“ON FAMILY RELIGION,” from The Gospel Banner
of February, 1906.
ABOUT the year 1762 I observed a hearer, whose complexion indicated something of an uncommon dejection of spirit; the features of his face appeared to have been considerably changed by a long series of soul concern. Upon enquiry, I found that he lived about two miles from the place of worship. I judged, from the distress I was persuaded he must be in, that I should be a welcome visitor at his house; accordingly I went, and knocked at his door. Providence so ordering it, he came himself to open the door; but upon seeing me, appeared much confused, and at first my expectations of receiving a welcome were quite disappointed. After some recollection he bade me follow him, and then led me across the house into a back parlour. After sitting down, he accosted me in the following manner: “You will think my conduct singular, but I tell you I dare not shake hands with you, because I know it will make my hell the hotter; nor can I sit opposite to you when you are preaching, for I am persuaded you will appear against me at the judgment day. While you speak to convinced sinners, I know that I am a convinced sinner; but when you mention the comforts such frequently enjoy after conviction, I am fully convinced that I never received any comfort at all. Though I am possessed of an estate, and have a good trade, and an agreeable family, I am miserable in the midst of all, and enjoy nothing; for I live under the impression that I am sure of going to hell.” He spoke these words like one who fully believed what he said. Upon asking him how long he had been in that unhappy state of mind, he answered, “Seven years.” I asked him how, and in what manner he came to be in such a despairing way? He said, “I went to persecute and abuse Mr. Grimshaw” (it was the great Mr. Grimshaw of Haworth, who then lived within a few miles of him), “and I was struck with horror, and have been distressed ever since.” The length of time he had been in this distressing situation, was that which surprised me more than any other circumstance.
I asked him if he were willing to comply with any advice I should think proper to give him, in this, his gloomy situation; and he answered in the affirmative. After mentioning what I wished him to read, I requested him to begin family prayer, and he, having promised that whatever I should think proper to advise, he would comply with, could not well refuse. I then called his wife into the room (she was a woman that made no profession of religion at that time, but I thought her compliance might help him over the difficulty), and asked her if she had any objection to his beginning to pray in the family, to which she answered, “No.” I then told her I hoped that she herself would see that it was never neglected, to which she readily consented.
I engaged him also to call in all his servants and children. He had at that time one of the most abandoned men in the whole country building a farmer’s barn for him; this man, having been remarkable for persecuting religious people, laughed aloud as the master was praying. Having done this repeatedly, one morning a little before the time for family devotion, he who had prayed now several times with his family, felt his heart fail so much on account of the scorn and contempt of this master builder, that he seceded himself, supposing his wife would think him called away on some urgent business, and therefore he could omit the duty for once; but she perceived him walk towards the brewhouse, and when the time for prayer came, not seeing him come in as usual, she went into the brewhouse, rather suspecting he had got out of the way on account of this man, and found her frightened husband hid behind the brewing-vessels. She immediately accosted him, “My love, come out, come out! Did not the minister make me promise that I would see family prayer performed, and would I be discouraged by yonder foolish fellow?” Says she, “I begin now to like it myself; it makes us look so orderly and regular.” I have repeatedly heard the husband say that he followed his wife like a bear to the stake, scarcely knowing how he should get through the duty on that morning.
The persecutor perceiving that his laughing had occasioned some disturbance, determined at that time he would refrain from making any noise, but did not know how to avoid it till he contrived to fill his mouth with the coat of his companion; which he did in so complete a manner, that he thought, however diverted he might feel, he could not now make any noise. But God, whose ways are as much higher than our ways, as the heavens are above the earth, while he had his mouth filled with his companion’s coat, struck him with an arrow of conviction to the very heart. No sooner had the master of the house concluded his praying than this persecutor stole away into a private corner and wept, and confessed his sin, under most fearful apprehensions of his lost condition. He told me he thought he prayed forty times that day. His distress was such, that sometimes he was frozen to the ground while wrestling with God for the pardon of his sins. The frost at that time was very severe, and he had to go through a road on his way to work, where he generally spent some time in prayer. There was a visible change in the man’s whole conduct. Now he who formerly held the preaching of the Word in such contempt, heard it preached with the greatest attention. The whole neighbourhood appeared surprised at such a change. I had, about two months before this time, seen him in some company, and when I saw the man, there appeared in him something of a hardness peculiar to such persecutors, and I remember saying, that if there were such a thing as a man on the earth whom God could not change, he was the man.
His distress continued about five months, during which time he mostly thought he had sinned beyond the reach of pardon. He was then about thirty years of age, and had not the least conviction of sin for eleven years, though living in all kinds of sin (murder excepted). In Satan’s cause he had few equals; and, I suppose, for persecuting God’s people, there were not any in all the villages round about like him.
About eleven years before this distress, as far as I remember, he read some part of Bunyan’s works, which had been put into his hands. The reading of this book threw him into great conviction for some hours; but going among his wicked companions, he soon got rid of his trouble, and lived in as hardened a frame as ever I knew any man, till God struck him to the heart under that prayer.
After God had humbled him for about five months, he filled him with a sense of His pardoning love; and when he joined himself a member to the church, it might be truly said of him, “As iron sharpeneth iron, so doth a man the countenance of his friend;” for the account he gave of himself surprised all who heard, but especially those who had been witnesses both to his life in sin, and the particular manner in which God had called him. I remember the first words he spoke before the church were, “If ever man could say grace is free, I am the person.” He then gave a short, but full account of the whole. He is now, I expect, in that world where they behold, without wearying, the wonders of redeeming love.
The man who prayed, and had been seven years in such a gloomy state, knocked at my study door one Sabbath morning, about six weeks after I had seen him at his own house. The first moment I saw him, I was surprised at the alteration in his countenance; his horror and distress continuing so long, had, in a measure, furrowed his face till he was the very picture of grief; but now I never saw a countenance more changed. He looked on me with such a smile as one may imagine the redeemed will see in one another’s faces when they meet in the heavenly Canaan; something like that was this meeting; he held out his hand, saying, “Brother, brother, I now can call you brother!” and then he informed me in what manner God had set his soul at liberty. I saw in this man what I never saw in any other—his first joy continued, in a measure, uninterrupted for fifteen months. Since then, God has called several of his children, who, like himself, are marching onwards towards that company where all real Christians shall meet to part no more.
P.S.—I add this to shame those professors who are satisfied if they can make any trifling excuse for their non-attendance on church meetings. In the North (especially in villages) they have their church meetings before the sacrament in the week day, to begin about three in the afternoon. The above-mentioned person, and one of his friends, having been very busy in their hay, were much concerned about the meeting; and being much fatigued with the hurry of the day, said one to another, in the way to the meeting-house, they hoped neither of them would be called upon that day to exercise in prayer. God so overruled that both were called to engage, and scarcely ever felt more of the Lord’s presence in public. Thus God frequently surprises with His smiles those who are diligent in their attendance on His worship.
T. P.