I OFTEN think of the contrary states of my mind during the former and latter part of this service. For a while, regardless of the worship of God, I looked around me, and was anxious to attract notice to myself. My dress was much above my station, and very different from that which becomes a humble sinner, who has a modest sense of decency and propriety. The state of my mind was visible enough from the foolish finery of my apparel.
At length the preacher gave out his text:—”Be ye clothed with humility.” He showed a comparison between the clothing of the body with that of the soul. I soon began to feel ashamed of my passion for fine dressing, but when he described the garment of salvation with which a Christian is clothed, I felt a powerful discovery of the nakedness of my own soul. I saw that I had neither that humility mentioned in the text, nor any one part of the true Christian character. I looked at my gay dress, and blushed for shame on account of my pride. The minister seemed to be a messenger sent from heaven to open my eyes. I looked at the congregation, and wondered whether anyone else felt as I did. I looked at my heart, and it appeared full of iniquity. I trembled as he spoke, and yet felt a great drawing of heart to the words which he uttered . . . He opened the riches of divine grace in God’s method of saving the sinner. He described the meek, lowly, and humble example of Christ. I felt proud, vain, and self-consequential. He represented Christ as Wisdom; I felt my ignorance. He proved Him to be Righteousness, Sanctification and Redemption; I felt that I was a slave to sin, and led captive by the devil. He concluded with an animated address to sinners: warning them to “flee from the wrath to come”; to cast off the love of outward ornaments; and desired that we might be clothed with true humility. From that hour I never lost sight of the value of my soul, and the danger of a sinful state. I inwardly blessed God for the sermon, although my mind was in a state of great confusion. The greatest part of the congregation, unused to such faithful and scriptural sermons, disliked and complained of the severity of the preacher, while a few, as I afterwards found, like myself, were deeply affected, and earnestly desired to hear him again. But he preached there no more.”—Elizabeth Wallbridge, “The Dairyman’s Daughter.”