Open-Air Services, 1852.
1. PERRANZABULOE
AS the summer advanced, it was laid on heart to go and preach in the
parish of Perranzabuloe, where I had ministered in my unconverted days.
The vicar, would not consent to my having the church; but told me, in
writing, that he could not prevent my preaching on the common or the
beach. I thanked him for his suggestion as to the latter. As soon I was
able I made arrangements, and giving due notice, went down to the old
familiar place; but this time on a new errand, and it was to me a fresh
start in my work. I took my gown for this first open-air service; and on
arriving, found many hundreds of people already assembled at the
appointed place, on Perran beach.
After giving out a hymn, which was most heartily sung, I prayed,
thanking God for the change He had wrought in my soul, and begging Him
to show that He had forgiven the past, by bestowing a manifest blessing
upon the present service. All this was loudly responded to, in Cornish
fashion, with hearty "Amens" and various other ejaculations to which I
was well accustomed. Then I read the beginning of the fifth chapter of
St. Luke, taking for my text the words, "Launch out into the deep, and
let down your nets for a draught."
Having reminded the people how hard I had worked amongst them for four
years without seeing any conversions, I went on to show them, by way of
parallel, that Simon Peter had toiled all night and taken nothing, but
that when he went forth at the Lord's command, he enclosed a great
multitude of fishes. "Here," I said, "is encouragement for us to expect
a blessing now. Why did Simon Peter fail at first? and why did he
subsequently succeed? Why did he fail?--1. Because he went out in the
night. 2. At his own desire. 3. In the wisdom of men. Why did I fail?--1.
Because I preached and laboured in the night of my unconverted state. 2.
I laboured at the bidding of the Church. And, 3. According to the wisdom
and tradition of the fathers. Why did Peter succeed?--Because, 1. He
went out in the morning. 2. At the Lord's bidding. 3. With the Lord's
presence.
"I am come (I was thankful to be able to say) in the bright sunshine of
my first love. Jesus, the Saviour, is the 'Sun of my soul, my Saviour
dear.'" The people cheered me so much with their responding, that I felt
as happy as they. The opening heaven seemed to shine around us, indeed,
"with beams of sacred bliss." They shouted again and again, "Glory to
God! Glory to God! Hallelujah! .... I am come now," I continued, "to
tell you from my own personal experience, about salvation and the
forgiveness of sins." "Yes, yes!" "Thank the Lord!" "Bless Him!"
"I am come, dear friends, at the Lord's bidding. I feel sure that He put
it into my heart to do so. Oh, how much I longed to do you good when I
was your minister; but I could not, for I knew nothing about the Way
myself. Now, that I do, I am constrained to tell you. The love of God
within, and the Word of God without, compel me.
"I feel I have the Lord's presence, for He not only promised it where
two or three are gathered together in His name; but also to those who
preach the Gospel, He said, 'Lo, I am with you alway!' His presence is
power. It is His word I bring you, not mine; I merely deliver it. He is
here. And be sure He loves you, and, what is more, takes a deeper
interest in this preaching than we can. He died for you, and shed His
blood for your forgiveness; how, then, can He do otherwise than take an
interest in the delivery of His message, and, more, in the result which
is to follow?
"When Simon Peter let down his net, he was astonished; mark, it was a
net he let down into the deep, something which enclosed the fish, in
order that he might bring them out of their native element, the water.
So I preach the Gospel, not merely for the sake of preaching, but to
bring you from the power of Satan, in which we all are by nature, to
God, that you may receive the forgiveness of your sins.
"We read that he enclosed a great multitude of fishes; I have faith to
believe that the Lord will bring many to Himself to-night."
With shouting and praise the address was concluded and prayer was
offered. At the close, we found at least fifty people in that great
throng on their knees, crying for mercy. It was a most triumphant and
joyful time, and the people were loth to separate. We slept that night
at Porth, as that part of the village is called.
The next morning two fishermen came to my lodging, bringing a large
basket of fish as a present. Their hearts had been cheered the preceding
night, and taking my word in a natural as well as a spiritual sense,
they went out once again and let down their nets. They had gone out many
nights before and taken nothing; but this time their venture was crowned
with success, and they came back rejoicing ill the Lord, who had shown
them that temporal as well as spiritual blessings come from Him. The
basket of fish they brought me was an acknowledgment of their heartfelt
gratitude.
After breakfast, as we were walking on the seashore, under the majestic
cliffs which have stood as a wall against the Atlantic waves for
centuries, we heard our good-natured Newfoundland dog barking at
something on the rocks; we looked up, and behold! There was an
exquisitely graceful fawn-coloured kid, with a scarlet collar and bells,
bounding about playfully on the narrow ledges of the rocks. It seemed to
us to be leaping about on the face of the cliff, for we could not see
the little ledges on which it picked its way. It was quite out of the
dog's reach, and appeared to know it, judging from the coquettish and
defiant manner in which it was jumping about, in high glee at its
independence. While we were standing watching the pretty and graceful
creature, a young lady came out from behind other rocks, and called to
her pet, which arched its little neck and looked at her, then at the
dog, as if it would say, "How can I come down?" I walked towards her,
and on speaking, found that she knew me, and that I had seen her when
she was a child. After a little talk about the playful kid, I asked her
if she had been to the meeting; she said "she had, and she had not!"
I waited silently for an explanation. Presently, she said that her mamma
had forbidden her to go to "such wild meetings," but that her father had
asked her to walk with him under a wall in the garden, there they could
and did hear every word; and she added, "I think papa has found
peace--he is so very happy'."
"And have not you also?" I asked.
"Ah," she replied, "I wish I could."
The more I talked with her, the more convinced I felt she was in
earnest, but that something stood in the way. She said she did not know
what it was--that she really wished for salvation, and was willing to
give up everything. I said, "Do you think your mother would let you
return with us on a short visit? We are just going back to Baldhu."
She said, "Mamma is not at home: she has gone away for three days; but I
think papa would let me go. Shall I ask him?"
She did; and soon returned, saying that she might do so if we could
promise to bring her back in two days. This being settled, she hastened
to get her things ready, and sent her maid to fetch home the pet kid,
which she bade her take great care of during her absence: then we set
off.
On arriving at our house she went straight to her bedroom, and there on
her knees implored God's mercy, and remained pleading and praying for
five hours, before she found peace. Then she came down among us,
rejoicing in the Lord. That evening she spent at the meeting, and the
next day in visiting among the cottages. On the third day, after a happy
visit, we took her home to her father, rejoicing in the liberty of the
children of God.
Her mother returned the day after, and when she was told of the change
in her husband and her daughter Lucy, she became exceedingly angry, and
wrote, not to thank, but to forbid us the house; also prohibiting
further intercourse. At the same time she declared her intention to get
all that nonsense out of her daughter's head as soon as possible. She
dragged this poor girl out to parties and amusements of every kind,
against her will, which had the effect of making her dislike them the
more, and caused her to cleave steadfastly to the Lord in prayer.
Six months later, she was taken ill, and after a few weeks' suffering
she died, rejoicing that her sins were pardoned, and that she was going
home. It was evident that God would not trust that mother with a
daughter whose soul she was determined to injure. He took His child away
to Himself.
2. ROSE-IN-VALE
The open-air preaching at Perran led to many similar services there, and
at other places. I will tell of two only, to prevent sameness, and for
fear of tiring the reader.
The former of these, was at a place called Rose-in-vale, in the same
parish, on the lawn of the chief parishioner. He was an uneducated man,
who had risen from the rank of a common miner to that of a mine captain.
Being very shrewd and clever, he had succeeded in accumulating a
considerable sum of money; and though he and his wife had a very large
house, they chiefly occupied two of the smallest rooms. "Them fine
things up in the parlours," he said, he "made no 'count of;" indeed he
was anything but comfortable or easy in his state apartments. Being the
wealthy man of the parish, he sat on Sunday in the large square pew; but
beyond giving personal attendance, and that very regularly, I do not
know what other heed he gave, either to the service or the sermon.
During this summer he invited me to give "a preaching" in his garden.
Accordingly, on a fixed day, I went, and tried to speak, but found it
most difficult to do so. I know not why; but again and again I felt as
though I had lost the thread of my discourse and was rambling--that I
was at a loss for words, and could not hold the attention of the people.
Perplexed, and greatly discouraged, I was not sorry when the time came
to conclude; therefore I did not invite the people to remain for an
after-meeting for prayer. Several persons came up and asked me why I had
dismissed the assembly. "Ah!" I replied, "because there is no power. I
could not get on at all!" They were surprised, and said they thought
that I had been helped more than usual, and were quite sure that the
Lord was working among the people. However, the congregation had gone
now, and could not be recalled. This only made me feel more distressed
than before.
The feeling was very strong with which I had been so burdened while
speaking; and, to add to my perplexity, I observed three coast-guard
men, who had come some five or six miles, behaving badly, and laughing
all the time (as I thought) at my discourse, to the great discomfiture
of my preaching. Open-air addresses were not common in those days, and
for a man to set up (as some said) and pretend to be a second Whitfield
or Wesley, was bad enough, but to fail was most humiliating!
Three years after this, I was travelling outside a coach, when a rough
sailor-looking man came climbing up to the top, although he was told
that there was no room. "Never mind," he said; "I will sit on the boxes.
I want to talk to this here gentleman." So saying, he perched himself on
the luggage, and offered to shake hands with me. "Do you know me?" I
asked.
"Oh yes, bless you, of course I do! Don't you remember three coast-guard
men at Captain O--'s garden?"
"Yes," I said, "indeed I do, and am not likely to forget them easily;
they behaved so badly, and disturbed me so much."
"Well," he continued, "I'm one o' them. I don't know why we laughed and
made fun, for we all on us felt your words deeply, and went home to
pray; and a few days afterwards we were all three converted--that we
were. Praise the Lord! After that, we volunteered for the navy, to go to
the Crimea war. I've been in some hot scenes, sure enough. One day we
got a little too near the Russian battery, and they peppered us
brave--no mistake, I assure you; they cut our masts and rigging to
pieces, and ploughed up our deck with their shots. Men were being killed
on every side of me. I thought, now I shall see the King in His glory.
My soul was so happy, I expected every moment to be cut down and sent
into His presence; but not a shot touched me! I had not even a scratch;
and here I be, safe and sound, all through mercy!"
Thus, these three men, who made me at the time so unhappy, and disturbed
me to such a degree, turned out well, after all.
Since then, on several occasions, I have felt as discouraged in
preaching as I was that day; and though again and again I have said that
I will not heed it, I have nevertheless found it difficult to be unmoved
under this mysterious influence. I write this for the comfort and
consolation of others who are afflicted under similar circumstances,
that they may not be cast down by their feelings.
3. Mount Hawke
The next occasion was very different, and quite a contrast in results. I
was invited to a neighbouring parish, which formerly used to be united
with Perran at the time when I had sole charge of it. Here, on the
appointed Saturday afternoon, I found not fewer than three thousand
people assembled on the common. They had erected a kind of platform,
with a canvas awning, to shelter me from the wind, which always blows
with more or less violence in Cornwall, even when it is not raining.
There I stood and beheld this concourse of people, evidently full of
large expectation. I gave out the hymn--
"Oh for a thousand tongues, to sing
My great Redeemer's praise!"
This was heartily sung; and after prayer for a blessing, I announced my
text, and spoke from the fact, that Christ Jesus came into the world to
save sinners. Upon enforcing this as worthy of all acceptation, I
pressed the thought, that the Lord Jesus came more than eighteen hundred
years ago, and that is present still, and able to work greater than He
wrought then; for indeed He only began then to do and to teach what He
is doing and teaching continuously now.
A mighty power of the Spirit of the Lord came on the people, and several
hundreds fell upon their knees simultaneously, and many began to cry
aloud for mercy. The strange part was, that the power of the Lord
appeared to pass diagonally through the crowd, so that there was a lane
of people on their knees six or eight feet deep, banked up on either
side by others standing. It extended from the left-hand corner near me,
to the right-hand corner in the distance.
It was quite impossible to go on preaching, so I gave out a hymn, and
then went in among "the slain of the Lord." After about an hour, some
one suggested that we should go to the school-room; as it was getting
dark. The clergyman of the parish was on horseback in the lane close by,
watching proceedings. I asked him if we could have the use of the
school-room. "Oh yes," he said; "yes, certainly--certainly--anything."
He seemed very frightened. The men and women in distress of soul were
led to the room, crying and praying as they went. When I reached the
place, I found it impossible to get in, far it was already full, besides
a throng standing at the door. I was taken to a window at last, and
getting in through that, I stood on the schoolmaster's table, which was
near.
Against the wall the men had, in miners' fashion, set up with clay some
candles, which were beginning to bend over with the heat of the room.
The place was densely packed, and the noise of the people praying for
mercy was excessive. I could do no more than speak to those who were
near me round the table. As they found peace one by one and were able to
praise God, we asked them to go out and let others come. In this way the
meeting went on till ten o'clock, when I left; and it continued to go on
all night and all the next day without cessation. It will scarcely be
credited, but that same meeting was prolonged by successive persons
without any intermission, day and night, till the evening of Sunday, the
eighth day after it began. This kind of thing was not unusual in
Cornwall, for we had the same in our school-room at Baldhu for three
days and nights; but eight days is the longest period of which I have
any personal knowledge.
I went again and again to see how they were going on; but the people
were too absorbed to heed my presence; and those who were then seeking
mercy were strangers to me, and had not been present at the service on
the previous Saturday.