I had a singular experience, which is very vivid to my mind. The precise year I cannot say, and I may be mistaken in the name of the vessel. But somewhere about the year 1860, the boat, Benjamin Burgess, sailed from Boston for Cienfugos. The crew were mostly from the house of which I had charge. There had been, and there still was, a powerful religious influence pervading our house. I said to the men as they were going on board: “Remember, I shall pray for you every day.” I made it a practice, directly after 12 M., to retire, and pray, and commune with God.
One day, after the ship had been gone about six weeks, while bringing up before the Lord the different cases, this crew was presented with unusual interest. I was thrown into an agony of feeling before God, and I cried to him to have mercy on that crew. Such were my feelings. I noted the time. After the terrible struggle in prayer for God to save that crew, with strong cries and tears, there came into my feeling a great peace, as though prayer were’ answered, and that crew made safe.
Unbeknown to me, the bark was chartered to go to Antwerp, and thence to Boston. On their arrival back, I said “Boys, did you have a hard time in either passage? ” “Yes,” said they, “a fearful time on the voyage from Cienfugos to Antwerp.
We were being driven upon the rocks in a terrible gale and storm. Captain Snow said to us: “Boys, there is no hope and no deliverance, unless God helps us; ” and sure enough, to our great astonishment, there came a wind from off the shore, and we were saved.” The day of my agony of prayer before the Lord for that crew, that they might be saved, was the day they were having that terrible experience on the bark. I have no comments to make on that experience. I simply give the facts in the case. – N. Hamilton, in Christian Witness.
A striking incident was communicated to the New York Press a few years ago, by a deeply humble minister. One of the leading members of his church was greatly distressed in his last sickness, on reviewing his mode of living and reflecting upon his family and the comparatively small sum he had given to the Lord’s cause. In every way the pastor endeavored to comfort him.
He spoke of his having given cheerfully, and as much as others did. He reminded him that the best of us are unprofitable servants, and must look to the, mercy of God in Christ as our only hope. The troubled man found no peace or comfort, but grew more and more uneasy, distressed and agonized as his end drew near. At last, taking the hand of his pastor, he said:
“Brother, I am going to the Judge unprepared to meet because you have been unfaithful to me. For years I lived, and taught my family to live largely for this world, have denied ourselves nothing, but spent thousands on comforts. When I gave hundreds to Christ and church it should have been thousands. My business energy and time and money have been mostly devoted to self–pleasing and gratification, and how can I meet my Judge and make an account of my stewardship? I am beyond recovery. Do what you can to save other professors who are in the current of worldly self-indulgence and extravagance, which is sweeping them to destruction. – Matlock.
The following is from the Journal of George Fox, the founder of the Society of Friends. Fox says of this wonderful occurrence
“Then I came again to Thomas Taylor’s, within three miles of Halifax, where was a meeting of about two hundred people, amongst which were many rude people, and divers butchers, several of whom had bound themselves with an oath before they came out, that they would kill me (as I was told); one of these butchers had been accused of killing a man and a woman.
They came in a very rude manner, and made a great disturbance in the meeting. The meeting being in a field, Thomas Taylor stood up, and said unto them: “If you will be civil, you may stay, but, if not, I charge you to be gone off my ground.”
But they were the worse, and said they would make it like a common; and they yelled, and made a noise, as if they had been at a bear-baiting. They thrust Friends up and down; and Friends, being peaceable, the Lord’s power came over them. Several times they thrust me off from the place I stood on, by the crowding of the people together against me; but still I was moved of the Lord to stand up again, as I was thrust down.
At last I was moved of the Lord to say unto them: “If they would discourse of the things of God, let them come up to me one by one; and if they had anything to say or to object, I would answer them all, one after another;” but they were all silent and had nothing to say.
And then the Lord’s power came so over them all, and answered the witness of God in them, that they were bound by the power of God; and a glorious, powerful meeting we had, and his power went over all; and the minds of the people were turned by the Spirit of God in them to God, and to Christ their teacher. The powerful word of Christ was largely declared that day; and in the life and power of God we broke up our meeting; and that rude company went their way to Halifax.
The people asked them why they did not kill me, according to the oath they had sworn; and they maliciously answered, that I had so bewitched them, that they could not do it. Thus was the devil chained at that time. Friends told me, that they used to come at other times, and be very rude; and sometimes break their stools and seats, and make frightful work amongst them; but the Lord’s power had now bound them.
Shortly after this, the butcher that had been accused of killing a man and a woman before, and who was one of them that had bound himself by an oath to kill me, killed another man, and then was sent to York jail.
Another of those rude butchers, who had also sworn to kill me, having accustomed himself to thrust his tongue out of his mouth, in derision of Friends when they passed by him, had it so swollen out of his mouth that he could never draw it in again, but died so.” — Shining Lights.
Trained religiously, I had reached a young man’s years before yealding to God. Prior to my conversion, thoughts of the ministry sometimes flashed across my mind; but it was only a flash. After my conversion, I was earnest for the welfare of others, and wanted to promote the interests of the church and of humanity. The conviction grew upon me that I must preach; yet I tried to put that away, because I feared I could never succeed. I saw the greatness of the work, and the reproachful poverty then connected with the itinerant ministry. There were two special difficulties in the way. First, I had no gift of speech. My voice was poor, and in school I always shunned oration. I firmly believed I could never make a speaker, and so chose the profession of medicine, which I studied three years in a professional school. I think I should have resolutely rejected the idea of the ministry, except that it seemed inseparably connected with my salvation. I fasted, I prayed for Divine direction; but I found no rest until, reading in the Bible one day, I found a passage which seemed especially written for me “Trust in the Lord with all thy heart; lean not to thine own understanding; in all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” I accepted it, and resolved to do whatever God in his providence should indicate by opening the way. I never told any friend the slightest intimation of my mental agony, but I took a more earnest part in the church services.
One Sunday I felt a strong impression that I ought to speak to the people at night in prayer-meeting, as we had no preaching. I said to myself: ” How shall I? For my friends will say I am foolish, as they know I cannot speak with interest.” Especially I dreaded an old uncle, who had been a father to me, and superintended my education. While I was discussing this matter with myself in the afternoon, my uncle came into the room, and, after a moment’s hesitation, said to me: “Don’t you think you could speak to the people tonight?” I was surprised and startled. I asked him if he thought I ought. He said, “Yes; I think you can do good.”
That night, for some strange reason, the house was crowded, and I made my first religious address to a public congregation. It was not written. It was not very well premeditated. It was simply an outgushing of a sincere and honest heart.
My mother was a widow. I was her eldest son, the only child remaining at home. I feared it would break her heart to leave her, and feared it would be impossible to do so. One day, after great embarrassment, I was induced to speak to my mother on the subject of my mental struggles, and tell her what I thought God required of me. I never shall forget how she turned to me with a smile, and said : “My son, I have been looking for this hour ever since you were born
She then told me how she and my dying father, who left me an infant, consecrated me to God, and prayed that, if it were His will, I might become a minister; and yet that mother had never dropped a word of intimation in my ear that she ever desired me to be a preacher. She believed so fully in the Divine call, that she would not bias my mind with even a suggestion of it in prayer.
That conversation settled my mind. Oh, what a blessing is a sainted mother! To-day I can feel her hands on my head, and I hear the intonation of her voice in prayer. – Bishop Simpson.
In a sketch of the life of Beate Paulus, the wife of a German minister who lived on the borders of the Black Forest, are several incidents which illustrate the power of living faith, and the providence of a prayer-hearing God.
Though destitute of wealth, she much desired to educate her children; and five of her six boys were placed in school, while she struggled, and prayed, and toiled, not only in the house, but out of doors, to provide for their necessities.
“On one occasion,” writes one of her children, “shortly before harvest, the fields stood thick with corn, and our mother had already calculated that their produce would suffice to meet all claims for the year. She was standing at the window casting the matter over in her mind, with great satisfaction, when her attention was suddenly caught by some heavy, black clouds with white borders, drifting at a great rate across the summer sky. ‘It is a hail-storm!’ she exclaimed, in dismay; and quickly throwing up the window, she leaned out. Her eyes rested upon a frightful mass of wild storm-clouds, covering the western horizon, and approaching with rapid fury.
“O God!” she cried, “there comes an awful tempest, and what is to become of my corn?” The black masses rolled nearer and nearer, while the ominous rushing movement that precedes a storm, began to rock the sultry air, and the dreaded hailstones fell with violence. Half beside herself with anxiety about those fields, lying at the eastern end of the valley, she now lifted her hands heavenward, and wringing them in terror, cried: “Dear Father in heaven, what art thou doing? Thou knowest I cannot manage to pay for my boys at school, without the produce of those fields! Oh! Turn Thy hand, and do not let the hail blast my hopes!”
Scarcely, however, had these words crossed her lips, when she started, for it seemed as if a voice had whispered in her ear:
“Is my arm shortened that it cannot help thee in other ways?” Abashed, she shrank into a quiet corner, and there entreated God to forgive her want of faith. In the meantime the storm passed. And now various neighbors hurried in, proclaiming that the whole valley lay thickly covered with hailstones, down to the very edge of the parsonage fields, but the latter had been quite spared. The storm had reached their border, and then suddenly taking another direction into the next valley. Moreover, that the whole village was in amazement, declaring that God had wrought a miracle for the sake of our mother whom he loved. She listened, silently adoring the goodness of the Lord, and vowing that henceforth her confidence should be only in Him.”
At another time she found herself unable to pay the expenses of the children’s schooling; and the repeated demands for money were rendered more grievous by the reproaches of her husband, who charged her with attempting impossibilities, and told her that her self-will would involve them in disgrace. She, however, professed her unwavering confidence that the Lord would soon interpose for their relief, while his answer was: “We shall see; time will show.”
In the midst of these trying circumstances, as her husband was one day sitting in his study, absorbed in meditation, the postman brought three letters from different towns where the boys were at school, each declaring that unless the dues were promptly settled, the lads would be dismissed. The father read the letters with growing excitement, and spreading them out upon the table before his wife as she entered the room, exclaimed: “There, look at them, and pay them with your faith! I have no money, nor can I tell where to look for any.”
“Seizing the papers, she rapidly glanced through them, with a very grave face, but then answered firmly: “It is all right; the business shall be settled. For He who says: “The gold and silver are mine,” will find it an easy thing to provide these sums.” Saying which she hastily left the room.
“Our father readily supposed she intended making her way to a certain rich friend who had helped us before. He was mistaken, for this time her steps turned in a different direction. We had in the parsonage an upper loft, shut off by a trap-door from the lower one, and over this door it was that she now knelt down, and began to deal with Him in whose strength she had undertaken the work of her children’s education. She spread before Him those letters from the study-table, and told him of her husband’s half-scoffing taunt. She also reminded Him how her life had been redeemed from the very gates of death, for the children’s sake, and then declared that she could not believe that He meant to forsake her at this juncture; she was willing to be the second whom He might forsake, but she was determined not to be the first.
“In the meanwhile, her husband waited down stairs, and night came on; but she did not appear. Supper was ready, and yet she stayed in the loft. Then the eldest girl, her namesake Beate, ran up to call her; but the answer was: “Take your supper without me; it is not time for me to eat.” Late in the evening, the little messenger was again dispatched, but returned with the reply: “Go to bed; the time has not come for me to rest.” A third time, at breakfast next morning, the girl called her mother. “Leave me alone,” she said, “I do not need breakfast; when I am ready I shall come.” Thus the hours sped on; and downstairs her husband and children began to feel frightened, not daring, however, to disturb her any more. At last the door opened, and she entered, her face beaming with a wonderful light.
The little daughter thought that something extraordinary must have happened; and running to her mother with open arms, asked eagerly: “What is it? Did an angel from heaven bring the money?” “No, my child” was the smiling answer; “but now I am sure that it will come.” She had hardly spoken, when a maid in peasant costume entered, saying: “The master of the Linden Inn sends to ask whether the Frau Pastorin can spare time to see him?” “Ah, I know what he wants,” answered our mother. “My best regards, and I will come at once.” Whereupon she started, and mine host, looking out of his window, saw her from afar, and came forward to welcome her with the words: “O madame, how glad I am you have come!”
Then leading her into his back parlor, he said: “I cannot tell how it is, but the whole of this last night I could not sleep for thinking of you. For some time I have had several hundred gulden lying in that chest, and all night long I was haunted by the thought that you needed this money, and that I ought to give it to you. If that be the case, there it is — take it; and do not trouble about repaying me. Should you be able to make it up again, well and good; if not, never mind.” On this my mother said: ‘Yes, I do most certainly need it, my kind friend; for all last night I too was awake, crying to God for help. Yesterday there came three letters, telling us that all our boys would be dismissed unless the money for their board is cleared at once.
“Is it really so?” exclaimed the inn-keeper, who was a noble-hearted and Christian man. “How strange and wonderful! Now I am doubly glad I asked you to come! Then opening the chest, he produced three weighty packets, and handed them to her with a prayer that God’s blessing might rest upon the gift. She accepted it with the simple Christian words: “May God make good to you this service of Christian sympathy; for you have acted as the steward of One who has promised not even to leave the giving of a cup of water unrewarded.”
“Husband and children were eagerly awaiting her home; and those three dismal letters still lay open on the table, when the mother, who had quitted that study in such deep emotion the day before, stepped up to her husband, radiant with joy. On each letter she laid a roll of money, and then cried: ‘Look, there it is! And now believe that faith in God is no empty madness!” — Wonders of Prayer.
This is my personal collection of thoughts and writings, mainly from much smarter people than I, which challenge me in my discipleship walk. Don't rush by these thoughts, but ponder them.
Milo 