." He handed me a dollar and hurried on. The man with whom I had been speaking looked on surprised and said, "Who was that man?" I said, "I do not know; I never saw him before and may never see him again." He was evidently thinking, for I had told him that God provided for me and would provide for him if he would but work for Him, and God was giving him an object lesson. I said, "I believe the Lord sent that man to convince you that what I said was true for I never ask any person for money, but trust all to Providence." Going on my way later in the day, outside the city where I changed cars, I saw hurrying toward me the same man who had given me the dollar in the morning. He said, "I have been thinking all day about you and what you said and here is another dollar for you." I told him how I felt God had used him to convince the fashion plate man, that if we fully trust and serve the Lord He will provide for us. I have never seen either of these men again since that day, but God sent me the two dollars in place of the one dollar I had given that poor woman the night before, in the meeting. The sequel was given me sometime after this when I again met that poor sister. She said to me, "Sister Wheaton, I want to tell you about the dollar you gave me that night in the meeting," and then she said: "I had nothing in my house for my children to eat (there was a large family of them), and husband was out of work. I had to wash next day and had neither soap nor starch, and I had to go across the city to pray for a sick woman, whose son had said that he would believe in God and serve him if his mother were healed in answer to prayer. I had to take that young man with me and pay his car fare and my own. The mother was healed and the young man, being convinced, yielded himself to God and was converted and became a Christian." And then she added, "All this your dollar did, for I had prayed God to send me a dollar that night and you obeyed God and see what was accomplished through obedience to the God who hears the ravens when they cry and notes the sparrow's fall." Then I related to her my experience to show how the Lord used a stranger to return me double, or two dollars instead of one, and perhaps saved two men--for God was evidently dealing both with the stranger who gave me the money and with the one with whom I was speaking on the street. MISCELLANEOUS INCIDENTS. I was once called upon to minister to the needs of a woman who was burned almost to death. I assisted the doctor as best I could to dress the burns. I took the scissors and cut the loose flesh from her arm, and held her while the doctor filed the rings from her hands. If I had not been previously convinced by the Scriptures of the folly of wearing rings I think this awful sight would have been sufficient to satisfy any doubts in my mind, as they cut so cruelly deep into the charred and swollen flesh. She finally passed away to that land where there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain. * * * * * While being entertained at a certain place a few years ago, a caller was announced one evening, to see "Mother Wheaton." Entering the parlor a tall, handsome man, dressed in the uniform of a policeman, advanced to greet me. I bowed politely, but perhaps a little distantly, as I did not know him. He came forward and extended his hand cordially, saying, "Don't you know me, Mother?" I said, "No, I do not know you." He said "I sang in ----prison in the choir. I served a term there and heard you sing and preach there. This is my daughter," and he presented a nice looking young lady who was with him. He said he now held a responsible position and was getting along nicely, and invited me to come and visit his family. * * * * * While holding meetings in a little town in one of the southern states, I was entertained at the home of a wealthy man who was accused of crime. He had a beautiful wife and lovely children. I was greatly troubled about his condition. I held meetings there in the home. I was treated very kindly and cordially welcomed, but he would not yield to God. I warned him faithfully, and plead with him to repent of his sins and become a Christian. I told him that a terrible calamity awaited him if he did not yield himself to the Lord. I went away believing it was his last chance of salvation. Not long after that he laid in wait to kill a man against whom he had had a grudge for some time; but the other man seeing his intention, drew his revolver and fired in self-defence. The man fell dead. He had had his last call. He had rejected the Lord and was ushered into eternity without a moment's warning. * * * * * One day years ago, in M----, Mississippi, I went on the street to hold a meeting. A policeman came along and forbade me after I had begun to sing, saying it was against the law to hold religious services on the street. My spirit was grieved as I felt the Lord had a work for me to do among the poor and lowly who were too poorly clad to attend church services. A sister (a woman of God who entertained me) was with me. She then proposed taking me to see a sick child, an infant. When we reached the house we found the young parents weeping over their dying child. My heart was touched with sympathy, and kneeling down I asked Him who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me," to heal the child for His glory. I believed His word where it says, "The prayer of faith shall save the sick." My faith touched divinity, the child was healed and the young parents, seeing the power of God manifested, were converted, and gave their lives to God for His service. [Illustration: Height Out Arms Trunk Head Length Head Width Cheek Width Ear Foot Length Finger L. Fore-arm Color of Eyes Marks & Scars BERTILLON MEASUREMENTS] [Illustration: PRISON AT ANAMOSA, IOWA. 1. FEMALE DEPARTMENT. 2. CELL HOUSE. 3. MAIN ENTRANCE.] CHAPTER XXVI. Selections from My Scrap Book. Many of the selections given in this chapter were written by prisoners and given me by them. The others may not all be new to the reader, but I have thought them of sufficient value to thus preserve, as they may be reread with profit, and no doubt may be read here by many who have not seen them elsewhere. Such will surely feel the time it takes to read them well spent. Many of the songs I have sung are not in print here, as they are familiar or may be found in popular books; others I thought might be copyrighted and I do not know the owner, etc. I have not meant to use any copyright selections without procuring the right to do so, but if through mistake any have been used I shall be glad to make due requital. THE AUTHOR OF FLOWER MISSION DAY. I once visited this sister, a saint, meekly lying upon her bed, and when I asked if she would like for Jesus to heal her, she said God could use her better in that condition. E. R. W. Jennie Cassady was born in Louisville, Kentucky, June 9, 1840. She came to earth through no royal line of ancestry. No booming cannon and flying flags proclaimed the birth of a princess. No jeweled hand beckoned her to a place of rank and title. Nothing in babyhood or girlhood distinguished her above what is visible in ten thousand homes to-day. But as she stepped over the threshold into womanhood, there fell upon her a great calamity--a cruel accident made her a cripple and an invalid for life. But in her afflictions she arose to a sublimity and sweetness of soul that has challenged the admiration of two continents. And out of the awful shadows that fell upon her she has gathered up the sunbeams of God's smiles and scattered them into the dark places of earth. Out of that one little darkened room in Kentucky there has gone forth an inspiration that has fired the heart of heroic Christian womanhood. And out of the darkness that smote her pathway leaped the lances of light that pierces the gloom of prison walls. A gleam from that radiant life touches the poet's fancy, and gives us these beautiful lines. J. M. CROCKER, Prison Chaplain. FLOWER DAY AT THE PRISON. Composed and read by F. L. Platt at the Iowa State Prison at Anamosa, June 9th, 1894. In a cottage in Kentucky, In the years that have gone by, Was a woman, oh, so lonely, She'd been given up to die. As she lay upon her sick bed, Ere the spark of life had flown, Neighbors called, and strangers also, Whom before she had not known. They had heard of her misfortune, Day and night she lingered there; And to make her life more cheerful Seemed to be their every care. Now they come, with noiseless footsteps, As the rose is kissed with dew, Each one bringing in some sunshine, In "these flowers I've brought for you." As she looked into their faces, Realizing death had come, "Take these flowers," she said, "I'm dying," They will brighten other homes. Take them, give them to the children Who in orphans' homes are found, Who have parents silent sleeping Underneath some grassy mound. Take them, place them by the bedside Of some one whose life is drear; They will bring a ray of sunshine, They will drive away a tear. Take them, bear them to the prison, Where the trembling convict stands; They'll encourage and they'll cheer him, And they'll help him be a man. They will speak to him of Heaven, Of a home with God above; They'll dispel the gloom and heartache, They'll recall a mother's love. They'll remind him of a sister, With youth's bloom upon her brow, With whom he used to gather flowers When life was bright as yours is now. They'll recall some little sweetheart In the early spring of life, Who, when summer flowers were blooming, He had asked to be his wife. Oh, that wife! may God's own blessing Rest upon her loyal head; Though he's caused her many a heartache, She would love him were he dead. Then with all these sacred memories Welling in these hearts of ours, Who in all this land of sunshine Could forbid this gift of flowers? Bring the flowers with sweetest perfume, This is flower mission day; Some forlorn, discouraged prisoner, "You may rescue, you may save." Blest the home that knows no sorrow, Blest that wife, whose tears are joy, Blest that mother who in old age, Can lean upon her darling boy. Men, look up, the clouds have gathered, Some of them are silver-lined; There's a day when all creation Will be marshalled into line. When these prison walls are sundered; When the grave gives up its dead, All may march the streets of Heaven Who by Jesus Christ are led. LINES BY A PRISONER TO HIS WIFE. These lines were handed me by the author. I insert them here because of their clear testimony to the saving grace of God and the love they manifest for wife and children: Dearest wife, you know I love thee, Deep as yonder sky; Know that love can never fade, Affection never die. Though in prison I am cast, And cannot now return, Yet on thee my love reclines, For thee my heart will burn. God has made us one indeed, In ways the world can never know. One, like drops of water found Within the pure white snow. God has made us one indeed; Has joined us, hand and heart; What God has joined together, wife, Let no man put apart. As well might men uproot the earth As by their scoff or scorn Think to accomplish parting us Because our hearts now mourn. Nay, dear wife, I feel for thee, As ne'er I felt before, Prizing thee with deeper strength For pining sad and sore. While there you wait my glad release, The day that sets me free, Await my coming home to wife; Yes, wife and children three. And I will come. Have patience, wife, The time will wear away, And day by day approaches near That glad releasing day. With little baby in your arms, Two others at your knee; I know, dear wife, your heart is sad And longs to see me free. To help you in your daily toil; To earn for them their bread; To clothe and help and comfort them, And find a shelter for each head. But cheer up, wife, and so will I, As mankind surely may, Till darkness fade in morning light That ushers in the day. And oh, what joy will visit us, What peace in that glad hour; Our home shall then renew its strength In all its silent power. Here as I lay me down to sleep, In my narrow little cell, I think of the happy times we've spent In the shady wooded dell. How we plucked the flowers beside our path, And strolled along the stream, Neither feeling aught of sorrow, For life was like a pleasant dream. But alas, my dear one, all is changed; And we are parted now for years; But well we know that God will come And wipe away our falling tears. Sin, dear wife, hast brought the change; Sin has caused our grief and pain; But now that I trust in Jesus I will never fall again. In my very darkest moments Would you know what comforts me? 'Tis my living faith in Jesus, In Him who died on Calvary. He died on the cross for you, dear wife, His precious blood was shed for me; All our sins on Him were laid When they nailed Him to the tree. And now that blessed Saviour, Who was born at Bethlehem, Looks down from the heights of heaven On the sinful souls of men. His thoughts are full of mercy, His heart is filled with love. He is pleading with the Father That we might come above. So we will trust our Saviour, And follow where He leads; And say, in faith believing, He'll provide for all our needs. So we'll walk close beside Him And let Him take our hand; As He points, with face all shining, To that bright and happy land. And oft to others round us The story we will tell, How Jesus Christ saves sinners, The heavenly hosts to swell. You will tell them, wife, how He found me, Sinful and all cast down, And how through love He raised me up And promised me a crown. And when we see still others Caught in Satan's snare, We'll lead them on to Jesus, And leave them in His care. And when He treats them gently, As He treats both you and me, Other sinners, looking on, To His bosom soon will flee. For thus the world around us For Christ could soon be won; He'll end in glorious triumph The work He has begun. All glory then to Jesus! Sing praises to His name! He saved lost sinners years gone by, And today He'll do the same. In language very simple I've told to you, dear wife, My love to you, your love to me, And the love of Jesus Christ. So we'll just keep on trusting In the Saviour God has given; And He will fill with peace Our journey on to heaven. And we'll not forget the Father, But give thanks for all He's done, In giving us our Saviour, In His own beloved Son. WOMAN'S LOVE. TO MRS. WHEATON. These lines are most respectfully presented as a prisoner's tribute of sincere respect: O, woman's love, past understanding! So near to God's, so wondrous deep: Deep as the depths of space; expanding Till it blooms beyond death's mystic sleep Throughout the earth, the rich and lowly It reigns supreme within her breast. O, woman's love! through its beauty holy She will win eternal rest. Born of woman, purest, dearest Lily of fair Bethlehem, Christ to her will be the nearest In his bright home--Jerusalem. A fadeless flower in beauty blooming 'Midst heaven's host of immortelles. His peerless love her soul perfuming She'll reign a queen mid arch angels J. W. L. Cole City, Ga., Sunday night, Nov. 17, 1889. TAKE THIS MESSAGE TO MY MOTHER. (Written by a Prisoner in Jackson, Miss.) Take this message to my mother, It will fill her heart with joy; Tell her that her prayer is answered, Christ has saved her wandering boy: Tho' through sin from home I've wandered, And I almost broke her heart; Tell her to be glad and cheerful, Never from the Lord I'll part. CHORUS. Take this message to my mother, It will fill her heart with joy; Tell her that her prayer is answered, Christ has saved her wandering boy. How she wept when last we parted, How her heart did ache with pain When she said: "Good-bye, God bless you, We may never meet again." O my boy, just look to Jesus, What a friend He is to all! Only trust Him, He will save you-- Can't you hear His sweet voice call? In this world of sin are many Who have wandered far from God. Will your mother's prayers be answered? Listen, sinner, you, her boy. You have ofttimes heard this warning, In your heart conviction's deep; God is calling to the wanderer Who asks mercy at his feet. NOT LONELY NOW. I am not lonely, mother, now, Though far from me you roam. One dried my tears and smoothed my brow, And stilled the sob and groan. I am not lonely, mother, dear, For Jesus dwells with me, e'en here. All day I feel Him by my side; And when betimes would come The Evil One, I quickly hide Behind my Precious One. Think you I'm lonely, mother, dear, When Jesus thus is ever near? And when at night I think of thee, As in my cell I sit, Bright vision of thy form I see By His own presence lit. Can I be lonely, mother, dear, When thy pure spirit is so near? Farewell, my darling mother-friend, And if for aye, Oh! fare thee well! Whate'er betide, unto the end, Christ's love for me I'll gladly tell. The following was written by a young brother who, with his wife, were with me for a time in my work. In thanking them for a kindness done me I used the words, "Jesus is looking on," implying that He would reward them. Only an hour or so afterward the young brother handed me these lines, suggested by my words: Little did I think when I spoke the words that they would make so deep an impression upon his mind. How little we realize what a word may do. JESUS IS LOOKING ON. "The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous and his ears are open unto their cry." Ps. 34. [TUNE, "ARE YOU WITHIN THE FOLD TONIGHT?"] 1. While traveling as a pilgrim Across life's desert drear, My feet ofttimes are weary, Mine eyes oft drop a tear; But when I look to Jesus, All weariness is gone, My heart then joys within me To know He's looking on. CHORUS. Yes, He is ever looking on, With anxious ear our cry to hear. He hears each sigh, He sees each tear; He knows each heart "with sorrow riven," He hears each word of joy or moan, And whispers gently in our ear, I'm looking, looking on. 2. When troubles rage around me, And trials fiery come, My thoughts are then directed To my eternal home. Though walking on the mountain, Or on the verdant lawn, This is the thought that cheers me, He's always looking on. 3. When friends do turn against me, And frown and persecute, I'm then brought nearer Jesus, Than when my foes are mute. While Jesus walks beside me, His arm I'll lean upon, And ne'er forget the promise, He's always looking on. 4. Take courage, brother pilgrim, And let us journey on, For soon life's many trials Will all have passed and gone; Then sweeping up to glory We'll join the ransomed throng, And sing God's endless praises, While He is looking on. HOW GOD CALLS MISSIONARIES OUT OF PRISON CELLS. S. H. HADLEY. _Superintendent of the Old McAuley Mission._ Some of the best missionaries this world ever knew are men who have been sentenced to long terms in prison. Wholly shut away from the world and its dreadful temptations, God had a chance to speak to them. Jerry McAuley was a wonderful example of this, and that drunken loafer and thief was finally used so wonderfully by the Lord God that his name has gone all over this world and has been an inspiration to millions. He was sent to prison from the Fourth Ward of New York for fifteen years at the age of nineteen. One Sunday morning in the chapel the speaker was old "Awful" Gardener, an old-time ruffian and prize-fighter in New York, but God had got hold of him and he had been wonderfully saved. With tears streaming down his face, he told of the love of Christ, and he said, "Boys, I ought to be wearing the stripes the same as you are, and I feel a deep sympathy for you." He also quoted some verses from the Scriptures, and after the boys had gone back to their cells Jerry found a Bible in the ventilator of his cell, and, looking it over aimlessly, tried to find the text that "Awful" Gardener had quoted, but instead he found that Christ came to save sinners, and the Holy Spirit showed him his dreadful past life. As the day grew into night, Jerry got down on his knees and began to pray. He had never prayed before, but now he cried to God for help and mercy. How long he was there he does not know, but some time during the night a glorious light dispelled the deep darkness of his soul, and he cried out, "Oh, praise God, I found Jesus, and He gives peace to my soul." The unusual sound brought the keeper, who asked, "What is the matter with you?" Jerry answered, "I found Jesus, that's what's the matter with me." He found some opportunities to breathe out the new-found hopes of his soul and the love of Jesus to the prisoners about him. Soon a revival broke out in the prison such as never had been seen before or since, and Jerry was the center of it all. He was pardoned in 1864, but when he got home he had no friends, no money, and he soon fell into bad company, and got to be a worse scoundrel than he ever was before. It was after this he became known as the dangerous East River pirate. He was reclaimed in 1868, and although he fell five times after that during the first eight or nine months, he was finally anchored to Christ. Do you know that every drunkard uses tobacco? Jerry was no exception. Some faithful friends said to him. "Jerry, give up your tobacco for Jesus' sake," and he gave it up, and then he never fell afterward. He was afterward married to Maria, his faithful wife, who also was redeemed from a drunkard's life, and in 1872 opened the world-renowned McAuley Mission, at 316 Water Street, down on the East Side, nearly under the Brooklyn Bridge. He stayed here ten years, and then opened the Cremorne Mission, Thirty-second Street and Sixth Avenue, where he died in 1884, and had the largest funeral of any private citizen who was ever buried in New York. The writer succeeded Jerry McAuley down there, and the work is going on night and day. Drunkards and thieves come in by the thousand, and, thank God, many of them are saved unto life eternal. The writer is also a convert of Jerry McAuley Mission.--_The Life Boat._ OUTSIDE THE PRISON WALLS. Free, free at last he left the dreary jail, And stepped into the dewy April night; Once more he breathed, untainted, God's pure air, And saw the evening star's sweet trembling light. How strange! how strange! and yet how strangely dear The old familiar turf beneath his feet! How wonderful once more to be alone Unwatched, unguarded, 'neath the sky's broad sweep. Free! free again--but O, so old and worn-- So weary with his wasted, ruined life-- Full twenty years the cell, his only home-- Full twenty years with hopeless misery rife! His thoughts sped backward till they reached that day When he had entered that grim house, a boy-- Naught but a boy in stature and in years, But with a heart all bare of hope and joy. For in a dreadful moment, crazed with rum, His hand had laid a fellow creature low, And for that glass of brandy in his brain Full twenty years of wretchedness and woe. And now, a gray-haired man, he walked again The very path his boyish feet had pressed So many, many years ago; And now he wandered lonely, seeking rest. Where should he go? Where now his footsteps turn? No living soul was there to welcome him! No friend of all his youthful days he knew Would greet again this wanderer in sin. Unconsciously, he sought his boyhood's home, The low, white cottage he had held so dear; 'Twas standing in its old accustomed place, But strangers had dwelt there for many a year. Where next? The tears stood in his mournful eyes; His breath came thick and fast--he could not stir, But leaned upon the old familiar gate With thoughts of mother--O, could he find her? Where was she now--that mother, sweet and good, Who tried with tears and prayers to save her boy, Who knelt alone at midnight's solemn hour And mourned for him who should have been her joy. His faltering steps at last he vaguely turned Unto the silent churchyard near the sea, And stood alone while pitying moonbeams spread Around his form a veil of charity. Alone with God in that still, solemn place, Alone with hundreds of the silent dead, The outcast stood with lowly, sin-sick heart, The cold night dew upon his drooping head. At last he found her in a place apart, Where moonbeams sparkled through the willow boughs, And shone upon her simple headstone white That marked the limit of her narrow house. 'Twas but a snowy marble, simple, plain, That bore her name, her age, and just below-- "Died of a broken heart"--alas! he knew The cause of all that life and death of woe. He flung himself face down upon the grass, Alone between the living and the dead, And wept and prayed beside the lonely grave Until in sorrow's slumber sunk his head. They found him in the morning, stiff and cold, His hands clasped o'er his mother's lowly grave, His head upon its turf, as though he thought That turf the bosom his poor heart had craved. Upon his pallid cheeks the trace of tears Showed in the glowing ray of morning's sun, But o'er that face there shone a wondrous peace, A smile of joy now all his life was done. Men marveled that he looked so young again Despite his crown of sorrow-silvered hair, And tender-hearted women sighed and wept And smiled to think that they had found him there. Ah! God is good! with loving tenderness He saw the sad, repentant soul alone Weep out his sin upon his mother's grave, And gently led the weary wanderer home. This we believe: That now in Heaven's street The mother and her son are reconciled, And all the pain and sin of earth below Are blotted out, and he is God's own child. --_Hattie F. Crocker, in Union Signal._ IF WE KNEW. If we knew the heart's sad sighing In the secret hour; If we knew the bitter crying O'er the tempter's power, Slower would we be to censure, Kinder in reproof; From the erring, peradventure, We would not stand aloof. If we knew the hard, stern struggle Of the one who fell, Toiling on 'mid grief and trouble That none but God can tell, Our thoughts, perhaps, would be kinder, Our help more pitiful-- Be of God's love a reminder To the tempted soul. If we knew the fierce temptation, Could we feel the pain Of the deep humiliation, The tears shed all in vain, We, perchance, would be more gentle, Our tones more tender be; O'er his fault we'd draw the mantle Of fervent charity. If we knew how dark and cheerless Seem the coming years, We might then appear more fearless Of each other's cares. Could our eyes pierce through the smiling Of the face so calm, See the bitter self-reviling, We'd apply the balm. Did we walk a little nearer To Jesus in the way, Hear His voice a little clearer We would know how to pray. He has words of comfort given That we to them should speak, Ere the hopeless soul is driven His faith with God to break. We shall know each other better, The mists shall roll away; Nevermore we'll feel the fetter Of this toil-worn clay. Only let us love each other, 'Tis our Lord's command, To each fainting friend or brother Reach a helping hand. --_Anna L. Dreyer, of Missionary Training Home at Tabor, Iowa._ LITTLE GRAVES. You have your little grave; I have mine. You have your sad memories; I have mine. For, "There is no flock, however tended, But one dead lamb is there; There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But hath its vacant chair. "The air is full of farewells to the dying, And weepings for the dead; The heart of Rachel for her children crying Will not be comforted." I have pleasant thoughts sometimes about these little graves. I think what a safe place the little grave is. Temptations never come there. Sins never pollute there. Tears, pains, disappointments, bereavements, trials, cares, and snares, are all unknown in that silent resting place. And then, Jesus has the keys, and he keeps our treasures safely, and guards them securely. No mother's heart is anxious about a child that is laid in the little grave. No prayers of anguish go up for it as for those tossed by the storms of passion, sunk in the whirlpool of vice, or lost in the wide wilderness of sorrow and of sin. There is now no need of chiding, reproving, watching, and restraining. The chief Shepherd bears the lamb on his own bosom, and it is forever safe. The little grave is a sacred place. The Lord of glory has passed into the sepulchre, and from it he has opened up the path of life. Hope blooms there, and hearts-ease and amaranth blossom amid the shadows that linger over it, and Jesus watches his treasures and counts his jewels in the little graves. The little grave shall be opened by and by. The night is dark, but there is a flush of morn upon the mountains, and a gleam of sunlight glows along the distant hills. He who bears the keys of hell and of death, shall come back to open the little graves, and call the sleepers forth. Then cherub forms shall burst the silent tombs, and these green hillocks shall bear their harvest for the garner of our God.--Sel. THE MOTHER'S WARNING. Touch it not--ye do not know, Unless you've borne a fate like mine, How deep a curse, how wild a woe, Is lurking in that ruby wine. Look on my cheek--'tis withered now; It once was round and smooth as thine; Look on my deeply furrowed brow-- 'Tis all the work of treacherous wine. I had two sons, two princely boys, As noble men as God e'er gave; I saw them fall from honor's joys To fill a common drunkard's grave. I had a daughter, young and fair, As pure as ever woman bore. Where is she? Did you ask me where? Bend low, I'll tell the tale once more. I saw that fairy child of mine Linked to a kingly bridegroom's side; Her heart was proud and light as thine, Oh, would to God she then had died! Not many moons had filled their horn, While she upon his bosom slept; 'Twas on a dark November morn, She o'er a murdered husband wept; Her drunken father dealt the blow-- Her brain grew wild, her heart grew weak; Was ever tale of deeper woe A mother's lips had lived to speak? She dwells in yonder darkened halls, No ray of reason there does shine; She on her murdered husband calls. 'Twas done by wine, by cursed wine! --_Temperance Banner._ HARRY'S REMORSE. It's curious, isn't it, chaplain, what a twelve months may bring? Last year I was in Chicago, gambling and living in sin; Was raking in pools at the races, and feeing the waiters with ten, Was sipping mint juleps by twilight, while today I am in the pen. What led me to do it? What always leads a man to destruction and crime? The prodigal son you have read of has altered somewhat in his time. He spends his money as freely as the Biblical fellow of old, And when it is gone he fancies the husks will turn into gold. Champagne, a box at the opera, high steps while fortune is flush; The passionate kisses of women whose cheeks have forgotten to blush. The old, old story, chaplain, of pleasure that ends in tears, The froth that foams for an hour and the dregs that are tasted for years. Last night as I sat here and pondered on the end of my evil ways, There rose like a phantom before me the vision of boyhood days; I thought of my old, old home, chaplain, of the schoolhouse that stood on the hill, Of the brook that ran through the meadow--I can hear its music still. And again I thought of my mother, of the mother who taught me to pray, Whose love was a precious treasure that I heedlessly cast away; And again I saw in my vision the fresh-lipped, careless boy, To whom the future was boundless and the world but a mighty toy. I saw all this as I sat there, of my ruined and wasted life, And the thoughts of my remorse were bitter, they pierced my heart like a knife. It takes some courage, chaplain, to laugh in the face of fate, When the yearning ambition of manhood is blasted at twenty-eight. --_Composed and written by Harry S----while taking a retrospection of the past._ TWENTY--THIRTY-FOUR. The line of dingy-coated men stretched along the broad granite walk and like a great gray serpent wound in and out among the wagon shops and planing mills that filled the prison yard. Down beyond the foundry the beginning of the line, the head of the serpent, was lost at the stairway leading to the second floor of a long, narrow building in which whisk brooms were manufactured. An hour before, on the sounding of a brass gong at the front, the same line had wound round the same corners into the building whence now it crawled. There, the men had seated themselves on four-legged stools before benches that stretched across the room in rows. Before each man was set a tin plate of boiled meat; a heavy cup of black coffee, a knife, a fork, and a thick bowl of steaming, odorous soup. During the meal other men, dressed like the hundreds who were sitting, in suits of dull gray, with little round-crowned, peaked-visored caps to match, moved in and out between the rows, distributing chunks of fresh white bread from heavy baskets. Now and then one of the men would shake his head and the waiter would pass him by, but usually a dozen hands were thrust into a basket at once to clutch the regulation "bit" of half a pound. The men ate ravenously, as if famished. Yet a silence that appalled hovered over the long bare dining-hall where eight hundred men were being fed. There was no clatter of knives and forks; there were no jests; they moved about as noiselessly as ghosts. There were faces stamped with indelible marks of depravity and vice, but now and then the "breadtossers" would see uplifted a pair of frank blue eyes, in which burned the light of hope. Men were there who dreamed of a day to come when all would be forgiven and forgotten; when a hand would again be held out in welcome, and a kiss again be pressed to quivering lips. Men there were of all kinds, of all countenances, young and old; the waving, sunlit hair of youth side by side with locks in which the snow was thickly sprinkled. All these men were paying the penalty society imposes on proved criminals. And now, their dinner over, they were marching back to the shops and mills of the prison, where days and weeks were spent at labor. Those men employed in the wagon-works dropped out of the line when they came opposite the entrance to their building. Those behind pushed forward as their prison-mates disappeared, and never for more than ten seconds was there a gap in the long, gray line. The whisk-broom factory occupied the second floor of the building at the far end of the prison yard. On the ground floor men worked at lathes, turning out the wooden handles to the brooms that were finished, sorted and tied up-stairs. At the corner the line divided, sixty-five of the men climbed the stairway to the second floor, the other thirty entered the lathe-room below. A dozen men in blue uniforms marched beside the line on its way from the mess-hall, six on each side, at two yards' distance. Their caps bore "Guard" in gold letters, and each guard carried a short, heavy, crooked cane of polished white hickory. On entering the work-room of the second floor, the men assembled before a railed platform, upon which a red-faced, coatless man stood behind a big desk. In cold, metallic tones he called the numbers of the convicts who in turn replied "Here!" when their numbers were spoken. "Twenty-thirty-four!" called the red-faced man. There was no response. "Twenty-thirty-four?" The red-faced man leaned over the desk and glared down. Then a voice from somewhere on the left answered "Here!" "What was the matter with you the first time?" snapped the foreman. The man thus questioned removed his cap and took three steps toward the platform. In feature the word "hard" would describe him. His head was long, wide at the forehead, and yet narrow between the temples. His eyes were small and close together. His nose was flat, and mouth hardly more than a straight cut in the lower part of his face. The lower jaw was square and heavy, and the ears protruded abnormally. A trifle above medium height with a pair of drooping, twitching shoulders, the man looked criminal. To the question he replied doggedly, "I answered the first time, sir, but I guess you didn't hear me." The foreman gazed steadily at the man. Their eyes met. The foreman's did not waver, but "2034" lowered his and fumbled nervously at his cap. "All right," said the foreman, quickly, "but I guess you'd better report to the warden as soon as you get through in here. Don't wait for any piece-work. Go to him as soon as you have finished your task. I'll tell him you're coming. He'll be waiting for you at the front office." "Yes, sir." The convict did not raise his eyes. He stepped back into the line. Then, at the clap of the foreman's hands, the men broke ranks, and each walked away to his own bench or machine. Five minutes later, the swish on the corn-wisps as they were separated and tied into rough brooms, and the occasional tap of a hammer, were the only sounds in that long room where sixty-five men toiled. Now and then one of the men would go to the platform where the foreman sat bent over half a dozen little books, in which it was his duty to record the number of "tasks" completed by each of the workmen "on his contract"--a "task" in the prison vernacular being the work each man is compelled to accomplish within a certain space of time. On the approach of a workman the foreman would look up and a few whispered words would pass between the two. Then the broom-maker would dart into the stock room, adjoining the factory, where, upon receiving a written requisition from the foreman, the officer in charge would give him the material he needed in his work--a ball of twine, or a strip of plush with which the handles of the brooms were decorated. At ten minutes past three, 2034 crossed to the platform. "What do you want?" asked the foreman, as he eyed keenly the man in the gray suit. "A paper of small tacks," was the reply, quickly spoken. The order was written, and as 2034 moved towards the door leading toward the stock-room, the man on the platform asked in an undertone, "Anything wrong, Bill?" "That's what I don't know, George," the foreman replied. "That man Riley's been acting queer of late. I've got an idea there's something up his sleeve. There's not a harder nut on the contract than that fellow, and by the way he's been carrying on, sullen like and all that, I'm fearing something's going to happen. You remember, don't you? What, no? He's that Riley from Acorn. He came in two years ago on a burglary job in Clive, where he shot a drug clerk that offered objections to his carrying off all there was in the shop. They made it manslaughter and he's in for fifteen years. There's another warrant ready for him when he gets out, for a job done four years ago in Kentucky. He's a bad one. A fellow like that is no good around this shop." The guard smiled cynically at the foreman's suggestion that a convict may be too bad even for prison surroundings. "But I've got my eye on him," continued the foreman. "I'm sending him up to the warden this afternoon. Say, George, when you go back, will you tell the warden Riley's coming up to call on him?" "Sure, Bill," was the smiling reply of the guard as he moved away. Twenty-thirty-four had returned with a paper of tacks and gone directly to his bench. It was a quarter of four by the foreman's watch when the door at the head of the stairway opened and the warden entered, accompanied by two friends whom he was showing through the "plant," as he preferred to call the prison. "This is where the whisk-brooms are made," said the warden. "On the floor below, which we just left, you will remember we saw the boys turning out broom-handles. Well, here the brooms are tied and sewed through by hand, over at those benches. In the room beyond, through that door, we keep the stuff handy that is called for from time to time. In a further room is stored the material used in the manufacture of the brooms, the tin tips, the tacks, the twine, and about ten or twelve tons of broom straw." As the warden ceased speaking, the foreman leaned across the desk and tapped him on the shoulder. "Riley's coming up to see you this afternoon. He's been acting queer--don't answer the call and the like." The warden only nodded, and continued his explanation to the visitors. "Now," he said, moving towards the door of the stock-room, "if you will come over here I'll show you our store-room. You see we have to keep a lot of material on hand. Beyond this second room the stuff is stored up, and is taken into the stock-room as it is wanted. Between the rooms we have arranged these big sliding iron doors that, in case of a fire, could be dropped, and thus, for a few minutes at least, cut the flames off from any room but that in which they originated. You see," pulling an iron lever which let the heavy iron sheet slide to the floor, "that completes the wall." The visitor nodded. "Now, come on through the second room, and into the third," there, ranged regularly on the floor were huge bales of broom straw, and piled against the walls were boxes upon boxes of tacks, velvet, ornamental bits of metal, and all the other separate parts of the commercial whisk broom. The visitors examined the tacks and the tins and felt of the bales of straw. "Very interesting," observed one of the men, as he drew his cigar case from his pocket, and biting the tip from one of the cigars it contained, struck a little wax match on the sole of his shoe. He held the match in his hand till it had burned down, then threw it on the floor, and followed the warden and the other visitor under the heavy iron screen into the workingroom of the factory. The foreman was busy at his books and did not observe the little party as it passed through on the other side of the broom-bins and out at the big door. Two minutes later, 2034 happened to look out through the window across his bench and he saw the warden with his friends crossing the prison yards to the foundry. A guard just then sauntered into the room and stopped at the first of the bins. He idly picked up one of the finished brooms and examined it. His attention a moment later was attracted by some one pulling at his coat from behind. He turned. "Why, Tommy, my boy, what is it?" The two soft brown eyes of a little boy were turned up to him. "I'm looking for papa," replied the little fellow. "The foreman down-stairs said he come up here. Uncle George is back in the house, and mamma sent me out to find papa." The guard patted the little fellow's head. "And we'll find him, Tommy," he said. He went over to the foreman's desk. "Bill, did the warden come up here? Tommy is looking for him; his mother sent him out." The foreman raised his eyes from his books. "Yes," he replied, "he went in there, with a couple of gentlemen." The guard looked down at the little boy. "He's in the store-room," he said, "you'll find him in there, Tommy." Then he turned and walked out of the shop. The child ran on into the room beyond. His father was not there. The stock-keeper did not observe the little boy as he tiptoed, in a childish way, past the desk. Tommy passed on into the farther room. He knew he would find his father in there, and he would crawl along between the tiers of straw bales and take him by surprise. He had hardly passed when the stock-keeper, raising his head from the list of material he was preparing, held his face and sniffed the air. Quietly he rose from his revolving chair and went to the straw-room door. He merely peered inside. Turning suddenly, he pressed upon the lever near the door and the iron screen slid down into place, cutting off the farther room. Then, snatching a few books that lay on his desk, he slipped out into the shop, and at that door released the second screen. As it fell into place with a slight crunching noise, the foreman turned in his chair. The eyes of the two met. The stock-keeper raised his hand and touched his lip with the first finger. He crossed rapidly to the desk. "Get the men out! Get the men out!" he gasped. "The store-room is on fire!" The foreman rapped on the table twice. Every man in that room turned and faced the desk. "Work is over for today," said the foreman. His manner was ominously calm, and the men looked at one another wonderingly. "Fall in!" At the order, the dingy gray suits formed in the same old serpent, and the line moved rapidly through the door at the end of the room and down the outside stairs. There, in front of the building, they were halted, and a guard dispatched to find the warden. He was discovered in the foundry. "Fire in the broom-shop!" whispered the guard. The warden's face paled. He dashed through the doorway, and one minute later came around the corner of the building, just in time to see the first signs of flames against the windows of the rear room up-stairs. Within five seconds, a troop of fifteen guards had drawn the little hand-engine from its house and hitched the hose to the hydrant nearest the shop. From all the other buildings the men were being marched to their cells. "These men!" hurriedly whispered the foreman to the warden. "What shall I do with them?" "Get 'em inside as soon as you can! This won't last long, the front of the building is cut off. It'll all be over in ten minutes." The foreman gave an order. At that instant a woman came running down the prison yard. Reaching the warden's side, she fell against him heavily. "Why, Harriet," he exclaimed, "what is the matter?" "Oh," she gasped, "Tommy! Tommy! Where is Tommy?" A guard at the end of the engine rail turned ashy white. He raised a hand to his head, and with the other grasped the wheel to keep from falling. Then he cried, "Mr. Jeffries, I--I believe Tommy is up there in the stock-room. He went to look--" The warden clutched the man's arm. "Up there? Up there?" he cried. The sudden approach of the woman and the words that followed had wrought so much confusion that the men had paid no attention to the foreman's command, and he had even failed to notice their lack of attention, in the excitement of that moment. "Great God!" cried the warden. "What can I do--what can I do? No one can live up there!" There was a crash. One of the windows fell out. "Get a ladder!" some one cried. A guard ran back toward the prison-house. Then, in the midst of the hubbub, a man in a dingy gray suit stepped out a yard from the line of convicts. His prison number was 2034. He touched his little square cap. "If you'll give me permission, I think I can get up there," was all he said. "You! you!" exclaimed the warden. "No, no; I will tell no man to do it!" There was a second crash. Another window had fallen out, and now the tongues of flame were lapping the outer walls above. The convict made no reply. With a bound he was at the end of the line and dashing up the stairway. The warden's wife was on her knees, clinging to the hand of her husband. In his eyes was a dead, cold look. A few men bit their lips, and a faint shadow of a smile played about the mouths of others. They all waited. A convict had broken a regulation--had run from the line! He would be punished! Even as he had clambered up the stairs a guard had cried, "shall I shoot?" The silence was broken by a shriek from the woman kneeling at the warden's feet. "Look!" she cried, and pointed towards the last of the up-stairs windows. There, surrounded by a halo of smoke, and hemmed in on all sides by flames, stood a man in a dingy gray suit. One sleeve was on fire, but he beat out the flames with his left hand. Those below heard him cry, "I've got him!" Then the figure disappeared. Instantly it returned, bearing something in its arms. It was the limp form of a child. All saw the man wrap smoking straw round the little body and tie round that two strands of heavy twine. Then that precious burden was lowered out of the window. The father rushed forward and held up his hands to receive it. Another foot--he hugged the limp body of his boy to his breast! On the ground a little way back lay a woman, as if dead. "Here's the ladder!" yelled the foreman, and that moment the eyes that were still turned upon the window above where stood a man in a dingy gray suit, witnessed a spectacle that will reappear before them again and again in visions of the night. The coat the man wore was ablaze. Flames shot on either side of him and above him. Just as the ladder was placed against the wall, a crackling was heard--not the crackling of the fire. Then like a thunderbolt, a crash occurred that caused even the men in their cells to start. The roof caved in. In the prison yard that line of convicts saw 2034 reel and fall backwards, and heard, as he fell, his last cry, "I'm a-comin', warden!" He was a convicted criminal, and died in prison gray. But it would seem not wonderful to the warden if, when that man's soul took flight, the recording angel did write his name on the eternal Book of Record, with a strange cabalistic sign, a ring around a cross--that stands for "good behavior."--_The Youth's Companion._ HIS MOTHER'S SONG. Beneath the hot midsummer sun The men had marched all day; And now beside a rippling stream Upon the grass they lay. Tiring of games and idle jest, As swept the hours along, They cried to one who mused apart, "Come, friend, give us a song." "I fear I cannot please," he said; "The only songs I know Are those my mother used to sing For me, long years ago." "Sing one of those," a rough voice cried, "There's none but true men here; To every mother's son of us A mother's songs are dear." Then sweetly rose the singer's voice Amid unwonted calm, "Am I a soldier of the Cross, A follower of the Lamb? And shall I fear to own His Cause?" The very stream was stilled, And hearts that never throbbed with fear With tender thoughts were filled. Ended the song; the singer said, As to his feet he rose, "Thanks to you all, my friends, good-night, God grant us sweet repose." "Sing us one more," the captain begged, The soldier bent his head, Then glancing round, with smiling lips, "You'll join with me?" he said. "We'll sing this old familiar air, Sweet as the bugle call, 'All hail the power of Jesus' name, Let angels prostrate fall;'" Ah! wondrous was the old tune's spell, As on the soldier sang, Man after man fell into line, And loud the voices rang. The songs are done, the camp is still, Naught but the stream is heard; But ah! the depths of every soul By those old hymns are stirred, And up from many a bearded lip, In whispers soft and low, Rises the prayer that mother taught Her boy long years ago. --_Safeguard._ PERFECT PEACE. [Lines written by a lady on the steamship "Mongolia," near Malta. She was en route from China, where she had been a missionary for seventeen years, to her home in England. She gave the verses to Bishop Bowman, who was on the steamer with her, and he sent them to his wife, not knowing she had died a few days before he wrote his letter.--_A. Lowry._] Lonely? No, not lonely While Jesus stands by; His presence always cheers me, I know that He is nigh. Friendless? No, not friendless, For Jesus is my friend; I change, but He remaineth The same unto the end. Tired? No, not tired, While leaning on His breast; My soul hath full enjoyment, 'Tis His eternal rest. Saddened? No, not saddened By darkest scenes of woe; I should be, if I knew not That Jesus loves me so. Helpless? Yes, so helpless, But I am leaning hard On the mighty arm of Jesus, And He is keeping guard. Waiting? Oh, yes, waiting, He bade me watch and wait; I only wonder often What makes my Lord so late. Joyful? Yes, so joyful, With joy too deep for words; A precious, sure possession, The joy that is my Lord's. --_Divine Life._ SWEET REVENGE. A few years ago while Robert Stewart was Governor of Missouri, a steamboat man was brought in from the penitentiary for a pardon. He was a large, powerful fellow, and when the governor looked at him he seemed strangely affected. He scrutinized him long and closely. Finally he signed the document that restored to the prisoner his liberty. Before he handed it to him he said, "You will commit some other crime and be in the penitentiary again, I fear." The man solemnly promised that he would not. The governor looked doubtful, mused a few minutes and said, "You will go back on the river and be a mate again, I suppose?" The man replied that he would. "Well, I want you to promise me one thing," resumed the governor. "I want you to pledge your word that when you are mate again, you will never take a billet of wood in your hand and drive a sick boy out of a bunk to help you load your boat on a stormy night." The boatman said he would not, and inquired what he meant by asking him such a question. The governor replied, "Because some day that boy may become a governor, and you may want him to pardon you for a crime. One dark stormy night many years ago you stopped your boat on the Mississippi River to take on a load of wood. There was a boy on board working his way from New Orleans to St. Louis, but he was very sick of fever and was lying in a bunk. You had plenty of men to do the work but you went to that boy with a stick of wood in your hand and drove him with blows and curses out into the wretched night and kept him toiling like a slave until the load was completed. I was that boy. Here is your pardon. Never again be guilty of such brutality." The man, cowering and hiding his face, went out without a word. What a noble revenge that was, and what a lesson for a bully.--_Success._ NO TELEPHONE IN HEAVEN. "Now, I can wait on baby," the smiling merchant said, As he stooped and softly toyed with the golden, curly head. "I want oo to tall up mamma," came the answer full and free, "Wif yo' telephone an' ast her when she's tummin' back to me. "Tell her I so lonesome 'at I don't know what to do, An' papa cries so much I dess he must be lonesome, too; Tell her to tum to baby, 'tause at night I dit so 'fraid, Wif nobody here to tiss me, when the light bedins to fade. "All froo de day I wants her, for my dolly dot so tored Fum the awful punchin' Buddy gave it wif his little sword; An' ain't nobody to fix it, since mamma went away, An' poor 'ittle lonesome dolly's dittin' thinner ever' day." "My child," the merchant murmured, as he stroked the anxious brow, "There's no telephone connection where your mother lives at now." "Ain't no telephone in Heaven?" and tears sprang to her eyes. "I fought dat God had every'fing wif Him up in de skies." --_Atlanta Constitution._ PERFECT THROUGH FAITH. God would not send you the darkness If He felt you could bear the light, But you would not cling to His guiding hand If the way were always bright; And you would not care to walk by faith Could you always walk by sight. 'Tis true He has many an anguish For your sorrowing heart to bear, And many a cruel thorn-crown For your tired head to wear; He knows how few would reach home at all If pain did not guide them there. If He sends you in blinding darkness, And the furnace of seven-fold heat; 'Tis the only way, believe me, To keep you close to His feet; For 'tis always so easy to wander When our lives are glad and sweet. Then nestle your hand in our Father's And sing if you can as you go; Your song may cheer some one behind you Whose courage is sinking low; And, well if your lips do quiver, God will love you better so. --_Selected._ A TRUE HERO. Two men were sinking a shaft. It was dangerous business, for it was necessary to blast the rock. It was their custom to cut the fuse with a sharp knife. One man then entered the bucket and made a signal to be hauled up. When the bucket again descended, the other man entered it, and with one hand on the signal rope and the other holding the fire, he touched the fuse, made the signal, and was rapidly drawn up before the explosion took place. One day they left the knife above, and rather than ascend to procure it, they cut the fuse with a sharp stone. It took fire. "The fuse is on fire!" Both men leaped into the bucket, and made the signal; but the windlass would haul up but one man at a time; only one could escape. One of the men instantly leaped out, and said to the other, "Up wi' ye; I'll be in heaven in a minute." With lightning speed the bucket was drawn up, and the one man was saved. The explosion took place. Men descended, expecting to find the mangled body of the other miner; but the blast had loosened a mass of rock, and it lay diagonally across him; and, with the exception of a few bruises and a little scorching, he was unhurt. When asked why he urged his comrade to escape, he gave a reason that sceptics would laugh at. If there is any being on the face of the earth I pity, it is a sceptic. I would not be called "a sceptic," today for all this world's wealth. They may call it superstition or fanaticism, or whatever they choose. But what did this hero say when asked, "Why did you insist on this other man's ascending?" In his quaint dialect, he replied, "Because I knowed my soul was safe; for I've give it in the hands of Him of whom it is said, that 'faithfulness is the girdle of his reins,' and I knowed that what I gied Him He'd never gie up. But t'other chap was an awful wicked lad, and I wanted to gie him another chance." All the infidelity in the world cannot produce such a signal act of heroism as that.--_Selected._ THE "KID." It was not a long procession or a pleasing one but it attracted much attention. There was a policeman in the lead. Beside him walked a stockey, bullnecked young fellow in a yellowish suit of loud plaid. His face was bloody and his right wrist encircled by the bracelet of the "twisters" which shackled him to his captor. The face of the policeman was also bloody and his clothes were torn. Behind these two walked three other patrolmen, each with a handcuffed prisoner. The "kid" and his "gang" had been caught in the act of robbing a saloon, and the fight had been lively, although short. The prisoners had been taken to the detectives' office, and photographed and registered for the rogues' gallery. They were now on their way to court, and thence, in all probability, to jail. At Broadway there was a jam of cars and heavy trucks, and the procession had to wait. Nobody has been able to tell just what happened, but they all agree as to the essential points. First the bystanders saw a streak of yellow, which was the kid; then a streak of blue which was the policeman. The prisoner had wrenched the twisters from his captors' hand, and made a dash across the tracks. The policeman, thinking, of course that he was trying to escape, had followed. Then everybody saw a little child toddling along in the middle of the track. A cable-car, with clanging bell, was bearing down upon it with a speed which the gripman seemed powerless to check. The baby held up its hands, and laughed at the sound of the gong. On the other side of the street a woman was screaming and struggling in the arms of three or four men who were trying to keep her from sacrificing her own life to save that of her child. Then the kid stood there with the child safe in his arms, the steel twisters hanging from his wrist. He set the baby down gently at his feet, loosened the clasp of the chubby hand on his big red fist, and quietly held out his wrist to the policeman to be handcuffed again. He had one chance in a million for his life when he made that desperate leap, but he had not hesitated the fraction of a second. CHARGED WITH MURDER. "Prisoner at the bar, have you anything to say why sentence of death should not be passed upon you?" A solemn hush fell over the crowded court-room, and every person waited in almost breathless expectation for the answer to the judge's question. "I have, your honor! I stand here convicted of the murder of my wife. Witnesses have testified that I was a loafer, a drunkard and a wretch; that I returned from one of my debauches and fired the shot that killed the wife I had sworn to love, cherish and protect. While I have no remembrance of committing the awful deed, I have no right to condemn the verdict of the jury, for their verdict is in accordance with the evidence. "But, may it please the court, I wish to show that I am not alone responsible for the murder of my wife! The judge on this bench, the jury in the box, the lawyers within this bar and most of the witnesses, including the pastor of the church, are also guilty before God and will have to stand with me before His judgment throne, where we shall all be righteously judged. "If it had not been for the saloons of my town, I never would have become a drunkard; my wife would not have been murdered; I would not be here now, soon to be hurled into eternity. "For one year our town was without a saloon. For one year I was a sober man. For one year my wife and children were happy and our little home was a paradise. "I was one of those who signed remonstrances against re-opening the saloons of our town. One-half of this jury, the prosecuting attorney on this case, and the judge who sits on this bench, all voted for the saloons. By their votes and influence the saloons were opened, and they have made me what I am. "Think you that the Great Judge will hold me--the poor, weak, helpless victim--alone responsible for the murder of my wife? Nay; I, in my drunken, frenzied, irresponsible condition have murdered one; but you have deliberately voted for the saloons which have murdered thousands, and they are in full operation today with your consent. You legalized the saloons that made me a drunkard and a murderer, and you are guilty with me before God and man for the murder of my wife. "I will close by solemnly asking God to open your blind eyes to your own individual responsibility, so that you will cease to give your support to this hell-born traffic."--_Sel._ MOTHER'S FACE. There's a feeling comes across me-- Comes across me often now-- And it deepest seems when trouble Lays her finger on my brow; O it is a deep, deep feeling, Neither happiness nor pain! 'Tis a mighty, soulful longing To see mother's face again! 'Tis, I think, a natural feeling; Worst of me, I can't control Myself no more! It seems to stir And thrill my very soul! Try to laugh it off--but useless! Oh! my tears will fall like rain When I get this soulful longing Just to see her face again! You won't know how much you love her (Your old mother) till you roam 'Way off where her voice can't reach you, And with strangers make your home; Then you'll know how big your heart is, Think you never loved before, When you get this mighty longing Just to see her face once more. Mother! tender, loving soul! Heaven bless her dear old face! I'd give half my years remaining Just to give her one embrace; Or to shower love-warm kisses On her lips, and cheeks, and brow, And appease this mighty longing That I get so often now! --_Sel._ ONLY SIXTEEN. Only sixteen, so the papers say, Yet there on the cold, stony ground he lay; 'Tis the same sad story we hear every day. He came to his death in the public highway. Full of promise, talent and pride, Yet the rum fiend conquered him--so he died. Did not the angels weep o'er the scene? For he died a drunkard and only sixteen. Only sixteen. Oh! it were sad he must die all alone, That of all his friends, not even one Was there to list to his last faint moan, Or point the suffering soul to the throne Of grace. If, perchance, God's only Son Would say, "Whosoever will may come."-- But we hasten to draw a veil over the scene, With his God we leave him--only sixteen. Only sixteen. Rumseller, come view the work you have wrought! Witness the suffering and pain you have brought To the poor boy's friends; they loved him well, And yet you dared the vile beverage to sell That beclouded his brain, his reason dethroned, And left him to die out there all alone. What if 't were your son instead of another? What if your wife were that poor boy's mother? And he only sixteen. Ye freeholders who signed the petition to grant The license to sell, do you think you will want That record to meet in the last great day When heaven and earth shall have passed away, When the elements melting with fervent heat Shall proclaim the triumph of right complete? Will you wish to have his blood on your hands When before the great throne you each shall stand? And he only sixteen. Christian men! rouse ye to stand for the right, To action and duty; into the light. Come with your banners inscribed: "Death to rum." Let your conscience speak, listen, then come; Strike killing blows; hew to the line; Make it a felony even to sign A petition to license; you would do it I ween If that were your son and he only sixteen, Only sixteen. THE DRESS QUESTION. One day, at Louisville, riding with Mrs. Wheaton to visit the sick prisoners, she said, "Do you think it your duty to rebuke Christians who wear jewelry?" I saw her question was a kindly reproof to me, and said, "If the Lord wants me to give up the jewelry I have, He will show me." "Yes, He will," she answered; "for I am praying for you." The next morning the friend who was entertaining me told me her little eleven-year-old daughter, Emma, just converted, said, "Mamma, I wish you would read to me in the Bible where it says not to wear jewelry." The mother read the verses. Then the child said, "Mamma, if the Lord does not want me to wear jewelry, I don't want to;" and she brought her little pin and ring to her mother. I took my Bible and read, "Whose adorning, let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price" (1 Peter ii, 3, 4); and, "In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly array, but (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works." (1 Tim. ii, 9, 10.) Then I thought: "The child is right. The Bible means just what it says." Then I recalled that Mrs. Wheaton had told me how she went one day to visit a poor, sick girl, to whom she had talked of the love of Christ until she was almost won. She went again with a wealthy woman, who was decked with diamonds. As they entered the room, the girl pointed to the jewels, and said: "O mother, mother! I have wanted them all my life!" The rich woman tried to hide her diamonds, and Mrs. Wheaton tried to turn the girl's attention again to the Savior, but in vain. Her last thought was of the diamonds, and her last words, "I have wanted them all my life!" Sitting there, with this incident fresh in my mind, I quietly slipped off ring, watch, chain, cuff-buttons, and collar-stud; and gold, as an adornment, was put away forever.--_Abbie C. Morrow, in Revival Advocate, March 7, 1901._ SONGS USED IN MY WORK. ROCK ME TO SLEEP, MOTHER. "Backward, turn backward, oh time in your flight, Make me a child again just for tonight. Mother, come back from that echoless shore, Take me again to your arms as of yore; Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair; Over my slumbers your loving watch keep, Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep." LIFE'S RAILWAY TO HEAVEN. Life is like a mountain railroad, With an engineer that's brave; We must make the run successful, From the cradle to the grave; Watch the curves, the fills, the tunnels; Never falter, never quail; Keep your hand upon the throttle, And your eye upon the rail. CHORUS: Blessed Savior, Thou wilt guide us Till we reach that blissful shore; Where the angels wait to join us In Thy praise forevermore. You will roll up grades of trials; You will cross the bridge of strife; See that Christ is your conductor On this lightning train of life; Always mindful of obstructions; Do your duty, never fail; Keep your hand upon the throttle, And your eye upon the rail. You will often find obstructions; Look for storms of wind and rain; On a fill, or curve, or trestle, They will almost ditch your train; Put your trust alone in Jesus; Never falter, never fail; Keep your hand upon the throttle, And your eye upon the rail. As you roll across the trestle, Spanning Jordan's swelling tide, You behold the Union Depot Into which your train will glide; There you'll meet the Superintendent, God the Father, God the Son With the hearty, joyous plaudit, Weary pilgrim, welcome home. _By permission of Charlie D Tillman, owner of copyright._ MEET ME THERE. 1. On the happy golden shore, Where the faithful part no more, When the storms of life are o'er, Meet me there. Where the night dissolves away, Into pure and perfect day, I am going home to stay, Meet me there. CHORUS: Meet me there, Meet me there, Where the tree of life is blooming Meet me there. When the storms of life are o'er, On the happy golden shore, Where the faithful part no more, Meet me there. 2. Here our fondest hopes are vain, Dearest links are rent in twain, But in heav'n no throbs of pain, Meet me there. By the river sparkling bright, In the city of delight Where our faith is lost in sight, Meet me there. 3. Where the harps of angels ring, And the blest forever sing, In the palace of the king, Meet me there. Where in sweet communion blend, Heart with heart and friend with friend; In a world that ne'er shall end, Meet me there. _Words and music copyrighted by W. J. Kirkpatrick, Philadelphia._ GOD BLESS MY BOY 1. When shining stars their vigils keep, And all the world is hushed in sleep, 'Tis then I breathe this pray'r so deep-- God bless my boy tonight. CHORUS: God bless my boy, my wandering boy, And keep his honor bright; May he come home--no longer roam-- God save my boy tonight. 2. I know not where his head may lie, Perchance beneath the open sky; But this I ween, God's watchful eye Can see my boy tonight. 3. As pass the days, the months and years, With all the change, the hopes and fears, God make each step of duty clear, And keep his honor bright. 4. And when at last his work is o'er, And earthly toil shall be no more, May angels guide him to the shore Where there shall be no night. THE GREAT JUDGMENT MORNING. Tune--"Kathleen Mavourneen." One cold Winter eve when the snow was fast falling In a small, humble cottage a poor mother laid; Although racked with pain she lay there contented With Christ as her Friend and her peace with Him made. CHORUS: We shall all meet again on the great judgment morning, The books will be opened, the roll will be called; How sad it will be if forever we're parted, And shut out of heaven for not loving God! That mother of yours has gone over death's river. You promised you'd meet her as you knelt by her bed, While the death sweat rolled from her and fell on the pillow; Her memory still speaketh, although she is dead. You remember the kiss and the last words she uttered, The arms that embraced you are mouldering away; As you stood by her grave and dropped tears on her coffin, With a vow that you'd meet her, you walked slowly away. My brother, my sister, get ready to meet her, The life that you now live is ebbing away, But the life that's to come lasts forever and ever, May we meet ne'er to part on that great judgment day! MY NAME IN MOTHER'S PRAYER. 'Twas in the days of careless youth When life seemed fair and bright, When ne'er a tear, nor scarce a fear O'er cast my day or night. 'Twas in the quiet even tide, I passed her kneeling there, When just one word I tho't I heard My name, my name in mother's prayer. CHORUS. My name, my name in mother's prayer, My name in mother's prayer! There is just one word I tho't I heard My name, my name in mother's prayer. I wandered on, but heeded not God's oft repeated call, To turn from sin and live for Him, And trust to Him my all in all. But when at last convinced of sin, I sank in deep despair, My soul awoke when memory spoke My name, my name in mother's prayer. That kneeling form, those folded hands, Have vanished in the dust; But still for me for years shall be The memory of her trust. And when I cross dark Jordan's tide, I'll meet her over there; I'll praise the Lord, and bless the word, That word, my name in mother's prayer! OVER THERE. Come all ye scattered race, And the Savior's love embrace; You may see His smiling face Yet with care; He is on the giving hand, Will you come at His command, Will you with the angels stand Over there? CHORUS. Over there, over there, There's a land of pure delight Over there, We will lay our burdens down, And at Jesus' feet sit down, And we'll wear a starry crown, Over there. Yes, He went to Calvary, And they nailed Him to the tree, That poor sinners such as we, He might spare; From the bitter pangs of death, He does with His dying breath, Seal an everlasting rest, Over there. God has placed us on the field, To the foe we will not yield, On our tower we will stand, By His care. Wave the Christian's banner high, Hold it up until we die, And go home to live with God, Over there. THIS WAY. Our life is like a stormy sea, Swept by the gales of sin and grief, While on the windward and the lee, Hangs heavy clouds of unbelief; Out o'er the deep a call we hear, Like harbor bell's inviting voice; It tells the lost that hope is near, And bids the trembling soul rejoice. CHORUS. This way, this way, O heart oppressed, So long by storm and tempest driven, This way, this way, lo here is rest, Rings out the harbor bell of heaven. O tempted one, look up, be strong; The promise of the Lord is sure, That they shall sing the victor's song, Who faithful to the end endure; God's Holy Spirit comes to thee, Of this abiding love to tell; To blissful port, o'er stormy sea, Calls heaven's inviting harbor bell. MORE TO BE PITIED THAN CENSURED. There's an old concert hall on the bowery Where were assembled together one night A crowd of young fellows carousing, To them life looked happy and bright. At the very next table was seated A girl that had fallen to shame; How the fellows they laughed at her downfall, When they heard an old woman exclaim: CHORUS. "She's more to be pitied than censured, She is more to be loved than despised; She is only a poor girl who ventured On life's rugged path ill-advised. Don't scorn her with words fierce and bitter, Don't laugh at her shame and downfall, Just pause for a moment--consider, That sin was the cause of it all." There's an old-fashioned church 'round the corner, Where the neighbors all gathered one day, To listen to words from the parson, For a soul that had just passed away. 'Twas the same wayward girl from the bowery, Who a life of adventure had led; Did the parson then laugh at her downfall? No, he prayed and wept as he said: SOME MOTHER'S CHILD. At home or away, in the alley or street, Wherever I chance in this wide world to meet A girl that is thoughtless or a boy that is wild, My heart echoes softly: It is some mother's child. CHORUS. Some mother's child, Some mother's child, My heart echoes softly: It is some mother's child. And when I see those o'er whom long years have rolled, Whose hearts have grown hardened, whose spirits are cold; Be it woman all fallen, or man all defiled, A voice whispers sadly: It is some mother's child. No matter how far from right she hath strayed; No matter what inroad dishonor hath made; No matter what elements cankered the pearl; Though tarnished and sullied, she is some mother's girl. No matter how deep he is sunken in sin; No matter how much he is shunned by his kin; No matter how low is his standard of joy; Though guilty and loathsome; he is some mother's boy. That head hath been pillowed on tenderest breast; That form hath been wept o'er, those lips have been pressed; That soul hath been prayed for in tones sweet and mild; For her sake deal gently with some mother's child. _Used by permission of Charlie D. Tillman, owner of copyright._ JUST TELL MY MOTHER. 'Twas in a Gospel Mission, in a distant western town, The meeting there that night had just begun, When in came a poor lost sinner who by sin had been cast down, Thinking perhaps that he might have some fun; But as he heard of Jesus' love, of pardon full and free, He sought it and the wanderer ceased to roam. And going to his room that night, his heart all filled with joy, He wrote a letter to the folks at home. CHORUS. Just tell my dear old mother, my wandering days are o'er, Just tell her that my sins are all forgiven, Just tell her that if on earth we chance to meet no more, Her prayers are answered and we'll meet in Heaven. His mother got the message as she lay at death's dark door, Which told her of her boy so far away, How his sins were all forgiven and wandering days were o'er, And that his feet were on the narrow way. Her heart was filled with gladness, as it had not been for years, Her dear old face was all lit up with joy, As on her dying pillow she said amid her tears, God bless and keep my precious darling boy. Your mothers have prayed for you, my friends, for many and many a day, Perhaps these days of life will soon be o'er, Come, give your hearts to Jesus, get on the narrow way, And meet her on that happy golden shore. Oh, come just now while still there's room, and pardon free for all. The Savior pleads, oh, do not longer roam. And then with Jesus in your heart, you will send the message To your dear mother, praying still for you at home. SOON THE DEATH-BELL WILL TOLL. When the last Gospel message has been told in your ears, And the last solemn warning has been given you in tears; When hope shall escape from its place in your breast, Oh, where will your poor weary soul find its rest? CHORUS. Soon the death-bell will toll--look after your soul; O, sinner be ready, for the death-bell will toll. When the darkness of death shall compass you round, When the friends you have loved are all standing around; Unable to save you now from the tomb, Unable to alter your terrible doom. When before the white throne of His Judgment you stand, "What have you to answer?" the Judge will demand; Oh, terrible moment to be standing alone, When mercy forever and forever is gone. THE END OF THE WAY. The following beautiful lines were written by a girl in Nova Scotia, an invalid for many years: My life is a wearisome journey; I'm sick of the dust and the heat; The rays of the sun beat upon me, The briars are wounding my feet. But the city to which I am journeying Will more than my trials repay; All the toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way. There are so many hills to climb upward, I often am longing for rest, But He who appoints me the pathway Knows what is needed and best. I know in His word He has promised That my strength shall be as my day; And the toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way. He loves me too well to forsake me, Or give me one trial too much; All His people have been dearly purchased, And Satan can never claim such. By and by I shall see Him and praise Him, In the city of unending day; And the toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way. When the last feeble steps have been taken, And the gates of the city appear, And the beautiful songs of the angels Float out on my listening ear; When all that now seems so mysterious Will be plain and clear as the day-- Yes, the toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way. Though now I am footsore and weary, I shall rest when I'm safely at home; I know I'll receive a glad welcome, For the Savior Himself has said "Come." So, when I am weary in body, And sinking in spirit I say, All the toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way. Cooling fountains are there for the thirsty, There are cordials for those who are faint: There are robes that are whiter and purer Than any that fancy can paint. Then I'll try to press hopefully onward, Thinking often through each weary day, The toils of the road will seem nothing When I get to the end of the way. Appendix. The matter which I have here appended I thought of too much value to omit from this volume. The first article is explanatory in itself. The second is by a prisoner whom I have known for many years. The third (regarding Christ in Gethsemane) was written by a prisoner as a letter to myself. I hope the reader may profit by the reading of each page. E. R. W. THE PERSONNEL OF PRISON MANAGEMENT. Address of C. E. Haddox, warden of the West Virginia penitentiary, to the National Prison Association, at its annual session, Louisville, Ky., Congress of 1903: This is the age of industrial development. On every side we see colossal enterprises undertaken and prosecuted to a successful and profitable conclusion. Great railroad systems span the continent, carrying millions of passengers and countless tons of freight, with safety, celerity and dispatch, to the doors of factory, workshop, store and consumer. Immense industrial enterprises are constantly being projected, consolidated and carried on in a manner to excite the admiration, mayhap, the wonder and fear of mankind. Colossal financial transactions amaze the minds of those uninitiated to the magnitude and the intricacies of such undertakings. The unexplored recesses of the earth are exploited in a manner and on a scale heretofore undreamed of and unknown, and every department of enterprise is carried on to a degree that distinctly stamps this decade as the acme of industrial enterprise and achievements, the golden age of industrial prosperity, and the acquirement of material improvement and material gain. If it be asked why such strides have been made along industrial lines, the answer is that it is due to ORGANIZATION AND SPECIALIZATION. The PERSONNEL of the management have devoted their lives, their talent and their energies to the special work before them. They have been drilled and educated along special lines; they have been deaf and blind to outside matters not relevant to the work in hand, and by close and careful study, by unceasing and constant labor, care and effort, having evolved, projected and carried on these immense enterprises. The National Prison Congress at its meeting this year is mindful of the material progress of the country. This association is equally ambitious along the lines peculiar to itself to obtain from the various penal institutions of the country the highest and best results morally, educationally, reformatively, and as an incident, punitively and financially. How shall we keep pace in penal improvements with the great material progress of the outside world? The answer necessarily must be, that improvements in our department of work must come, as they do elsewhere, by the investigation, the study, the thought and the effort of those who are in actual control, of those who are in a position to see, to observe and to know. In other words, the question as to whether prisons are to improve, whether their work shall continue to be of a higher and nobler character, whether we are finally and forever to break away from the customs of the galleys of France, the prisons of Hawes in England, of the Mamertine of Rome and of Rothenburg in Germany, will depend utterly, entirely and absolutely upon the personnel of the prison management of the country. Prof. Henderson, in his admirable address delivered at the Philadelphia meeting in 1902, on "The Social Position of the Prison Warden," says: "Some institutions have no marked qualities; they have walls, cells, machinery, prisoners, punishments, but no distinct, consistent and rational policy." Where this is true it means that the worst possible condition of affairs exists. Such an institution has the dry rot. It is managed (or rather mismanaged) by time servers, too careless to feel the high responsibility devolving upon them, and too listless to acquaint themselves with the many opportunities spread before them to improve and keep pace with the onward march of progress. Such officers in their abuse, by inaction, of the opportunities afforded them, commit "Crimes against criminals" and through them against society. On the contrary institutions which have distinct features and characteristics, have them as the result of the careful investigation, the patient research and thought of those who are in responsible and actual control, and these characteristics and features reflect the wisdom and intelligence of those who have given their energies and their lives to the special work before them. THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS. In the management of penal institutions a Board of Directors or of Control is, ordinarily, the nominal head. By the laws of most states they are supposed to fix the administration policy, to restrict and define the powers and duties of the officers in actual and intimate control. In some institutions they meet a day or so each month, in most institutions not so frequently. Their duties while at the institution may or may not be largely perfunctory, and as they are generally active business men at home in other channels, the day or two a month or quarter is apt to be regarded by the unthoughtful as a respite or surcease from other duties. The main duty of a Board of Directors or of Control may be said to be the determining of the general policy upon which the institution shall be conducted, and a cursory oversight of the conduct of its affairs. THE WARDEN. The warden or superintendent is the one official who can give tone, expression and color to the institution. He is distinctly and positively its actual managing head, and upon his intelligence, interest, zeal, tact and discretion will depend, almost entirely, its weal or its woe. He must be a man of intelligence, and be willing and anxious to increase his fund of knowledge and information. He should be a profound student not only of the ordinary subjects that attract the student, but of prison systems, of laws, business, government, society as it exists, and of human nature in all its many phases. HE MUST BE AN ORGANIZER. No difference how elaborate a system may be found in any institution of this kind, the warden will always be an intensely busy and greatly occupied officer. If he would prevent chaos and confusion and obtain from every official the highest and best work of which he is capable, he must organize every department thoroughly. Every officer and every inmate must know his exact duties, so far as it is possible to know them, and be made responsible for those duties and the warden must be enabled to appreciate a high order of talent and the accomplishment of good work, and to locate the blame for omissions and short comings, and provide for their correction. Thorough system in every detail will conserve the capacities of all his subordinates and leave him in a measure free to observe the actual conditions and to plan and to put into effect improvements along moral, industrial, physical and financial lines. HE MUST BE A FINANCIER. The financial question in every prison in the land is an extremely important one. Funds for prisons are doled out grudgingly, and the demand for absolutely necessary purposes is always far greater than the supply. A warden performs no more important function than when he sees that the funds of the institution are so used as to effect the highest possible results, and that all the forces of the prison are so energized and conserved as to permit, under ordinary conditions, a satisfactory and proper earning and economizing power. With the many demands made upon him for means for increasing the usefulness of his institution, a high order of financial aptitude is an absolutely necessary characteristic in a successful warden. DISCIPLINE. Discipline in a prison is its first requisite. Nothing can be accomplished until officers and convicts are under its sway and control. The warden who would have control of those under him must himself at all times, be under self control. The maxim "No one knows how to command who has not first learned how to obey," is a trite and a true one. The population of a prison is made up of a heterogeneous collection of people whose first instincts have been and are, not to obey. To bring such people into habits of obedience and control requires the highest type of skill, tact and discretion. Punishments and reward must be so blended and combined as to effect the needful results with the least possible friction, and in the most humane and rational manner possible. No warden can afford to delegate the matter of enforcing discipline entirely or partly, if at all, to another. His first duty to himself, that he may know actual conditions as they exist, is to preside over or assist in, the trial of offenders and to order discipline. Individual treatment is a necessity in our dealings with delinquents, and a study of the many phases of delinquency is a prime requisite in a successful warden's repertoire. Brainard F. Smith says: "Many a prisoner has been reformed--or, if not reformed, made a better prisoner--by punishment." Will the warden have any higher duty to perform than to face his delinquent delinquents and to order in merciful severity, rational punishments for their short-comings? But a warden's disciplinary powers are apt to be taxed more severely in another direction. The great problem ordinarily, is not so much the discipline of convicts as that of subordinate officers. If subordinate officers will obey the spirit and the letter of the rules, the convict has the potential influence of a powerful example to aid him. "Like master like man." In institutions where officers are appointed solely with reference to their fitness, comparatively little trouble should be had in the matter of proper official discipline. But where places are given to heelers, ward-workers and political strikers, the matter of efficient discipline is a question of grave concern to the warden. In the absence of better material, however, he must address himself to organizing what he has to the highest efficiency possible, and insist and require a rigid regimen and adhere to his demands and requirements with Spartan firmness. THE PRISON SCHOOL. The educational work of a prison is of the highest, I may say, of the first importance. The education of the hands to work comes naturally, partly as an incident of the necessary work carried on in prison. Nearly all convicts are densely ignorant. The polished, scholarly, shrewd criminal of whom we hear so much, and to whom the papers and books give so much prominence, is the exception, not the rule, in prison. If the prison is to have a reformatory feature, it must come very largely through the school. Many prison schools are such only in name. The work accomplished is very meager. The results are very unsatisfactory. To no part of prison work should a warden address himself with more ardor and determination than so to organize the prison school as to make it the great positive factor in dispelling ignorance and its attendant viciousness, and in quickening and enlivening the moral sense in those whose moral judgment is exceedingly obtuse. The course of study in a prison school is necessarily a very elementary one, and unless followed by a supplementary course of reading and study, will be of little permanent and practical benefit. Many prison libraries, largely the result of indiscriminate and heterogeneous donations of all kinds of literature, good, bad and indifferent, chiefly the latter, are not in a position to be a positive force. Let the warden see that his library is so arranged, classified and used as to be a source of information, profit, help and pleasure to the inmates, and that a course of reading along rational lines is laid out, encouraged, and, if possible, adhered to, in order that the preliminary school course may not have been in vain. COURAGE NEEDED. The warden must be a man of courage. I do not refer to the kind of courage necessary to face a regiment of depraved and wicked men shorn of their power and their stimulus to do evil, but that high moral courage necessary to clean the Augean stables of abuses of customs, to reverse policies of long standing that are nevertheless wrong in principle and in practice, to fight against unjust, improper and unwise legislative propositions concerning his institution; the kind of courage that prompted the chaplain in Chas. Reade's "NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND," to fight and destroy the iniquitous prison system of Keeper Hawes and his minions; the courage that will keep to the fore-front a persistent opposition to prostituting penitentiaries into eleemosynary institutions and political cribs and feeding troughs for political strikers. He must have the courage to weed out and eliminate useless barnacles in the shape of incompetent and worthless employes, and substitute in their stead men of capacity, character and intelligence, who are in love with their work and believe in its dignity and usefulness; the courage to face demagogues in their efforts to take from the prison its educative, moral, reformatory and economic force, the right of the unfortunate inmates to learn the gospel of labor under right and just conditions. OPTIMISM NECESSARY. The warden needs to be intensely optimistic. He must have a reserve fund of enthusiasm. He must believe profoundly in the high character of his office and educate others constantly to believe in it. The ignorance of the great mass of the people as to the real function of penitentiaries and the methods by which they are carried on is amazing and mortifying to prison officials. A part of the warden's mission is to acquaint the outside world with conditions as they exist inside, and to inspire the interest and support of the general public in measures for bettering and improving prison conditions. Legislative bodies especially, need to be brought into closer relations and the law makers made to realize their duty to the public and the convict in the enactment of wise, proper and righteous legislation. Longfellow, in his beautiful poem, "THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP," tells why the master builder achieved success. It was because "His heart was in the work and the heart Giveth grace to every art." The warden's heart must be in his work. His whole soul must be animated and permeated with an honest and sincere desire to bring penology up to a higher and nobler standard. He must have a reserve force of enthusiasm that will not be daunted and destroyed by temporary failures or the lapses of some discharged or pardoned convicts, who, in spite of care and pains, will return to their evil ways. The enthusiasm that can bear the harsh and ignorant criticism and misrepresentations incident to his work; the enthusiasm that in its contagion will inoculate directors, subordinate officers, the press and the people with a desire for more light on penal problems and a purpose to be governed by that light; the enthusiasm that will beget great patience for the exacting, difficult and trying problems before him; that will make him believe that "a convict saved is a man made"; that will make him believe with the great English novelist "It is never too late to mend," and that as infinite care and pains finally brought Robinson, the twice convicted thief, up to the estate of honest manhood, so, infinite care and pains should be exerted with every man under his charge. Pessimism has no rightful place in a penitentiary. In the language of Socrates, "Why should we who are never angry at an ill-conditioned body, always be angry with an ill-conditioned soul?" The ignorant Hawes believed in the profitless crank, the black-hole, the deprivation of food, of bed, of clothing, the tortures of the waist jacket and the collar, and a sign over the door, "ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE." The twentieth century warden believes in the gospel of productive labor, of education of hand, head and heart, in the deprivation of privileges, largely as punishment, the segregation of the desperate and nearly hopeless, the enlightenment of an all-powerful, all potential, all influential example and the motto of Pope Clement, "It is of little advantage to restrain criminals by punishment unless you reform them with training and teaching." THE CHAPLAIN. The chaplain occupies an extremely important but delicate position in prison management. It is possible for him to be of vast influence and power for good. The chaplain needs to be a man of large heart, aided by an abundance of sound common sense. He needs to bear in mind constantly, in the difficult and delicate work he is called upon to perform, that the discipline of the prison must be upheld and enforced. Associate officers are frequently disturbed with the fear that the chaplain's influence will subvert the discipline of the prison; that the shrewd, unprincipled convicts by pouring into his ears their imaginary tales of woe, may succeed in working him. The chaplain's first requirement, if he would succeed, is not to lose sight of the majesty of the law and of the prison rules. The chaplain and the warden should go hand in hand, the one sustaining the other. They need to have a perfect understanding, neither mistrusting the other. Frequent conferences ought to enable them to proceed along proper lines. The chaplain's opportunities are limitless. I do not undertake to say what direction his duties shall take him. That will be discussed fully in the Chaplain's Association. It is personal, individual work that counts in a prison. All the chaplain's work should be thought out beforehand, be methodical, premeditated, intentional, systematic and thorough. His chapel service should be rational, of the proper length, with exercises, song service and preaching service carefully chosen. There should be no room in a prison service for the spectacular, the highly emotional and the haphazard sermons and addresses of a chance visitor. A reasonably rigid censorship ought to be exercised over the contributions of outsiders to the chapel service. The influence of sight seers and idle visitors to prisons, always bad, reaches the acme of its perniciousness in the chapel service, if unrestrained and unguided by prison officials of experience and firmness, who alone are in a position to know that sickly sentimentality is the worst possible pabulum to offer men already too eager to justify their evil deeds. THE PHYSICIAN. A physician's duties in a prison are necessarily onerous, important and difficult. Convicts are constantly claiming that they are unable physically to do the work assigned them. No one can determine the truthfulness of their statements except the physician, and to determine whether the convict is really ill or exercising his usual finesse to shirk his duties, requires keen judgment of human nature as well as an accurate knowledge of his profession. The convict, housed and hemmed in, is peculiarly susceptible to hallucinations and to thinking that he is afflicted with imaginary ills. A physician needs a large fund of good judgment, will-power and common sense to combat successfully with this class of people. How far he should use some of the subterfuges supposed to be employed by physicians in the outside world in dealing with people afflicted with hypochondria, I am unable to say, but a certain amount of cheerfulness coupled with firmness is undoubtedly of great value. SUBORDINATE OFFICERS. The subordinate officers of a prison are very important factors in the management of a prison. They come in actual, continual, personal contact with the men. No difference how capable and zealous may be the warden and his deputy, unless they have men of character, zeal, intelligence and discretion to carry out their orders and wishes faithfully and well, all their plans will come to naught. Guards, keepers and watchmen should be of good moral character. It is useless to talk about reforming convicts unless they have continually the benefit of good examples set before them. Precept amounts to nothing unless re-enforced by good examples. They should be educated and intelligent. Their duties are largely discretionary, and in their contact with convicts a high order of intelligence is necessary to know the right thing to do. Strict integrity and truthfulness are prime requisites. An officer's word should be beyond question and he should be absolutely impartial in his dealings with his men. No special system will bring the highest results with any kind of men behind it. Any system with men of character, conscience and capacity will achieve great good. Any system with men of bad character, ignorant, careless and indifferent, will fall to the ground. A common impression prevails that any one is good enough for a prison guard, and if he is too old, too feeble and decrepit or too lazy for other work, his political strikers will try to unload him on the penitentiary authorities. Prison Directors, Wardens and all in authority should set their faces resolutely against this erroneous and terribly harmful idea. Partisan politics should not be a factor in the appointment or the retention of any prison officer. All subordinates should be appointed under civil service rules and be required to pass a civil service examination, and after entering upon his duties be required to take up a course of study on penological questions and problems and be otherwise carefully schooled and drilled along the lines of their work. If time demonstrates their unfitness for the position they should be summarily removed. If they manifest an aptitude and an interest in their work they should be encouraged, promoted and protected against removal for partisan reasons. Whenever directors in banks are elected with reference to their political proclivities and not with reference to their business sagacity, it will be proper to select prison officials for the same reason. Whenever great business firms discharge their managers because their political views do not coincide with those of the owners, then and not till then should prison officials step down and out for political reasons. What would be thought of directors of a business enterprise or the regents of a university who selected their business manager, their teachers, with regard to their views on finance or on the tariff, or who would remove a faithful, efficient and capable servant after years of experience in his work, merely because he did not coincide with the political views of the majority of his directors in a matter in no way germane to his work? As Boards of Directors spend but a small percentage of their time at the institutions they control, it necessarily takes them years to get a clear insight into all the details of its work, and to make a change just when, through the process of time, the director becomes fitted for his work, is the height of unwisdom and folly. Boards of Charity and Correction having charge of all the institutions in the State would certainly be much more desirable. Such officers could devote their entire time and attention to the work, and thus be able to give all the institutions of the State uniform treatment and attention. Boards of Directors or of Control should be appointed and reappointed as long as they are efficient and manifest an interest in the work. And so with all other officers from the warden down, and each should feel and know that faithfulness and efficiency is the only standard, and that they would not be expected, required or permitted to weaken their influence or their energies by undue or active participations in political effort or political manipulations. The surest sign of unfitness for prison work and lack of interest in the work is an undue activity in political caucuses and conventions. The official practically advertises that he cannot hope to hold his place on account of his efficiency, but expects to do so because of his services as a political henchman. THE DEMANDS OF THE AGE. As this age demands a high order of talent and effort in the industrial, so it should demand and require great ability and power in the penal world. The third of a century of the life of the National Prison Congress has witnessed great progress in the domain over which it has advisory power. Many problems pressing for solution demand the highest functions of those in control. Do punishments deter men from crime? Do the universal customs of the times foster and beget much of the crime committed? Does war beget murder elsewhere? Is social vengeance a failure, and are other means necessary to prevent crime? Should not executives now clothed with power to terminate or shorten sentences of imprisonment also have power to lengthen terms of imprisonment or to change from a definite to an indefinite term whenever they become in possession of facts regarding the convict's previous life or present character, which were unknown to the sentencing judge? Should not United States prisoners incarcerated in the various state prisons have the restrictions of the indeterminate sentence and the parole, thus securing a uniform system of treatment for all prisoners and greatly promoting the discipline? Should we go back of the commission of crimes and ascertain if the State itself is not committing a crime in imposing and permitting conditions that beget crime? Should not the pardoning power be exercised frequently before the convicted man ever reaches the prison at all? Could not many a man be saved by being put on probation from the start, who otherwise would be in great danger of being lost? Does the discipline of prisons have anything to do with the commission of offenses by convicts when released? Does the enforced restraint exerted to the very last moment of his release and then wholly relaxed, cause the released convict to swing to the other extreme like Jean Valjean, who after nineteen years of imprisonment for stealing a loaf of bread and an attempt to escape, robbed his benefactor, the Bishop, of his plate, and upon being forgiven robbed little Gervais of his forty sou piece, but afterward got his bearings, attained his balance and lived an honorable life? Should any prisoner ever be released at the prison door, or should he not for his own sake as well as society's be required to live a period on probation and under oversight, subject to return for violations; in other words, should not paroles be, under proper restrictions, the universal and only rule? To the solution of these and countless other problems let the highest order of talent, the best combination of head, heart and brain be summoned: let every prison be a school for study and investigation, and be engineered and controlled by men of skill, drilled and educated along these lines, and who are animated by a desire to contribute their full share towards the upbuilding and uplifting of the race and the amelioration of the woes that beset mankind. MEDITATIONS OF A PRISONER. PREFACE. To any one who may read these lines I will say: Do not criticise; I know you will find many mistakes, but I hope you will remember they are written by one who has not had the advantage of an education. My school days ended when I was nine years old. Knowing this, I hope you will excuse mistakes. Respectfully yours, E. S. K. I often wonder if the busy world ever gives a thought to the men incarcerated in places made for the punishment of crime and reformation of criminals, but often failing of reaching the desired result. Why is this failure? It must be from defect in the law or prison discipline. Some think perhaps the rigid enforcement of the law in its severest way is right, and that the prisoner should be shown no mercy. But this is wrong in every detail and should be just the reverse, so far as consistent with good order and discipline. A judge in sentencing a prisoner should give a sentence consistent with justice and mercy, regardless of public sentiment, considering his own judgment, and not the possible consequences of his act on his future. Until this is more generally practiced, I am afraid there will be many too severe sentences passed on minor criminals and first offenders, as now, which will work to the injury of the convicted instead of his reformation. In my humble opinion, one year would give the lesson desired to many a novice in crime who is now serving from three to ten years. It should be remembered that short sentences give a novice in crime a wholesome dread of the law and fear of prison life, while custom and association with criminals tend to harden. The cases of old offenders, require more severity as regards time of confinement. Nor can we say to the jurors--or, rather, gentlemen of the jury--be very careful of what you do. Don't treat the trust you have in charge too lightly; give it all the consideration you are masters of. Remember you have the liberty, and, perhaps the life, of your fellowman at stake. Be very careful of what you do. Allow no personal motive to interfere with your duty, for, if we believe in the Bible, those who do so will answer in the hereafter for actions in this life. Beware, then, of how you mete out justice to your fellowman. Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Weigh well the evidence given against the prisoner. If you find that there is a motive on the part of the witnesses to convict the prisoner being tried, you may rest assured they will trifle with the truth. In such cases a juror should try and put himself in the defendant's place and try to assume his feelings and condition, as much as possible, and see how he would act in a like case. If all jurors would do this, I think they would give a just and true verdict in nearly all cases. But I fear as things are now they let the press have too much weight with the rendering of a just verdict, and it may be of what their friends will say to them if they have a different opinion. Yet the man who does such a thing is a coward, a devil incarnate, and unfit to be at large. Such action may be the cause of making a criminal out of a so far really honest man. May God forgive them who recklessly tamper with the liberty of their fellowman. Some may think I am not for punishment of crime. If so, they are wrong. I believe in punishment of crime. But I believe in tempering justice with mercy. There should be no lingering doubt in a person's mind when he gives his verdict against the prisoner. It is a very easy thing to place a man in prison, but oh! so hard to get him out. A lie sworn to and believed is one of the hardest things in the world to get righted. And I know from personal experience what it is. Though it seems hard to say a lie is more readily believed against a person charged with a crime than the truth, yet it seems easier to a great many to believe bad rather than good of their neighbor. Yet, thank God, it is not so with all. We have many noble and true Christians yet in this vale of tears--gentlemen and ladies who practice what they say by many kindly acts to the poor, unhappy men who are unfortunate enough to get behind prison bars. God bless them for such acts. It does not hurt them, and gives to the unhappy prisoner a little happiness--a ray of sunshine through the clouds that surround him. Continue your noble work. You will be the gainer in the end, from the knowledge that you have done in the Lord's work, if in no other way. Oh, could you see the happiness beam from the eyes of some of those here, after the call of some who take friendly interest in them, you would know the good they are doing. Others seem to say: Oh, well, I am forgotten by all. Poor heart; what a sad lot. It would seem the sooner that death ended their misery the better. But while there is life there is hope. I must say that many ladies of C---- are very kind in giving up their own pleasures on Sundays that prisoners in this prison may have some little change in their life. The visiting chaplains always bring a choir with them, and to them we give our heartfelt thanks, with a God bless you. I love to read of the progress made in these penal institutions where reform is practiced. I am sure the prisoners must take an interest in it all, for it is all for their own good. The Stillwater prison and Elmira prison must be models of neatness and good order, with a perfect system of discipline. It would be well for all prisons to copy them. If prisons are supposed to be erected for the purpose of reformation, why not make them in reality what they are intended to be? Of course, there are many different kinds of crime committed by men of different temperaments, all of which are thoroughly understood, or as nearly as possible. For example, take the greatest crime committed in the eyes of the law--murder--which is often called murder when there is no ground for it. The public outcry when one man is unfortunate enough to take the life of another at a time when he may have every reason to believe his own life is in the greatest danger. The cry is raised by some one, possibly an eye-witness--Murder! It is taken up by the press and conveyed to every one, and possibly a slight coloring given to it. The people believe it all. The consequence is the public mind is prejudiced against the prisoner, and it takes a great amount of proof by the defendant to change that belief, and should he not be able to produce this evidence, in spite of all he can say he is convicted of the crime of murder, when in reality he is guilty of manslaughter, if anything. For, no matter how truthful a man he may be known to be, his word, unsustained by evidence, is not accepted; while, on the other side, no matter how untruthful a witness be known to be, he is given credit for the truth. What kind of a state of affairs is this? No wonder we often hear the cry go up from some poor wounded or crushed heart saying: O, God, is there no mercy left in man? Is humanity wholly dead? Must death overtake me here? Shunned I am by all whom I once called friends--wife, children, it may be a brother--but never by a mother, God bless her. Let us take a look at this class of sufferers. What will we find them? Idle? No. They are as a rule men attending to their work and submitting to all the courtesies of life, only asking the same in return. Surely, such cannot be very bad men, who, hearing the cry of distress, respond at once to the appeal. I know some such to have a heart as tender as a woman. Yet you will shut them up, it may be forever. Don't understand me to say that murder is not committed. Of course it is, and the law should deal with it accordingly. All true men regret the taking of human life, even on the field of battle. How much more so under other circumstances? And the causes are many which make men do this; some of them hard to understand, may be. In many cases of this kind they deserve punishment and should be punished. But, for God's sake, let the punishment be consistent with justice and mercy. If ten years is not sufficient punishment to make man control himself in future, why not be merciful and kill him at once? For as we hope for mercy, so must we show it to others. All other crimes should be dealt with accordingly. Give a man a chance to reclaim himself. Should he return to a life of crime in preference to an honest one, the law has its remedy and can act accordingly. This is well worth a trial, and by all means should be given one. But I hear some one who never gave these things a thought say: How is this to be done? I will answer, Very easily, if it receive the support of our legislative body, by the recommendation of the state governor. Provide your prisons with workshops of different kinds--provide them with schools, and teach the prisoners how to make a living by some useful trade. Give them a chance to improve themselves by an education. Make the prison a place of reformation, one of improvement as well as punishment, and instead of increasing crime you will reduce it, which should be the aim of all having the good of their fellowman at heart, and society will be the gainer. I would give a prisoner who would show by his conduct a spirit of reform a parole after half of his time, with conditions attached, as is done in the Minnesota state prison, so that, should he fall back into his old way of living, he would be returned to prison to serve out the remainder of his sentence. By this means you to all intents and purposes hold a power over him, and he will be very careful as to what he is about. This habit in time will grow upon him and be the cause of making him a good citizen and trustworthy member of society. To men serving life sentences I would, on the recommendation of the prison warden, give a parole after manslaughter sentence has been served. This is a class of men that deserve some looking after by the kindly interest of humane persons. Give them hope and encouragement. Do not leave them to their own morbid thoughts; you cannot tell what drove them to an act they will regret, whether in or out of prison. If hasty once, it is no reason to suppose they will be so again. Why not, then, look after them? Let some of you Christian people talk with them, and if you find they ought to be assisted, help them. You know not what good you may do, and without such aid a poor and friendless man in prison is without hope. Will you, as Christians, let him die believing the word Christianity a mockery? God forbid. I know there are many good Christians that feel and mean what they say. But I am afraid that many of the less courageous are deterred from doing all they would like to do by the sneers of the hard, cruel world. But this should only spur you on. If you feel you are right, push on; do not stop half way. In connection with the parole law we should have our prisoners graded as first, second and third class, giving to the second grade or class advantages above the third, and to the first above the second, giving them a motive to reform their ways while yet in prison, and their partial liberty from the first class by parole. By this means you instill into the prisoner a habit for good which in time will take root and prove a blessing, not only to the prisoner, but also a source of pleasure to those bringing it about. It must be expected that some will fall again; but why should the many suffer for the few? I have heard and read such sayings as this: The worst men are the best behaved while in prison if there is anything to be gained by it. I dispute this. No man can control or hide his real nature for any great length of time. Nature is bound to come to the surface sooner or later. The officers and guards of a prison should be men strict in the enforcement of the prison rules, humane and just in all their actions, men who by their own actions and deportment will gain and hold the respect of those under their charge. They should reward the good as well as punish the evil in men. It would, in my humble opinion, be nothing but true justice to the prisoner to put the whole power of pardoning, commuting and paroling prisoners in the hands of the governor. I do not say a judge will not give justice where clemency is asked. But it may be the case that a judge on the board of pardons has sentenced the prisoner, and probably in some way became prejudiced against the applicant, and it might be the cause of influencing his vote; consequently, it would look like a piece of injustice to the prisoner to allow that judge to sit on his case. I think it would be well for a governor to make himself perfectly acquainted with all pertaining to the mode of life of the prisoners, as much as possible. It ought to be remembered that when the prison doors close on a man your duty is only half done to yourself, the prisoner and society at large. He needs looking after mentally, morally and physically. Do not leave him to his own morbid thoughts, but help him to forget his surroundings as much as possible. Give him hope, for without hope we are lost to ourselves and the world. It is possible some will say they ought to be; but it must be a very heartless person who makes this remark. Remember, while you are walking about to-day, feeling self-conscious of your own strength to resist any and everything in the line of temptation, the time may come when you will lose control of yourself; or, it may be, some one dear to you will fall. In such cases, how many excuses you can find for yourself or him. Can you find none for those now suffering for the same? I feel impelled by some power to speak of those very people in a few lines. Perhaps it may catch their eye. Why will you follow one to prison with hate, malice and persecution, one who would not harm a single hair of your head, one who never had or has a single bitter thought against you, one that nightly asks God's protection to you and yours? And yet you persecute him, or it may be them, with all the might you can. Is it not enough that he has lost home, friends, wife, children and happiness at one false move? Is it not enough that he is condemned to a living death, hearing every hour of the day the clang of the iron bars that shut him out from the world, that separate him from all he loves? I say to you, is this not enough to satisfy the most bitter feelings of any avowed enemy? It ought to be. Yes, this ought to satisfy you without trying to obliterate the memory of the father from the child's heart and without denying him the privilege of communicating with them; without denying him the pleasure of doing something for them and of one day seeing them, which is all he has left to live for. To all to whom these lines refer, who read them, I will say, change all this. Ask God's help to give you strength to do right. In time you will feel a restful peace come to you, and it will make you content, if not happy. Try this, and may God in his mercy show you the way. And to all prisoners who may be suffering from the persecution of injustice by others, I will say the same. Say with all your heart: God forgive them, they know not what they do. And you will always find a comfort in helping one another. For as we hope to be forgiven, so must we forgive. What use in saying the Lord's prayer--Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us? We must consider well the meaning of those lines, and if we cannot or do not comply with all they mean it is better for us not to use them. I thank God from my heart, I can say I forgive all my enemies. I have nothing but a kindly feeling for all mankind. I do not mean to say that I am not ruffled at times, for I am; I would not be human if I were not. There is one class of men who come to prison that should command the attention of our lawmakers--namely, married men. Not on their own account, for they should pay the penalty of the law as well as another, but on account of their families. It must be remembered that when you take away the father and supporter of a family you leave them without the means of support; and if the mother happens to be a sick and weakly person, what is to become of them? To be sure, we have the orphans' home and the alms-house, but this is only taxing more heavily the already over-burdened taxpayers of the country. Then it would be a commendable act of the legislative bodies to enact laws to provide for the improvement of such married men and give the earnings of their labor to their families. This, to me, looks reasonable and just, and easy of accomplishment, and should be acted upon by all means. Let me draw you a picture from my imagination: We will visit a family who are in easy circumstances these cold nights. What do we see? Well-clad and well-fed children, a happy, contented look rests upon the wife's and husband's faces. Why should it not be so? They have plenty to eat and wear; a full bin of coal. Again, visit one where the husband may be languishing behind the prison bars, but of the same class. It is not so cheerful, but still no want is felt, and the father and husband, although chafing at confinement, feels that his family is not in want. This, of course, will be a consolation to him. Now let us visit another house, where they have always lived from hand to mouth. The father is gone. The mother and children, poor souls, ill-clad, ill-fed, and, my God, it may be, no fire. What a picture to contemplate. It makes me shudder to think of it. Now come with me behind the prison bars and see the head of this family. Knowing the want and needs of his family, and knowing how impossible it is for him to alleviate their suffering, it is enough to drive a man insane. But, on the other hand, if this man could earn something for his family's support, it would relieve his mind of a heavy burden. Think well of this, and in the name of God change the law that certainly works contrary to what it was intended for. As it now stands, you simply provide punishment for the criminals. In so doing you cause untold suffering and shame to innocent ones. In God's name, let it cease to be so. Now, then, for fear I may tire the reader, I will close. Very respectfully, E. CHRIST IN GETHSEMANE. ---- State Prison. January 18, 1886. Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, Prison Evangelist. My Dearest Sister:-- "What might a single mind may wield, With Truth for sword and Faith for shield, And Hope to lead the way: Thus all high triumphs are obtained, From evil good--as God ordained The night before the day!" "And being in an agony, He prayed."--St. Luke 22:44. When the last supper was over, and the last hymn had been sung, our Lord and His Apostles--with the one traitor fatally absent from their number--went out of the city gate, and down the steep valley of the Kidron to the green slope of Olivet beyond it. Solemn and sad was that last walk together; and a weight of mysterious awe sank like lead upon the hearts of those few poor Galileans as in almost unbroken silence,--through the deep hush of the Oriental night,--through the dark shadows of the ancient olive-trees,--through the broken gleams of the Paschal moonlight,--they followed Him, their Lord and Master, who, with bowed head and sorrowing heart, walked before them to His willing doom. That night they did not return as usual to Bethany, but stopped at the little familiar garden of Gethsemane, or "the oilpress." Jesus knew that the hour of His uttermost humiliation was near,--that from this moment till the utterance of that great cry which broke His heart, nothing remained for Him on earth, save all that the human frame can tolerate of torturing pain, and all that the human soul can bear of poignant anguish--till in that torment of body and desolation of soul, even the high and radiant serenity of His divine spirit should suffer a short but terrible eclipse. One thing alone remained before that short hour began; a short space was left Him, and in that space He had to brace His body, to nerve His soul, to calm His spirit by prayer and solitude, until all that is evil in the power of evil should wreak its worst upon His innocent and holy head. And He had to face that hour,--to win that victory,--as all the darkest hours must be faced, as all the hardest victories must be won--alone. It was not that He was above the need of sympathy,--no noble soul is;--and perhaps the noblest need it most. Though His friends did but sleep, while the traitor toiled, yet it helped Him in His hour of darkness to feel at least that they were near and that those were nearest who loved Him most. "Stay here," He said to the little group, "while I go yonder and pray." Leaving them to sleep, each wrapped in his outer garment on the grass, He took Peter and James and John, the chosen of the chosen, and went about a stone's-throw off. But soon even _their_ presence was more than He could endure. A grief beyond utterance, a struggle beyond endurance, a horror of great darkness, overmastered Him, as with the sinking swoon of an anticipated death. He must be yet more alone, and alone with God. Reluctantly He tore Himself away from their sustaining tenderness, and amid the dark-brown trunks of those gnarled trees withdrew from the moonlight into the deeper shade, where solitude might be for Him the audience-chamber of His Heavenly Father. And there, till slumber overpowered them, His three beloved Apostles were conscious how dreadful was the paroxysm through which He passed. They saw Him sometimes with head bowed upon His knees, sometimes lying on His face in prostrate suffering upon the ground. And though amazement and sore distress fell on them,--though the whole place seemed to be haunted by Presences of good and evil struggling in mighty but silent contest for the eternal victory,--yet, before they sank under the oppression of troubled slumber, they knew that they had been the dim witnesses of an unutterable agony, in which the drops of anguish which dropped from His brow in that deathful struggle looked to them like gouts of blood, and yet the burden of those broken murmurs in which He pleaded with His Heavenly Father had been ever this, "If it be possible,--yet not what I will, but what Thou wilt." What is the meaning, my beloved sister, of this scene for us? What was the cause of this midnight hour? Do you think that it was the fear of death, and that that was sufficient to shake to its utmost center the pure and innocent soul of the Son of Man? Could not even a child see how inconsistent such a fear would be with all that followed;--with that heroic fortitude which fifteen consecutive hours of sleepless agony could not disturb;--with that majestic silence which overawed even the hard Roman into respect and fear;--with that sovereign ascendency of soul which flung open the golden gate of Paradise to the repentant malefactor, and breathed its compassionate forgiveness on the apostate priest? Could He have been afraid of death, in whose name, and in whose strength, and for whose sake alone, trembling old men, and feeble maidens, and timid boys have faced it in its worst form without a shudder or a sigh? My friend, the dread of the mere act of dying is a cowardice so abject that the meanest passions of the mind can master it, and many a coarse criminal has advanced to meet his end with unflinching confidence and steady step. And Jesus knew, if any have ever known, that it is as natural to die as to be born,--that it is the great birthright of all who love God;--that it is God who giveth His beloved sleep. The sting of death--and its only sting--is sin; the victory of the grave--and its only victory--is corruption. And Jesus knew no sin, saw no corruption. No, that which stained His forehead with crimson drops was something far deadlier than death. Though sinless He was suffering for sin. The burden and the mystery of man's strange and revolting wickedness lay heavy on His soul; and with holy lips He was draining the bitter cup into which sin had infused its deadliest poison. Could perfect innocence endure without a shudder all that is detestable in human ingratitude and human rage? Should there be no recoil of horror in the bosom of perfect love to see His own,--for whom he came,--absorbed in one insane repulsion against infinite purity and tenderness and peace? It was a willing agony, but it was agony; it was endured for our sakes; the Son of God suffered that He might through suffering become perfect in infinite sympathy as a Savior strong to save. And on all the full mysterious meaning of that agony and bloody sweat it would be impossible now to dwell, but may we not for a short time dwell with profit--may not every one whose heart--being free from the fever of passion, and unfretted by the pettiness of pride--is calm and meek and reverent enough to listen to the messages of God, even be they spoken by the feeblest of human lips,--may we not all, I say, learn something from this fragment of that thrilling story that--"being in an agony, He prayed"? "The chosen three, on mountain height, While Jesus bowed in prayer, Beheld His vesture glow with light, His face shine wondrous fair." To every one of us, I suppose, sooner or later the Gethsemane of life must come. It may be the Gethsemane of struggle, and poverty and care;--it may be the Gethsemane of long and weary sickness;--it may be the Gethsemane of farewells that wring the heart by the deathbeds of those we love;--it may be the Gethsemane of remorse, and of well-nigh despair, for sins that we will not--but which we say we cannot--overcome. Well, my dearest sister, in that Gethsemane--aye, even in that Gethsemane of sin--no angel merely,--but Christ Himself who bore the burden of our sins,--will, if we seek Him, come to comfort us. He will, if being in agony, we pray. He can be touched, He is touched, with the feeling of our infirmities. He, too, has trodden the winepress of agony alone; He, too, has lain face downwards in the night upon the ground; and the comfort which then came to Him He has bequeathed to us--even the comfort, the help, the peace, the recovery, the light, the hope, the faith, the sustaining arm, the healing anodyne of prayer. It is indeed a natural comfort--and one to which the Christian at least flies instinctively. When the water-floods drown us,--when all God's waves and storms seem to be beating over our souls,--when "Calamity comes like a deluge, and o'erfloods our crimes till sin is hidden in sorrow"--oh, then, if we have not wholly quenched all spiritual life within us, what can we do but fling ourselves at the foot of those great altar stairs that slope through darkness to God? Yes, being in an agony, we pray; and the talisman against every agony is there. And herein lies the great mercy and love of God, that we may go to Him in our agony even if we have never gone before. Oh, if prayer were possible only for the always good and always true, possible only for those who have never forsaken or forgotten God,--if it were not possible for sinners and penitents and those who have gone astray,--then of how infinitely less significance would it be for sinful and fallen man! But our God is a God of Love, a God of Mercy. He is very good to us. The soul may come bitter and disappointed, with nothing left to offer Him but the dregs of a misspent life;--the soul may come, like that sad Prodigal, weary and broken, and shivering, and in rags; but if it only come--the merciful door is open still, and while yet we are a great way off our Father will meet and forgive and comfort us. And then what a change is there in our lives! They are weak no longer; they are discontented no longer; they are the slaves of sin no longer. You have seen the heavens gray with dull and leaden-colored clouds, you have seen the earth chilly and comfortless under its drifts of unmelting snow: but let the sun shine, and then how rapidly does the sky resume its radiant blue, and the fields laugh with green grass and vernal flower! So will it be with even a withered and a wasted life when we return to God and suffer Him to send His bright beams of light upon our heart. I do not mean that the pain or misery under which we are suffering will necessarily be removed,--even for Christ it was not so; but peace will come and strength will come and resignation will come and hope will come,--and we shall feel able to bear anything which God shall send, and though He slays us we still shall seek Him, and even if the blackest cloud of anguish seem to shroud His face from us, even on that cloud shall the rainbow shine. You do not think, my sister, that because God never rejects the prayer of sinner or sufferer, that therefore we may go on sinning, trusting to repent when we suffer. That would be a shameful abuse of God's mercy and tenderness; it would be a frame of mind which would need this solemn warning, that agony by no means always leads to prayer; that it may come when prayer is possible no longer to the long-hardened and long-prayerless soul. I know no hope so senseless, so utterly frustrated by all experience, as the hope of what is called deathbed repentance. Those who are familiar with many deathbeds will tell you why. But prayer--God's blessed permission to us, to see Him and to know Him, and to trust in Him--_that_ is granted us not for the hours of death or agony alone, but for all life, almost from the very cradle quite to the very grave. And it is a gift no less priceless for its alleviation of sorrow than for its intensification of all innocent joy. For him who would live a true life it is as necessary in prosperity as in adversity,--in peace as in trouble,--in youth as in old age. Here, too, Christ is our example. He lived, as we may live, in the light of His Father's face. It was not only as the Man of Sorrows, it was not only in the moonlit garden of His agony, or on the darkening hills of His incessant toil, that prayer had refreshed His soul; but often during those long unknown years in the little Galilean village,--daily, and from childhood upwards, in sweet hours of peace, kneeling amid the mountain lilies or on the cottage floor. Those prayers are to the soul what the dew of God is to the flowers of the field; the burning wind of the day may pass over them, and the stems droop and the colors fade, but when the dew steals down at evening, they will revive. Why should not that gracious dew fall even now and always for all of us upon the fields of life? A life which has been from the first a life of prayer,--a life which has thus from its earliest days looked up consciously to its Father and its God,--will always be a happy life. Time may fleet, and youth may fade,--as they will, and there may be storm as well as sunshine in the earthly career; yet it will inevitably be a happy career, and with a happiness that cannot die. Yes, this is the lesson which I would that we all might learn from the thought of Christ in the garden of Gethsemane;--the lesson that Prayer may recall the sunshine even to the dark and the frozen heart; but that there is no long winter, there is no unbroken night, to that soul on which the Sun of Righteousness has risen with healing in His wings. And that because true prayer is always heard. We read in the glorious old Greek poet of prayers which, before they reached the portals of heaven were scattered by the winds; and indeed there are some prayers so deeply opposed to the will of God, so utterly alien to the true interests of men, that nothing could happen better for us than that God should refuse, nothing more terrible than that He should grant them in anger. So that if we pray for any earthly blessing we may pray for it solely "if it be God's will"; "if it be for our highest good," but, for all the best things we may pray without misgiving, without reservation, certain that if we ask God will grant them. Nay, even in asking for them we may know that we have them,--for what we desire to ask, and what we ask, we aim at, and what we aim at we shall attain. No man ever yet asked to be, as the days pass by, more noble, and sweet, and pure, and heavenly-minded,--no man ever yet prayed that the evil spirits of hatred, and pride, and passion, and worldliness, might be cast out of his soul,--without his petition being granted, and granted to the letter. And with all other gifts God then gives us His own self besides,--He makes us know Him, and love Him, and live in Him. "Thou hast written well of me," said the Vision to the great teacher of Aquinum, "what reward dost thou desire?" "Non aliam, nisi te Domine"--"no other than Thyself, O Lord," was the meek and rapt reply. And when all our restless, fretful, discontented longings are reduced to this alone, the desire to see God's face;--when we have none in Heaven but Him, and none upon earth whom we desire in comparison of Him;--then we are indeed happy beyond the reach of any evil thing, for then we have but one absorbing wish, and that wish cannot be refused. Least of all can it be refused when it has pleased God to afflict us. "Ye now have sorrow," said Christ, "but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you." Yes, when God's children pass under the shadows of the Cross of Calvary they know that through that shadow lies their passage to the Great White Throne. For them Gethsemane is as Paradise. God fills it with sacred presences; its solemn silence is broken by the music of tender promises; its awful darkness softened and brightened by the sunlight of heavenly faces, and the music of angel wings. "I am baptized into thy name, O Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! Among thy seed a place I claim, Among thy consecrated host; Buried with Christ and dead to sin, Thy Spirit now shall live within." "And we have seen and do testify that the Father sent the Son to be the Savior of the world." Your Brother in Christ, L. J. DIRECTORY OF PENITENTIARIES, STATE REFORM SCHOOLS, STATE INDUSTRIAL REFORMATORIES, ETC., OF THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA. UNITED STATES PRISONS. United States Penitentiary, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. United States Penitentiary, Atlanta, Georgia. United States Penitentiary, McNeil Island, Washington. United States jails in the Indian Territory: Vinita, Muskogee, South McAlester and Ardmore. United States Jail, Fort Smith, Arkansas. United States Jail, Guthrie, Oklahoma. DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA.--District Jail, Reform School, and Reform School for Girls, Washington. There are several small United States jails in Alaska and within the States occupying rented quarters. STATE INSTITUTIONS. ALABAMA.--Penitentiary, Wetumpka; two prisons at Pratt Mines. Boys' Industrial School, East Lake. ARIZONA.--Territorial Prison, Yuma. ARKANSAS.--Penitentiary, Little Rock. CALIFORNIA.--Prisons, Folsom and San Quentin. State Schools, Whittier and Ione. COLORADO.--Penitentiary, Canon City. Reformatory, Buena Vista. Reform School for Girls, Denver. Industrial School for Girls, Morrison. Industrial School for Boys, Golden. CONNECTICUT.--Prison, Weathersfield. Reform School, Meridan. Industrial School for Girls, Middletown. DELAWARE.--Ferris Industrial School and Industrial School for Girls, Wilmington. FLORIDA.--Stockade Camps (13 in 1900). Prisoners farmed out, mining phosphate. Reform School, Marianna. GEORGIA.--Woman's Prison, Milledgville. Stockades at mines and farms; prisoners leased. IDAHO.--Penitentiary, Boise City. ILLINOIS.--Penitentiaries, Joliet, Chester. Reformatory, Pontiac. Industrial School for Girls, South Evanston. Home for Female Offenders, Geneva. Erring Woman's Refuge, Chicago. INDIANA.--Prisons, Jeffersonville, Michigan City. Woman's Prison, and Reform School for Girls, Indianapolis. Reform School for Boys, Plainfield. IOWA.--Penitentiaries, Fort Madison, Animosa. Industrial Schools: Boys, Eldora; Girls, Mitchelville. KANSAS.--Penitentiary, Lansing. Reform School, Topeka. Industrial Reformatory, Hutchinson. Industrial School for Girls, Beloit. KENTUCKY.--Penitentiaries, Frankfort, Eddyville. Reform School, Lexington. Industrial School of Reform, Louisville. LOUISIANA.--Penitentiary, Baton Rouge. Boys' House of Refuge, New Orleans. MAINE.--Prison, Thomaston. Reform School, South Portland. Industrial School for Girls, Hallowell. MARYLAND.--Penitentiary, Baltimore. House of Refuge for Boys, Female House of Refuge, and St. Mary's Industrial School, Baltimore. Industrial Home for Colored Girls, Melvale. House of Reformation for Colored Boys, Cheltenham. MASSACHUSETTS.--Prison, Charlestown. Reformatory, Concord. Reformatory Prison for Women, Sherborn. Industrial School for Girls, Lancaster. Lyman School for Boys, Westboro. State Primary School, Monson. MICHIGAN.--Prison, Jackson. Branch prison and House of Correction, Marquette. House of Correction and Reformatory, Ionia. Industrial School for Boys, Lansing. Industrial Home for Girls, Adrian. MINNESOTA.--Prison, Stillwater. Reformatory (for 16 to 30 years old), St. Cloud. State Training School, Redwing. MISSISSIPPI.--Penitentiary, Jackson. Farms. MISSOURI.--Penitentiary, Jefferson City. Reform School for Boys, Boonville. Industrial Home for Girls, Chillicothe. House of Refuge, St. Louis. MONTANA.--Prisons, Deer Lodge, Billings. Reform School, Miles City. NEBRASKA.--Penitentiary, Lincoln. Industrial School for Boys, Kearney. Industrial School for Girls, Geneva. NEVADA.--Prison, Carson City. NEW HAMPSHIRE.--Prison, Concord. Industrial School, Manchester. NEW JERSEY.--Prison and Industrial School for Girls, Trenton. Reform School, Jamesburg. NEW MEXICO.--Penitentiary, Santa Fe. NEW YORK.--Prisons, Sing Sing, Auburn (also one for women). Reformatories, Elmira; Ellensville; Bedford. Institutions also at New York, Buffalo, Rochester, Syracuse, Hudson and Albion. NORTH CAROLINA.--Penitentiary, Raleigh. Prisoners mostly on State Farms. NORTH DAKOTA.--Penitentiary, Bismark. OHIO.--Penitentiary, Columbus. Reformatory, Mansfield. Industrial School, Boys, Lancaster; Girls, Delaware. House of Refuge, Cincinnati. OREGON.--Penitentiary, Reform School, Salem. PENNSYLVANIA.--Penitentiaries, Philadelphia, Allegheny. Industrial Reformatory, Huntingdon. Reform School, Morganza. House of Correction, Philadelphia. House of Refuge, Glen Mills. RHODE ISLAND.--Prison, Work House and House of Correction, Sockanosset. School for Boys, and Oaklawn School for Girls, Howard. SOUTH CAROLINA.--Penitentiary, Columbia. State Farms. SOUTH DAKOTA.--Penitentiary, Sioux Falls. Reform School, Plankinton. TENNESSEE.--Penitentiaries, Nashville, Petros. Industrial School, Nashville. TEXAS.--Penitentiaries, Huntsville, Rusk. House of Correction and Reformatory, Gatesville. UTAH.--Penitentiary, Salt Lake City. Reform School, Ogden. VERMONT.--Prison, Windsor. House of Correction, Rutland. Industrial School, Vergenes. VIRGINIA.--Penitentiary, Richmond. Laurel Industrial School, Glen Allen. WASHINGTON.--Penitentiary, Walla Walla. Reform School, Chehalis. WEST VIRGINIA.--Penitentiary, Moundsville. Reform School for Boys, Pruntytown. Girls' Industrial School, Salem. WISCONSIN.--Prison, Waupun. Reformatory, near Green Bay. Industrial School for Boys, Waukesha. For Girls and Boys, Milwaukee. WYOMING.--Penitentiary, Rawlins. PRISONS IN CANADA. Penitentiaries or Prisons, Kingston, Toronto, St. Vincent de Paul, Dorchester, New Westminster, and Stony Mountain. * * * * * "_IT WILL STIR THE SOUL._" A NEW AND WONDERFUL BOOK. OLD-TIME RELIGION. BY REV. S. B. SHAW. * * * * * [Illustration: Old Time Religion book cover] Including an account of the Greatest Revivals since Pentecostal Days, and telling how to bring about an old time revival. Also recording many remarkable answers to prayer. MAKE MONEY AND DO GOOD By selling good books that the people want. The first edition of 10,000 copies of this new book is already selling rapidly and is doing great good. It will attract both saint and sinner. Some of the old time sermons that moved the multitudes toward God, like men slain in battle, until their cries seemed to rend the very heavens, are recorded in this book. 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It certainly will have a large sale." =The Free Methodist:= "An excellent compilation of facts in connection with old time revivals and contains much solid truth respecting old time repentance, conversion, and righteousness. The author quotes from 'Fletcher's Appeal,' Bunyan's 'Pilgrim's Progress,' James B. Finley, James Caughey, and other noted 'old time' writers and evangelists. The work is full of interest and can but do good. We bespeak for it a large sale." =Religious Telescope:= "'The Old-Time Religion,' by S. B. SHAW, is a new book, which is a revelation of the awful corruption of sin and of the mighty transforming power of the grace of God. Other books by the same author have had a sale of nearly a HALF MILLION copies, and we consider this book fully equal, if not superior, to any of them." 320 PAGES, 5 BY 8 INCHES. Price, per copy, post-paid: Cloth, $1.00; Paper, 35 cents. Be early in the field. Secure a copy of the book. It will be all the outfit needed. Write us at once for terms to agents. S. B. SHAW, Publisher, 212 West Chicago Avenue, CHICAGO, ILL. [Illustration: Ad Page] RELIGIOUS BOOKS THAT STIR THE SOUL Books worth having. Books that record facts. Books that do good and permanent good. Books that reveal heaven and hell. Books that melt hearts to tears. Books that awaken conviction and WIN SOULS. Books that people love NEXT TO THEIR BIBLES. See list below. HALF MILLION SOLD ALL BOOKS ARE UNIFORM IN SIZE. 5 x 8 INCHES =The Great Revival in Wales=, Shaw. Compiled, Concise, Complete. Includes full account of Great Revival in Ireland in 1859. In great demand 256 pages. Cloth 75c Paper 25c =Miracles in the Slums=, Rees. Timely, True, Touching, Rightly named. 40 illustrations. Selling fast. 304 pages. Cloth $1.00 =Spiritual Flashlights=, Perry. New, Neat, Nothing like it. Selected from hundreds of writers. 153 topics. Alphabetically arranged. 408 pages. Cloth $1.00 =Old Time Religion=, Shaw. Primitive, Pathetic, Powerful. Contains accounts of greatest revivals since Pentecost. Stirs hearts, wins souls, and will help to bring about an old time revival. 288 pages. Cloth $1.00 paper 35c =Wayside Sketches=, Cooke. Bright, Bracing, Biographical. 28 illustrations. 382 pages. Cloth $1.00 =Touching Incidents and Remarkable Answers to Prayer=, Shaw. Attractive, Absorbing, Authentic. 300,000 sold. 320 pages. Cloth $1.00 Paper 35c =Children's Edition of Touching Incidents=, Shaw. 42 illustrations. 128 pages. 125,000 sold. Cloth 60c Board 35c =Dying Testimonies of Saved and Un-Saved=, Shaw. True, Thrilling, Triumphant. 160,000 sold. 320 pages. Cloth $1.00 Paper 35c =The Men Behind the Bars=, Sanders. Interesting, Instructive, Illustrated. 320 pages. Cloth $1.00 =God's Financial Plan=, Shaw. Searching, Scriptural, Spiritual. Largest sale of any book of its theme ever published. 320 pages. Cloth $1.00 Paper 35c =Traits of Character=, Kletzing. Elevating, Entertaining, Excellent. 180 illustrations. Cloth $1.00 Any =FOUR= of the above books sent POST PAID to one address, Cloth $3.00 Paper $1.10 Any THREE of the above books sent =POST PAID= to one address, Cloth $2.50 Paper 90c ONE THOUSAND AGENTS WANTED WRITE FOR TERMS AND LARGE ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE Address, S. B. SHAW, Publisher, 212-214 W. Chicago Avenue, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS. * * * * * Transcriber's note: Page xviii: In the table of contents for CHAPTER XI., the transcriber has changed the incorrect page number 88 to 87. Page xix: In the table of contents the words "CHAPTER XVIII" are missing and have been added by the transcriber. Page 169: "who was chosen of God as the agent". The transcriber has inserted the word "as" where a blank space occurred. Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. Variations in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained except in obvious cases of typographical error.