IN 1866, in a room in a corner of a block of wretched buildings in Dundee, a weekly meeting for the preaching of the gospel was commenced.... The first convert was the most abandoned woman of the place...
Helen S—, a vile, hopeless profligate, was one night missing. Her sister and another woman went out into the wilderness of lanes, courts and slums in search of her, but nowhere in any of her haunts could she be found. At length, in the middle of the night, she was found in a gutter, prostrate, all but dead. She was carried home, and laid upon her sister's bed, for she had no bed of her own.
As she lay there she was compelled, for the first time, to listen to the voice of prayer and praise, and to the simple story of redemption through the blood of Christ as a little homely meeting was being held in an adjoining room.
Helen S— was deeply moved by what she heard. A week passed, her convictions deepened. ... In the course of conversation with her, light from heaven dawned upon this benighted wanderer. "I have found the Saviour" she suddenly exclaimed. She threw her arms around her visitor's neck, and broke out in loud praise of her newly-found Saviour.... Soon she found a home of her own, which became the trysting-place of all earnest souls... When she was received into church fellowship, I asked her some questions.
“In those wild days of yours, Helen, were you happy?
“Perfectly miserable, sir. Burnin' coals in my breast a' the time.”
“What did you do to get rid of your misery?” “I just made good resolutions, sir; I Kent (knew) no better.”
“You tried to turn over a new leaf?”
“A new leaf! Oh, yes; I am sure I turned over as many new leaves as would make the biggest book in the world; and bonny leaves they were. Each one was blacker than the other.”
“Your resolutions did not stand?”
“Oh, how could resolutions of a sinner like me stand? They were like rotten tow in a blazing fire. It was a case of trying to cheat the devil with his own cheating silver.”
“Did you never pray for help?”
“I could not pray, I durst not pray; but I made my wee lassie pray a little prayer she had learned somewhere. But when I came home the worse for drink, the poor bairn would look up in my face with an awful sad look, and say, Mither, we won't say our prayers this night.' I knew what she meant, and it went to my heart like a knife, and I could bear it no more.”
“What did you do then?”
“Oh, well, sir, one day I took this bit of a Bible "(here she showed me a boardless fragment of the Scriptures)," and I laid my hand on it, and swore a terrible oath that I would never taste drink again.”
“How did you get on after that?”
“Ah! sir," replied Helen in a deep undertone," that night was the worst night of all.”
“What! Did you violate your oath?”
“Oh, yes, sir! It was no better than chaff in a storm of wind. A hundred oaths would have been all the same.”
“How did, you feel then?”
“I felt I had sold myself clean into the hands of the devil, and was lost altogether. Oh, if I was ever near "— Here she paused, deeply moved.
“How did you do after that?”
“Oh, sir!" replied Helen, with a voice full of dignity and feeling, "I just came to Christ, drink and a', and the first taste I got of His love in the pardon of my sins, the liking for the drink gaed (went) clean awa', and never came back.”