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INSTANCES OF DIVINE POWER

In the spring of 1858, during the prevalence of the wide-spread revivals described in Prime’s “Power of Prayer,” I was soundly converted to God. At that time I was in mature young manhood, and in business. My health had been poor for a number of years, and when I gave my heart to the Lord Jesus, I appeared to myself to be standing on the very verge of death and hell.

A short time after the mighty change, I was led to pray for “Hezekiah’s fifteen years.” Hezekiah, the pious king of Judah, was “sick unto death;” but “he turned his face to the wall, and prayed unto the Lord,” and the Lord was pleased to restore him to health, and made him the promise: “I will add unto thy days fifteen years.”

My case occurred long before faith-cure received the attention that it does at present. In fact, nothing special appears to have been known or thought about it in those days. The impression upon my mind was doubtless born of the Holy Spirit. I was not led to pray for restored health, but simply for fifteen years of continued life.

My prayer became very earnest, until it resulted in a settled and grounded faith. I most certainly and most devoutly believed that I should yet live fifteen years. But there was a condition in my mind to the promise. This was, that I should not backslide. I felt that if I turned from the service of the God who had wonderfully saved me, I should soon die.

The promise of God — the witness, if you please — that my life would be spared, was so clear and pronounced, that I scarcely ever thought of doubting it. Indeed, in preaching funeral sermons, and speaking as one naturally would sometimes of the uncertainty of life, in such a way as to include my own, the words would gag my throat, and I would have to use language that was more guarded and more in accordance with what I understood to be the facts in my own case.

Of course, my life went on in fact, nothing could destroy it while I carefully kept the one only condition-that of fidelity to God But at no time was I impressed or permitted to make any public statement of my assurance, or, indeed, in private, except in possibly a couple of instances, where I thought special good might be the result.

The result was, I not only lived fifteen years — years added to my natural allotment — but also, I am now actually considerably advanced on my third fifteenth year! The last fact indicated is no doubt a result of the many prayers of the people of God, as well as my own, that my days of usefulness might still be lengthened out. To God be everlasting glory!

2. I received my first appointment to a pastoral work by Bishop Simpson, in 1860. It was to a comparatively new work, on the northern border of the great “North woods,” and not far from the Adirondacks, in the State of New York. It was a lumber region.

There were two lakes, the Upper and Lower Chateaugay, and a river, the Chateaugay, running out from them northward until it crossed the frontier, and emptied into the river St. Lawrence. On the east side of the lower lake was an isolated neighborhood, having a schoolhouse. I learned that the gospel was not preached there at all. I was therefore led to send an appointment into the neighborhood for a meeting. It was to be held at a certain hour in the afternoon. This was during the latter part of the summer of 1860.

When the day came for filling the appointment, about a dozen of us started up the river toward the lake, in a boat. The most of the company went for the pleasure of going, but I went solely to preach the gospel of the Son of God.

The boat was moved with oars; there was a sail, but this was use while we were in the river. It was a considerable distance up the river, perhaps a mile. But there was a boom in the whole distance up to the lake, and this, added to the facts that the river was very narrow, and there were logs on one side of the boom a large part of the way, made our progress very slow.

As we at last emerged from the river into the lake, with two miles of lake between us and my appointment, I looked at my watch, and saw at once that by rowing we could not reach the school house in time. There was no wind, so the sail could not be used. I sat in the stern of the boat, and thought. Being late to meeting was particularly obnoxious to me; what should be done?

I prayed. Prayer always brings us out right; praise God! I said nothing to the company, but simply prayed. As I prayed I began to believe. Believe what? That the wind would spring up, so that I could get to the school-house on time. And, sure enough in a very short time the breeze began, at first very gently, and then increasing, until it became almost a gale. The sail was quickly unfurled, and we scud through that little lake at a wonderful speed. Arriving at the shore, the waves ran so high that it was with some difficulty we could safely land.

The result was, myself and wife arrived at the school-house before any of the congregation. In due time the people were on hand, and I had the pleasure of dealing out to them the saving word of God.

There was no wind, but there was a pressing necessity for it. Prayer was made, faith was exercised, and the wind came. Was it a miracle? That is what I call it — call it what you will. Praise God!

3. In 1882, I received an invitation to assist Brother S. B. Shaw, the editor of this book, in a series of campmeetings in the State of Michigan. I accepted the invitation, and was at several of the meetings. I was in those years as now, conducting the “Christian Harvester,” and depended on subscriptions, etc., received during the campmeeting seasons, for the means of buying a stock of paper, which was usually needed along in the month of September of each year.

This year, for some reason or other, I received but little money at the meetings though souls were saved and sanctified and arrived at my home in Ohio with the usual need of paper, and no money to buy it with. I went to God with my need-his need. He inspired my faith that the money should come. At that time of the year comparatively little money was wont to come in through the mails; but soon after praying, they began to bring in unusual amounts.

One man in Illinois sent me twenty dollars — a man who was an entire stranger possibly he had seen me, but I did not remember him. All he asked in return for the money was a year’s subscription to the Harvester, and that I should pray for him.

The unusual in flow of money continued until a sufficient amount was received to pay for the stock of paper then it immediately stopped. Sammy Hick, the eccentric Yorkshire local preacher, had faith for a wind to grind out his wheat, the flour being needed to feed the people who were coming to the “quarterly-meeting;” and the moment Sammy’s grist was ground the wind ceased, and none of the neighbors could get any grinding — unless, as the miller said, they had Sammy’s faith. So in my case — and showing that it was a matter of pure faith, and not in the usual order of things-when money enough came to supply the need, further supply was immediately withheld. Again, to God be all the glory! Amen. — Thos. K. Daly.

IN INDIA — IN ANSWER TO PRAYER

The following very interesting account was written by request, expressly for this book. The author was a missionary of the Methodist Episcopal Church in India for a number of years. He is, at the date of our publication, pastor at Huntington, O.: In January, 1888, my devoted wife, since gone to glory and myself, were appointed by Bishop Thoburn to open work in a district of the native state of Hyderabad, India.

Our parish embraced more than a thousand towns and villages, over a million souls — a district practically untouched Christian evangelism. Full of faith in God, the missionaries cheerfully proceeded to the new field of conflict. Six months later. visited for the third time, Kinnal, a village of probably souls, sixty miles from our center, for the purpose of supervising a day-school and Sunday school, recently begun, preaching the gospel to the people.

We had not a single Christian convert in the village except Andronika, our native teacher, and his young wife and these were imported for the purpose intimated. Weary from our long bullock-cart ride, we spent an h6ur in rest and at dinner, after which the school work was after. At five o’clock the people were called together to hear a short gospel talk, and witness the first Christian baptismal service they had probably ever seen.

Nearly the entire village, in an amazingly brief time, had congregated in the street just in front of our little mission-room, which we had –recently purchased for thirty rupees ($10).

The village was just being scourged by those deadly diseases, cholera and small-pox, and the deluded natives had sacrificed nearly all their poultry, sheep, goats, and much fruit, to appease the anger of their imaginary deities; and still the scourge went on. For eight months there had been no rainfall, and the people were in a semi-starved condition, and hence a ready prey to these virulent diseases. It is need. less to say that our simple discourse upon “Jesus, the all-sufficient sacrifice,” had many eager listeners in this sad, spirit-broken assembly.

Then followed a scene we shall never forget. Just in front of the missionary and his companion stood Andronika and his wife presenting their little babe for Christian baptism. Before the ceremony was finished, a man of the weaver’s caste prostrated himself before us, preparatory to the making of an urgent appeal. We beckoned him to wait until the close of the service. Then, after another prostration, the poor fellow advanced to make his request.

With a sad expression on his face and tremulous voice, he proceeded to say: “My wife is dying. For four days I have been breaking coconuts and making poojahs, and my wife has been growing worse all the time; now I beg of you — to pray to your God, to see if he will hear and save my wife!” We were conducted by the sad husband into a little mud hut near by, followed by the multitude. There lay the poor wife, unconscious and moaning.

A brief examination all the broken-hearted husband had said. It was quite evident that the case was beyond human help. An indescribable burden came upon my soul while contemplating the situation. I turned to my dear wife and said: “There no use giving this woman any medicine; it is too late, I can do nothing for her. Only God can help her. And if the purpose of the miracle on Mount Carmel, in answer to the prayer of Elijah, was to vindicate God’s cause before the worshipers of Baal, may not the Lord raise this woman to health, to vindicate himself in this province of a million devotees to false gods?” Her answer (I’ll never forget it) was: “According thy faith be it unto thee.”

Then I said to the husband: “Jesus Christ, who is the only God, can save your wife if he thinks best. Now if he cures her, will you then forever renounce your idols, and worship Jesus Christ only?” – A moment of intense anxiety, and his aged mother rushed up to him, and plead with him in tears to answer in the negative.

He replied: “I can make better answer after she is cured.” But I insisted that I could not feel justified in asking my Savior to interfere in his behalf, unless he was willing to answer the question in the affirmative, and worship Jesus if he showed Himself by His superior power to be God.’ Then there came to the poor tried soul another awful struggle.

All his relatives and the priests gathered around him and tried to persuade him that it would be better for his to die than that he should mal- such a promise.- Another moment of awful suspense, and the brave soul turned answered: “Houdu” (“yes,” in the Canarese tongue) Jesus Christ can save my wife, it shows that what you right — my gods are false, and I ought then to Christ”With eyes uplifted, we prayed the dear Lord to get Himself a great name among these benighted souls. Oh what a baptism of assurance came into our souls!We turned immediately to go away, and in less than a minute the excited husband came rushing after us, “Jesus Christ, He is God! My wife is well and began, in every conceivable way, to express his gratitude.

Till nearly midnight the voice of that joyful man, up and down the narrow streets of the village, was heard crying: “Jesus Christ, He is the only true God!” Towards morning, a copious shower of rain fell, and the natives said: “It is because the missionary is praying.” At five o’clock next morning, we left the village, with hundreds of its grateful people following in procession, to do honor to those whom they said brought so much blessing to their village.

For miles they followed, and not until we earnestly remonstrated, did they turn back. We believe that that event of providence will be blessed to the salvation not only of hundreds in that village, but to many in other places; or among those who witnessed what has been related, were more than a score who had been sent from adjoining villages to induce, if possible, the missionary to begin work in their towns. These may for a time continue in heathenism, but they will not forget the strange Power which wrought such wonders before their eyes. Praise the Lord for His wonderful goodness! — A.E. Winter.

I DON’T LOVE YOU NOW, MOTHER

A great many years ago I knew a lady who had been sick for two years, as you have seen many a one, all the while slowly dying with consumption. She had one child, a little boy named Henry.

One afternoon I was sitting by her side, and it seemed as if, she would cough her life away. Her little boy stood by the post of the bed, his blue eyes filled with tears to see her suffer so. By and by the terrible cough ceased. Henry came and put his arms around his mother’s neck, nestled his head in his mother’s bosom, and said, “Mother I do love you, I wish you wasn’t sick.” An hour later, the same loving, blue-eyed boy came in all aglow, stamping the snow off his feet. “O mother may I go skating? It is so nice Ed and Charley are going.” “Henry” feebly said the mother the ice is not hard enough yet.” “But mother,” very pettishly said the boy, “you are sick, how do you know?” “My child, you must obey me,” said his mother.’ It is too bad angrily sobbed the boy, who so loved his mother. “I would not like to have my little boy go,” said his mother, looking sadly at the little boy all covered with frowns; “you said you loved me, be good.” “No, I don’t love you now, mother’,” said the boy, going out and slamming the door.

Again the dreadful coughing came upon her, and thought no more of the boy. After the coughing had commenced, I noticed tears falling thick upon her pillow, but sank from exhaustion into a light sleep. In a little while muffled steps of men’s feet were heard coming into the house, as though carrying something; and they were carrying the almost lifeless body of Henry. Angrily had he left his mother and gone to skate, \ disobeying her; and then broken through the ice, sunk under the water, and now saved by a great effort, was brought home barely alive to his sick mother. I closed the doors, feeling more danger for her life than the child’s, and coming softly in, drew back the curtains from the bed. She spoke, “I heard them-it is Henry; Oh I knew he went. Is he dead?” But she never seemed to hear the answer I gave her. She commenced coughing-she died in agony — strangled to death. The poor mother! The boy’s disobedience killed her.

After a couple of hours I sought the boy’s room. “Oh I wish I had not told mother I did not love her. Tomorrow I will tell her I do,” said the child sobbing painfully. My heart ached; tomorrow I knew we must tell him she was dead. We did not till the child came fully in the room, crying, “Mother I do love you.” Oh l may I never see agony like that as the lips he kissed gave back no kiss as the hands he fell lifeless from his hand instead of shaking his hand like it always had and the boy knew she was dead “Mother I do love you now” all the day he sobbed and cried “O mother mother forgive me” Then he would leave his mother “Speak to me, mother!” but she could never speak again, and he – he last words she had ever never speak again him say, were, “Mother, I don’t love you now.”

That boy’s whole life was changed; sober and sad he was ever after. He is now a gray haired old man, with one sorrow-over his one act of disobedience, one wrong word embittering all his life — with those words ever ringing in his ears, “Mother, I don’t love you now.”

Will the little ones who read this remember, if they disobey their mother, if they are cross and naughty, they say every single time they do so, to a tender mother’s heart, by their actions, if not in the words of Henry, the very same thing, “I don’t love you now, mother?”

HOW WILLIAM TENNENT DEFEATED THE POWERS OF DARKNESS

During the great revival of religion in America, which took place under Mr. Whitefield, and others distinguished for their piety and zeal at that period, Mr. Tennent was laboriously active, and much engaged to help forward the work; in the performance of which he met with strong and powerful temptations. The following is from his own lips: On the evening preceding public worship, he selected a subject for the discourse intended to be delivered, and made some progress in his preparations. In the morning he resumed the same subject, with an intention to extend his thoughts further on it; but was presently assaulted with a temptation that the Bible was not of Divine authority, but the invention of man. He instantly endeavored to repel the temptation by prayer, but his endeavors proved unavailing. The temptation continued, and fastened upon him with greater strength as the time advanced for public service. He lost all the thoughts which he had prepared on the preceding evening. He tried other subjects, but could get nothing for the people. The whole book of God, under that distressing state of mind, was a sealed book to him; and, to add to his affliction, he was “shut up in prayer;” a cloud, dark as that of Egypt, oppressed his mind.

Thus agonized in spirit, he proceeded to the church, where he found a large congregation assembled, and waiting to hear the word; and then he was more deeply distressed than ever; and especially for the dishonor which he feared would fall upon religion through him that day. He resolved, however, to attempt the service. He introduced it by singing a psalm, during which time his agitation increased to the highest degree. When the moment for prayer commenced, he arose, as one in the most painful and perilous situation, and, with arms extended to heaven, began with this exclamation: “Lord, have mercy upon me!” On the utterance this petition he was heard; the thick cloud instantly broke, away, and light shone upon his soul. The result was a deep solemnity throughout the congregation; and the house, at the end of the prayer, was a place of weeping. He delivered the subject of his evening meditations, which was brought to his full remembrance, with an overflowing abundance of other weighty and solemn matter. The Lord blessed this discourse, so that it proved the happy means of the conversion of about thirty persons. This day he ever afterwards spoke of as his harvest day.” — Anecdotes of the Ministry.

HOW THE PRAYER OF FAITH REACHED A FAMILY

A day or two after our conversion, we called at a neighbor’s, and while there heard the lady of the house say some very hard things against the work of God, which was shaking that whole section of country like an earthquake. We were deeply grieved, but went away without saying much. But scarcely had we reached home before the Holy Spirit spoke to our heart, and told us to go back to that neighbor’s and pray.

We hesitated a little, but the burden upon our heart became so heavy that we could no longer keep still, and were so strongly drawn to go back to neighbor B—- ‘s that we decided to go, and asked our stepmother to go with us. She wanted to wait to get ready, but our burden was too heavy for delay, and she yielded, and started with us at once. It seemed as we went that we could hardly keep from running; and as soon as we entered the house we fell upon our knees, exclaiming, that God had sent us there to pray.

We scarcely realized our surroundings, and do not know how long or loud we prayed; but when we arose from our knees we could see that all in the house were wonderfully affected, and the one who, so short a time before was saying bitter things against the Lord and His work, was wringing her hands, and weeping, and saying “‘What have I done? I did not know that I was so wicked that anybody needed to pray like that for me.” We shook hands with all present, and left the house.

Soon a Christian young lady, who was at Mr.B—-‘s when we were there, came over, and in a kind way said that she did not wish to discourage us, but she feared our prayer was too abrupt to do any good. But as she spoke, the Lord gave us the positive assurance of that family’s salvation, and we began to praise the Lord. And so it was; for in a very short time the entire family were converted. Thus did God so early in our Christian experience, literally verify his own word.

“Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities for we know not what we should pray for as we ought but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.” — Editor.