MY EXPERIENCE IN REVIVALS.
I have always counted it a matter for thankfulness that I made my
preparation for the ministry at Princeton Theological Seminary. The
period that I spent there, from September, 1843, to May, 1846, was a
golden period in its history. The venerable Archibald Alexander,
wonderfully endowed with sagacity and spiritual insight, instructed us
in the duties of the preacher and the pastor. Dr. Charles Hodge, the
king of Presbyterian theologians, was in the prime of his power. His
teachings have since been embodied in his masterful volume on
"Systematic Theology." Dr. Joseph Addison Alexander, who, Dr. Hodge
said, was, taking him all in all, "the most gifted man with whom I was
ever personally acquainted," was in the chair of Hebrew and Old
Testament literature. Urbane, old Dr. Samuel Miller, was the Professor
of Ecclesiastical History. Those wise men taught us not only to think,
but to believe. All education is atmospheric, and the atmosphere of
Princeton Seminary was deeply and sweetly Evangelical. At five o'clock
on the morning after I received my diploma, I was off for Wyoming
Valley in Pennsylvania, the Arcadian spot made famous in the volume of
Campbell's "Gertrude of Wyoming." I spent five months there supplying
the pulpit of the Rev. Mr. Mitchell, who was absent to recruit his
health. In the Autumn I received an invitation to take charge of the
Presbyterian Church of Burlington, N.J., founded by the princely and
philanthropic Dr. Cortland Van Rensellaer, son of the Patroon at Albany.
It was the very place for a young preacher to begin his work. The
congregation was small, and, therefore, I obtained an opportunity to
study individual character. It was a very difficult field of labor, and
it is good for a minister to bear the yoke in his youth. My work at
first was attended with many discouragements. I preached as pungently as
I was able, but no visible results seemed to follow. One day the wife of
one of my two church elders came to me in my study, and told me that her
son had been awakened by the faithful talk of a young Christian girl,
who had brought some work to her husband's shoe store. I said to the
elder's wife: "The Holy Spirit is evidently working on one soul--let us
have a prayer meeting at your house to-night." We spent the afternoon in
gathering our small congregation together, and when I got to her house
it was packed to the door. I have attended thousands of prayer meetings
since then, but never one that had a more distinct resemblance to the
Pentecostal gathering in "the upper room" at Jerusalem. The atmosphere
seemed to be charged with a divine electricity that affected almost
every one in the house. Three times over I closed the meeting with a
benediction, but it began again, and the people lingered until a very
late hour, melted together by "a baptism of fire." That wonderful
meeting was followed by special services every night, and the Holy
Spirit descended with great power. My little church was doubled in
numbers, and I learned more practical theology in a month than any
seminary could teach me in a year.
That revival was an illustration of the truth that a good work of grace
often begins with the personal effort of one or two individuals. The
Burlington awakening began with the little girl and the elder's wife. We
ministers must never despise or neglect "the day of small things."
Every pastor ought to be constantly on the watch, with open eye and ear,
for the first signs of an especial manifestation of the Spirit's
presence. Elijah, on Carmel, did not only pray; he kept his eyes open to
see the rising cloud. The moment that there is a manifestation of the
Spirit's presence, it must be followed up promptly. For example, during
my pastorate in the Market Street Church, New York, (from 1853 to
1860), I was out one afternoon making calls, and I discovered that in
two or three families there were anxious seekers for salvation. I
immediately called together the officers of the church, stated to them
my observations, instituted a series of meetings for almost every
evening, followed them with conversation with enquirers, and a large
ingathering of souls rewarded our efforts and prayers. I have no doubt
that very often a spark of divine influence is allowed to die for want
of being fanned by prayer and prompt labors, whereas, it is sometimes
dashed out, as by a bucket of cold water thrown on by inconsistent or
quarrelsome church members. It was to Christians that St. Paul sent the
message, "Quench not the Spirit."
In 1858 there began a marvelous work of grace, which extended not only
throughout the churches in New York, but throughout the whole country.
The flame was kindled at the beginning of the year in a noon-day prayer
meeting, instituted by that single-eyed servant of Christ, Jeremiah C.
Lamphier, who had once been a singer in the choir of my church. The
flame thus kindled in that meeting soon extended to my church in Market
Street, and presently spread over the whole city. The special feature of
the revival of 1858 was the noon-day prayer meeting. It was my privilege
to conduct the first noon meeting in Burton's old theatre in Chambers
Street, and in a few days after, a similar one in the Collegiate Church
in Ninth Street, and also the first prayer meeting in a warehouse at the
lower end of Broadway. It is not too much to say that often there were
not less than 8,000 to 10,000 of God's people, who came together at the
noon-tide hour with the spirit of supplication and prayer. The flame,
having spread over the city, then leaped to Philadelphia, and Jayne's
Hall, on Chestnut Street, was thronged by an immense number of people,
led by George H. Stuart. And so it went on from town to town, and from
city to city, over the length and breadth of our land. The revival
crossed the ocean and extended to Ireland. On a visit to Belfast I saw
handbills on the streets calling the people to noon-day gatherings.
I began my ministry in Lafayette Avenue Presbyterian Church, Brooklyn,
as its first pastor, in April, 1860. From the start I struck for souls;
and when our new edifice was dedicated we were under a refreshing shower
of the Divine Spirit. Six years after my installation as pastor, God
blessed us with an extraordinary downpour. The first drops were followed
by an abundance of rain. That revival began where revivals often
begin,--in the prayer meeting. It was on the evening of the 8th of
January, the first evening of the "week of prayer," which is generally
observed over the land. The meeting was held under the direction of our
Young People's Association,--that same body of young Christian workers
which gave the Rev Francis E. Clark both the inspiration and practical
hints for the formation of his first society of Christian Endeavor. What
a fearful bitter night was that 8th of January! Through that stinging
Arctic atmosphere came a goodly number with hearts on fire with the love
of Jesus. The prayers that night were well aimed; and a man, who
afterwards became a useful officer of the church, was converted on the
spot. On the Friday evening of that week our lecture-room was packed,
and when the elder requested that any who desired special prayer should
rise, two very prominent men in this community were on their feet in an
instant. The meeting was electrified; every one saw that God was with
us. There was no extraordinary excitement; the feeling was too deep for
that. We felt as the ancient Hebrew prophet felt when he heard the
"still small voice from heaven," and went out ready for action. I felt
at once that a great work for Christ had commenced. I called our
officers together at once, and, to use the naval phrase, we "cleared the
decks for action." As the good work had begun in our own church, without
any external assistance, we determined to carry on the work ourselves;
and during the next five months, I never had any pulpit help except on
two evenings during the week, when two fervid, discreet neighboring
pastors preached for me. Commonly, every church should do its own
spiritual harvesting--just as much as every pair of young lovers should
do their own love-making, and wise parents their own family training.
Looking outside is a temptation to shirk responsibility. If a preacher
can preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ faithfully, and the Lord God is
with him, why rob him of the joy of the harvest by sending away for any
stranger?
My plan of action was this. Twice on each Sabbath, and on two evenings
in the week, I preached as clearly and pungently as I could; sometimes
to awakened souls, sometimes to backsliders, sometimes to the
impenitent, sometimes to souls who were seeking salvation. I spoke of
the great central truths:--personal guilt, Christ's atoning work, the
offices of the Spirit, redemption, the claims of the Saviour, the
necessity of immediate repentance, immediate acceptance of Christ and
the joy and power of an useful Christian life. During a revival, sermons
make themselves; they grow spontaneously. On the Monday evening of each
week our young people had the field with their regular gatherings, and
new converts were encouraged to narrate their experiences. On three
other evenings of the week the whole church had a service for prayer and
exhortation, conducted by our laymen. The praying women met on one
afternoon; the girls by themselves on another afternoon, and the boys on
another. During each week, from eleven to twelve, different meetings
were held, and in so large a congregation, these sub-divisions were
necessary. After every public service I held an inquiry meeting. I
invited people to converse with me in the study during the day, and I
made as much pastoral visitation from house to house as possible.
"So built we the walls ... for the people had a mind to work." For five
months that blessed work went forward, and as a result a very great
number were added to the church, of whom about one hundred were heads of
families. Our sacramental Sabbaths were holy, joyous feasts, and the
sheaves were brought in with singing. Some of the new converts banded
themselves in a new organization, and to perpetuate the memory of that
glorious spiritual outpouring, they called it the "Memorial Presbyterian
Church." It now worships in the beautiful edifice on Seventh Avenue, and
is one of the most flourishing churches in Brooklyn. The effect of that
work of grace reached on into eternity. One of its first effects, on the
writer of these lines, was to confirm him in the opinion that the living
Gospel, sent by the Holy Spirit, is the one only way to save sinners;
that a church must back up a minister by its personal efforts, and when
preacher and people work together only for God's glory, He is as sure to
answer prayer as the morrow's sun is to rise in the heavens.
It has not been my practice to invite the labors of an evangelist; but
in January, 1872, Mr. Dwight L. Moody, with whom I had as yet but a
slight acquaintance, but whom I since have honored and loved with my
whole heart, said to the superintendent of our Mission Chapel: "What a
nice place this is to hold some meetings in." He was cordially invited;
and at the end of a week about twenty persons had been mustered together
on the sharp winter evenings. "This seems slow work," I said to him.
"Very true," replied my sagacious brother. "It is slow, but if you want
to kindle a fire, you collect a handful of sticks, light them with a
match, and keep on blowing till they blaze. Then you may heap on the
wood. I am working here with a handful of Christians, endeavoring to
warm them up with love for Christ; and, if they keep well kindled, a
general revival will come, and outside sinners will be converted." He
was right; the revival did come. It spread into the parent church, and
over one hundred converts made their public confession of Christ before
our communion table. It was in those little chapel meetings that my
beloved brother, Moody, prepared his first "Bible Readings," which
afterward became so celebrated in this country and in Great Britain. A
few months afterward I met Mr. Moody in London. Coming one day into my
room, he said to me: "They wish me to come over here and preach in
England." I urged him at once to do so; "for," I said, "these English
people are the best people to preach to in the world." Moody then said,
"I will go home,--secure somebody to sing, and come over and make the
experiment." He did come home,--he secured my neighbor, Mr.
Sankey,--returned to England, and commenced the most extraordinary
revival campaign that had been known in Great Britain since the days of
Whitefield. I cannot dismiss this heaven-honored name without a word of
honest, loving tribute to the man and his magnificent work. D.L. Moody
was by far the most extraordinary proclaimer of the Gospel that America
has produced during the last century, as Spurgeon was the most
extraordinary in Great Britain. Those two heralds of salvation led the
column. They reached millions by their eloquent tongues, and their
printed words went out to the ends of the earth. The single aim of both
was to point to the cross of Christ, and to save souls; all their
educational and benevolent enterprises were subordinate to this one
great sovereign purpose. Neither one of them ever entered a college or
theological seminary; yet they commanded the ear of Christendom. The
simple reason was--they were both God-made preachers, and were both
endowed with immense common sense, and executive ability.