A Mission in Staffordshire, 1854.
THE work at Baldhu, which had been going on almost incessantly for three years, was now beginning to flag; that is to say, there was not that ardent and eager attendance at the services and meetings, to which we had been accustomed in the revival time. We had had occasional lulls like this before, but they did not last more than a few weeks; and then the "swallows" returned, and the bright hot summer of work came again with its loud songs and pleasant fruits. This dullness was continuing longer than usual; the crowded congregations were falling off; strangers did not come from a distance; the people at home were not so lively.
However, the cla.s.ses were continued, as also the services at the church, and the number of communicants did not decrease. Still any one could see that the revival was over. It was rather discouraging to me, and a cause of triumph to some outsiders; but we were occasionally cheered by work amongst visitors, and with sick-bed cases.
The majority of the people were complacently waiting for another tide of revival; this was their custom, but it sat very uneasily upon me. I did not like it, nor agree to it; but at that time I knew not what else to do, but wait as others did. I said that we looked like vessels which had come so far up the river with the tide; and now that it had turned we were stranded and fast in the mud. Sometimes I changed the figure to one not so ign.o.ble, and likened ourselves to the stately vessels anch.o.r.ed in Falmouth harbour, which were there because the wind was contrary. We were wind-bound too, and dependent on circ.u.mstances; but my idea of true religion was that we ought not to be like this. I rather took for our type the great steamers which are propelled by powerful engines, and come in and go out, and proceed on their voyage without regard to wind or tide. We ought to be constrained I said, from within by the love of G.o.d and thus be enabled to show the power of grace by riding over all obstacles and triumphing in the midst of discouragements. "He giveth songs in the night." Any bird can sing in the sunshine.
The self-restraint and self-control I had exercised in my churchy days, and which I supposed was derived from sacraments, I found wanting in my new work. We required something with authority, such as church and priest supply. I could not, however, conscientiously go back to that legal system, nor did I think there was any need, for I was sure there was something somewhere, to be had, which should and would supply our want, if I could but discover it. It appeared to me that my people, without this, were subject to impulse, and consequently in bondage to their feelings.
In this time of lull I found that the steadfastness of some was shaken; but I had known others, who had gone further back than these, return at a revival time with new vigour. In this way, some of the Cornish people professed to be converted scores of times. While ruminating on these things and praying over them, I was surprised by receiving a letter pressing me very much to come at once and preach in a parish in Staffordshire, near Birmingham. Mr. Aitken had been on a mission in the north, and on his return had stopped a night at this place, and preached one of his alarming and awakening sermons. The effect was so great that the people, together with their clergyman (a curate in sole charge) were in much trouble and anxiety about their souls; there was a gloom hanging over them, as if they had been sentenced to some dreadful doom, and did not know what to do, or how to avert it.
It is a good thing to wound, but it should be with the object of making whole; it is a blessed thing to show sinners their lost condition, but only for the purpose of getting them to lay hold of the great salvation which is provided for such.
In his perplexity the curate went to see the Bishop (Lonsdale) of Lichfield. When his lordship had ascertained the cause of the trouble, he took up a pamphlet which was lying on the table, and said, "If you cannot get Mr. Aitken back, send for this gentleman, and pay his expenses." "This gentleman," meant the author of the pamphlet, which his lordship held in his hand, namely, myself; "his name and address are here." said the Bishop; "take the book and read it carefully; he seems to have both knowledge and experience in such matters."
I was written to forthwith, and the letter urged me to "come at once."
In compliance, I started off that night, and reaching the place on Sat.u.r.day afternoon, opened a mission the same evening without further notice. On Sunday I preached three times, and went to the school-room for the after-meeting. There we had a scene which, for noise and confusion was quite Cornish. Men and women cried aloud for mercy, while some believers who were there shouted for joy. The curate in charge was completely bewildered, but felt he could do nothing; and seeing, as he remarked, that I appeared to understand it and know what I was about, he thought he had better remain still, till the noisy meeting was over.
That same night, before he retired, he gave his heart to G.o.d.
The work went on in this place with the force as of an explosion; just as if hungry desires had been pent up a long time, and now they had vent and opportunity to be satisfied. The church was crowded: every day, even in the week; and we were kept in the schoolroom night after night till twelve and one o"clock.
The town was a dark, smoky, sulphury place, and the air filled with exhalations and iron filings from the various works. It was a dreadful atmosphere, and everything was black and dirty; the red fires from the furnaces around glared all night long and presented an awful appearance.
To come from the pure air and beautiful scenery of Cornwall into such a place as this, was most trying and uncomfortable; but the reward was great. The work was deeply interesting, and scores of men and women of all cla.s.ses, besides five clergymen, professed to be converted that week.
The devil did not leave us alone; he was very angry, and raised up a great opposition. The rector of the old church, who used to be most benevolent and smiling, suddenly changed, and made it his business to call on the curate in charge of the church, to tell him that he was quite sure that his friend the vicar (who was away at the time in ill health) would never have sanctioned this excitement. The curate said that the Bishop had bid him invite Mr. Haslam, and that he had done so, not knowing anything further about me or my work. The rector went off to write to the Bishop forthwith, and in the meantime ordered bills to be posted all over the town, warning people against "the Cornish fanaticism at St. James"s," which, of course, had the effect of drawing out a greater concourse of people.
What with excessive work and bad air, by Friday evening I was quite exhausted. I came out of the pulpit to the vestry, and remembering that Cornish miners, in order to recover themselves after climbing ladders, often found it necessary to lie down flat on the ground, I thought I would try the same plan for a few moments while the people were going out to the schoolroom. I did so; and while I was in this position a clergyman came in and asked me if I was ill. "No," I said, "I am only resting for a short time."
"Very well," he said, "rest on; but listen to me. The Bishop has sent me here to see and hear you, and this is my report to his lordship."
Opening out a paper he held in his hand, he read: "St. James"s crammed to excess with a most orderly and devotional congregation; their attention to the sermon marked and riveted; sermon from St. Luke xv, verse 2, "This Man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." The exposition of chapter most vivid and instructive; never heard better, or so good; the application fervent and pointed; altogether, most edifying service."
"There, that is my report, so you need not be afraid of anything you hear. I will tell the Bishop all about it. Thank you very much for what I have heard. G.o.d bless you. Good-night!"
"Oh," I said, springing up from the ground, "do not go yet! the best part is to come. You have only seen me let down the nets; come now and see them pulled up." "What is that?" he said, "Where am I to come?" "To the schoolroom," I replied, divesting myself of my gown and bands, and putting on my coat with all haste. "Come with me!"
He seemed a little afraid, and asked many questions. When we reached the place we could scarcely get in, and the noise certainly was tremendous.
"What is all this confusion about?" he asked. "I think I had better not go in to-night."
"Oh, come in, come in!" I said; "do not fear." But somehow he slipped off in the dark, and I did not see him again. When I entered, almost the first thing I noticed was the two curates of the parish church, taking notes. However, I did not heed them, or ask to see what they had written; for I would always rather have real work, though with a noise, than orderly, respectable stillness, and spiritual death.
On Sat.u.r.day I rested, but was very unwell all day, and did not know how I should be able to work on Sunday. When the morning arrived, my strength and voice were gone; it was impossible to preach. The people met together and had a prayer meeting before the service, asking the Lord to restore me. The curate was so much cheered, that he came to me and said, "If you only get up and try, we feel sure you will be able to preach." I got up, but had to go to bed again, for I was very ill.
Just before eleven o"clock a visitor arrived, a very queer-looking little man, in a black suit of Quaker cut, and a college cap without a ta.s.sel, with the corners of the square board rounded off. Standing by my bed-side in this costume, he said that he was a convert of Mr. Aitken"s, and had come all the way from Birmingham to hear me. "Moreover," he said, "I am a herbal doctor. Please let me feel your pulse."
He did so, and looking grave, sounded my lungs, put his ear to my chest and then asked, "What is the matter with your left lung?"
I replied, "I don"t know. Three doctors told me, more than fourteen years ago, that it was all gone." "Well," he said, "you stay quietly in bed till I come again at half-past eleven."
When he returned, he bade me get up and dress, and then gave me a cupful of something very hot with cayenne, at the same time telling me that I should be quite strong enough to preach by twelve o"clock.
So I was. I preached that morning, and again in the afternoon; after that I went to bed till six o"clock, when I took another dose, and in the strength of it preached a long, loud sermon to a crowded congregation; after which I attended the after-meeting, and was there till twelve o"clock at night. I then set off to the station, accompanied by at least two hundred people, and left by the one o"clock train for Birmingham, to the house of my new friend the herbal doctor. He nursed me like a mother, and let me go on my way home to Cornwall the next day.
I never heard any more of the rector of the parish, or of the Bishop, but was frequently cheered by letters saying that the work thus begun was going on week after week in the same place. Some years after, when I was pa.s.sing, I stopped there for a few days, and gave them "a lift," as they called it; and I then saw with half a glance that they had become practised workers--that both clergymen and people were fitted to missionize the whole country side.
One"s great object in this mission work is not only to save souls, but to encourage believers to do their part; that so the effect of a mission may be continued and extended. G.o.d has a twofold blessing for us. He says "I will bless thee and make thee a blessing;" and it is well to remember that the benefits we receive are not so much to be kept for self, as to be imparted and transmitted to others, even as they were transmitted to us.
CHAPTER 24
Sanctification.
Then I returned from the far-off mission in Staffordshire, whether from over fatigue or other causes, I was much depressed in mind as well as body, and quite out of heart with the Church of England. It is true I found the converted people in Staffordshire were not so leavened with Dissent as in Cornwall, and that there was some attachment to the Church; but still I could see that Churchmen there, as elsewhere, distrusted spirituality, and preferred to work on their own ecclesiastical or sacramental lines; they chose to draw water to quench their thirst, rather than to ask, and receive (directly from Christ) the living water.
If a bishop accidentally invited me, of if a clergyman cordially did so, they were marked exceptions. I felt myself to be obnoxious to the majority of my clerical brethren who professed to represent the Church; but somehow, I was convinced that, as a converted clergyman, I represented the Church of England more truly than they, and that the principles of the Reformation were the principles I was working upon.
This was trial from outside, which, however trying to flesh and blood, is by no means so bad as misgiving from within.
I was discouraged also about the work in which I had been engaged; for there was evidently an imperfection about it. I observed that some people over whom I rejoiced as converted, went back to their former worldliness, which perplexed and troubled me more than I can describe. I knew from my own experience that conversion was necessary to salvation and a new life; but when people professed to be saved, and did not live a new life, I was sure there was something wrong. My dear friend, Mr.
Aitken, said, "My brother, this work is the Lord"s; you must go to Him and ask what is wrong. Lie on your face before Him till He shows you His will about the matter!"
This I did; for, shutting myself up in the church, I cried to the Lord till I felt that an answer would come in due time. Soon after, I was led to preach from the text, "Through this Man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins; and by Him all that believe are justified from all things" (Acts 13:38, 39). This opened my eyes to see that the proclamation was twofold-that through Christ Jesus, pardon was offered to any and every sinner as such, and moreover, that by the same Christ Jesus, every believer--that is, every one who had received the forgiveness of his sins--was justified from all things.
Those who know how old familiar texts flash upon the mind with new meaning, will understand my surprise. G.o.d was speaking to me in answer to my inquiry. I had been preaching forgiveness and salvation through the blood-shedding and death of Christ; and confining myself to this, as if salvation were all. I now saw that I had not preached about Justification to believers, as fully as I had dwelt on the subject of pardon to sinners; indeed, that I had preached to believers the same Gospel which I preached to them before they were converted; that is, that Christ died for their sins, but not the "yea rather, that is risen again." No wonder they did not stand, if their standing-place before G.o.d their Father was not simply and plainly put before them. Believers having been brought from death unto life, from the cross to the resurrection-side of Christ"s grave, should be led to the Throne of Grace, where Christ sits at the right hand of G.o.d, making intercession for them. Once enlightened on the subject, it was easy to see that this truth was set forth all through the Bible.
For instance, when the prodigal son received pardon, immediately his father called the servants and said unto them, "Bring forth the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and shoes on his feet." Here, besides pardon, is standing--union--strength; and over and beyond these, the feast of rejoicing.
When the children of Israel were brought out of Egypt, it was not that they should escape from bondage only, but that they should be led, and even carried, by G.o.d through the wilderness. Moses ill.u.s.trated this in a simple yet comprehensive figure, when he wrote, "As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings: so the Lord alone did lead him, and there was no strange G.o.d with him" (Deut. 32:11, 12).
The thousands who perished in the wilderness were persons of whom it may be said that they professed to come up out of Egypt, and did so in act; but G.o.d, who looks upon the heart, saw that they were still lingering in that place; for when they were in trouble, they said, "Would G.o.d that we had died in the land of Egypt! or would G.o.d we had died in the wilderness! Let us make a captain, and let us return into Egypt" (Num.
14:2-4).
This is one secret of the "going back" which I have noticed. People came out as converted, whose hearts were still entangled in the things of this world, or in some besetments with which they were fettered. Those who are really converted should come out, as Caleb and Joshua did. They left Egypt behind them altogether, and finally, in their trials and troubles in the wilderness, they looked for deliverance, not in going back, but in going forward, a.s.sured that if lions were before, there were dragons behind.
Another lesson which we may learn from these two, is, that they compared difficulties and giants, not with themselves, but with the Lord. It was true that they were not able to conquer their enemies or take their cities, but, as they said, "the Lord is able to give us the victory." In this I saw how Joshua trusted G.o.d, also how G.o.d wrought a great deliverance.
I urged the people to consider that we were not created and redeemed to be saved, but saved to glorify G.o.d in our lives; but I grieve to say, this teaching did not meet with the acceptance I hoped for. I wondered at their slowness of heart to believe in the "risen" Christ, and was sure that this was reason enough for their instability; and I felt that there would be nothing else while they continued to receive only a part of the Gospel instead of the whole.
One thing leads to another. While I was thus making discoveries, my attention was drawn to a hymn which spoke of "Jordan"s stream," and "death"s cold flood," as if they were the same thing. Now, I had always regarded Jordan as death; but the question in my mind was--What is all that fighting and conquering in the land of Canaan, if Canaan represents heaven? I observed, moreover, that the Israelites were on the defensive in the wilderness, and on the aggressive on the other side of Jordan; that they were led by the cloud on the one, and by a living Person on the other; that they were daily sustained with manna, as children, on the one side, and ate the old corn of the land, as men of Israel, on the other, besides sowing and reaping for themselves. These striking" marks of contrast excited much inquiry, and not obtaining, with sufficient definiteness, the satisfaction I sought, I went to the Lord about this, as before. I confessed my shortcomings, and the defectiveness of my teaching, and pleaded earnestly, "Lord, what wouldst Thou have me to do?
What I know not, teach Thou me!"
Then I was brought into the deepest distress and perplexity of soul, to think that after my experience of conversion, and all I had done for the conversion of others, I was still such a vile, self-condemned sinner. I even began to think that I had never been converted; it appeared to me that my whole life was nothing but intense selfishness; that I availed myself of the blood of Christ for my salvation and happiness, and led others to do the same, rejoicing with them in thus making use of G.o.d for the purpose of getting quit of h.e.l.l and gaining heaven. It was a clear case of making G.o.d serve me, instead of my serving Him. Many other things came to my mind, by which I knew there was an immense gap between my experience and the Word of G.o.d. I can see it all now; but at the time it was very dark and grievous.
When I had been under conviction before, at the time of my conversion, it was, as it were, with my eyes shut; but now they were open: then I saw my sins, and the penalty which was due to them; now I saw my unrighteousness, and the corruption of my nature. I felt as if I were two persons, and that there was a law in my members warring against the law of my mind, the flesh contending against the Spirit. "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" For a whole week I was in great distress of mind, especially during the last three days.
On Sunday morning, as I was going to the early Communion, my soul was set at liberty. I felt as if a great cloud was lifted up; the light shone into my soul; and I had deliverance. I was exceedingly happy in the knowledge that the risen Christ Himself was my help---that He who had hidden His presence in a pillar of cloud and fire, now was Himself present in person, my omnipotent Friend and leader!
This was quite a new experience, and one I had not known before. I thought that I had not even heard or read of it, and therefore began to suspect whether it was a temptation. I determined to be wise, and not commit myself too soon, so made up my mind that I would not refer to it in the pulpit. But at the close of the service a stranger came into the vestry to thank me for my sermon; and when we were alone he put the question to me, "How long have you known Sanctification?"