I WAS born in the “lang toon,” Kirkcaldy, Fife, forty-seven years ago. My parents were not Christians, and at the age of five my father left the town for farm work. Fortunately for me the farmer and his wife were Christians, and every Sunday morning the latter gathered all the children―her own and those of the workers―and held a Sunday-school. There we learned Scripture passages and Psalms, and the 23rd comes quite clear yet to my mind. I believe the good seed―the Word of God―was then sown in my heart, which was to bear fruit to his glory in later years.
After a few years’ stay at that place, my father removed to a little village named Kirkland, near Leven, where he, however, died very suddenly, after a few hours’ illness, and I was left, at sixteen, to be a farther to the other four of our family. At the age of twenty-two I married, and shortly afterward came to Glasgow and joined the police force in 1878.
Being inclined to live a good life, I looked around until I found a church suited to my mind at that time. I succeeded in finding this, though it was only “a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.” We had ten children born to us. Five were taken from us to be with the Lord, and it was through the death of the youngest that I was led to Christ, which took place in May 1896. For two nights and days baby was more or less the whole time in convulsion fits, and my very heart was bleeding to see it suffering so much. I prayed earnestly to God to take it to Himself or restore it to health, and I would give Him myself.
He took it, and I began to lead―as I supposed―a better life, but like others failed miserably. About three weeks after the funeral, on returning from a meeting of a friendly society, I was induced by some of my companions to enter into a public-house, and it was there God spoke to my heart and caused me to remember my promise over my dying child. I left hurriedly, resolved by God’s grace never to enter such a place again, and He has kept me from it. About that time I had occasion to be in another district of the city when an old companion, a Christian fellow-constable, spoke to me about eternity. I concurred in all he said, and tried to make him believe that I was saved. After getting away from him, a voice within me said most clearly and distinctly, “You may deceive that man, but you cannot deceive Me.”
I tried to turn and go back and confess what I had done, but I could not summon up courage to do so. From that date till the 25th October of that year I was more or less under conviction. That evening, after coming home from duty, and conducting a form of worship, it being Sunday, and after all the household had retired to rest, a little booklet lying near caught my eye. It turned out to be the story of a lady’s conversion, and the words used for hers were also my cry unto the Lord: “O Lord, I give myself to thee; cast me not away.” How long I was on my knees pleading with the Lord in tears I do not know, but I remember going to bed, and crying myself to sleep.
When I awakened it was time to get up to go on duty. I remembered all that had taken place the previous night, and I went to duty with a heavy heart. On reaching the office a little book caught my eye lying on a table. I lifted it and put it in the breast of my coat, and on reaching a quiet street on my beat I pulled it out, and on opening it the first words that met my eyes were “Ashamed of Jesus Christ.” I was quite overcome when the truth dawned upon my mind that this was quite true. On reading further on I came upon these verses in Matthew 10:32, 33: “Whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven.”
I saw myself standing before the throne, and the Son of God sitting in judgment, but neither by look or sign did He acknowledge me. I thought my heart would break; and on coming to myself, I resolved by God’s help to confess Christ to the first man I knew. The first I met was a neighboring constable, but he being a Roman Catholic, the devil tempted me sore not to confess to him; and for a minute or two a terrible fight raged within me. I looked up and seemed to gather strength. Then I made after my neighbor, who had moved off during the interval. How I made up to him I know not―it seems to me like a dream―for my legs shook till I thought I would drop. On corning up with him, I told him I had been in a terrible fight, and that I had met the Lord in that back street, and He said to me that if I confessed Him before men, He would confess me before His Father in heaven, and I wished it to be known that front that hour I would give up the service of the devil and serve the Lord Jesus Christ. He looked at me bewildered, and I at him. The burden rolled from my heart, and a flood of joy and light filled my soul. I thought the change was in him, and the world, and he thought I was gone wrong in the head, and expressed his sympathy for me in some kindly words. However, I was too happy to wait, and made off, not knowing whether I was on my feet or my head. I did little else that day but confess Him, otherwise I think I should have burst. My wife gave me a fortnight, my companions three weeks; but, praise God, I am as happy and as safe today as the day He saved me, and I am being kept by His power unto salvation, and His grace has been sufficient for me, to testify in almost every part of Glasgow and for miles around to Hit saving and keeping power.
Two years ago He took my wife, last week he took my mother, both to be with Himself, and through these trials I have been more than conqueror, through Him who loved me, and gave Himself for me. The Lord has been pleased to bless His humble servant’s testimony to the salvation of many souls amongst relations, companions, and many others whom I don’t know, and I pray He may bless this simple tale to the salvation of some of the readers of the Gospel Messenger.
P. C.―A. I.