Sketches From Life BV 4811 Sketches from life; or Illustrations of the i4-^ 'S*: /c SKETCHES FROM LIFE OR, ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. This volume consists wholly of articles selected from the successive numbers of the "American Messenger," to the middle of its thirteenth volume. No other changes have been made, than to adapt the phraseolog}' in a few- instances to a permanent volume, and to classify its sub- jects so as to add, it is hoped, to the interest and profit of its readers. As presented to the public in this form, it is b'elieved, that by the divine blessing, the labors of the re- spected writers of these narratives may be more widely and lastingly extended. The signatures of the estimable authors being in many instances well known, will add interest to their papers. // f. prihcetg: \tiieologiga::. / CONTENTS. con\t:rsion. George Taylor, . . . . • 11 An iufidel Blacksmith, 16 A Gentleman in Boston 22 A rational Sceptic, 23 A Scoffer, 24 A Merchant in Boston, ....... 26 A profane Student, 30 An infidel Student, 33 " Do let Me alone,*' 3g A daring Opposer in Pennsylvania, .... 40 A Deaf Mute, 44 An Indian's Gift to Christ, 45 The Bird in the Church, 46 The Sea-captain, 51 The Last Resolve, 56 Poor William, 59 Poor Dinah, 64 Aunt Delphy, 67, A Vagabond, ■•....... 70 A Pupil at Mount Holyoke, 72 A returning Prodigal, 75 A Model of Morality, 77 An unexpected Inquirer, 81 A Mistaken Sinner, 82 The Blind Preacher, 87 G CONTENTS. HOLY OBEDIENCE. A Dying Girl, . 89 A Tempted young Man, . . ... . . .92 Nancy and her Pastor, 94 A Farmer's Daughter, 98 A Faithful Elder, Ill The Elder's eldest Son, 115 A Sabbath-school Teacher, 119 SIGHT OF PRAYER Tkree Praying Friends, 123 AFFLICTION. A Pool- Widow, 125 Henry L , the deformed Boy, 12G A Dying Man, 128 A Mother from Wales, 130 The Faithful Nurse, 132 A Sick Man of the South, 134 The First and Last Communion, 138 A Dying Son, 141 DEATH. A Wife and Mother, 144 A Suffering Christian, 147 A Poor Widow's Son, 151 The Dying Regret of Harriet, 157 The Slave John, ■ ... 163 Joseph, the Minister's Son, 168 A Student for the Ministry, 173 Emma, 175 RELIGION IN THE DOMESTIC CIRCLE, A Catholic Husband and Wife, 177 My Wife is the Cause of it, 180 A Gambler and his Wife, 183 The Door was Shut, 185 A Proud Husband and his Wife, 187 The Young Wife's Prayer, 191 Woman's Faith and Patience, 193 The Faithful Wife, 196 CONTENTS. 7 A Minister's Sou and liis Wife, 197 The Troubled Conscience, 199 The lost Bank-note, 201 Influence of a Wife, 202 The Aurora Borealis, 205 Return of the Prodigal, . . . ' . . . .211 A Young Choir Leader, 216 Little Johnny and his Father, 219 "My Mother's Prayers," . ...... 222 The Youngest Son, 224 A Cavilling Sceptic, 226 A Praying Sou and his Father, 228 A Wayward Son, 229 A Youngest Son and his Mother, 230 A Sceptical Father, 232 An Elder and his Daughter, 235 An Only Daughter, 236 The Only Son 237 DOMESTIC REMINISCENCES. But One Thing Wanted, 244 The First Prayer in the Family, 247 The Earnest Inquiry, 248 A Scene at Family Worship, 250 Forty Years' Experience of Family Prayer, . . . 251 Poor Zeke and his Prayers, 256 A Dying Patriarch, 259 A Mother's Prayers, 262 A Sister's Love, 264 A Prodigal's Welcome, 266 A House and Family Lost, 268 The Lost Found, 272 A Memorable Visit, 275 One Sin may Destroy the Soul, . . . . . . 279 A Dying Son, ' 281 Answer to Prayer long Deferred, 284 A Praying Shoemaker, 287 Old Chairs at Interest, 289 The Christmas-tree, 292 The Little Word No, , . .296 Aunt Sally's Bible, 298 8 CONTENTS. Our Family-meeting, : 299 A Visit to my Birtliplace, " . 301 Log-cabin Memories, 304 RELIGION IN SOCIETY, John and his Cousin, 309 A Ride and a Story, 313 Debate with a Romish Bishop, 81G The Confession of a Deist, 322 Could not Find Christ, 327 A Praying Woman and an Ungodly Young Man, . . 331 The Thirty Years' Prayer, 332 An Angry Controversy Settled, 334 Keep Trying, 336 The Stone Rolled Away, 339 Brands Plucked from the Fire, 341 A Happy Mistake, ........ 345 An Aged Sinner, 346 Answer to United Prayer, 348 A Deaf Hearer, 349 A Sceptical Captain, 351 An Inquiring Jew, 353 Mr. Bingham and his Neighbor, 355 A Difficulty Overcome, 357 A Fool Answered, 358 Taking the Right Ground, 359 An Important Interview, 362 Happy Effects of Decision, 365 Help One Another, 367 The Young Lady's First Gift, ...... 369 The Old Parasol, 370 Useful Women, 372 Take Care of that Ox 375 An Exciting Scene, ' 377 The Peril and the Vow, 381 Claims of Our Country, • . 383 RELIGION IN THE CHURCH. An Impressive Sermon 386 A Useful Sermon, 388 The Young Pastor's Temptation, 391 CONTENTS. 9 Near the Cross, 395 The Mission of a Tear, 397 " Ye Must be Bora Again," 400 "I am like that Leaf," 402 "He Was Beside Himself," 405 The Unwelcome Snow-storm, 408 A Grateful Convert, 412 Squire D and the Teacher, 414 "Voyage of the Duflf"— Striking Providence, . . . 420 Noah's Carpenters, 425 My First Inquiry Meeting, 430 The Unwelcome Shower, 431 The Haymow, 434 Influence of Two Young Ladies, 44:0 Sketch of a Revival, 443 The Elders' Prayer-meeting, 446 The Wicked Nine, 450 Incentive to Christian Labor, 452 A Delightful Discovery, 455 A Pleasant Surprise, 456 A Young Missionary, 458 Prayer Answered after Death, 460 Kindness to a- Pastor, 461 A Seamstress and a poor Minister, 464 THE NEGLECT OF RELIGION. Convictions Stifled, 466 The Pleasure Ride, 468 The Fatal Ride, 469 An Eastern Student, 471 Grieving the Spirit of God, 473 Religion Deferred, 478 . The Critical Moment, . . . . . . . 481 "I cannot give up the World yet," 483 A Novel-reader, 485 The Frolic in Planting-time, 489 Too Late, 492 A Secret Drunkard, 495 Story of Real Life, 498 A Neglected Family, 503 A Father's Prayer, 507 1* 10 CONTENTS. A Sinner of Fourscore, 508 "The Last Call," 509 One Thing Wanting, 511 The Price of a Soul, 514 A Member of a Choir, 516 A Gay Young Man, 518 The Agony of Despair, . . . . . . . 520 A Mournful Retrospect, 523 A Cider-drinker, 524 A Young Novel-reader, 527 The Last Rebuke, 530 Resisting the Holy Spirit, 532 Death of a Miser, 534 "I was Not One of Them," 536 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. COXYERSION. GEORGE TAYLOR. In the years 1820-21, Princeton, New Jersey, was blessed with a precious revival of religion. The work was still, solemn, and powerful. Among- the subjects of it were some who became useful ministers of Christ. Others besides college students felt its power. The distress of many before attaining settled peace of mind was pungent, and often continued for days. There are pangs as well as joys in the new birth. He who believes the contrary, deceives himself. He who teaches the contrary, deceives others. The de- gree and duration of this anxious concern are deter- mined by Him who doeth all things well, and "giv- cth not account of any of his matters." He knows what best suits each case. In the village at that time was an Englishman whose name was George Taylor. He was poor, fee- ble in mind and body, and much afflicted with rheu- matism. He was honest, but very ignorant of divine things. He felt the powers of the world to come. 12 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. He had a deep sense of liis sinfulness, and awful ap- prehensions of the wrath of God. At first his case was not distinguished from that of many others. But while others obtained relief, and were begotten to a lively hope, he sunk into deeper distress. His state of mind excited the affectionate interest of the pious around him. He manifested a solemn attention to every tiling that showed him his vileness. His sleep was short and disturbed. His burden of guilt was "a vast oppressive load.'*' His appetite almost left him, and like David, he " forgat to eat." " His bones waxed old through his roaring all the day long ; for day and night God's hand was heavy upon him ; his moisture was turned into the drought of summer." He often feared that it was too late for him to repent and turn to God. Yet he could not give over seek- ing. His chief difficulty was to conceive how a just and holy God could forgive sin, and particularly his sins. He saw that the law was holy, just, and good, in its precept and penalty. But he could not see how such a God, with such a law, could consistently forgive such a sinner as he was, or indeed any sinner. Many conversed with him, and tried to show him how God can be just, and yet justify the ungodly who believe in Christ. He also heard some excellent sermons on the work of Christ as a Redeemer. Still all was dark. "How should man be just with God?" was the per- plexing question. Such phrases as are commonly and very properly used to teach the nature of the offices of Clirist in behalf of sinners, conveyed no idea to him. He knew not the language of Canaan. The effect of his distress was plainly perceptible in his GEORGE TAYLOR. 13 face. The pious deeply commiserated his state, and the more so because no one had been able to aflbrd him any relief. At last one explained to him some of the sacrifices under the law. He told him how a lamb was brought by a guilty man, and laid bound on the altar, and how he who had sinned laid his hands upon it, confessing his sin, and how its blood became the blood of atonement, and how he was thus set free from the guilt of breaking the' ceremonial law. His friend then said, " Christ is our lamb," and, suiting the gestures to the words, repeated these lines of Watts : " My faith would lay her hand On that dear head of thine, "While like a i^enitent I stand And there confess my sin/' This was enough. To poor George it was life from the dead. The day-spring had visited his soul. He said, " I understand it now. All is plain. Christ is the lamb to take away our sins. Why did not some one tell me this before?" His friend said, "We have been telling you the same thing all along, but in dif- ferent words. Did we not tell you that Christ is the way, the truth, and the life ; and that no man cometh unto the Father but by him?" George Taylor was received into the church of Princeton, August 10, 1821 ; and for a few years, till his death, led a devout, consistent life. He held fast his integrity, and is now, I trust, singing the song of Moses and the Lamb. This short narrative is not intended to illustrate the whole of that great change which must pass upon men in order to salvation. Nor is it given as a type 14 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. of conversions. God deals variously with men. But it may teach some useful lessons. 1. The use of learning is to make things plain. 2. There is milk as well as meat in the word of God, milk for babes and meat for strong men. Let each have his portion in due season. 3. Whoever would come to Christ, must be taught of God. Jesus said, " No man can come unto me, except the Father, which hath sent me, draw him." Reader, if God is drawing you, now is your time. If he is calling you, rise and follow him. He will not always call. Left to yourself, you will never find the way to God. You must be led by the Spirit. Pray like David, ^'Take not thy Holy Spirit from me?" 4. God works when, how, and by what means he will. He offers salvation to the rich and the poor, to the learned and the rude. But how often arc we reminded of those words of Christ, " I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast re- vealed them unto babes : even so. Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight." Let us thank God that he reveals these things to babes, to the weak-minded and ignorant, who are willing to learn. "The en- trance of thy word giveth light." " It maketh wise the simple," 5. Let none despise the gospel because it is preach- ed to the poor, nor because the child and the simple can understand enough of it to be saved. Pride is as damning as murder, and pride of intellect is as ruin- ous as pride of person, family, or estate. " The wick- ed,'through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God," " God resisteth the proud, but giveth GEORGE TAYLOR. 15 grace to the Immblc.'' " The proud, and all that do Av^ickedly, shall be burned up." You must humble yourself as a little child, if you would be saved. 6. It is always safe to tell of Christ and his love, of his death and his grace. This theme has awak- ened thousands, and brought millions to salvation. 7. How transforming is the doctrine of the cross, whenever understood and received. It is life and it is spirit. It cheers, it purifies ; it puts men to pray- ing ; it makes them zealous of good works. Such were its effects on George Taylor, as many saw ; on the Greenlanders, as the Moravians testify ; on the Indians of New Jersey, as Brainerd declares ; on the people of Kilmany, as Chalmers states. The cross at once subdues and wins. '' God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.'"' 8. And now, dying mortal, you too are a sinner, and you too need a Saviour no less than poor Taylor. Unless you are brought to strive to enter in at the strait gate, you will never be saved. Unless you are brought to loathe and abhor yourself, you must per- ish. You must find the Lamb of God, by whose blood alone your guilt can be washed away. " He that believeth not, shall be damned." It is said of a poor Greenlander, that the first time he heard the love and death of Christ explained, he said, " If this Saviour died for me, he shall be my Saviour." If you will rest all your weight upon the precious blood of Christ, your soul shall be saved, your sins shall be blotted out, and heaven shall be yours. 0 repent and believe; for why will you diel Since God in great mercy is coming so nigh — Since Jesus invites you, the Spirit says, Come, And angels are waiting to welcome you home. 16 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. If you die in your sins, many will rise in the judg- ment and condemn you. If you now receive Christ, you will be safe for eternity. Will you not receive him? Will you not receive him noio ? The Bible presents no alternative but now or never. AN INFIDEL BLACKSMITH. SCENE I. THE PASTOR'S STUDY. "Have you conversed with our infidel and scoffing friend Mr. R , on the subject of religion, to-day?-' said the venerable pastor to Mr. B , an aged neighbor. "I have, and at great length, but was unable to p^ake the least impression upon his mind. You know that he is a man of extensive reading, and is master of all the ablest infidel writers. He regards the for- tress in which he has intrenched himself as impregna- ble. You know his ready wit, and when he finds ho cannot talk you down, he will laugh you down, I can say no more to him. He made my errand the butt of ridicule for the whole company." " Then you consider his case hopeless ?" " I do, indeed. I believe him to be given over of God to believe a lie ; and I expect to see him fill up his cup of iniquity to the very brim without repent- ance, and die a hardened and self-ruined man." " Shall nothing, and can nothing more be done for him ?" And the pastor arose, and walked the floor of his study, under the influence of deep agitation. It was now a solemn time in the congregation. The preaching of the pastor, for many Sabbaths, had been full of earnestness and power. The church was AN INFIDEL BLACKSMITH. IT greatly quickened. The spirit of prayer prevailed. Many were inquiring what they should do to be saved. Many, too, were rejoicing in hope, and the whole com- munity were moved, as with one silent, but mighty impulse. But unmoved, unconcerned, stood the infidel, amid the many changes of heart and mind in those around him, proud of liis position, and confident in his strength, and able, as he believed himself to .be, to resist every influence, human and divine, which might be brought to bear upon him. The pastor had often approached him, and had as often been repulsed. As a last resort, he had requested his able and skilful neighbor, a law- yer of piety and talents, to visit Mr. R , and en- deavor to convince him. But it was like attempting to reason with the tempest, or soothe the volcano. SCENE II. THE CHRISTIAX-S CLOSET. Tliere was a fire blazing upon the hearth in that little room. The wind was howling without ; the snow was whirled in eddies, and was swept with vio- lence against the casement. It was a cold night in January. In that secret and retired chamber, where none but God could hear, was poured out a voice from a burdened soul. The aged Christian was upon his knees. His bosom heaved with emotion. His soul was in agony. That voice of prayer was continued at intervals through the livelong night. In that room was a wrestling like that of Jacob. There was a pre- vailing like that of Israel. It was a pleading with the Most High for an unwonted display of his power and grace, with the confidence that nothing was too hard for the Almighty. It was a night of prayer, of 18 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. entreat)', of importunity. It was prayer as a man would pray for the life of a friend, wlio was on the eve of execution. SCENE HI. THE PRAYER-MEETING. The meeting was still and solemn as eternity. The house was crowded to its utmost capacity. It was a cheerful evening, and the astrals threw their mellow light over the dense assembly. Now the song of praise resounds from all parts of the room, and there is a heart in the utterance which belongs not to other times. Now the voice of one and another ascends in prayer, and such prayer is seldom heard except in the time of genuine revivals of religion. The silent tear steals down many a cheek. The almost inaudible sigh escapes from many a bosom. An in- tense interest rests on every countenance, and the voice of prayer is the voice of all. One after anoth- er arises, and tells the listening company what " the Lord has done for his soul." There stands Mr. R , once the infidel — now the humble believer in Jesus. He is clothed in a new spirit. His face sliines as did the face of Moses when he had seen God face to face. He is a new creature in Christ Jesus. "I stand,"' said Mr. R , '' to tell you the story of my conversion." His lips trembled slightly as he spoke, and his bosom heaved with suppressed emotion. "I am as a brand plucked out of the burning. The change in me is an astonishment to myself; and all brought about by the grace of God, and that vnan- swerabk argument. It was a cold morning in Janu- ary, and I had just begun my labor at the anvil in my shop, when I looked out and saw Mr. B approach- AN INFIDEL BLACKSMITH. 19 ing. He dismounted quickly, and entered. As he drew near, I saw he was agitated. His look was full of earnestness. His eyes were bedimmed with tears. He took me by the hand. His breast heaved with emotion, and with indescribable tenderness he said, ' Mr. R , I am greatly concerned for your salva- tion— greatly concerned for your salvation,' and he burst into tears. He stood with my hand grasped in his. He struggled to regain self-possession. He often essayed to speak, but not a word could ho utter ; and finding that he could say no more, he turned, went out of the shop, got on his horse, and rode slowly away. :^0 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. " ' Greatly concerned for my salvation,' said I, audibly, and I stood and forgot to bring my hammer dawn. There I stood with it upraised — 'greatly con- cerned for my salvation.'' Here is a new argument for the truth of religion, which I have never heard before, and which I know not how to answer. Had the aged man reasoned with me. I could have confounded him ; but here is no threadbare argument for the truth of religion. Religion must be true, or this man would not feel as he does. ' Greatly concerned for my sal- vation ;' it rung through my ears like a thunder-clap in a clear sky. Greatly concerned I ought to be for my own salvation, said I — what shall I do? "I went to my house. My poor pious wife, wliom I had always ridiculed for her religion, exclaimed, 'AVhy, Mr.- R , what is the matter with you?' ' Matter enough,' said I, filled with agony and over- whelmed with a sense of sin. ' Old Mr. B • has rode two miles this cold morning to tell me he was greatly concerned for my salvation. What shall I do ; what shall I do ?' " ' I do not know what you can do,' said my aston- ished wife; 'I do not know what better you can do than to get on your horse, and go and see him. He can give you better counsel than I, and tell you what you must do to be saved.' " I mounted my horse, and pursued after him. I found him alone in that same little room, where he had spent the night in prayer for my poor soul, where he had shed many tears over such a reprobate as I, and had besought God to have mercy upon me. " ' I am come,' said I to him, ' to tell you that I am greatly concerned for my own salvation.' AN INFIDEL BLACKSMITH. 2i "'Praised be God/ said the aged man. 'It is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, even the chief,' and he began at that same scripture, and preached to me Jesus. On that same floor we knelt, and together we prayed — and we did not separate that day till God spoke peace to my soul. " I have often been requested to look at the evi- dence of the truth of religion, but, blessed be God, I liave evidence for its truth /^^re,''' laying his hand upon his heart, "which nothing can gainsay or resist. I have often been led to look at this and that argu- ment for the truth of Christianity ; but I could over- turn, and, as I thought, completely demolish and anni- hilate them all. But I stand here to-night, thankful to acknowledge that God sent an argument to my con- science and heart, which could not be answered or resisted, when a weeping Christian came to tell me how greatly concerned he was for my salvation. God taught him that argumejit, when he spent the night before him in prayer for my soul. Xow I can truly say, I am a happy man. My peace flows like a river. My consistent, uncomplaining wife, who so long bore with my impiety and unbelief, now rejoices with me, that, by the grace of God, I am what I am — that whereas I was blind, now I see. And here permit me to say, if you would wish to reach the heart of such a poor sinner as I, you must get your qualifica- tions where he did, in your closet and on your knees. So it shall be with me. I will endeavor to reach the hearts of my infidel friends through the closet and by prayer." He sat down overcome with emotion, amid the 22 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. tears and the suppressed sobs of the assembly. All were touched ; for all knew what he once was, all saw what he had now become. ''Time, on his noiseless wing, pursued his rapid flight." Years passed .by, and the faithful old man was numbered with the dead. But the converted in- fidel still lived, an earnest, honest, faithful, humble Christian. A GENTLEMAN IN BOSTON. A few years ago, a gentleman in Boston having a leisure hour, sauntered into tiie court-room, where an interesting trial was in progress. Directly over the head of the judge there was suspended a large clock. The broad face of the brass pendulum, nearly a foot in diameter, vibrated to and fro in a solemn measured movement which arrested his eye. For a moment he looked listlessly upon the precision of its oscillations, and the idea gently occurred to his mind of the lapse of time — its ceaseless, rapid flow, marked off so sol- emnly by the tickings of the clock. The train of thought thus suggested, gradually and silently ab- sorbed his attention. His eyes were fixed upon the pendulum. He was entirely insensible to the scene passing around him, as he thought of the events oc- curring over the world in the interval marked by the vibrations : now some are sinking into a watery grave — now the assassin plunges the dagger — now comes the fiend-like shock of armies — now the cry of remorse ascends from the pillow of the dying sinner — what multitudes die during each vibration! How rapidly the vibrations cut off the moments allotted to A RATIONAL SCEPTIC. 23 mc. How soou will the clock strike my last hour? Where shall I then be? In heaven, or in hell? Thus he stood, lost in reverie, while that noise- less pendulum preached to his soul in tones such as he had never heard before. He left the court-room, and mingled with the thoughtless crowds in Washington- street, but the barbed arrow of religious conviction had pierced his heart, and he could not extract it. He sought his closet. He fell upon his knees, and in anguish offered the prayer which, sincerely offered, never is refused, '' 0 God, be merciful to me a sin- ner." He soon found the peace of pardon, and went on his new way heavenward, rejoicing. "The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hcarcst the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth ; so is every one that is born of the Spirit." A RATIONAL SCEPTIC. Mr. H , an eminent lawyer of Western New York, who died a few years since in the triumphs of Christian faith, when a student in the office of Judge H was inclined to sceptical views. His moral character was unsullied, but in his ambitious aspira- tions he cherished that dislike to the gospel which is the hidden source of nearly all infidelity. The elo- quent ministrations of the sanctuary failed to remove tlie deepening gloom of unbelief. One day, while absorbed in the study of law, his eye rested upon a copy of the Bible lying on the table before him. He paused, and the thought came like the voice of an invisible spectator to his soul, What if 24 SKETCtlES FROM LIFE. that book is the word of God ? Then conscience in- quired if lie had, with earnestness and honesty becom- ing the momentous question, examined its claims to his faith. He was condemned at the bar of that inward judge and monitor, and resolved to begin a careful perusal of the sacred volume. The duty and propriety of prayer to the " Father of lights " for illu- mination were impressed on his mind. For the first time in his life, he solemnly entered on the reading of the Scriptures, and closet communion with God. In a few days, he was an anxious sinner, and he soon rejoiced in the love of Christ. He made a full con- secration of himself to the Redeemer, in a written covenant copied from Doddridge, and found among his papers after his death ; and for more than twenty years was an active, growing Christian. In the court- room and social circle, his consistent piety revealed itself, calm and clear beneath the excitements and pleasures of life. Truly, " atheism is a crime, rather than a mere intellectual error ;" and so is all fatal unbelief. The heart is wrong, and the head refuses to receive or seek the light of the cross. This view of the sceptical and scornful gives fearful import to the prophet's question, " What wilt thou say, when he shall punish thee ?" p. c. II. A SCOFFER. In the village of W — — a missionary meeting was announced, at which the lamented Rev. Dr. Armstrong was to be present. Attracted by the lighted church and the unusual crowd, young Robert L entered, A SCOFFER. 25 to see what was going on, and to find new themes for his powers of ridicule and mimicry. He took a seat near the door, that he might not be recognized, and that when weary, as he anticipated he shoidd soon be, he might pass out unnoticed. The interest of the meeting was increased by ad- dresses from a returned foreign missionary and a col- porteur from one of our western states. These ser- vants of God portrayed their fields of labor, their love for their work amid the trials and difficulties they had encountered, the encouragement they had in laboring for such a Master, and the hope that they might live and die with the harness on. Eobert became deeply interested in their narra- tions. He felt that they were sincere, however de- luded in their belief; and conscience whispered that "it was no delusion; that they had an aim in life worthy of an immortal being ; that the gospel which they hazarded all to bear to their dying fellow-men, was true ; that they had no mercenary motives to lead them to a life of toil and hardships, unrequited by earthly rewards." And while this truth was rankling in his heart like a barbed arrow, the faithful colpor- teur drew his portrait to the life, as in very simple language, he portrayed a class of young men whom he often encountered, that threw off the restraints of early religious education when beyond the influence of home. Robert recognized the likeness, and. felt it was his own. The first emotion was that of resentment, that he should be tlius held up to public view by an igno- rant stranger ; for he had when a lad left the parental fireside, where a pious mother had instructed, and a 26 • SKETCHES FROM LIFE. praying father had counselled him, to mingle with a class of men of loose habits, and still looser princi- ples, till he had imbibed their infidelity, and renounc- ed his belief in God's word. But he remained till the meeting was closed at a late hour, and tlien went from the sanctuary of God a convicted man. His conviction did not leave him till he was brought to the foot of the cross. The life which God had mercifully spared in the midst of his rebellion, he consecrated to his Saviour, and he lived to adorn his profession. Those devoted servants of Christ knew not, and probably never will know until they both are gathered with their sheaves into the garner above, that their simple narrations that evening, and the testimony they bore, that their Master's " yoke was easy,'"' was instrumental in doing a work that caused joy among the angels in heaven. G. A MERCHANT IN BOSTON. It was immediately after the great fire of 1835 in New York, that I was at Boston, in company with a Christian friend. We put up at the Tremont hotel. On the succeeding Sabbath we were walking in the parlor conversing on the aflQictivo providence with which our city had been visited ; in the course of which, reference was made to the power and sover- eignty of God. There was but one other person in the room, and he was seated silently near the fire. As the above remark was uttered, he stepped up to us, and inquired whether he had the happiness to ad- dress those who loved the Lord Jesus Christ. With A MERCHANT IN BOSTON. 27 some surprise at the sudden and uncommon inquiry, we replied with pleasure that we trusted it was so. He then apologized, with much courtesy and in a gen- tlemanly manner, for the intrusion upon our conversa- tion ; remarking that he was a stranger in Boston, where he had come a short time previous, having busi- ness with eminent merchants there. He further stated that he had, as he hoped, been led to taste the won- ders of redeeming love, and to rejoice in that liberty wherewith the Lord makes his people free. We had become by this time greatly interested in his remarks, and encouraged him to give us a history of the hope that was in him, to which he readily assented ; and the following is a brief account of the dealings of the Holy Spirit with his priceless soul. He was a native of Great Britain, and a son of a pious mother. Early in life he had been instructed in the way of godliness ; but he had disregarded the admonitions and teachings of parental love, and given himself up to utter worldliness. He engaged in mer- cantile business in a foreign country, in the midst of an irreligious population, who were also sunken in ihe follies and superstitions of Romanism ; and to all appearance, he entirely forgot the Lord God of his fathers. During the year in which we met with him, he was providentially led to the city of New Orleans, where he had large transactions in business. Here the Holy Spirit led him, while walking the streets one Sabbath morning, to enter a church, in which the Rev. Mr. P was then preaching. His attention was so led to a consideration of the holiness of the Lord's day, and the sin of desecrating it, that imme- 28 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. diately after service, with a frankness and prompti- tude which appeared to be characteristic of the man, he went to the counting-room of a French merchant with whom he had engaged to dine that day at his country-seat, and told him that he must be excused from dining with him. Upon being asked the reason, he unhesitatingly replied, that at church that day he had heard what had convinced him that it was wrong so to do, and although the invitation was again urged with great importunity, he steadily refused. The transaction, however, did not appear to make any lasting or saving impression on. his mind. Shortly after this he went to New York, and from thence to Boston. While there, walking one evening- past where a number of persons were at the moment leaving a prayer-meeting, a lady handed to him a tract, and politely requested him to peruse it. He took it to his room, and read it. The title was, ''Quench not the Spirit^ Its perusal made him solemn, awakened in him emotions to which he had hitherto been a stranger, and led him to commune thus with himself. " R , how foolish and inconsistent has been your conduct. You have provided yourself with whatever is conducive to your comfort and conven- ience while travelling. You have around you all the appliances needful for the body. But what of the immortal soul? What have you done for its happi- ness and welfare? Nothing; nothing! You have not even a Bible in your trunk, to direct your soul to its Author and Preserver.'' Without delay he went to the nearest bookstore and purchased a copy of the word of God, and at once set about its perusal. The •ruths, the warnings, the invitations there found, only A MERCHANT. IN BOSTON. 29 fastened the arrow of conviction more deeply in ]iis wounded heart, and the efifect was not lessened by a reperusal of the tract. The Spirit of the Lord had found hira out, and was making known to him his sin- fulness, the holiness of God's broken law, and his own inability to cleanse away the pollution within. This state of mind continued for some days, and although compelled daily to mingle in business with those who could not sympathize with him, yet in the retirement of his room, and in deep communing with himself, he continued to hav^ before him "a certain fearful looking for of judgment." On the morning of the next, or the succeeding Sabbath, in deep agony of spirit, he wandered from his hotel without any settled purpose. He came in front of a church into which many persons were flock- ing, and he entered with them. The Rev. Mr. S , of the Methodist church, addressed the audience from tlie words, " Quench not the Spirit," and powerfully unfolded the sin and danger of so doing. The words pierced the very soul of the stranger, and taught him more and more the total depravity of his heart, and his need of an all-sufficient Saviour to satisfy thai holy law which he had fearfully broken. He returned to his room, and again engaged in earnest prayer, in reading the Scriptures, and in self-examination. I think he stated that it was on the succeeding Thurs- day evening when, having obtained no relief, he took the word of God, laid the sacred volume open upon a chair, and upon it the tract, and kneeling down, pray- ed for divine mercy with an earnestness which could not take a denial. Thus engaged, he continued upon his knees until nearly the dawn of day, when it pleased 30 SKETCHES FROM LIFE, Him, with whom is boundless compassion, to speak peace to his soul, and enable him to rejoice in Jesus Christ our Lord. "And now," said he, "my soul is filled with joy and peace, and I bless God that an unknown friend handed me that blessed tract, by which I have been led to Christ, and which I shall keep with me wliile life lasts ;" . saying this, he opened his A'cst, and we perceived that he had laid it next his heart. He re- peatedly apologized for thus intruding upon our atten- tion, but stated again, that being a stranger in the city, except to a few who were of tJnitarian sentiments, he had had no one with whom he could hold converse on what was so dear to his heart, until meeting provi- dentially with us. It was a fitting sequel to this interesting event, upon visiting the tract depository in Xew York, a few weeks after, to purchase some copies of the above tract, that we heard the respected depositary observe that his stock of this tract had been lately greatly reduced, as one gentleman had purchased no less than six hundred copies for distribution in the West Indies : and upon inquiry we found that he was the warm- hearted brother whose story is here narrated. G. T. A PROFANE STUDENT. At a time of general religious solemnity some years since, in , the students of the old and ven- erable college were blessed with one of those visita- tions of the Holy Spirit which are truly seasons of refreshing in Zion. - Among them was a youth of A PROFANE STUDENT. 31 fine talents and polislicd manners, eminently popular among the votaries of the world ; but with such pleas- ing qualities he united a sad disregard of the teach- ings of the word of God, and the oath and biting sarcasm levelled against the consistent followers of Jesus often fell unrestrained from his lips. His mode of life, his sources of amusement, and especially his associates, were such as apparently to preclude the possibility of a change, and to render him least likely of all that numerous concourse of students to feel the power of religious truth. Among the personal efforts made at that time by the professed disciples of Christ, it was not the will of Ilim who toucheth the hearts of men that L • should be passed by. A sincere and deeply pious member of his own class called at his room one day, and finding him alone, entered into a faithful and ear- nest conversation with him on the value of his soul, and the necessity of immediate preparation for the eternal state. The interview was concluded with prayer, and the kind visitor departed. L was deeply enraged at this " unwarrantable intrusion,'' as he deemed it ; and in the bitterness of his malignity, upon entering the room of a fellow-student and nar- rating the occurrence, he deliberately cursed the friend who had sought to point him to the Lamb of God. But the arrow of conviction had accompanied the word of truth, and in the silent chambers of his heart the upbraidings of conscience were not easily to be appeased ; and having to prepare a rhetorical exer- cise on the following day, the mind of L was directed, providentially it would seem, to that short- est verse in tlie Bible, which is, nevertheless, so cx' 32 SKETCHSS FROM LIFE. pressive of the divine sympathy for our fallen mortal race — " Jesus wept." His ignorance of the word of God forced him to apply to a pious student to find the verse ; but his mind had scarcely began to dwell upon its touching theme and the sacred scenes of the Re- deemer's mission, when he burst into a flood of tears. The arrow of conviction had pierced his heart. The recollection of his contempt of God evinced in his treatment of the kind friend who sought his highest good, filled him with remorse ; while a deep sense of the wondrous love of Him who not only wept over our sin and sorrow, but died to secure lis mansions of immortal joy, pervaded his soul. The enormity of his transgressions rose in terrible array before him, and the strong-minded seeker of pleasure, the despiser of truth and righteousness, was bowed in sorrow for sin. The stated prayer-meeting of the few who loved God in that institution came round, and one, hitherto a stranger to its very being, was seen wending his way towards the place " where prayer was wont to be made ;" and when the words of supplication and the notes of praise had ascended on high, he who had been so prominent in ungodliness arose and declared his purpose of leading a new and holy life. None who were present at that prayer-meeting will ever forget the scene. Louder than before swelled the song of praise and thanksgiving for the "lost" that was "found," for the "dead in trespasses and sins," whom the all-pitying Jesus had called to life. And may not some who read this paper realize for the first time, that " Jesus wept " for man ? Let them, like L , receive in the inmost recesses of AN INFIDEL STUDENT. 33 their hearts this blessed truth, and joy shall fill the angelic hosts at the spectacle of another sinner turn- ing unto God. And, Christian disciple, who art mildly, yet per- severingly bearing the all-important message to those who know not its value, care not though reproof and contumely fall to thy lot. Even when thou art de- spairing, the providence of God may be impressing some stubborn heart. He will not suifer thy faithful labors to fail of a Glorious reward. l. v. r. AN INFIDEL STUDENT. In the year 18 — , a young man from the South en- tered a New England college. He was the child of infidel parents. The influences of home had all been adverse to the religion of Christ. He went to col- lege quite young, and was a frivolous, inconsiderate youth. He had no religious or moral principle to guide him, and to seek his own present pleasure was his only object in life. He was quick and passionate in his disposition, easily taking offence, and not hesi- tating to resort to a challenge to mortal combat, as the proper method of settling the difficulties of a ball- room. In becoming a member of a puritanic New Eng- land college, he found himself in a new world. He attended prayers regularly, because it was required by the laws of college ; but when he stood up in tliat consecrated chapel, and heard the venerable president address an invisible Being, he said to himself, " What folly! There is no God to listen to this prayer." He said in his heart, "There is no God." 2* 34 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. As one looked over that assembly, no one among those hundreds of young men seemed in so hopeless a case as that young infidel. But God had said of him, " He is a chosen vessel unto me, to bear my name be- fore the Gentiles, and kings, and children of Israel." He was affected by the Christian influences about him. The Spirit of God touched and softened his heart. He began to ask himself, "Am I mistaken? Is it possible that there is a God ?" The president of the college took much interest in him, and gave him, in private, such instruction as lie thought would benefit him. One evening the president talked with him very earnestly and affectionately. He talked long and faithfully, and when left him, he said to him, " When you return to your room, you will find it occupied by gay young men ; and if you go in and join them in their amusements, all these impressions will be effaced from your mind : but do not go there ; go away alone, and pray earnestly that God will en- lighten and teach you." He left the president and went to his room; but did he enter it? No. He heard the loud laugh of his companions, and he remem- bered the words of the president. He went away alone, and perhaps for the first time in his life, he communed with his Maker. He told me that he distinctly remembered the mo- ment when the truth of the existence of a God was first impressed upon his mind. He was in the chapel at college-prayers, and when the president rose to pray, his old disbelief passed away, and he felt that there was a God. He could truly say, "Lord, I be- lieve; help thou mine unbelief." He could liardly AN INFIDEL STUDENT. 35 restrain his emotions during the service, and as soon as the prayer was closed, he seized the arm of a pious young man, saying, " Do you believe in a God ?" He wondered that, if the Christian young men about him did believe, they did not manifest the excitement and deep feeling which he experienced at that, moment. A light had suddenly shined into his soul from heaven, and like Paul, he trembled and was astonished. During the last two years of his college life, he associated but little with his former companions. Ho roomed alone, and spent a portion of each day in the study of the Bible and prayer. He was greatly changed in his external character. When he left college, the Holy Spirit accompanied him. He placed himself under the influence of a Christian minister and Christian friends, and he made his Bible his constant study. He became a pupil, and afterwards a teacher in the Sabbath-school. At length ho ventured to hope that he had been brought out of nature's darkness into God's marvellous light. He entered a theological seminary, and having completed his course of study, he returned to the scene of his college life, and performed divine service upon the Sabbath. He commenced the exercises of the day by read- ing that beautiful hymn by John Newton, commenc- ing, " ]Mercy, 0 thou Son of David ! Thus blind Bartimeus prayed — '' And among the children of God who had known him while in college, not a tearless eye, I am sure, could have been found in that house. His text was, " Ex- cept a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom B6 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. of God ;" and truly the hearts of those listeners " burned within them,'' as they heard the evidence which he so strikingly gave, that he had become a new creature in Christ Jesus. I never felt more humbled and reproved than by this living epistle. When left college, I might have been his teacher. I was more familiar than he with the words and the doctrines of the Bible ; but he returned as my teacher, and I found, with surprise, what a change those few years had wrought in him ; how diligent he had been, how much he had learned, how familiar he had become with the word of God, and with all its teachings. And now this young man is a missionary of the cross, the Rev. E. J. P , in a dark and benighted part of the world. "DO LET ME ALONE." Mr. T. S resided near the western shore of Lake Champlain. As a husband and father he was kind and affectionate, but the whole subject of relig- ion he treated with neglect. His wife, two daughters, and a son were devoted Christians. He never op- posed them in any of tlieir religious views or duties, but seemed ready to assist them whenever they wished to attend a religious meeting, either on the Sabbath or during the week ; and yet, for more than twenty years, he did iiot attend a religious meeting of any description. Being called to the pastoral care of the congrega* tion, in 1828, I could get no opportunity, for more "DO LET ME ALONE." 3t than a year, to converse with him on the interests of his soul ; nor would lie allow any of his family to con- verse with him on the subject. He would say to them, " If you wish peace in the family, if you wish unmo- lestedly to enjoy the privileges of your religion, you must be quiet towards me, and let me and my belief alone." I thought him a troubled man, by no means at ease in his spirit ; but whenever I entered his house, he was sure to leave before I could converse with him. At one of my Wednesday evening meetings, some one of the family informed me that he was to start the next morning for a short journey. I had before arranged to go that morning into his neighborhood for pastoral visitation ; and as I came in sight of his house, which was about forty rods from the road, knowing that he had not seen me, I dropped at his gate the tract, " Danger of Delay," and passed on, still unobserved, when I felt inclined to pause and see how he would treat the little message I had laid in his way. When he came to the gate, he took it up, looked about him, and seating himself upon a rock, com- menced reading. I soon observed him wipe his eyes ; and when he had read it through, he held his hand- kerchief to his face for some time, and then arose, returned to his house, and relinquished his journey. The scene took such hold on my feelings that, after making a few visits, I returned and called at his house. On inquiring fbr him, I learned from his weeping wife that the tract had so alarmed him, that he dared not go on his journey ; and that he had fastened himself in his stable, and refused admittance to any one. I went to the stable ; but in agony, and with an empha- sis which I can never forget, he begged me, if I did 38 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. not wish to increase Lis misery in hell, not to talk to him on religion, or even pray for him ; " for," said he, " I am sure of damnation ; for me, who have so long rebelled, and who have so wilfully slighted such infi- nite mercy, there can be no hope." I tried to con- vince him that God was willing to be gracious even to him, however great were his sins. But his constant and agonizing cry was, " Do let me alone ; there is no hope for me." I left him, and returned to the family, whom I found all engaged in prayer for their distress- ed husband and father. After uniting with them in a season of prayer, I returned home : calling on one of my deacons, and requesting his family to spend the evening in joining their prayers with" those of the family of Mr. S and mine, for that poor awak- ened man. On Friday afternoon I called again, and found him still in his stable, and in as. deep agony as when I left him the day before. He still begged me not to talk with him, or even to pray for him, lest it increase his condemnation in the coming workl. After pray- ing with the family, I again returned home, but never felt a heavier burden on my heart. On Saturday morning I again called, and still found him in his stable, having utterly refused to converse with his family, or to receive any food. I went to the stable, and said to him, "Mr. S . are you determined to increase the long catalogue of your sins by self-murder?" He replied, "Mr. B , how can you think that of me? No, no, I will not add that sin to the dark catalogue." "But," said I, "you are doing it as surely as tliough you were to cut your throat ; for you can no more live without food. "DO LET HE ALONE." 39 than you can without blood. The best thing that you can do is to come out of your concealment, and act like a rational man." He finally came out, and after taking some refresh- ment, seemed more calm. I conversed with him ; and after praying- with him, I told him that it would be better to attend meeting the following day, than to stay away, even were he finally lost; for then the sin of turning away from the sanctuary and the means of grace would not rest uix)n his soul. He promised me that if able he would attend ; and he did. And as he entered our large school-house, every Christian seemed to drop the head as though in silent prayer. On that morning I preached from the words, " Come unto me. all ye that labor and are heavy- laden, and I will give you rest." Near the close I proposed the inquiry, " Who of you will come to Christ? He is ready, he waits, he calls, yes, he urges you, poor striking, hurdincd, and dying sinner, to come to him and find rest, and peace, and joy, and eternal salvation. Will you come; and come now?" Per- sons who sat by him afterwards informed me that they heard him distinctly say, " Yes, I will come, and i will come now.'' He soon after made a public profession of relig- ion ; and in relating his experience, he remarked that when he felt the resolve in his heart to yield to Christ, the removal of his burden was so sudden, and his joy Avas so great, that he could hardly refrain from shout- ing, " Glory to God," for so wonderful a display of the riches of grace. A deeper sense of guilt, or a more exalted view of the power and grace of God, than he expressed, I never witnessed. His family 40 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. altar burned morning and evening, lie was pimctual at the prayer-meeting, and was one of our most consist- ent, active, energetic, and devoted Christians. Thus he continued to live for many years, when he died in the triumphs of faith, and went to join the church tri- umphant in the song of redeeming grace and dying love. 0. B. A DARING OPPOSER IN PENNSYLVANIA. Never had such a revival of religion been witnessed in all tliat region of country, as was enjoyed in valley, Eastern Pennsylvania, in the years 1832 and '33. ^ It extended many miles in various directions, and hundreds were brought under its blessed influ- ence, and made savingly acquainted witli the Lord Jesus. The now large and flourishing churches in the boroughs of N and W C were plant- ed as a part of that gracious work. The enemy of all righteousness was not inactive while these inroads were made upon his kingdom. He aroused the enmity of the human heart, and much and bitter opposition was arrayed against the power and the progress of the gospel. Bands of men, young and old, were formed to strengthen each other in re- sisting the truth; military parades, parties of pleas- ure, balls, and various other means of dissipation were arranged to occupy the attention of the young, as the ranks of the enemy were thinned by the tri- umphs of the cross. Foremost in reckless daring, among the number of those who arrayed themselves against the work of the A DARING OPPOSER. 41 Lord, was F , a young man whose social position gave him an extensive influence. One after anotlicr of his most intimate friends and companions had forsaken him and his associates, and had united with the church. This irritated liim, and led him to indulge in a scries of petty persecutions; urged on and supported by older men, he sought by every means to cast contempt upon the cause of Christ, and especially upon his ministers. It was no unusual tiling for him to visit the house of God on the Sab- bath, hear with undivided attention the preached word, and after his return home, gather his associates together, and in mockery repeat the sermon and en- gage in prayer. He was known many miles around for his opposi- tion to tlie truth ; and there was an almost universal desire among Christians, that God might convert him, as he did the persecuting Saul, and make him a herald of salvation. We have good reasons for believing that much prayer was offered to God on his behalf, and that very many who had never seen him united in these supplications for the divine mercy. He for whom they supplicated was not without his " convictions for sin," although none suspected it. More than once, after having boldly declaimed against religion and religious people, did" he retire to a soli- tary place, and there, trembling with fear, beseech God to pardon his great wickedness ; and yet he would return again to the commission of the same sins. Thus months passed on, and F— — was still " breathing out threatenings ' ' in " great swelling words;" and still the people of God were earnestly pleading that God would " stop him in his mad ca- 42 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. rcer," and make him a " tropliy of his victorious grace." Upon one occasion he was induced to accompany some young friends to a small school-house, situated in a retired spot among the G hills. In this ob- scure and lowly spot the power of God had been sig- nally displayed. Scores of the inhabitants had been converted, and that humble school-house had been made " the house of God and the gate of heaven " to many a weary and heavy-laden sinner. At this time the work was moving forward with power, the house was crowded with eager hearers to its utmost capac- ity, every window was full, and rows of men were standing on the writing benches arranged around the walls of the house. F was one of the latter num- ber ; the sermon had closed, and no impression had been made on his mind. Before offering the closing- prayer, the minister stated to tlie congregation that on entering his study the day previous, he had found upon his table a note signed, "A female friend," re- questing the special prayers of the church on behalf of a certain young nmn, whose case she described. Every one knew who was meant, and so did F , and the announcement was an arrow from the quiver of the Almighty to his hardened heart. Chills crept over his frame, his knees trembled and smote together. During the time that prayer was offered for him, he wished he were out of the house, but he had no power to move ; he was overwhelmed with shame and con- fusion of face ; his sins rose before him like a mighty cloud, and his guilt in the sight of God weighed heavily on his spirit. At the close of the meetiiio- lie returned home in A DARING OPPOSER. 43 an ag'oiiy of soul ; what to do he knew not ; he sighed and groaned in the deepest anguish ; he vowed and prayed; he would have wept, but could not; he re- solved to seek the salvation of liis soul, or perish in the attempt ; and many sorrowful days and gloomy nights passed before he was brought to submit himselt to Christ as a poor lost sinner, and to accept salvation as the gift of God, "without money and without price." It was with great difficulty that he could realize that there was mercy for one who had sinned against so much light and knowledge, and had so long resisted the '' riches of grace," and despised the " goodness of Godo" But at length with the apostle he could say, "It is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners ; of whom I am chief.'' Light broke by degrees into liis darkened mind ; the clouds were dispersed, and every thing within and around him was rejoicing ; the rigor of midwinter was relaxed, all nature smiled, " the trees of the field clapped their hands," and "December was as pleasant as May." Great was the rejoicing when it was reported of him, "Behold, he prayeth," and many a thanksgiving ascended to God for what his grace had wrought. In the course of time he entered the Christian ministry, and for many years he was found laboring to build up the cause he once sought to pull down, and hundreds through his ministry liave been brought to the knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. For several years F made earnest inquiry to learn who the "female friend" was that had presented him as the subject of special prayer ; but all his efforts 44 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. were unavailing. In eternity lie will doubtless meet her, and unite with her and with all the redeemed in praising God for making him a "trophy of grace" in answer to special prayer. Reader, united prayer " moves the hand that moves the world ;" ask, and ye shall receive. ' Davies. A DEAF MUTE. During a revival of religion in one of our New England villages, a son of the clergyman returned home for a brief visit. The lad was a deaf mute, and had spent his first term in the asylum just then com- mencing its history. His parents having no know- ledge of the language of signs, and the boy being an imperfect writer, it was almost impossible to inter- change with him any but the most familiar ideas. He therefore heard nothing of the revival. But before he had been many days at home he be- gan to manifest signs of anxiety, and at length wrote with much labor upon his slate, " Father, what mmt I do to be saved V His father wrote in reply, " My son, you must repent of sin, and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ." " How must I do this?" asked the boy again, upon the slate. The father explained to him as well as he could, but the poor untaught boy could not un- derstand. He became more than ever distressed ; he would leave the house in the morning for some retired place, and be seen no more until the father went in search of him. One evening at sunset, the boy was found upon the top of the hay, under the roof of the barn, on his knees, his hands uplifted, and praying to God in the signs of the mutes. The distress of tho AN INDIAN'S GIFT TO CHRIST. 45 parents became intense. They sent for one of the teachers of the asylum, and then for another, but it seemed tliat the boy could not be guided to the Sav- iour of sinners. There were enough to care for his soul, but there were none to instruct him. Days passed — days of parental fear and agony. One afternoon the father was on his way to fulfil an engagement in a neighboring town, and as he drove leisurely over the hills the poor inquiring and hope- less son was continually in his thoughts. In the midst of his supplications his heart became calm, and the long distracted spirit was serene in the one thought that God is able to do his own work. The speechless boy at length began to tell how he loved his Saviour, and stated that he first found peace on the very after- noon when the spirit of his agonized father on the mountains was calmed and supported by the thought, that what God had promised he was able to perform. The converted mute became an instructor of others, and every Sabbath-day found him in one of our large cities, with a gathered congregation of fellow-mutes, breaking to them the bread of life, and guiding their attentive souls to that God who has power to do his own work. c. AN INDIAN'S GIFT TO CHRIST. In a portion of the southern territory from which the red man has now been driven, I once attended a large protracted meeting held in the wild forest. The theme on which the preacher dwelt, and which he illustrated with surpassing beauty and grandeur, was " Christ and him crucified." He spoke of the good 46 SKETCHES l^^ROM LIFE. Shepherd who came into the world to seek and to save the lost. He told how this Saviour met the rude buffetings of the heartless soldiers. He drew a pic- ture of Gethsemane, and the unLefriended Stranger who wept there. He pointed to him as he hung bleed- ing upon the cross. The congregation wept. Soon there was a slight movement in the assembly, and a tall son of the forest, with tears on his red cheeks, approached the pulpit, and said, " Did Jesus die for me — die for poor Indi- an? Me have no lands to give to Jesus, the white man take them away ; mc give h'im my dog, and my rifle." The minister told him Jesus could not accept those gifts. "Me give Jesus my dog, my rifle, and my blanket ; poor Indian, he got no more to give — he give Jesus all." The minister replied that Christ could not accept them. The poor, ignorant, but gen- erous child of the forest bent his head in sorrow and meditated. Pie raised his noble brow once more, and fixed his eye on the preacher, while he sobbed out, " Here is poor Indian, will JesKS have Mm ?" A thrill of unutterable joy ran through the souls of minister and people as this fierce son of the wilderness now sat, in his right mind, at the feet of Jesus. The Spirit had done his work, and he who had been so poor, received the earnest of an inheritance which will not fade when the diadems of earth shall have mouldered for ever. J. s. g. THE BIRD IX THE CHURCH. The town of E is embowered in trees. Its ancient and spacious cluirch, with its chiming clock THE BIRD IN THE CHURCH. 47 and towering- steeple of beautiful proportions, althoug'h ill the centre of the town, is yet in the centre of forest- trees, which nearly conceal it from view ; and what is more, it is the centre and home of the affections of a people whose ancestors for nearly two hundred years have there worshipped God in spirit and in truth. And that ancient church is associated with many and wonderful displays of sovereign grace. It has been the birthplace of souls, the house of God, and the gate of heaven to multitudes. Under its ample roof thousands have consecrated themselves to God, and amid the ordinances there dispensed, have rip- ened for glory. In the year 18 — , the people of E were favored with perhaps the most signal work of grace they ever enjoyed. The whole community was moved to its deep foundations, and persons of all ages and classes Avere in the pursuit of salvation as the great end of their being. Many, the blessed fruits of that revival, continue until the present day. On a Sabbath of that year of unusual brilliancy, in the late spring, that church was crowded with mul- titudes anxious about their souls, and hanging upon the lips of their beloved pastor, who with earnestness and tears was expounding to them the way of recon- ciliation with God. Every thing in the external world — the balmy and reviving breezes — the new and beautiful dress which fields and forests were putting on — the trees budding or in blossom — the blossoms setting in fruit, were in sympathy with the feelings of this worshipping people, and were but emblems of the spiritual transformations which were in progress among: them. 48 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. On this Sabbath tlie doors of tlic church were open, and the windows were all closed. During the progress of the service a bird entered by the door and flew up to the vaulted roof, and alarmed by the voices which it heard, gave every evidence of anxiety to make its escape. There sat in one of the pews a female under deep conviction for sin, and who for months had been seeking without finding peace for her soul. Her eye soon lit upon the fluttering bird, and followed hira from window to window, in his vain efi"orts to escape. It sought an exit at every window, and almost at every pane of glass ; and as it fluttered from one window to another, this female would say in THE BIRD IN THE CHURCH. 49 her heart, " 0 foolish bird, why strive to get out there ; is not the door wide open ?" It would now rise to the ceiling — now renew its vain attempts at the windows ; this female repeating to herself, " 0 foolish bird, why strive to get out there ; is not the door wide open ?"' And when its wings were weary, and when all hope of escape seemed to be abandoned, and as if unable to sustain itself longer, it lowered itself into the body of the church, caught a view of the door, and was out in a moment, singing a song of triumph over its re- lease, amid the branches of the trees. When the bird was gone, the thoughts of this female reverted to her own state and doings. The voice of the preacher was unheard amid the conflicts of her own thoughts. " I have been acting," said she, "like that foolish bird. I have been seeking peace in ways in which it is not to be found, and to go out from the bondage of sin through doors that are closed against me. Christ is the door ; through him there is escape from the dominion of sin. I liave acted like that foolish bird long enough. What the door was to it, Christ is to me. As it escaped through the door, so may I through Christ." And she found peace in believing. And almost as soon as the bird commenced its melody in the trees, rejoicing over its escape, she commenced making melody in her heart unto the Lord. Years passed away, and her peace flowed like a river whose gentle stream is never excited into a ruffle. Subsequently she had her periods of occa- sional depression, but without ever forgetting that Christ is the door. Threescore years and ten passed away, and amid the infirmities of age Christ was yet 50 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. precious as the door. She has put off her earthly tab- ernacle ; and from tlie day that she saw that bird in the church, until the day that she passed in, through Christ the door, to the spirits of the just made per- fect, she never gave ground for a reasonable doubt that Christ was in her the hope of glory. How infinitely diversified are the ways and instru- mentalities by which sinners are led to be reconciled to God. "The wind bloweth wliero it listelh, and tliou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth ; so is every one that is born of the Spirit." And how truthful the application of the folly of that bird, by that female, to her own case. And is not its folly the folly of every sinner ? The first right feeling of a sinner returning from the error of his ways, is a sense of his deep sinfulness in the sight of God. If this feeling is never felt, then, in ordinary cases, there is no return to God— we must die aliens to God, and continue outcasts from the light of the universe for ever. But when the Spirit convinces and convicts of sin, how often is deliverance sought from it in the ways that the bird vainly sought to escape from the church. The sinner flees to every thing that gives hope of deliverance but to the right thing. The Bible is read — prayer is made — sin is abstained from — the worship of God is frequented — the advice of Chris- tian people is sought ; but there is no escape from the dominion of sin — none from a sense of guilt, nor from the fear which it inspires. All these are but as the windows to tlie bird, which gave it hope that it might escape through them because they admitted the light. When it failed at one, it flew to another ; each win- THE SEA-CAPTAIN. 51 dow in its turn excited hope, and in every case the hope excited was dashed by the trial to escape. When all is done, the weight of sin yet hangs upon the soul. And the reason is, there is yet no recourse to the rem- edy for sin, to the door of escape from its power and guilt. Christ is that remedy. Christ is that door. And so prone are men to do something to save them- selves, that until all they can do is tried in vain, they will not look unto " the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world." The great central truths of Christianity, so far as men are concerned, are these : we are sinners — Christ Jesus has died to atone to law and justice for the sins of sinners, and whosoever believes on the Lord Jesus Christ shall be saved. Reader, do you hope you are a Christian ? If so, you know all this by experience. Never cease telling these truths to all men as you have opportunity. Are you a sinner convicted of your sin, and seeking deliverance from it? Then imitate not the bird which sought an exit through the closed win- dows, to the forgetfulness of the open door. Waste not your time, and spend not your strength for naught in seeking relief at sources that never can yield it. Go at once to Christ ; ponder this one truth, until it is written in letters of living light upon your soul, ' He that believetli on the Lord Jesus Christ shall be saved." Faith in Jesus Christ will save you ; nothing else can. N. m. THE SEA-CAPTAIN. Captain T was a noble specimen of the Amer- ican sailor. Independent in thouglit and action, well 52 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. skilled ill his profession, combining gentleness in manner with firmness in action, a better officer never walked the quarter-deck. Frank and open-hearted, his social qualities gave him a ready welcome into every family in the neighborhood where he resided ; and his influence over a large circle of friends was almost unlimited. Possessing an inquiring mind, he read on all subjects, and was particularly fond of argu- ment and debate. In the winter of the year 18 — ; Captain T was providentially at home, employing his leisure time in the study of elocution, preparatory to the public debates before a literary society of which he was a prominent member. It was a season of peculiar interest in the church. After a long period of coldness and apathy, God vis- ited them with the rich outpourings of his Spirit, and the church was humbled and revived; the word of God, preached in great plainness and simplicity, was "in demonstration of the Spirit, and of power." Sin- ners 0)1 the right and on the left were, with sobs and tears, asking, " What must we do to be saved?" The wife of the captain was among the first of those who passed into the kingdom of God, and were enabled to rejoice in a "good hope through grace." Hitherto she had come alone to church, but now it was per- ceived that about the hour for preaching the husband would enter the house of the Lord, quietly find a scat in a corner of the room, and give undivided attention to the messenger of God. None knew the exercises of his mind, and we were afraid to approach him upon the subject of personal piety, knowing his fond- ness for debate, and fearins: it might lead to an un- THE SEA-CAPTAIN. 53 profitable discussion. Great anxiety was felt by the awakened church on his behalf, and many fervent prayers were offered to God for his conversion. As the revival widened and deepened, the captain attend- ed the morning service as well as the evening ; and the hearts of Christians were cheered with the hope that God was truly drawing him "with cords of a man, with bands of love." At the close of one of the morning services, as the minister descended from the desk, Capt. T came up the aisle and met him, evidently inviting conversa- tion. The offer was not slighted, and a most interest- ing conversation ensued. There was no desire for argument or debate, but as a learner he desired to know the truth. He frankly confessed that he was deeply concerned about the salvation of his soul, but had difficulties in his mind arising from mistaken views of the plan of salvation ; he could not feel the "terrors of the law," which he had heard others de- scribe, and which he supposed he must of necessity feel, before he could " find peace in believing ;" he could with truth say that his sins gave him pain and anguish of mind, but his distress was in conseqnence of his guilt in having abused the mercy of God, and despised his love in giving his only begotten Son to die for such a sinner as he felt himself to be. The goodness of God had followed him all the days of his life, while he had done naught but sin against Him : the remembrance of these things overwhelmed him with shame and confusion of face. What must I do to be saved ? was now his earnest inquiry. With tears of gratitude the servant of God tauglit him the " way of the Lord more perfectly," directing the trem- 54 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. bling sailor's attention away from himself, a guilty creature, away from every earthly help, away from the works of the law — leading his wandering eye to the cross of Christ, and to his atoning sacrifice ; the fulness of Christ was presented to him, and the effica- cy of his blood ; the sovereignty and freeness of grace were shown, and he was directed to lift up the trem- bling eye of faith, to look and live, to believe and be saved. In the evening the inquirer was found again in the temple of God, but under what different circumstan- ces ! Then he was wretched, now he was unspeakably happy; peace had come in like a river, and he could rejoice in hope of the glory of God. In the spirit of a little child he was seeking direction in the path of duty, desirous only to consecrate himself, body, soul, and spirit, to the service of his divine Master, and to promote the glory of Him who had saved him by his grace. " When the meeting commenced," said tlie captain, " I resolved to attend every night, not that I might be spiritually profited, but in the hope of receiving some instruction in elocution from the delivery and gestures of the visiting minister ; I was delighted the first evening, as I felt assured that the speaker had studied my favorite author, and that I now should have the benefit of a living model for my imitation. The next evening I was at times so much interested in the subject of discourse, as to forget the manner of the preacher ; and on the subsequent evenings I lost sight of what first brought me to the house of God, in the interest I felt in the truth which was preached. 1 felt very uneasy ; I quarrelled with myself; I lost my THE SEA-CAPTAIN. 55 own esteem ; my vile ingratitude to God rose up be- fore me, and I was self-condemued. I was now under instruction, not in elocution, but in things of a higher and holier nature, ' the mystery of grace ;' the law of God was now my schoolmaster to lead me to Christ. The 'motions' of the preacher did not now interest me ; but ' the mofmis of sins whicii were by the law, did work in my members,' and the Spirit of God con- vinced me of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment. I bowed my knees in prayer to God, for the first time in many years. I called upon him to have mercy upon a guilty creature; but no relief could I obtain, until to-day, while the minister was unfolding the way of salvation through faith in a once crucified, but now risen Saviour, I was enabled to exercise faith on him. My burden of guilt was removed, the storm within my soul was calmed, my fears subsided, and I was un- speakably happy in the love of God." When the inquirers were invited to meet the min- isters and deacons for instruction, the first to rise from his place was Captain T , who walked delib- erately from the rear of the house, and with a face glowing with peace and joy, took a seat near the pul- pit. A thrill went through the house, as mysterious as the electric influence ; tears filled nearly every eye, while thanksgiving to God went up from every pious heart. The influence of his decision was felt on every side. Many, very many men and women followed his example, were found as humble penitents sitting at the feet of Jesus, and afterwards " witnessed a good con- fession before many witnesses." Captain T was eminently useful. Wherever he went, he carried the gospel of peace. His ship 66 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. was a Bethel ; many a desponding heart did he com- fort by his counsels and his prayers, and many a proud caviller was silenced by his arguments, enforced by the power of a consistent life. This narrative illustrates two points : 1. The importance of being found in the house of God, under the influence of the means of grace. Mul- titudes have come to the sanctuary with no higher motive than did the subject of the above sketcli, but who, "being in the way," were made to realize that the "word of God is quick and powerful." 2. Christians should not regard the case of any one as hopeless, nor cease to labor for their salvation. The Spirit of God can soften the hardest heart, can subdue the most stubborn will. Many apparently tlioughtless persons feel more on the subject of relig- ion than they are willing to confess. AVe should fol- low them with our prayers, and in " due season we shall reap, if we faint not." l^avies. THE LAST EESOLVE. It was a cold, raw evening in March, when the Rev. Mr. B had just returned from visiting some of his parishioners, and was gathering around him liis little family for evening worship, that a loud ring was heard at the door, and a young man was shown into the parlor. Wishing to see Mr. B alone, they retired together to his study. He soon returned, say- ing he had been sent for to see Sarah J , a mem- ber of his congregation, who had for a long time been anxious about her soul, and now desired to converse with him. THE LAST RESOLVE. 51 He left the liouse with the messenger, and a walk of a few moments brought them to her door. Inquir- ing where he should find Sarah, he was told by her father that she was in the library alone. Mr. B quickly found her, seated on the sofa, her face buried in her hands, and apparently unconscious of every thing around her. He was silent a few moments, hop- ing that she would open the conversation ; but finding that she remained silent, he said, "Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners." " I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." Slie started up suddenly, and fixing her eyes upon him, said, "^Ir. B , I have not sent for you to mock my misery, but to tell you of my last resolve. I have been wretched for more than a year and now, at all hazards, 1 shall banish the subject of religion from my mind. I wish you to promise me that you will never again speak to me on the subject, for it will do no good, and will only increase my misery." "It is asking a great deal, Sarah, of one whose mission it is to preacli the glad tidings of salvation to every sinner, to keep silent when he sees one in such a state as you are. It is asking too much ; and I can- not, either as a minister or a Christian, make such a promise. But may I ask what has caused this change in your feelings since I saw you last ? I have thought you seemed almost persuaded to be a Christian." " Yes," she answered, " I did feel so then ; but now God has forsaken me. I am left to myself, and the only thing for me is to forget the past, and seek my pleasure in the world !" " But, Sarah, you cannot forget the danger of your immortal soul. You cannot forget that you must soon 3* 58 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. appear before God, and answer for the manner iu wliicli you now treat the offer of his grace. You can- not", you must not forget that the Saviour lias died for you ; and will you not now accept the proffered gift of life?'' " No," she said hastily ; " I did not send for you to argue with me. I only wished to tell you of my de- cision, and that you need trouble yourself no further about me." " Certainly I shall not insist upon conversing with you against your wishes ; but before I leave you, let me urge you to consider well what you call your last resolve, and ask yourself if you think it will be satis- factory to you when on a dying-bed, or at the judg- ment-day. Still there is hope for you. ' Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation.' " Mr. B paused, hoping she would make some reply ; but finding she remained unmoved, he said, " Sarah, shall I pray with you?" ." No," she said, coldly ; and seeing he could do nothing more for her, he bade her good-evening, and left the house. Long and earnestly that night did the man of God pray for the renewal of that obstinate heart, anc^ when he retired to rest, it was with a weight upon his heart which every pastor, yes, every Christian, must sometimes feel. The next day he heard nothing from Sarah, and thinking that after what had passed his presence might only increase her opposition, he re^ frained from calling upon her. In the evening there was public service, and as he entered he was surprised to see Sarah in her accustomed seat. Before dismiss- ing the congregation, he requested any who desired POOR WILLIAM. 59 to converse with liim to remain after the services were closed. Much to his astonishment, Sarah remained. Ex- tending her hand to him, she said, " Last evening, Mr. B , I told you of one resolve I had made. I hope I have been brought to a very different one. I can think of nothing but my own dreadfully wicked heart. I feel that I must be a Christian. Mr. B , do tell me how I can find my Saviour ?'' Gladly did her pastor point her to " the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world," and eagerly did she listen to the gracious promises and invitations of the Saviour; and with her eye filled with tears, and yet her countenance beaming with holy joy, she exclaimed, " Lord, I believe ; help thou mine unbelief." Her subsequent life gave evidence that she had indeed found " the pearl of great price." ''I must he a Christian!" This was Sarah's last resolve. Shall it not be yours also? s. POOR WILLIAM. The grace of God is displayed no less in the depths of poverty and ignorance to which it descends, than in the higher walks of life of whicli it forms the brightest ornament. This truth has a pleasing illus- tration in the following narrative of poor William, whom the writer well knew, and who was born in • , Conn., about the year 1740. He was lame and deformed, and could never stand upright or walk unless supported by two staves. His parents were poor ; he had not strength of limb to 60 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. use the implements of husbandry ; his speech was so indistinct as scarcely to be understood by strangers ; -and his mind and memory were so weak that all efforts to teach him to read seemed to be unavailing. His condition was also apparently rendered more hopeless by the fact that, in the inability of his parents to sup- port so helpless a child, he was early separated from them by the authorities of the town ; but he was hap- pily placed in a religious and worthy family. Here he early discovered uncommon depravity. He was cross, intractable, mischievous, perverse. He seemed almost destitute of reflection or consciousness of right and wrong ; he gave way to an uncontrolled appetite, whether for food or strong drink ; and often used the most profane, obscene, and opprobrious lan- guage, and thus exhibited without restraint, and in its most fearful aspects, the native depravity of the hu- man heart. He gave no indications of religious influ- ence on his mind, or any just apprehension of God or the future world, and could be controlled only by the fear of corporeal punishment. Young children, who were weaker than himself, it was his pleasure to annoy by running after them as he could with his two staves and bent body, or throwing sticks or stones at them, so that he became the terror of the neighborhood. Few human beings, probably, have had less in them that was attractive or hopeful as to the present or the future world. Thus poor William continued till near middle life, loving no one, beloved by no one, deformed in soul and body, and verifying the appalling description of the apos- tle, " hateful and hating one another." " Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leop- POOR WILLIAM. 61 ard his spots?" "Then may they also do good who arc accustomed to do evil ;" and by the power of superabounding grace, vile, degraded William may yet " shine above the brightness of the firmament, and as the stars for ever and ever." A little before the war of the Revolution, when the state of religion throughout the country was gen- erally low, the presence of the Spirit was enjoyed by the people among whom William dwelt; many prom- ising young people were brought to Christ, and in the fervor of their love and joy they sometimes, between the public exercises of the Sabbath in summer, gath- ered under the shadow of a tree near the house of God, where they conversed, read, and sung hymns of praise. One day poor William, who it seems often attended the sanctuary, strolled in among them, and whether by what he saw, or by any special warnings addressed to him, is unknown, but the Holy Spirit there reached liis heart, arousing his conscience, alarm- ing him on account of his sins, and drawing his atten- tion to the concerns of his soul. Now his feeble mind, which had been unstable as water, and never before was known to be perma- nently affected by any tiling that did not appeal directly to his senses, became fixed on the subject of his salvation and preparation to meet his final Judge. He was terrified at the view of his dark and hopeless condition as a sinner, and earnestly implored instruc- tion ; nor was he satisfied with any thing until Christ, tlie great atoning sacrifice for sin, the " one Mediator between God and man," was clearly set before him. His pastor spared no pains to pour the simplest gos- pel truths into his dark mind ; and most evidently the 62 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. Holy Spirit gave peace to his soul through faith in a crucified Redeemer. From that time no profane or irreverent language escaped his lips ; he was no longer perverse and mis- chievous ; he was now easily controlled in respect to the evil habits he had formed, and became submissive and gentle as a child. He feared and loved God. Nothing delighted him more than to hear Christians talk of Christ, the riches of his mercy, and all he has done to save lost men. His wild countenance as- sumed a milder aspect ; his temper became peaceful and happy, and little children flocked to him and de- lighted in him as a companion in their harmless sports. The transformation was observed by the older and more discerning with astonislnnent, for they saw iu him marked evidence that he had indeed become a " new creature in Christ Jesus." It was at first doubted by some whether one so Weak in mind should be received into the church ; but he professed his faith in receiving baptism, and was admitted to full communion. He showed a peculiar love to the people of God ; and when he learned that others were seriously inclined, would visit them, and inquire after their state with a simplicity and serious- ness often truly affecting. His faithful pastor was especially endeared to him. Hearing of the good man's death, William, though then many miles distant, hastened to attend the funeral, saying to the mourn- ing son of the deceased whom he met at the door, " They tell Mr. S dead ; I be glad on 't ;" that is, he rejoiced that he had " kept the faith," " finished his course," and gone to receive the " crown of righteous- ness reserved for him against that day J' POOR WILLIAM. 63 William's Christian walk was generally consist- ent. In a few instances he was known to exhibit a wrong temper, but his sorrow for it was most siAccre. On one occasion, before the present principles of total abstinence from intoxicating liquor prevailed, a de- signing young man, being alone with him, gave him a sweet mixed liquor, by which he was intoxicated. When he came to himself, and knew what had been done, he cried and wept bitterly, and gave the most satisfactory evidence of true repentance before God and man. Generally he was happy in the enjoyment of God and the anticipation of heaven. Sometimes he was clouded with fears and temptation ; but he would say, " The devil comes, picks me all to pieces — I cry — pray hard to my blessed Master — and the devil then goes away." Thus William pursued his course till the Master called him to sit down in his kingdom. Can the deniers of the Bible and of the truths distinguished as evangelical produce, in all their an- nals, such an example of moral elevation as was effect- ed in poor William ? Did Deism or Universalism ever work such a change? Such results are effected only by the word and Spirit of God. Is the reader, with all his superior advantages, living " without hope and without God in the world?" Let not poor William stand in the judgment a witness, against you. " Christ " must be formed " in you the hope of glory," or to the heaven where poor Will- iam's stammering tongue now lifts the song of praise you can never come; but like him, "Seek the Lord while he may be found," sincerely and with all your heart, and your salvation is secure. t. s. G4 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. POOR DINAH. Early one Monday morning, more than thirty years ago, in the heiglit of tlie most powerful revival that I had ever witnessed, a colored woman called and wish- ed to see me. I invited her into my study, and saw at once that she was in trouble. Great anxiety was depicted in her countenance, and I suspected the cause, or rather hoped she had come to inquire what she must do to be saved. *' Dinah," I said, " I am glad to see you; but you seem to be unhappy. "What is the mat- ter?" With an utterance almost choked by her strug- gling emotions, she answered, " I don 't know. I feel dreadfully.''^ "How long have you felt so?" "Ever since yesterday afternoon." "And what made you feel dreadfully then?" "I can 't tell. I was to meet- in' ; and when you was preachin', somcthin' struck me here," smiting upon her breast, "just as if a knife had gone right through my heart." Never in my life was I so struck myself as by this answer. Here was a poor colored woman wlio had been brought up a slave in a neighboring state, who could not read a word in the Bible or any other book, and who had never, I believe, received any religious instruction from her master. I had seen her a few times in the gallery, but never dreamed of such a visit from her, and still less of such an illustration, almost in the very words of scripture, of the power of truth upon the heart of one so ignorant of its nature and effects. " I felt as if a knife struck right through m.y heart. ' Had she ever heard of Peter's sermon on the day of pentecost, and how his audience were " pricked in the POOR DINAH. 65 heart" by it? Probably not. Certain it is, she never had read it ; and so ignorant was she, that if she had, she might not have understood what being pricked in the heart meant. But she felt it, and unconsciously expressed herself just as if she had been one of the three thousand. And then that other scripture in the letter of blessed Paul to the Hebrews came to my mind : " The word of God is quick and powerful, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the Ijioughts and intents of the heart." Also that in Ephesians, " Take the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." Here was an example and illustration before my eyes of what those scriptures mean ; for I soon found, upon further inquiries, that though Dinah could not tell what ailed her, she for the first time felt that she was a great sinner; and 0 how eagerly she listened, while I told her, as well as I could, what she must do to be saved. Poor creature, it was all new to her. "How could she find her way to the cross?" And she went away as sorrowful as she came. She did not remain in that state a great while ; but while it lasted, it bowed her to the earth. " She went mourning all the day," scarcely daring to hope that such a poor ignorant sinner could be saved. And when the burden was taken off, she was about as much at a loss to account for its removal as she had been to tell what ailed her at our first interview. She knew there was a great change of some sort in her feelings, but what to make of it she did not know, unless it was that she was becoming stupid again. 66 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. She did not for some time seem to imagine that it could be a change of heart, and I thought it safer to let her gradually find out by the teacliing of the Spirit, than to tell her at once that I hoped she had " passed from death unto life ;" " being confident of this Axry thing, that He which had begun a good work in her, would perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.'"' As may well be supposed, Dinah needed a great deal of instruction, and she most thankfully received it, giving increasing evidence that Christ was formed in her the hope of glory. When the first-fruits of the revival were gathered into the church, about four months after it commenced, she stood up and entered into covenant with God and his people, with nearly a hundred others, among whom were lawyers, physi- cians, merchants, and altogether a large majority of the first men in the town. There was poor Dinah in the midst of them, and none more welcome than she. She had thought for years that she was too old to Jearn to read ; but now she was eager to be taught, and some of the young ladies in the neighborhood as eagerly volunteered to instruct her. To all human view she adorned her profession, " walking humbly with God." She is now dead, and I believe she has gone to heaven, and that her gar- ments have been washed in the blood of the Lamb, and made as white as any of our robes will be. Mul- titudes of such will be found in heaven ; and what greater privilege can ministers enjoy than leading them to Christ? It is worth more "than thousands of gold and silver." I am sure tlie conversion of poor Dinah is and will be one of the happiest remi- niscences of my pastoral life. H. H. AUNT DELPHY. 67 AUNT DELPHY. Perhaps no region of our countr)', in fertility of soil, scenery, and climate, surpasses that portion of Virginia which stretches for hundreds of miles along the eastern slope of the Blue Ridge. Nowhere are the poet's lines more true : "Hills peep o'er bills, and alps o'er alps arise." The scenery of this region is solemn and elevat- ing, and lifts the thoughts of the devout mind which sees God in all his works, in adoration to Him who " settetli fast the mountains, being girded with power." But our object is not so much to give a description of this region, as to speak of a visit we paid to an aged colored woman by the name of Delphy, of whose case we heard through a pious physician who some- times visited her. In company with him we found our way with some difficulty by a bridle path through the woods to her cabin, which was far distant from any other dwelling. Its outward appearance was comfortless and neglected ; built of unhewn timbers, plastered with mud ; the floor of dirt, and uneven ; no furniture but two bedsteads and an old chair ; no window, the light being admitted through the door and from the wide and low chimney. A shelf nailed against the wall held a few vials of medicine. Upon one of the beds near the chimney lay the woman we came to see. She had received an injury in her youth, which paralyzed her lower limbs, so that they had been incapable of motion for more than forty years. During all that time she had suffered acute nervous pains shooting through her limbs. She had 68 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. been for many years entirely blind. Her few and simple wants were but scantily supplied. But not- withstanding this coraplieated suffering, she had, we were repeatedly assured, never been heard to mur- mur, and her faith and patience had been the admira- tion of all who have known her. For more than twenty years, as she told us, she had not heard the Bible read, nor did she remember ever having been visited before by a Christian minister. We found her quite ignorant of every thing ex- cept the simplest truths of the gospel — that she was a great sinner, and that Christ was a great Saviour — ■ in the strength of which she had gone through the long period of this dreadful affliction. She spoke of her alarm and terror in her conversion at the sight of her sins, which, she said, were as great as the moun- tain near by, and as black as charcoal. When asked if she was willing to endure the same suffering for ten or fifteen years longer, she replied, that though she desired to depart, yet she was willing to wait " as long as God loved it." To the question, whether she ever doubted the love of her Saviour in thus leaving her to suffer so long, she answered that she could not, after he had died to save her. In her experience she had, as she supposed, a trance, in which she went to heaven ; and when wish- ing to stay there, lest, if she went back to this world, she should sin again, was told that she must return and warn her fellow-sinners. She was once, we were cred- ibly informed, for some time in a state of suspended animation, when she had, as she thinks, this vision. However this may be, it does not affect the reality of the rest of her religious experience, nor should it cast AUNT DELPHY 69 any suspicion over the genuineness of her conversion. Such trances are very often spoken of among colored persons, and with them form almost a necessary part of true conversion. She had certainly been faithful in warning, or as she called it, pleading with those around her. She evidently possessed the substance of true piety — most unfaltering trust in God ; she could say with Job, " Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him ;" and there was in her case the most constant and simple looking to Jesus' fulness of grace and strength. xVs I looked round her neglected dwelling, and upon her countenance radiant with the deepest sub- mission to the will of God, I thought of the light afflictions over which so many Christians think they have cause to murmur, compared with Delphy's mighty trial for forty years. They would have done well to visit her dwelling, and witness her " sad variety of pain," that they might learn a lesson of patience. De- prived of sight and of tlie use of her limbs, in the sordid hut of cheerless poverty, her food and cloth- ing insufficient, she never murmured, but took pleas- ure in suffering God's will. We might learn, too, from this case of " long-suf- fering with joyfulness," how unimportant our condi- tion is in this world, compared with that in the world to come. In this mean cabin lay one of God's hidden ones, an heir of glory who is to possess all things. Her piety hallowed her home, though poor indeed, and converted it, in the eye of faith, into a palace wliich kings miglit covet. Her case, too, proves that God is no respecter of persons. He had evidently revealed unto her wliat 10 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. is hid from "the wise and prudent" among men, as if to show the sovereignty of his grace, and how little truth, if it be received " in an honest and good heart," can carry a soul to heaven. Let ns hope that many such cases of piety, far more than we arc wont to imagine, may be found, especially among our colored population, in the remote cabins of our mountains and valleys. j. p. A VAGABOND. Some years since, as a congregation in one of the beautiful and retired villages of Connecticut were assembled on Sabbath morning, a well-known aban- doned character, to their great surprise, came in among them. He was a friendless, homeless, wander- ing vagabond, possessed originally of a strong mind and retentive memory. His intemperance had become so excessive that he was subject to the most violent attacks of delirium tremens; and when the fits were upon him, he resembled the .demoniacs in the gospel. To escape the devil, he would rush down precipices, throw himself into the water, and wander through fields and woods and swamps, fancying that his tor- mentor Avas ever at his heels. It is not surprising that the worshippers of a staid New England church should be startled by the en- trance of such a vagrant. Many whispered, " What has brought him here ?" In answer to a similar ques- tion at the close of the service, he replied, " I have come to get good to my soul." Grace had reached the heart of the outcast. He was then sitting at the feet of the Saviour, in his right mind. The dress of A VAGABOND. a vagabond was soon changed for one becoming a dis- ciple. He immediately abandoned not only his cups, but his tobacco, lived for years a dignified, devoted, consistent Christian, and died beloved and lamented. Scepticism taxed its ingenuity in vain to account for the sudden and wonderful change in the character of tliis man, but his devoted piety for years disarmed all cavilling. As this is a very unusual instance of God's deal- ings with men, it is well to consider the means em- ployed in his conversion. It was not one of the blessed results that attend the pledge of total absti- nence, in its great work of reform for the abandoned. 72 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. It was not amid revival scenes. It was not the ordi- nary preaching of the gospel, for he did not visit the Sanctuary. The ladies of the church, in their monthly tract distribution, had given him the tract, " The JJmi- able Louisa,'" at a house where he called. ', He read it, and God blessed it to the salvation of his soul. How striking the fact that this vagabond, who had always been a stranger to the saints, was imme- diately found in the sanctuary seeking the society and sympathy of God's people. He appeared to be moved almost by an irresistible impulse to go where Chris- tians were to be found, and where they worshipped. We should not hastily determine that any jiian is abandoned of God, or presume that God has said, "Let him alone,'"'" to any fellow-being tliis side of a miserable eternity. There is a '"patient continuance" in Christian efforts, with which "God is well pleased." "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy hand." The grand characteristic of a stew- ard of God is, that he " be found faithful." K. A PUPIL AT MOUNT IIOLYOKE. A young lady possessing a very sweet religious spirit, gives the following account of her first serious impressions : I entered the seminary — the Mount Ilolyoke, then under the care of the lamented Mary Lyon — a very gay and thoughtless girl. I expected I should have to become religious some time or other, in order to save my soul from destruction ; but it was the last A PUPIL AT MOUNT HOLYOKE. 73 thing I desired to do, and I hoped for long, long years of enjoyment first. Among other regulations which were made known to us, we were informed that every pupil was required to spend half an hour in her own room alone, each day. In compliance with this requisition, I entered my little apartment ; all was silent, solemn ; I could almost hear the beatings of my heart, and an unaccountable awe stole over my spirit. I could not trifle with or ridi- cule the regulation. I could not even spend the time in common reading. I tried to do so, but I dared not. Conscience lifted up her voice in that deep silence, and made itself heard. It told me I ought to pray ; and I felt as if the Almighty himself stood by, commanding me to pray, and listening to hear if I complied. And yet I had no desire to do it. My heart was cold and hard ; I was distressed, but not melted — afraid, but not penitent. Slowly the time wore away ; I gazed out of the window on the noble range of mountains visible from that beautiful loca- tion, and beheld the glorious works of the gTcat Cre- ator ; but while my heart kindled into a kind of poetic enthusiasm at the sight, I had no desire to become the child of that divine and holy Being ; there was an opposition to the very idea rising up in my breast. At length the bell summoned me to the recitation- room, and I gladly fled from that dreary solitude. Day after day passed in a similar manner. I some- times read a little in my Bible, but it did not interest me ; yet I never dared read any thing else, so thorough- ly was my conscience awakened. After some days it occurred to me what a wicked creature I was, to be thus unwilling to pray, and to seek Ilim who had done Sketches. 4 74 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. SO much for mc, and who alone could save my soul. I dwelt upon the thought, and for several successive days a sense of guilt accumulated, till the burden was very heavy upon my soul ; and the first sincere prayer I ever offered in my lonely room was wrung from me by a deep conviction of my sinfulness. Almost uncon- sciously I cried, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" And he was merciful. He heard my feeble cry, and before any one had spoken to me individually upon the subject of religion, I had been convinced of my great guilt, and of my need of Jesus for a Saviour. Much excellent instruction was given to the pupils generally, and when I had begun to cherish a faint, trembling hope that my sins were forgiven, my class- teacher one day asked me if I hoped I was a Cliris- tian. The principal afterwards had a conversation with me, and I need not say to any one who has known her faithful earnestness and tender anxiety for her pupils, how replete that conversation was with sound, practi- cal wisdem. When I told her how I was first led to feel upon this subject, she said, " Oh yes, it is because we do not think, that we are so unconcerned. It is Satan's great device to keep souls from God, to occu- py them so completely with other things, that tliey have no time nor opportunity to think; when we think, the Holy Spirit can gain entrance, and it leads us to see things as they are. The pupil thus led to Christ removed to a distant land ; and thousands of miles away from her New England home, she diffused the light and peace ac- quired in those half-hours of solitary meditation and prayer. G. ^ A RETURNING PRODIGAL. 15 A RETUllXIXG PRODIGAL. Returning from a western tour during the spring of 1S5-, the vrritcr providentially became a travelling companion with the Rev. Mr. K of B . Our passage from Detroit was taken on board the " new and splendid" steamer Ocean. Amidst the throng that crowded the saloon, was a youth whose forbid- ding exterior and evidently troubled thoughts attract- ed special observation. His tattered garb, squalid appearance, dejected mien, and haggard features, were impressively suggestive of the prodigal's history. To avoid unpleasant annoyances, we had secured a state-room, though fitted with accommodations for three persons. After some time, however, the vacant berth was claimed ; and as if to render the intrusion the less welcome, the claimant was none other than the unpromising and forlorn youth spoken of above. " The hand of God is plainly visible in this intru- sion on our favorite arrangement," said my compan- ion subsequently ; " this stranger needs religious coun- sel ; go, converse and pray with him, as I have endeavored to do." Feeling reproved by his promp- titude in ascertaining the spiritual condition of a fellow-traveller, especially of one so apparently de- graded and repulsive, I went immediately. The youth, who had scarcely reached his seventeenth year, was sitting in the state-room bathed in tears. The following is his history as given by him, interrupted by sobs and exclamations against himself. His pious mother, living at Kingston, Canada West, had dealt with him faithfully and tenderly. Chafing under the restraints imposed by her admonitions and prayers, 76 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. he had three years previously forsaken his home, and " taken his journey into a far country." Employed as a driver on the Illinois canal, he had fallen upon vi- cious courses, and made himself " very wicked indeed." But God, not willing that the child of so many pray- ers should perish, but should rather be brought to repentance, had sent upon him sickness, want, and finally a disaster which fastened on him for life a dis- tressing lameness. Now with shame and tears he had set his face homeward. "What do you propose to do on reaching home?" "Beg forgiveness of my kind mother for having de- serted her so shamefully." "Is this all?" "I ask God to pardon my sins ; may I hope he is willing ? Do pray for me that he will." " Do you think you deserve his forgiveness ?" " No, I deserve no mercy." " Do you think God is unjust in inflicting upon you this series of calamities, especially this afflictive lame- ness?" "No, sir. It was kind in him. But for them, I should have gone on in wickedness, and come to some dreadful end." " Do you not fear that you shall return to your roving and abandoned courses ?" " Not if God will show me mercy, for Jesus will be precious to me, and will help me to live a Christian life." He seemed truly to have " come to himself;" and having formed the resolution to " arise and go to his Father," he carried it into instant execution; "he arose and came." And his Father was evidently wel- coming the penitent prodigal, and sending into his soul the spirit of adoption. The encounter with this wanderer was to us in- structive, and we would hope not without use to him. A MODEL OF MORALITY. 77 His humility, tenderness, and filial spirit ; his child- like simplicity, uttering as it were in lisping accents the " language of Canaan," rendered those interviews with this mendicant prodigal more refreshing than the most genial companionships. At Buffalo we separat- ed— he returning to his Canadian home, and we to tlie land of the pilgrims, in the hope of meeting yet again in the house of our common Father. 1. The seed planted by faithful parents, and wa- tered with many prayers and tears, may be expected sooner or later to spring up and produce saving re- sults. 2. Souls burdened with spiritual anxieties are round about us when we least think it, in our family, in our social circle, or among our travelling com- panions. 3. Providence sometimes flirusts upon us as it were persons of unattractive, perhaps repulsive ex- terior, for the express purpose of benefiting them through our influence. "The poor ye have always with you, and when ye will, ye may do them good." 4. Christians may easily unite happiness and use- fulness in their journey ings, if they but have an eye open to opportunities of doing good, and a heart ready to seize upon them and delight in them. A MODEL OF MORALITY. There had been no revival of religion for many years in the neighborhood of the T meeting- house ; the word of God seemed to be preached in vain. While all who heard paid respectful attention 78 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. to the message of grace, few received it into good and honest hearts. It was a discouraging field, and the servant of God often' had occasion to " weep between the porch and the altar," and to say, " Lord, who hath believed our report?" The people were not infidels, they were not profane or grossly wicked, far from it ; very few neighborlioods could be found where the standard of morality was higher ; but here was the difficulty, they were building their hopes of salvation on their morality, " going about to establish their own righteousness," and refusing to submit themselves to the righteousness of Christ. As is usual in such cases, there were some who were regarded as "models" for their morality, and among them the subject of this sketch, L T , stood in the front rank. He was the youngest son of his mother, "and shewas a widow," and a devoted child of God, who had long prayed for the conversion of her dear boy, so dutiful and affectionate in all the relations of life. In 1843, the pastor felt called to hold a "meeting of days;" but L did not attend, he was away from home. Having heard of the meeting, he resolved to attend only on the Sabbath ; and to avoid the solic- itations of his pious friends, he laid his plans to be absent from home through the week in a distant cedar swamp, procuring rails. But many hearts offered up fervent prayer to God on his behalf; and the prodi- gal son was so unhappy in the cedar swamp, that he was compelled to return home. He then resolved not to attend the meeting, but to go down on the " sound," for the purpose of procuring fish and oysters. But here he Avas more wretched than he had been in the A MODEL OF MORALITY. 19 woods ; the Spirit of God was striving with him ; liis sins began to rise before liim, and to press upon him like mountains. What could he do ? This man who "had been zealous to keep the law," felt himself a poor miserable and lost sinner, ready to sink into despair ; he fell upon his knees, and called upon God to have mercy upon him. Speedily he returned to his mother's house, resolv- ing to attend the meeting, and to seek the salvation of his soul Surprised and delighted, we saw him enter the house of God next morning, with sorrow written upon his countenance. Fervent prayer was offered to God on his behalf. Soon he was found among the few inquirers who sought counsel and in- struction. His soul was bowed within him, his heart was wrung with anguish ; and though a large athletic man, he wept like a child and trembled in every limb. We prayed with and for him ; we directed his atten- tion to tlie cross of Christ, to the efficacy of his blood, to his boundless compassion, to the riches of his grace ; we besought him to yield himself to Christ, to give up every thing, and to trust in his all-sufficient merits. " Oh," said he, " I am such a sinner ; I have sinned so long against so mucli light, against so much love. Oh, my poor old mother, how I have resisted her prayers and entreaties. I am ready to yield, I withhold noth- ing. 0 Lord, have mercy on me a poor sinner." Thus he wept, and thus he prayed. He invited Christian friends home with him ; they agonized to- gether around the family altar ; he walked his cham- ber all the night, weeping and crying for mercy. In tliis state of mind he continued for several days, nei- ther eating or sleeping : we became apprehensive that 80 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. the violence of liis grief might unsettle his reason ; but we could do nothing but pray to God for him. On the afternoon of the third day of his anguish, he felt that if he did not find relief soon, he must die. He went to the barn, ascended the haymow, threw himself upon his face, and prayed, but no relief could he find ; he thought he had not become humble enough : he descended to the stable, where again and again he called upon God to save him. No response was made to his cry, but to increase his anguish, and to drive him still nearer to despair ; his heart was ready to break. " 0 Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ?" was his cry ; and in ansAver to his own question, he said, " There is one thing more I can do : I can pray before my poor old mother." Strange as it may seem, while he was willing to pray everywhere else, he felt that he could not pray before his pious mother ; but now he was willing to do any thing, to do even this. He started to the house ready to sink beneath his load ; he opened the door, he fell upon his knees, and cried, "0 God!" and at once his load was removed, darkness vanished, light streamed in, rapture filled his soul ; he sprang up, threw his arms around his mother's neck, praising and blessing God ; he was un- speakably happy. At once he set out to tell to all around what a dear Saviour he had found. On the way he met an inti- mate friend ; he threw his arms about him, saying, "Oh my dear friend, morality will not do, you must love Jesus." God was now in the midst of the people, the whole place was aroused, and the work went on with power ; between forty and fifty souls })rofcsscd con- AN UNEXPECTED INQUIRER. 81 version, most of whom lived to testify the gospel of the grace of God. The race of L T was short, but while he lived he was a most valuable member of the church.l humble, self-denying, and laborious ; his light was shed on all around. He early ripened for heaven ; cut down by a fever in the midst of his days, he pass- ed away from the toils of earth to the rest of heaven : his end was triumphant ; his death-cry was victory — "victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." Davies. AN UNEXPECTED. INQUIRER. One day, as we were just rising from the dinner- table, a young man knocked' at the door. He had lived but a few months in the town, and my acquaint- ance with him was very slight indeed. I believe we had never spoken together but once, when I was making a pastoral visit to the family in which he boarded. The thing that most struck me then was his extreme diffidence. I was not aware that any particular impression had been made on his mind. Hence, it did not occur to me that his call, especially at such an hour, was connected with the state of his feelings on the subject of religion. Judge then of my surprise, as he took his seat by the fire in the midst of my family, and looking up, said, "I have come to talk with you about my soul." The words thrilled through my heart.* Such a re- mark, from a modest, retiring youth who had never entered our door before, could not but awaken tender emotion. For a few moments I hardly knew what to 4* / 82 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. say. Soon, however, I found utterance, and in a few simple sentences gave him such direction as seemed suited to his circumstances. It was a word in season. God had evidently been moving upon the mind of the diffident young man, and he was in a short time led to the knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. Years passed away, but no one had reason to doubt that this was a genuine conversion. Is there no reader of these lines who might be benefited by such an interview with his pastor? You can imagine what it cost a retiring timid youth to bring his mind to make a visit like this. But had he not done so, it might have proved a fatal resistance of the Holy Ghost. The direction is, Seek the Lord while he may be found ; call upon him while he is near. And ministers are appointed to guide souls to the Saviour. The young man that takes such a step, is using means which God may bless to his spiritual and eternal good. Pastor. A MISTAKEN SINNER. Mr. W had received a religious education. I resolved to call on him, and use all my influence as his pastor, to persuade him to seek an interest in Christ. He assured me that there was nothing he so much desired, that he would give all the world to be a true Christian; but that he knew not what more could be done than to continue his attendance upon the means of grace, and keep his mind open to convic- tion. I asked him if lie had carried his case before God in iuiportunato persevering prayer. A MISTAKEN SINNER. 83 lie replied, " I have been accustomed to say my prayers from early childhood. I do not even remem- Lcr when I began to pray, and I never lay my head upon my pillow without saying my prayers. I hope I am not such a heathen as to neglect it." " But, my friend, have you taken up this great question, the conversion and salvation of your soul, and carried it before God, and pleaded with him ear- nestly to show you the way of life ?" "Wliy, no. How could I? I have no faitli. It seems to me that it would be a sort of sacrilege. The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord. Is there not such a declaration in the Bible?" "Yes, there is such a statement in the book of Proverbs ; but what does it mean ? I have no doubt that the allusion is to those who continue in sinful Avays, but who say their prayers eitlier for the purpose of deceiving men, or to quiet their consciences by set- ting off their devotions as a compensation for contin- uing in wicked courses. When our Saviour says, ' Enter into thy closet, and when thou liast shut the door, pray to thy Father who is in secret ; and thy Father, who seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly/ he intends to summon such as you to the duty of ear- nest prayer. This exhortation is not made to disci- ples as such, but to men as' sinners. Such a gospel call, like the decalogue, is not designed for a class, but for all who are really in a state of dependence on their Maker. So when our Saviour says, ' Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest,' he addresses himself not to the dis- ciples as being already pious, but to all that are in want." 84 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. " Still," rejoined my friend, " if I am an uncon- verted sinner, are not my prayers sinful ?" " Doubtless," I replied, " you are a sinner while you pray, but not because you pray. You know that uncon- verted men often send forth a supplicating cry when in distress ; yet they do not afterwards accuse them- selves of wickedness for having cried to God for help. So, when the appeals of the gospel have sometimes come home to your own heart and conscience, and you have found yourself instinctively sending up a desire to God for the gifts of his grace, and promised your- self that you would seek earnestly the salvation of your soul, and yet the impression has passed away, it may be your conscience has accused you of being guilty for not keeping your promise, but you do not blame yourself for having prayed. You may have seen a sinner on his death-bed, and heard him utter unavailing cries, but I venture to affirm that you never thought of blaming such a one for praying. " That is enough," said Mr. W , '• that is enough. I will never make that objection again. But after all, it seems to me that my prayers can do no good. I do not feel as if I could pray. I am such a sinner, and yet have so little sense of my guilt. My prayers will not be acceptable. There will be no holiness in them." I further replied to him, " Suppose here is a young man who is like the prodigal of our Saviour's para- ble. He has abandoned his home, and is stubborn in his ingratitude to a kind father. His fatlier has pro- posed a reconciliation. The young man has come so near his home, that his eyes often behold it. He casts wishful glances towards it. He says to me, as you A MISTAKEN SINNER. 85 say in respect to becoming reconciled to your heaven- ly Father, that he would give all the world if the controversy between himself and his father were set- tled. I urge him to go and present himself to his father, and ask his favor. lie hesitates, and says, I am not in a proper state of mind ; my father has pen- etration enough to discover the least defect: if I should make a request in this state of mind it will be unacceptaljle, and I shall be spurned from his pres- ence. To this I answer, your father desires a recon- ciliation. Any indication of a disposition on your part to return, interests him. Besides,, how do you know but that the very attempt to approach him will soften your heart. As you see yourself coming near to him, as your eye falls upon his benignant counte- nance and reads in its expression a readiness to for- give, it may have a most subduing influence upon you. Come, I say to him, come, go in and present yourself to your father. In my earnestness I pull him by the sleeve, still repeating my urgent exhortation. Inquire for your father ; go to him. He enters, and is seen to put back his hand and close Ihe door after him. " Suppose now, my friend, you have witnessed this interview, and seen the young man enter. "What do you expect will be the result of liis thus going to his father ? You perceive, at once, that there was some- thing very ungracious in his reluctance to go. But you expect to learn that a reconciliation has taken place. If not at once, you think this may lead to another interview, and that ultimately a reconcilia- tion will result. And may not such be the conse- quence, if you go to your chamber and approach your heavenly Father in earnest prayer? It is most un- 86 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. worthy and ungrateful in you to manifest the least reluctance. Will you do it?" " You have satisfied me/.' lie replied, " that I ought to do it. But how can such a man as I am pray ?" " Go and try. Go with humble trust that God, througli the merits of Christ, will meet you as a for- giving Father." "But how can I? Must there not be a divine influence ?" " Yes ; but is there no divine influence now acting on your heart and conscience? Do not resist the Holy Ghost. Do what you confess your conscience urges you to do." We parted. ' He went to his home, and I to mine. I was engaged in prayer for him. A gentle tap on my door called me to open it. It was W . His lips were quivering with emotion, and his eyes stream- ing with tears. " Can you sing?" said he. "Yes, come in. Did you go home to pray?" " Yes," said he, " I went resolving that I would go to my chamber to pray. It seemed strange. As I walked up the stairs, I said to myself, it is strange. I am going to my chamber to pray. Shall such a man as I am pray ? Yes, I am going to my chamber to pray. I opened the door. I had no more than begun, when the room seemed full of light ; and I could only praise God for his mercy in Jesus Christ to a poor unworthy sinner." We sung the praises of God together, wondering at the richness and freeness of divine grace. A quar- ter of a century has elapsed since the conversion of W , and the result has confirmed my conviction, that it is right to direct a sinner to go to God in THE BLIND PREACHER. 87 prayer, in the name of Clyist ; and that plain gospel appeals to individuals, are among the most effective modes of preaching. p. J. THE BLIND PREACHER. The Eev. Dr. James Waddel was as eloquent in private conversation as in the pulpit. He was very communicative, and in the company of young persons, would go on for a quarter, or sometimes half an hour, in the most animated and delightful discourse ; and, on the subject of practical and experimental religion, these discourses were most edifying. I never heard him preach but once, and that was when he was perfectly blind. The subject was the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican. This passage of Scrip- ture was repeated by him with perfect accuracy, and the discourse was masterly. The description of the Pharisee was striking, and in some respects new to me, as he exhibited him according to the character which he had among the people who had no suspicion of his hypocrisy, but venerated him as a man of su- perior sanctity and elevated devotion. His manner was not harsh, but highly animated. This was true of all his conversation. Whenever he discoursed on any subject, he entered into it with his whole soul. While Dr. Waddel was settled in Lancaster coun- ty, in Virginia, he was visited by Mr. Whitefield, who spent a week in that region, preaching, as usual, very frequently, and with amxizing power, and leaving be- hind him many fruits of his ministry. But the gen- tlemen connected with Dr. Waddcl's congregation greatly preferred the style of eloquence with which 88 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. their pastor had made them familiar, to the more fer- vid oratory of Whitefield. I once heard the cele- brated Patrick Henry ; and my opinion is, that Mr. Henry's eloquence was better adapted to produce its effect on the great body of the people, and Dr. Wad- del's most suited to persons of education and refine- ment. He was a man of most affectionate disposition, and in his treatment of strangers was remarkably cour- teous. In the expression of his own opinions, he was as free and independent as any man I ever knew. Whatever sentiments he entertained he would express with perfect freedom on all occasions, however they might differ from those of the persons with whom he conversed. In his person he was tall and very slen- der. At home he wore a white linen cap ; in the pul- pit a full-bottomed wig — which was the custom of the clergy in his day. He was disposed to treat with great respect those who differed from him, even though he might consider them as holding serious errors ; neither, in matters of practical religion, did he make a man an offender for a word. Always exemplary in his life, he was as far as possible from pharisaic pre- cision, and never frowned upon the truly innocent enjoyments of the young. There was great natural- ness, as well as great dignity, pervading his whole demeanor. A DYING GIRL. 89 HOLY OBEDIENCE. A DYING GIRL. Not long since, a pastoi' whose parish lay among the hills of New England, entered his study one Sab- bath evening with great heaviness of heart. He had been unusually interested in the labors of the day, and had spoken with great tenderness of feeling, and with an energy that surprised him. His discourses had been prefaced in prayer. They were delivered to his congregation with an earnest desire that they might deeply stir the souls of those who listened, and incline them in the way of life. His own heart was warmed and quickened in spiritual things, for God was leading him through the furnace of severe affliction, bringing darkness upon his home and heart by the ravages of disease and death ; and this way in which God was leading him was good for him, though every step was attended witli anguish of spirit ; it led to the tln^one of God, and brought his soul into blessed communion with the only adequate and satisfying good. At the close of the services in the evening, as ho looked over the assembly, it seemed to him that the solemn truths which he had been communicating had failed in doing service — they had not reached the heart — he had been preaching in vain. He was over- come, and pronounced tlie benediction with a tremu- lous voice. He hastened to his home ; thick darkness came over him, his faith was exceedingly small. That 90 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. night was a restless one, sleep departed from him, and he was sorely troubled in the multitude of his tlioughts which there rolled tumultuously over him : " It was of no use for him to preach. His labors were not blessed. God had not called him to the work of the ministry, else he would favor him with more frequent and sig- nal tokens of his gracious presence and power." Should he abandon his chosen profession ? It might bo well to do so. The morning came, but the cloud had not with- drawn ; there it hung, with its dark folds obscuring his whole sky. He could never preach again — this was for other men, not for him. But suddenly he was called to visit a young girl who was rapidly sinking to the grave. She sent a special request for him. He hastened to her bedside, and found her sweetly confiding in Jesus as her Sav- iour, and God as her friend. As the pastor held tliat fevered hand in his, and listened to that sick girl's story, how did his darkness clear up, and what tears of repentance and joy fell from his eyes! Some weeks before, she had heard him preach on the duty of immediate submission to God. This ser- mon, through the blessing of God, led her to convic- tion, which resulted in her conversion. As she told this to the pastor, her face gleamed with sacred joy, as if light shone thereon from the throne of God and the Lamb. She felt that her sickness was unto death, and was strongly desirous of being received to the com- munion of saints on earth, that she might take at the hands of that pastor the sacramental bread and cup. After several satisfactory interviews, it was dc- A DYING GlllL