Period III — From 24 years of age to twenty six
To divert myself I went out one day to shoot, and as I was watching some game, was surprised with strong impressions that my death was not far distant. And, although I was then in perfect health, I stood still as one astonished; yea, confounded to think of eternity. Then I bewailed my sad condition, and said, How soon has my heaven fled! O how gladly would I be a dog or any other animal but a man! For in that case death would at once put an end to all my miseries. But now all my sorrows, which would know no end, were but beginning. I began then to consider in what way I might probably die; I thought I might die like Francis Spira, for although I succeeded hitherto in concealing all my troubles, yet that my trouble might increase my agony to that height that it would be utterly impossible for me to conceal it. Still I thought if my judgment remained, come what might, that I would conceal it. This thought was however superceded by another — What if Providence, as in justice He might, would take away my judgment, as I saw in the case of others who died stupid and senseless? In which condition I saw that I would die roaring and blaspheming.
My reason for being so desirous to conceal my trouble was, first, that if I could succeed in doing so till the day of judgment, I would have a numerous company of damned reprobates to stand beside me, so that I would not be singular. Another reason was, the loss of my good name, for although I had no good name to lose in reference to religion, yet I had in the estimation of the world a good name to lose, and if I died in raving despair, I was afraid that my name would become a byword and a proverb among all who should hear of it; but if I could succeed in getting matters concealed, there would no more be said of me than of any of the rest of the so-called honest men of the country who died like lambs, and yet in my opinion, went to hell as certainly as those who died in roaring despair.
Not long after this I went to a neighbouring congregation, where the Lord’s Supper was being dispensed, and where I heard the action sermon with great attention, and was melted into tears for my sins. And when the table was fenced, I was ready to cry out for the anguish of my heart, when hearing myself, as it were by name and surname, upon my peril, debarred as a dog from touching the children’s bread. I was observed by others to be in great concern; yet, when I came out of the church and met my old companions, this sudden land-flood dried up and I was the same as before.
About this time the Lord threatened to visit me with a remarkable stroke of His displeasure for my horrid iniquity, even to write my folly in legible characters on my forehead, that he who ran might read it. I saw this stroke to be threatening me for some time before, and also the justice of God in allowing it to fall upon me; for I knew that, how heavy and grievous soever it might be, I deserved it. A sense of guilt, and despairing to be heard, so closed my mouth that I could not plead with the Lord to avert it. Yet I thought that if the Lord would deliver me from my feared reproach, I never would do as I had done before. And it pleased the Lord to deliver me from this dreaded calamity, which I no sooner observed, than I turned to my old ways. O the long-suffering of God towards me, the chief of sinners!
Some time after this I had business to transact in Edinburgh, where I happened to be in a company where the conversation turned upon religion, when a certain individual seeing me in a Highland dress enquired “what were my principles:” to which I replied, “that as yet I was like a sheet of clean paper, and that he might write any thing he pleased upon me.” “Are you indeed?” says he. “if so, I will give you an advice — take good care that the devil does not scrawl something upon you, and then you will no more be clean.” I was so confounded by this answer that I did not know which way to look; for it pierced me to the heart to think of the truth of what he had said, and which indeed the devil had already done. I was also ashamed that I had spoken so irreverently of religion, and firmly resolved never to speak to such a manner again. When I came away, this man’s answer cleaved very close to me, nor could I by any means get it out of my mind. It also continually brought my former despairing thoughts fresh upon me, and how the devil had written his own law on my heart and placed his image on all my actions.
10th June 1741. — “But the month in which the wild ass was to be found was now approaching” (Jer. 2:24). “Hitherto shalt thou come but no further, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed. The decreed place was broken up, and bars and doors set that I could not pass” (Job 38:10, 11).
I was one Sabbath evening walking through the fields, which was my usual habit, when my sister met me and began to reprove me for profaning the Sabbath-day, saying, “What do you think will become of you, if you will die in your present condition? You will certainly perish.” At first I began to mock her for her exhortations. But she still insisted, and told me again “that without repentance I would inevitably perish.” I answered that “she need not tell me that, for that I was fully aware of it myself.” “O! strange,” remarked she, “do you know that you will perish? Are you in despair, or what is the matter with you?” She intreated me to apply to the blood of Christ which cleanseth from sins of a crimson dye. I told her that “I had counted His blood an unholy thing and done despite to the Spirit of grace.” She then inquired “if I prayed at all, and when I prayed last.” I replied that “I did not bow my knee for the last four years.” She then asked “if I would pray that night;” to which I answered, “No! I will never pray.” Which indeed I had fully resolved. For at the period alluded to, I could not as much as ask a blessing on my common mercies, nor presume to mention the glorious and fearful name, the Lord thy God, in my mouth. She, however, continued intreating me to go and pray and humble myself before God, who would at last lift me up as a person condemned but rescued. O what heart condemnings! What terrible thoughts of God I had! I stood like the publican afar off, and said, “God be merciful to me a sinner;” not out of mere compliment, as I said before, but out of a real sense of my guilt and misery.
I had but few words in this prayer, for although I prayed, I did not expect to be heard, Satan and my unbelieving heart saying that I was the greatest fool in the world to think that ever the Lord would show mercy to the like of me. However, I thought that I could not be worse than I was, for I saw that it was death if I sat there, and that it would be but death should I have recourse to duty: and I further thought that if I gave over prayer again, my torments would be seven times more increased than ever, therefore I intreated the Lord to keep me from backsliding any more. The Lord at the same time instructed me with a secret and powerful conviction that my sins were pardonable, notwithstanding their heinous aggravations, and that His name would be more glorified in pardoning the like of me than a less sinner.
A book called “The Practice of Piety” fell into my hands at this time which I liked exceedingly well, and I endeavoured to practice such directions as were prescribed in it for the discharging of my duty towards God and my neighbour. In short, I now attained to a pretty good order in the discharge of my duty, for I was busy enough making a garment to cover my nakedness.
This sudden change that was come upon me made a great noise in the country, because I was before so remarkable for my wickedness. Everyone talked of it as their fancies led them. Some said, “Is Saul also among the prophets? — we have heard by many concerning this man” (1 Sam. 1:11; Acts 9:13). And in short every one wondered at the change. But when my former companions perceived that I avoided their company, they began to expose me to the greatest contempt when they met me. Others began to slander me by taking away my good name; and my name being the only jewel that remained to me, I could not think of parting with it. I thought, however, that if religion would not suffer on account of my being evil spoken of, I would have the less care as to what they might say about me, but I could not see how my good name could be taken away without reproaching religion. I then began to consider how the saints in all ages had their names cast out for the name of Christ; and also what slanders and reproaches the holy Jesus Himself had suffered, who, when He was reviled, reviled not again. I also thought that if those who were now slandering my name, did know what my past manner of life had been, they, by telling only the truth, would cause my name to be much more spoken of than it was.
So far, however, at last did the mocking and scorn of wicked men prevail with me, that if the forsaking of the form of religion which I had assumed would cause them to be at peace with me, I believe that I would have done it. But I saw that, although I would forsake all my professions, I would never regain my name, but rather increase my infamy. “Blessed is he who is not offended in me,” saith the Lord Jesus.
Then I perceived that I had begun to build my house without first sitting down to count the cost, and thought that I had better do it now. Therefore I began to lay my account with slanders, reproaches, crosses, losses, persecution, and distress, with a determination whatever else might come, never to forsake Christ whom I had begun to follow. My acquaintances continued as formerly to expose me whenever they met me, saying, “Behold the Whig.” Others, out of a better design as they thought, advised me to forsake the reading of books, otherwise that I would lose my judgment, and thus become useless to myself and to my friends; while others of my near relations, who were of a more heroic spirit, said, “Alas! we have lost him since he has turned after this way.” Others again said that I was really mad, and what not. However, I avoided their company as much as possible, for I loved to be alone, and endured all those things as well as I could, although not so well as I should have done. By these things I saw that the enmity between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent is very great, when even the very show of religion, for at this time I had nothing more, is persecuted with slanders and reproaches.