Billy and Polly.--A little sunbeam visits
Sandgate.--What happened at seven o'clock in the
morning.--And at five o'clock in the
evening.--"The Old, Old Story."--Newcastle wants
to know more.--But Newcastle has to wait.--John
Wesley goes back to Bristol.--The Kingswood of the
North.
"WHO'S yon man?"
"Which man?"
"Yon. Him with the long hair, and dressed like a parson."
"I dunno. Why there's two on 'em."
"I say, Polly, let's go and hear 'em, they're singing. Come on, Bob."
Bob and Billy and Polly were very ragged and very dirty children, and
they lived in Newcastle.
The boys were almost naked, and Polly, though nearly fifteen had no
clothes on at all, only a dirty bit of blanket wrapped round her. Their
fathers and mothers worked in the coal mines, and because they had never
been taught different, they were drunken, swearing, wicked people; even
the children cursed and swore.
But Bob and Billy and Polly have got to the top of Sandgate, the street
where their miserable home is; let us follow. Some of their companions
are with them, children as ragged and dirty as themselves. The women,
too, have come to their doors to listen. What is it these men are
singing? Hark!
[Illustration: Music]
All people that on earth do dwell
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;
Him serve with fear, His praise forth tell:
Come ye before Him and rejoice.
It was a lovely May morning, and a kind little sunbeam had left the
green fields and the chirping birdlets to peep into Sandgate. I think it
must have heard the singing, and wanted to shine its gladness, that
God's praises were at last being sung to those poor people.
It was quite early, about seven o'clock in the morning, and some of the
men and women were still in bed; but little sunbeam went first to one
and then to another and kissed them awake, and when they had rubbed
their eyes and opened their ears, they heard a strange sound. What could
it be? They had never heard anything like it before.
[Illustration: "If you come to yon hill at five o'clock to-night, I'll
tell you what I mean."--_Page 95._]
They sat up in bed and listened, then they got dressed, and then they
went out. The music acted like a magic spell, and drew them to it. One
man, two men, three men, four men, five men; oh, dear! there are too
many to count. Such a number of women too, why, there must be five
hundred people all together, and still they keep coming. One of the
gentlemen is now talking. Listen what he is saying! He is preaching a
sermon, and this is his text: "_He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was
upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed._" He is telling those poor
men and women that it was Jesus, the Son of God, who suffered this for
them, _because He loved them_.
The people, who numbered about twelve hundred, stood gaping and staring,
they had never heard anything like this before.
"Who are you?" shouted one man.
"What do you mean?" called out another.
The gentleman with the long hair and beautiful face answered them: "If
you want to know who I am, my name is John Wesley, and if you come to
yon hill at five o'clock to-night, I'll tell you what I mean."
At five o'clock the hill was covered with people from the top to the
bottom, and as Mr. Wesley stood with that great crowd round him, all
eager to learn about the wonderful Saviour who had died for them, and of
whom they had never heard, tears of pity filled his eyes, and a big love
for them filled his heart.
Oh, so sweetly and tenderly did he read to them God's own words: "_I
will heal their back-sliding, I will love them freely_;" and then he
told them the "Old, Old Story."
He told it very slowly:
"'That they might take it in,
That wonderful redemption,
God's remedy for sin.'
He told them the story simply:
'As to a little child,
For they were weak and weary,
And helpless and defi'ed.'
He told them the story softly:
'With earnest tones and grave,
For were they not the sinners
Whom Jesus came to save?'"
When the preacher finished, the people stood as if spell-bound, then
they all crowded and pressed round him, full of love and kindness
towards the man who had brought them such good news. They nearly
trampled him down in their eagerness to speak to him, and he had to slip
round a back way in order to escape. When he got to the inn where he was
staying, he found some of the people had got there before him; they had
come to beg and pray him to stay among them. No, he could not.
"Stay a few days," said one. No, he could not do that.
"Just one day more," they begged.
Poor Mr. Wesley was very loth to leave these eager hearers, but he had
promised to be in Bristol on the Tuesday, and this was Sunday night, and
it would take him all the time to get to his appointment, and he was a
man that could not break his word. So he was sadly obliged to refuse.
Before very long, however, Mr. Charles Wesley went to Newcastle, and
after a time, Mr. Wesley himself paid a second visit.
It was a plan of the Methodists always to go to the poorest and most
uncared-for people. These they generally found among the colliers.
Wherever there were coal mines, the district round them was sure to be
the abode of dirt, ignorance, and sin. You remember what a dreadful
place Kingswood was when the Methodists first went? Because they found
Newcastle just as bad, they called it "The Kingswood of the North."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]