I.
“And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear” (I. Pet., iv. 18).
SARAH GILCHRIST was a daughter of Mr. James Gilchrist, schoolmaster in Cardross, Dumbartonshire. She was only twenty-three years of age when she emitted the following testimony:—
“As to my former manner of life, it was, as the world judges, all along blameless. I had the advantage of a religious education and a proper example set me by my parents. They trained me during childhood to walk in the way I should go, though in many instances I have departed from it. It was my rule to pray to God daily. While very young and engaged in this exercise, the Lord sometimes brought my mind under conviction and I also had delight in the exercise. But after some time these impressions wore off and I became more careless. I also heard many sermons in early life, which impressed me; particularly one by Mr. M’Millan, from Isaiah lv. 3—’Incline your ear, and come unto me; hear, and your soul shall live; and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David.’ Many a time during my younger years, when pleading that the Lord would give me a discovery of my condition, has He laid open to me my sin in Adam, the corruption of my whole nature, the defilement of my very best actions, so as to make them appear like filthy rags, and my condemnation even on their account.
When about seventeen or eighteen years of age, my convictions became as distressing, I have often thought, as any I have seen at Cambuslang during the awakening of 1742, only they were not so observable to others. Though outwardly blameless, I verily thought my heart to be more wicked than any one else, especially in rejecting through unbelief the grace and favour of Christ, set forth in the gospel. Under these convictions, I was graciously led to close with Christ as my only Saviour. On one occasion in particular, when engaged in secret prayer, I was in a state of great agony through a sense of sin, original and actual, and through a discovery of the sword of divine justice drawn against me, and was, when in this state, enabled to cast myself at God’s feet for mercy, and to place myself under the cover of the Redeemer’s blood. In this way I was led to trust God for mercy and pardon, and I found my heart eased of its burden; yet I had no sensible experience of joy. On the 1st of June, 1740, which was the Saturday before the sacrament at Cathcart, I was there and heard Mr. McCulloch of Cambuslang preach from these words; ‘Wherefore He is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by Him, seeing He ever liveth to make intercession for them’ (Heb. vii. 25). On this occasion, I was enabled more distinctly to close with Christ in all His offices, and as an all-sufficient Saviour. After this I was often pleading with God to destroy in me the power of heart corruption more and more, yet still I found it sometimes to prevail.
In September, 1741, I heard Mr. Whitefield in the High Church-yard of Glasgow. He insisted much on making sure of an interest, in Christ and said among other things—’Never call yourselves Christians till He has made you sensible of your lost condition, and has drawn out your soul to close with Christ on His own terms.’ I could appeal to God that this had been my experience, but I was still in doubt whether this was enough; and I prayed therefore the more earnestly that He would make me clear in this matter and I obtained more satisfying views, on account of which I held on in the way of duty, till the awakening broke out at Cambuslang, which brought me into fresh difficulties.
About ten or twelve days after that awakening began, I went out to Cambuslang on a Tuesday and heard Mr. McCulloch preach from these words:—’A bruised reed shall He not break and the smoking flax shall He not quench; He shall bring forth judgment unto truth’ (Isa. xlii. 3). In listening to this sermon, I was led to hope that, though as a bruised reed, the Lord would not break but rather heal me, and that He would blow up the spark of grace which was in my soul into a flame, and also return in mercy to this poor Church and land. I went into the manse before sermon, and was engaged on my knees in prayer, when I heard some cry out so as to make me start up, afraid that the work was after all, as had been often said, a delusion. But on observing how the subjects of that work valued and used their Bibles, turning up the places where they had found relief, and bewailing their past unbelief, I altered my opinion of them, and prayed for as many as were still in distress. This led me again to doubt whether my own convictions had been real, seeing that theirs did in some things differ. But after hearing some of the prayers then offered I was greatly refreshed, and went home quite satisfied that the work was of God, and eagerly desiring and hoping that the Lord was about to do great things. And after returning home I was much engaged in prayer for those who had not found deliverance and for the furtherance of the work.
I continued to go to Cambuslang, usually twice a week, and during the exhortations, prayers, and praises, in the manse hall, I have often had great melting of heart and much sweetness of soul, and these while I continued to put up to God secret prayers on behalf of the distressed. I had also much satisfaction in hearing the sermons which were preached. But when I observed the crying and fainting of many of the hearers, I was made to wonder at my own stupidity, in not feeling more sensibly the power of the truth. I recollected well my former convictions and I saw in those of others the same moral experience; but judging from the bodily effects produced, I concluded that their feelings must have been deeper and more distressing, and this led me to be jealous of myself. The terrors of the law were at this time set forth with great solemnity and power, and perhaps even more, the terrible things contained in the gospel against them that believed not; and these were the views of divine truth, which struck terror into the hearts of so many. Yet these very awful addresses had but little effect on me. What affected me most were the sweet and gracious offers of Christ, and the promises of the gospel. These were often made sweetly to cheer, warm, and melt my heart. It was also a source of great delight when I heard from time to time of many who had been in distress obtaining an outgate and being filled with great delight on their closing with Christ, as offered to them in the gospel. Knowing all this to be the experience of others, I was often much engaged in prayer pleading with God for clearer and more satisfying views of my interest in Christ.
At the first sacrament which was observed during the awakening, namely, in July 1742, I got nothing sensible, but I was much engaged, as I had been, pleading with God. On Saturday night Satan was very active, seeking to keep me back from the Lord’s Table, alleging against me what is said of Esau that ‘when he would have inherited the blessing, he was rejected; for he found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears’ (Heb. xii. 17). By this I was much discomposed and discouraged, still I was enabled to persevere in pleading that the Lord would, in His own time send me some clear and satisfying token of His love and favour, and that I might in the meantime be kept waiting. While I was thus pleading, these words came home to me as specially sent:— ‘The vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie; though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry’ (Heb. ii. 3). This enabled me to hope that times of refreshing would yet come and were drawing near.
(To be continued.)