Moody's First Sermon on Grace.
I remember preaching one night in winter--one of the coldest winters we
had--the winter after the Chicago fire. I had been studying up grace,
and it was the first time I had spoken of it, and I was just full of it.
I started out of the house, I remember, and the first man I met I asked
him if he knew anything about the grace of God, and I tried to preach to
him. This man thought I was crazy. I ran on and met another, and finally
got up to the meeting. That night I thought I was speaking to a lot of
people who felt as I did about grace, and when I got through I asked
anyone who would like to hear about grace--who had any interest in it,
to stay. I expected some would have stayed, but what was my
mortification to see the whole audience rise up and go away. They hadn't
any interest in grace; they didn't want to learn anything about grace. I
put my coat and hat on and was going out of the hall, when I saw a poor
fellow at the back of the furnace crying. "I want to hear about the
grace of God," said he. "You're the man I want, then," said I. "Yes,"
the poor fellow said, "you said in your sermon that it was free, and I
want you to tell me something about it." Well, I got to talking to him,
and he told me a pitiful story. He had drank away twenty thousand
dollars, his home had been broken up, and his wife and children had left
him. I spoke to him, and it was not long before we were down together
praying. That night I got him a night's lodging in the Bethel, and next
day we got him on his feet, and when I went to Europe he was one of the
most earnest workers we had. He was just a partaker of grace--believed
that the peace of God was sufficient for him, and he took God at his
word and he was a saved man.