DOUBTLESS some of my young readers may have visited Cornwall. Those who have may perhaps have been taken as a holiday treat to visit some lead or tin mine, and when after going down the shaft, they found themselves in the midst of strange-looking dark passages, may have listened with interest to an account given by the guide of how long ago, even before the first landing of the Romans in Britain, 43 B.C., about which we have all read so much in our history books, galleys, or long boats rowed by oars, and coming from France, or as it was then called, Gaul, used to visit the south of England to purchase metal ore dug out from the very same mine.
And as Billy Bray, whose story I am going to tell you, was a miner's son, and during many years of his life himself a miner, you will be able to understand why we began with a little talk about mines and mining.
It was a very poor home in which the father and mother of Billy lived, only a small cottage with mud walls and a thatched roof, no better and no worse than most of the miners and their families lived in at the time of which I am telling you.
I do not think there were any large houses in his native village of Twelve-heads, near Truro, in Cornwall, where one bright June morning in the year 1794, there was rejoicing in the humble cottage of a miner over the birth of a little son. In due time the infant received the name of William, but none of his friends or relations ever thought of calling him anything but Billy; and when years passed on, and Billy had through the grace of God become an earnest faithful preacher of the gospel, he was best known and loved as Billy Bray.
The Cornish miners used to be a rough godless set of men; of most it could be truly said, "There is no fear of God before their eyes" (Rom. 3:18); but not many years before the birth of Billy, more than one of the Lord's servants had preached the gospel among them, and through God's blessing many of them had given their hearts to the Lord. Billy's grandfather was one of that little band of Christian men who, in the midst of much persecution from their neighbors and workmates, stood firmly for Christ. His father also loved the Lord Jesus Christ, but as he died when his little son was only two years old, Billy could not remember much about his words and ways.
After his father's death Billy went with his widowed mother to live with his grandfather, who was very kind to the little fellow, and would often take him on his knee and tell him Bible stories, and sometimes in the long winter evenings give him a reading lesson. Billy did not go to school, as his relations were too poor to pay for his schooling, and there was no free school near Twelveheads. When quite a small boy, he was sent to work in a tin mine. It must have seemed a dull life at first to him to spend long days underground, opening and closing the small trap-doors which are used to secure ventilation to mines.
His Sundays were spent on the village green, playing football or leapfrog with rough boys. All this grieved his dear old grandfather; often, with tears filling his eyes, he would beg Billy to give up wicked and idle companions, and go with him to the preaching; but though Billy quite intended being a Christian some day, he kept putting off, and when he was about seventeen, hearing that he could get better wages by going to work in a mine some distance from his home, he said good-bye to the humble roof that had so long sheltered him, and went to live in Devonshire.
We must pass quickly over the next few years of Billy Bray's life, only just stopping to tell you they were very sad ones. In Devonshire he got into bad company, spent much time and money at the public-houses, and was known among his workmates as a ringleader in all kinds of wickedness.
After his conversion, when speaking of those wasted years, he would say, with deep feeling, "The Lord was good to me, when I was the servant of the devil, or I should have been down in hell now; praise the Lord for all His mercy.”
He returned to his native county of Cornwall, and got work in a lead mine. About the same time, he began to see himself as a sinner against God. He wanted to pray, but was ashamed to let his wife see him kneel down, so got into bed without praying, but his soul-trouble kept him awake. About three o'clock in the morning, he jumped out of bed, and fell on his knees crying out, “O Lord, save me.”
When the time came for him to go to work, he left home with a heavy heart. When he reached the shaft, a number of his old companions were waiting their turn to go down. They soon noticed a change of some kind had taken place in their mate, and began to ask questions.
Billy told them plainly that he felt his sins a heavy load, and meant to cry to God for pardon till the burden was gone.
Some laughed, others mocked, and most of them said he would forget all about his trouble when pay day came round. But they were mistaken. Pay day came, and Billy still sought for peace and pardon. At first he did not see clearly God's way of peace, but God, who is rich in mercy, was leading him by a way he knew not; and when he took his place as a lost sinner before God, and owned the work he could not do had been done by the Son of God, his burden of sin fell off, and Billy Bray was so very happy, that he could not help shouting aloud for joy. He was, as he said, a King's son, and he wanted everybody to know what great things the Lord had done for his soul, and so he went from one miner's cottage to another, telling of his joy, and urging his neighbors to accept salvation. His young wife gave herself to the Lord only a few days after the conversion of her husband, and her joy in the Lord was almost as great as his own.
Billy Bray was very fond of singing, his favorite hymn was one beginning with the lines:
“Oh for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer's praise.”
He would often stop singing, and say, "A thousand tongues! How many would that be? Why, nine hundred and ninety-nine more than I have; I have only one, but I mean to praise the Lord all I can with it.”
He was very kind to young people and children. "The Master loves the young ones, and so should His servants," he would say; and his young friends felt the charm of his bright kind manner, and would run to meet him, carry his Bible or hymn book, and listen very patiently while he spoke to them of the Savior's love for even little children.
He was often very poor, but he loved to say, his Father was very rich and very good to him, and so he wanted for no good thing. Once he had been preaching a long way from his home. The night was dark, and the roads very bad and dirty; he got stuck fast in the mud, and in getting out tore the sole off one of his boots, so rendering it quite useless. Very simply he told his need to the Lord in some such words as, "Father, Thou knowest these are all the boots I have, and now they are worn out going Thy errands, and I have no money to buy any more, so please help me, for Christ's sake. Amen.”
The prayer of faith was heard, for early the next day a friend called on Billy, and asked him if he could spare time to go out with him for an hour. They went out, and before long found themselves at the shoemaker's, and Billy heard the order given to take his measure for a new pair of boots, for which his friend promised to pay.
I could tell you of many still more wonderful answers to prayer Billy Bray received, but have only room to add that, after more than fifty years spent in his Master's service, at the good old age of seventy-five, he went home full of joy in the Lord.