neighbourhood of Chelsea. It is my custom on these occasions to invite
members of the congregation to send me in writing special requests for
the conversion of unsaved relatives or friends. On the Tuesday night,
among many other requests for prayer, was one from a daughter for the
conversion of her father. It was presented in due course with the rest,
but no one at that moment knew the special circumstances of the case,
except the writer. On the following Friday I received another request
from the same woman; but now it was a request for praise, describing the
circumstances under which the prayer had been answered, and I read the
wonderful story to the congregation.
It appeared that this girl's father was an avowed infidel who had not
been to any place of worship for many years, and he disliked the subject
of religion so intensely that he ultimately forbade his Christian
daughter in London to write to him, as she was continually bringing in
references to Christ. On the particular Tuesday evening in question,
that infidel father was on his way to a theatre in some provincial town,
more than a hundred miles from London. As he was walking to the
theatre, there was a sudden shower of rain which drove him for shelter
into the vestibule of a chapel where a week-night service was being
held. The preacher in the pulpit was a Boanerges, whose loud voice
penetrated into the lobby, and there was something in what he said that
attracted the attention of the infidel and induced him to enter the
chapel. He became more and more interested as the sermon proceeded, and
before its close he was deeply convinced of sin, and in true penitence
sought mercy from Jesus Christ. I need scarcely say to any one who knows
anything of the love of God, that this prayer was speedily answered, and
he went home rejoicing in divine forgiveness. The next day he wrote to
his daughter in London telling her that he had set out on the previous
evening intending to visit the theatre, but had actually found his way
into a chapel, where his sins had been forgiven and his heart changed.
He wrote at once to tell her the good news, and he assured her that he
would now be only too glad to hear from her as often as she could write
to him. These facts were communicated through me to the congregation,
and we all gave thanks to God.
Of course it may be said that the conversion of this man, who had not
been into a place of worship for more than a dozen years, was a mere
accident, and that its coming at the very time we were praying for him
was a mere coincidence. But we need not quarrel about words. All we need
to establish is, that such delightful accidents and such blessed
coincidences are continually occurring in the experience of all real
Christians. I may add generally, that it is our custom to present
written requests for prayer and written requests for praise at the
devotional meetings of the West London Mission every Friday night. This
has now gone on without interruption for more than nine years, and I
scarcely remember a prayer-meeting at which we have not had some request
for praise on account of prayer answered.
It may be argued, however, that all such cases are purely subjective,
and that they take place in the mysterious darkness and silence of the
human heart Let my next illustration, then, be of a much more tangible
character. Let it refer to pounds, shillings, and pence.
Not long ago the West London Mission was greatly in want of money, as
has generally been its experience since it began. It would seem as
though God could not trust us with any margin. Perhaps if we had a
considerable balance in the bank we should put our trust in that,
instead of realising every moment our absolute dependence on God. Like
the Children of Israel in the Wilderness, we have had supplies of manna
just sufficient for immediate need. Always in want, always tempted to be
anxious, it has always happened at the last moment, when the case seemed
absolutely desperate, that help has been forthcoming, sometimes from the
most unexpected quarter. But a short time ago the situation appeared to
be unusually alarming, and I invited my principal colleague to meet me
near midnight--the only time when we could secure freedom from
interruption and rest from our own incessant work.
We spent some time, in the quietness of that late hour, imploring God to
send us one thousand pounds for His work by a particular day. In the
course of the meeting one of our number burst forth into rapturous
expressions of gratitude, as he was irresistibly convinced that our
prayer was heard and would be answered. I confess I did not share his
absolute confidence, and the absolute confidence of my wife and some
others. I believed with trembling. I am afraid I could say nothing more
than "Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief." The appointed day came. I
went to the meeting at which the sum total would be announced. It
appeared that in a very short time and in very extraordinary ways nine
hundred and ninety pounds had been sent to the West London Mission. I
confess that, as a theologian I was perplexed. We had asked for a
thousand pounds--there was a deficiency of ten. I could not understand
it. I went home, trying to explain the discrepancy. As I entered my
house and was engaged in taking off my hat and coat, I noticed a letter
on the table in the hall. I remembered that it had been lying there when
I went out, but I was in a great hurry and did not stop to open it. I
took it up, opened it, and discovered that it contained a cheque for ten
pounds for the West London Mission, bringing up the amount needed for
that day to the exact sum which we had named in our midnight
prayer-meeting. Of course this also may be described as a mere
coincidence, but all we want is coincidences of this sort. The name is
nothing, the fact is everything, and there have been many such facts.
Let me give one other in reference to money, as this kind of
illustration will perhaps, more than any other, impress those who are
disposed to be cynical and to scoff. I was engaged in an effort to build
Sunday schools in the south of London. A benevolent friend promised a
hundred pounds if I could get nine hundred pounds more, within a week. I
did my utmost, and by desperate efforts, with the assistance of friends,
did get eight hundred pounds, but not one penny more. We reached
Saturday, and the terms of all the promises were that unless we
obtained a thousand pounds that week we could not proceed with the
building scheme, and the entire enterprise might have been postponed for
years, and, indeed, never accomplished on the large scale we desired. On
the Saturday morning one of my principal church officers called, and
said he had come upon an extraordinary business: that a Christian woman
in that neighbourhood whom I did not know, of whom I had never heard,
who had no connection whatever with my church, had that morning been
lying awake in bed, and an extraordinary impression had come in to her
that she was at once to give me one hundred pounds! She naturally
resisted so extraordinary an impression as a caprice or a delusion. But
it refused to leave her; it became stronger and stronger, until at last
she was deeply convinced that it was the will of God. What made it more
extraordinary was the fact that she had never before had, and would, in
all probability, never again have one hundred pounds at her disposal
for any such purpose. But that morning she sent me the money through my
friend, who produced it in the form of crisp Bank of England notes. From
that day to this I have no idea whatever who she was, as she wished to
conceal her name from me. Whether she is alive or in heaven I cannot
say; but what I do know is that this extraordinary answer to our prayers
secured the rest of the money, and led to the erection of one of the
finest schools in London, in which there are more than a thousand
scholars to-day.
Let me give one other illustration in a different sphere. God has
answered our prayers again and again by saving those in whom we are
interested, and by sending us money. He has also answered prayer for
suitable agents to do His work.
Twelve months ago I was sitting in my study at a very late hour; the
rest of the household had gone to bed. I was particularly conscious at
that time that I greatly needed a lay agent, who could help me in work
among the thousands of young men from business houses who throng St.
James's Hall. Several of our staff who could render efficient service in
that direction were fully occupied in other parts of the Mission. I
prayed very earnestly to God, in my loneliness and helplessness; and
whilst I was praying, an assurance was given me that God had heard my
prayer. By the first post on the next morning I received a letter from a
man whom I had never met, requesting an interview. I saw him. It turned
out that he was a staff officer in the Salvation Army, and formerly a
Methodist; and that for two years he had been longing for a sphere of
work among young men. He had been himself in a Manchester business
house, and he was extremely anxious for work among young fellows in the
great business establishments. For various reasons a development of work
in that direction, although it commanded the sympathy of the heads of
the Salvation Army, could not be undertaken just then; and while he was
praying upon the subject, it seemed to him as though a definite voice
said, "Offer yourself to Mr. Hugh Price Hughes." In obedience to that
voice he came, and he is with us now. He has already gathered round him
a large number of young men; and at our last Public Reception of new
members I received into the mission church forty-two young men of this
class, who had been brought to Christ, or to active association with His
Church, through the agency of the man whom God so promptly sent me in
the hour of my need.
Nothing that I have said will in the least degree surprise earnest
Christians and Christian ministers. Such experiences as these are the
commonplace of real and active Christianity.
IX
BY THE REV.
J. CLIFFORD, M.A., D.D.
Immediately after my acceptance of the pastorate of the church to which
I still minister, I arranged to continue and broaden my training by
attending Science Classes at University College, London. It was in the
year 1858. The day of science was in its brilliant and arresting dawn.
Professor Huxley had been lecturing on biology at the Royal School of
Mines for nearly four years, and his bold and masterly descriptions of
"Man's Place in Nature," given to working men, had stirred many minds.
Darwin's "Origin of Species" appeared in the following year. The young
scientific spirit was daring and aggressive; and scientific methods,
though feared in most quarters, were demanding and winning confidence. I
was sure science was one of the formative forces of the future, and
therefore it seemed to me the teachers of Christianity of the next
half-century would do well to make themselves practically acquainted
with the methods pursued by scientific men, as well as conversant with
the results of scientific work.
One of Huxley's maxims was "The man of science has learnt to believe in
justification by verification." Certainly! and why not? The Christian is
bidden by the teacher who ranks next to Jesus Christ, our one and only
Master, to "prove all things, and hold fast that which is good." Human
experience is always verifying truth and exposing falsehood. New forces
are set to work in the lives of men, and offer us their effects for
examination. New acts repeated lead to new habits, and new habits make a
new character. If the gardener inserts a "bud" in the branch of a
growing brier, and after a while beholds the beauty and inhales the
fragrance of the "Gloire de Dijon" rose; if the surgeon "operates" one
day, and a little while afterwards sees that the forces he has freed
from the disabilities of disease are moving forward on their healing
mission; so the Christian pastor may suggest a truth, inspire a new
habit, direct to a new attitude of spirit, secure an uplift of soul, and
afterwards trace the effect of these acts on the growth and development
of character, and on the quantity and quality of the service given to
the kingdom of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.
"Experiments" in the field of human nature yield as really verifiable
results as those that are given in the nursery of the gardener or the
laboratory of the chemist.
But contact with scientific methods not only suggested that the
pastorate would afford abundant opportunities for verifying the features
and characteristics of the spirit of life in Jesus Christ, by a direct
appeal to facts in the manifold experiences of Christian men; it also
changed the point of view, so that, instead of giving the first place
amongst "answers to prayer" to detached and easily reported incidents,
that rank was assigned to experiences showing that prayer is one of the
chief of the unseen forces in character-building, in deepening humility,
in broadening sympathy, in preserving the heart tender and sensitive to
human suffering, in quickening aspiration, and giving the note of _soul_
to a man's work and influence.
The materials sustaining that conclusion were abundant in the early
years of my ministry; notably in one case I can never forget. On the
first Sabbath evening of my ministry I was preaching on the words "Be ye
reconciled to God." Amongst the listeners was one who had entered the
house of prayer without any sense of alienation from God or hunger for
His revelation, and, as she afterwards confessed, merely to please her
sister. But "the Lord opened her heart to give heed to the things that
were spoken," so that she forthwith sought and found peace with God
through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Nor did she only obtain peace. With Wordsworth she could say:
"I bent before Thy gracious throne
And asked for peace with suppliant knee,
And peace was given, nor peace alone,
But faith and hope and ecstasy."
Faith and hope, ecstasy and prayer, were the outstanding features of her
new life. She had little time for special acts of Christian service, and
scant means wherewith to enrich the Church; but, according to the
witness of those who had known her longest, her character was clad in
entirely new charms, and her spirit was fired and filled with new
energies. She grew in experience of the grace and love of God, and
became at home with God in the deepest sense, and seemed rarely, if
ever, absent from her chosen dwelling-place. Her strongest feeling was
for God, all investing, all encircling; and with reverent freedom and
sweet security she lived and moved and had her being in communion with
the eternal Father. Prayer was not a task for specific occasions; it was
the breath of her life. It was not a wrestle or a struggle; it was an
uplifting of her being into a fellowship with God. It did not shrivel
into a litany of petitions; it was sustained aspiration; and aspiration
is a large part of achievement; it was deepest satisfaction with God,
and His will and His work: and such satisfaction is itself a source of
patient strength and a preparation for victory.
Nor was the effect limited. Her nature received a refinement, an
elevation, a beauty that triumphed over the physical features, and shone
out with a glory that is not seen on sea or shore. The expression of her
face seemed to be from God. A transfiguring radiance came from within as
she thought on the wonders and delighted in the treasures of the gospel
of God. Hers was a noble life. Like Martha, she was engaged in "much
serving;" but yet was never cumbered and worn with it, because, like
Mary, she sat daily at the Master's feet, and listened to His words,
and received His sustaining strength. She was as sweetly unselfish as
the flowers, and gave herself and her "all" to Christ, like the widow of
the gospels. Meekness and humility clothed her with their loveliest
robes. I never knew a purer spirit. She always breathed the softness and
gentleness of the Saviour, and yet I have seen her weak body quiver and
throb with its anguish of desire for the salvation of the lost. Faithful
unto death, she realised the support and joy of the Christian's hope,
and gently as leaves are shed by the flower that has finished its
course, she fell into the arms of Jesus; and as Deborah, Rebekah's
nurse, was buried under the "oak of weeping" amid affectionate regrets
and sweet memories, so this Christian servant was laid in the grave with
tears of real sorrow from those whom she had served so faithfully and
long, as well as from friends who had been gladdened and fortified in
the faith of Christ by her sweet, earnest, and beautiful Christian life.
That day is now far off, but the influence of her prayer-filled life
still feeds faith in God as the Hearer and the Answerer of Prayer.
About the same time and in the same spiritual laboratory I was called to
observe the following processes. A woman, the wife of a blacksmith, was
led by the gospel of Christ into the joy of salvation. Her experience of
the grace of God in Christ was vivid and full. She knew little of doubt
concerning herself, but she was full of solicitude for her husband and
children; for she had a very heavy burden to carry, and her heart was
sore stricken. Her husband was a drunkard. When sober he was true,
devoted, and loving; but when he fell into intemperance he became hard,
harsh, and even violent. But never did the brave and trustful wife cease
to hope or cease to pray. In the darkest hours she begged for the
conversion of her husband, and felt sure that God would respond to her
supplications. That was her habitual mood, her supreme desire, her
living prayer; and I could see that this very disposition developed her
saintliness, deepened her affection for her husband, and gave increased
beauty to her family life, as well as added to her usefulness in the
Church.
One day, in the course of my pastoral visits, I called at the
blacksmith's home. Scarcely was the threshold crossed when the husband
rushed in, wild, angry, and violent, the prey of intoxicants. But before
he had proceeded far the wife approached him, flung her arms around him,
called him by name, and said: "Ah, God will give you to me yet." Saint
Ambrose told Monica, when she went to him, sad and desponding about her
son, "God would not forget the prayers of such a mother," and Augustine
came, though late in his young manhood, into the kingdom and patience of
Jesus Christ. So I felt the earnest pleadings of this true wife and
mother would not be forgotten of God, but that, according to her own
beautiful saying, God would "give her husband to her;" for she did not
think he was completely hers whilst he was under the dominion of
intoxicants,--give him to her freed from that depraving and desolating
slavery. And it was so. For he, too, became a Christian, and they
together effectively served their generation according to the will of
God, "turning men from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan
unto God."
There recurs to me the image of a visitor who called one Sunday evening
in 1862, and who wished to know what he was to do in order to control
and suppress an ungovernable temper. For years it had tortured him past
all bearing, and, what was worse, for years it had been a source of pain
and discomfort in his home. When his anger was kindled he was by his own
confession a terror to wife and children, and, seeing that he had
recently become a Christian, he felt acutely the stain such actions
fixed on garments that should have been unspotted by the world. "What
must I do? I can't go on in this way, and yet though I feel it is wrong
I can't help myself."
The first suggestion I ventured was based on the regard he had expressed
for his pastor. "What would be the effect," said I, "on you, if I were
to appear at the moment the storm was about to burst? Think!"
He thought, and then said, "It wouldn't burst I should stop it."
"Well, then, try this plan. Force yourself at the moment of peril into
the conscious presence of God, and say, as you feel the uprising
passion, 'O God, make me master of myself.' Pray that prayer; and pray,
morning by morning, that you may so pray in your time of need; and in
due season you will obtain the perfect mastery of yourself you seek." He
promised. I watched. He prayed. He conquered; once, twice, thrice, and
then failed; but he renewed the attempt, and triumphed again, and years
afterwards I knew him as one of the most serene of men; and when he
died, no phase of his character stood out more distinctively than his
perfect self-control, and no fact in his life was remembered with deeper
gratitude by his bereaved wife than that memorable victory won by prayer
in the early days of his discipleship to the Lord Jesus.
From the beginning of my ministry I have made it my business to offer
advice and aid to young men and maidens assailed with doubts and fears
concerning the revelation of God in Christ, hindered at the outset by
misconceptions of the "way of salvation," and perplexed by confused and
contradictory teaching. Hundreds of young men (and within the last ten
years especially, many young women) have described to me their
difficulties as they have reached the stage described by Roscoe in the
words, "There are times when faith is weak and the heart yearns for
knowledge."
Here is a "case" chosen from a large number of similar facts. A young
man came to tell me the somewhat familiar story, that the first fervours
of his religious life had cooled down, his early raptures were gone, and
the sense of peace and bounding freedom, and of all-sufficing strength
in God, had departed with them. The certainties of the opening months or
years of the Christian pilgrimage had given place to torturing
questions, such as, "Am I not deceived? After all, is Christianity true?
What are its real contents? What is inspiration? Did miracles happen?"
etc., etc. Week after week we reasoned and argued, and months passed in
a struggle whose usefulness no one could register, and whose issue no
one could forecast.
But it "happened," as these conversations were going on, that he was
"drawn" into what I may call a "prayer circle," privately carried on by
a small group of young men who were not unacquainted with such conflicts
as those which then engaged his powers. He joined it, and by-and-by felt
its influence. He was lifted into another atmosphere, and breathed a
clearer, sunnier air. His misgivings were slowly displaced by missionary
enthusiasm, and his fears by a stronger faith; and yet he had not solved
the problems suggested by the person of Christ, or found the secret of
the Incarnation, or explained the mystery of the Atonement. But he had
been led to set the full force of his nature on communion with God; and
prayer had quickened the sense for spiritual realities, for the
recognition of the infinite value of the human soul, and for the wonder
and splendour of God's salvation. In that realm of prayer, character was
altered, the aim of life was altered, the will had a new goal, and so
the questions of the intellect fell into their true place in reference
to the whole of the questions of life. Emerson writes, "When all is said
and done, the rapt saint is found the only logician." It is he who
thinks the most sanely and dwells nearest the central truths of life and
being. It is he who becomes serenely acquiescent in the agnosticism of
the Bible, and realises that revelation must contain many things past
finding out, whilst the Spirit, who is the revealer, gives us the best
assurances of the certitude and clearness of what it is most important
for us to know.