IN July, 1864, I returned from my studies to spend a summer vacation in my native village. Before I reached home I was met by a sister two years younger than myself, and I found her, as I thought, very enthusiastic about certain meetings that had been recently held in our village. She pressed me hard, even before I could get indoors, to promise to accompany her to one of the meetings, which she expected to be held that very same evening. Partly to please her, and partly out of a feeling of curiosity, I agreed to go and hear her “wonderful preachers,” as I called them. Two gentlemen spoke, and for the first time in my life I saw and heard men in downright earnest about souls. While the last was speaking I trembled from head to foot, and longed to get away to a quiet spot to unburden my soul to the preacher whom I had never seen before.
The service over, I lingered with the intention of saying a few words to the preacher. He came to me, when, in an instant, I resolved to avoid close quarters by replying to his questions about my soul, that I was saved. Alas! For the terrible deceitfulness of the human heart. As the awful lie escaped my lips all desire for my soul’s salvation escaped too, and I left the meeting worse than I entered it. However, a sadly solemn impression was made on my mind which I could not remove, and which greatly marred my holiday pleasures.
Several times during the vacation I was found listening to the same and other equally earnest preachers. I mentally assented to what they put forth, knowing that they had the authority of the word of God for their statements, but in heart and conscience I was as far from God as ever.
On my way back to college I was joined in the train by an old friend. One of his first salutations was “Well, my old boy, what is the matter? You look very sober: have those new preachers been getting round you? Come, come, that will never do.”
Arrived at our destination, my friend spread the report that I “had turned religious.” Such a report was a thorough surprise to all who knew me, and I was soon interrogated on all sides as to my convictions. Though still unsaved myself, I advanced with a measure of earnestness, and justified from Scripture, the truths I had heard. However, within two or three months all seriousness had passed away like a morning cloud, and I became one of the most careless, godless, reckless youths on the face of the earth. I did every possible thing within my reach to drown thoughts of God and eternal realities. Just at a time when this recklessness brought me into serious disrepute with the authorities, I received a letter from a very dear relative of my own age, telling me of his conversion, and imploring me to come to Christ. It came upon me like a thunderclap, and made me serious again; but the effect was only transient, for in a few days I was as indifferent as ever.
The end of the term, which was to be my last, at length came; and it found me “without God or hope in the world.” I was thoroughly miserable, and was longing for something to satisfy the undefined cravings of my heart. I had been spending money for that which is not bread, and my labor for that which does not satisfy.
It came to this: that I must either return home, or obtain an engagement. Not finding what I wanted, I resolved rather to sail to a distant country than to be spoken to again about my soul. Finding, however, that I had not enough money for the voyage, what was I do? If possible I would not go home. Time went on, my money was becoming less—my father, who was anxious to get me home, would not send meany more, so that at length, when I had only just enough to pay my railway fare (about 140 miles), I started, with a heavy and disappointed heart, once more homewards. It was then March, 1865.
My conscience was uneasy, and my busy brain, during the journey, began to devise plans of baffling unwelcome inquiry and solicitude about my spiritual welfare. I succeeded for a whole fortnight after my arrival in silencing or disheartening friends, some by arguments, and others by assumed piety. Oh! the “deceitfulness of sin!”
At length I met with one who was not to be either defeated or deceived. I called at the rectory where she lived. After various kind inquiries she at length asked me the plain, straight-forward question, “Is your soul saved?” I replied with my almost stereotyped answer, “I hope so,” quoting, “We are saved by hope” (Rom. 8:2424For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? (Romans 8:24)), and referring to Paul’s fear of being ultimately “a castaway,” as proofs that one could not be certain of salvation. But I was soon silenced, and, becoming very uncomfortable, longed to get away. My friend determined to bring me to a point. I became the subject of a terrible indescribable struggle. To speak in a paradox, I wanted to be saved and I did not. The Spirit of God was striving with me, and I was trying “to kick against the pricks,” and found it “hard” work indeed.
After more than an hour’s conversation, my friend opened her Bible at John 5, requesting me to read very carefully the 24th verse, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth My word, and believeth on Him that sent Me, path everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life.” I did so. She then asked me if I believed every word of that verse. I said, “Yes.”
“You hear the words of the Lord Jesus, and believe on Him that sent Him?”
“Yes, I do.”
“If so, you have everlasting life?”
No, I could not say as much as that.
“Well, then, it is evident that you do not really and truly believe all that the verse contains; for it says if you hear the words of Jesus, and believe on God who sent Him, that you have everlasting life; but you state that you believe, and yet you have it not.”
I was now clearly convinced that I did not really believe the word of God, and again tried to get away, but could not. After nearly another hour’s struggle, I set to my “seal that God was true.” I believed the words of the Lord, and God who sent Him, and had everlasting life.
Exactly fourteen years have passed away since that memorable day to me, and never once since for a single moment have I entertained the slightest doubt as to the fact of having everlasting life. My soul rested on the word of God, which liveth and abideth forever. “Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My word shall not pass away.”