53 Sermon Illustrations on Conversion Experience

In the spring of a.d. 372, a young man in great distress of mind flung himself on the ground and burst into tears. The sins of his youth weighed heavily on his soul. Overhearing a chance conversation from a neighboring house, he was led to read the thirteenth chapter of Romans, and as a result was gloriously converted. In the language of Gaussen, "Jesus had conquered, and the grand career of Augustine, the holiest of the fathers, then commenced. A passage of God's Word had kindled that glorious luminary, which was to enlighten the Church for ten centuries ... even to this present day. After thirty-one years of revolt, combats and misery-faith, life and eternal peace came to this erring soul; a new day, an eternal day, came upon it."

A little girl, in the days when the conversion of children was not the subject of as much prayer as now, applied for membership in a Baptist church. "Were you a sinner," asked an old deacon, "before this change of which you now speak?" "Yes, sir," she replied. "Well, are you now a sinner?" "Yes, sir, I feel I am a greater sinner than ever." "Then what change is there in you?" "I don't quite know how to explain it," she said, "but I used to be a sinner running after sin, and now I hope I am a sinner running from sin."

The hardest thing, I will admit, ever a man had to do is to become a Christian, and yet it is the easiest. This seems to many to be a paradox, but I will repeat it, it is the most difficult thing to become a Christian, and yet it is the easiest. I have a little nephew in this city. When he was about three or four years of age, he threw that Bible on the floor. I think a good deal of that Bible, and I don't like to see this. His mother said to him, "Go pick up uncle's Bible from the floor." "I won't," he replied. "Go and pick up that Bible directly." "I won't." "What did you say?" asked his mother. She thought he didn't understand. But he understood well enough, and had made up his mind that he wouldn't. She told the boy she would have to punish him if he didn't, and then he said he couldn't, and by and by he said he didn't want to. And that is the way with the people in coming to Christ. At first they say they won't, then they can't, and then they don't want to. The mother insisted upon the boy picking up the Bible, and he got down and put his arms around it and pretended he couldn't lift it. He was a great, healthy boy, and he could have picked it up easily enough. I was very anxious to see the fight carried on because she was a young mother, and if she didn't break that boy's will he was going to break her heart by and by. So she told him again if he didn't pick it up she would punish him, and the child just picked it up. It was very easy to do it when he made up his mind. So it is perfectly easy for men to accept the gospel. The trouble is they don't want to give up their will. If you want to be saved you must just accept that gospel--that Christ is your Saviour, that he is your Redeemer, and that he has rescued you from the curse of the law. Just say "Lord Jesus Christ, I trust you from this hour to save me," and the moment you take that stand he will put his loving arms around you and wrap about you the robe of righteousness.

When Mr. Sankey and I were in the north of England, I was preaching one evening, and before me sat a lady who was a skeptic. When I had finished, I asked all who were anxious, to remain. Nearly all remained, herself among the number. I asked her if she was a Christian, and she said she was not, nor did she care to be. I prayed for her there. On inquiry, I learned that she was a lady of good social position, but very worldly. She continued to attend the meetings, and in a week after I saw her in tears. After the sermon, I went to her and asked if she was of the same mind as before. She replied that Christ had come to her and she was happy. Last Autumn I had a note from her husband saying she was dead, that her love for the Master had continually increased. When I read that note, I felt paid for crossing the Atlantic. She worked sweetly after her conversion, and was the means of winning many of her fashionable friends to Christ. O, may you seek the Lord while He may be found, and may you call upon Him while He is near.

One writes, "A young lady once presented me with a bookmark having the inscription, 'God bless you!' and exacted the promise that it should be placed in my Bible, but never to remain a day opposite the same chapter. Faithful to my promise, I took it home; and, rubbing from the lids of my Bible the dust of a week, I placed it in the first chapter of Matthew, and daily read a chapter, and changed its place. I had not read long before I became interested as I had never been before in this good book; and I saw in it the truth that I was a sinner, and must repent if I would be saved. I then promised God that I would seek his face at the earliest opportunity, and, if he saw fit to convert my soul, that I would spend my life in this cause. It came. I sought his face, and received the smiles of his love; and now I have a hope within me 'big with immortality;' and all I do attribute to that bookmark and the grace of God."

A soldier given to excessive wickedness was deeply awakened. At the evening roll-call, he asked permission to say a few words. He spoke as follows: "Comrades, you know how wicked I have been, what a life I have led in this regiment. With God's help, this day Charley Rockwell turns over a new leaf, and begins to live as a Christian. He wants your forgiveness for the wrongs he has done, and asks you to join him in trying to serve Christ." He made his decision consistent by restoring his gambling gains, and became a happy Christian.

Thomas Bilney was an ardent young convert, and longed to do something for his Master. Hugh Latimer was a zealous Roman-Catholic priest, who preached against the Reformation. Bilney went to him, and told him that he wished to confess. In the privacy of the confessional, he told him the whole burning story of his conviction, conversion, and new-found happiness. The Spirit helped, and Latimer's heart was probed and changed. From that hour, Latimer gave his life to the cause he had before opposed, and sealed his testimony with his blood.

There was a man wounded in the first day's fight at Pittsburg Landing. He lay all Sunday night, in a tent held by the rebels, on the ground, in the mud, uncared for. During the long and terrible night, amid the rain, and roar of artillery, there came vividly back to him the text and all the argument of a sermon he had heard twenty years before. The next day, when our troops succeeded, he was rescued, and taken to St. Louis. The Holy Spirit sent home the impression of that night; and the seed, twenty years buried, sprang up, and brought forth fruit in his conversion. He lived six weeks to give testimony to God's goodness, and died in joy and hope; his last words being, "My God, my country, my mother!"

Vows are very common in Samoa. Horses, canoes, land, &c., were promised to the gods or their high priests, on condition of recovery from sickness. The same sort of thing is carried on still to a great extent. If a child is sick, his ungodly father may vow amendment, and attention to the word of God, on condition that the son recovers. In some cases, the conditional amendment ends in real conversion; but in most instances, perhaps, the party soon returns, like "the sow that was washed, to her wallowing in the mire." Turner.

A young man, a soldier, who was leading a dissolute life, was often reproved by a pious friend, but to no purpose. At last, his friend gave him a Bible; the young man immediately said, "I will cut it in pieces before your face;" which he instantly did with his sword, and ever after shunned his friend's company. About two years after this had occurred, he was brought to a sick and dying bed, and sent for his friend, and expressed a wish to have a Bible brought to him. He received it, and read it; and one day he clasped the book with both his hands, and exclaimed, "Oh that ever such a wretch as I should be permitted to read this blessed book, which I once cut in pieces! This book has now cut my sins in pieces, and led me to Christ as my Saviour. Oh that I could recall my property and murdered time: all, all should be spent in distributing this blessed book!" # 60. Conversion of Infidels.

When Mr. Occam, the Indian preacher, was in England, he visited Mr. Newton of London, and they compared experiences. "Mr. Occam," says Mr. Newton, "in describing to me the state of his heart, when he was a blind idolater, gave me, in general, a striking picture of what my own was in the early part of my life; and his subsequent views correspond with mine, as face answers to face in a glass, though I dare say, when he received them, he had never heard of Calvin's name."

# TH.

love of Jesus, and besought her by the dying compassion of the Son of God, to believe in his name. But still she refused to trust herself in his hands. Making one more effort, said I, 'Perhaps you do not understand precisely what you are to believe. You say, that you think that Christ is willing to save unto the uttermost all that come unto God, repenting of their sins. You say that you repent. Now, trusting with all your heart in the promises which he has made, believe that he is willing to save you.'

"A smile as from heaven played on her pale cheek, as she exclaimed, 'Is that it?' and trusting in Christ, she found joy. Lingering for many weeks afterwards, her faith never wavered; her views of divine things grew brighter and brighter; her confidence in God, deeper and stronger; and as death approached, she welcomed his coming as of a friend.

Some years ago, a vessel, which was blessed with a pious chaplain, and was bound to a distant part of the world, happened to be detained by contrary winds, over a Sabbath, at the Isle of Wight. The chaplain improved the opportunity to preach to the inhabitants. His text was, "Be clothed with humility." Among his hearers was a thoughtless girl, who had come to show her fine dress, rather than to be instructed. The sermon was the means of her conversion. Her name was Elizabeth Wallbridge, the celebrated DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER, whose interesting history, by Rev. Leigh Richmond, has been printed in various languages, and widely circulated, to the spiritual benefit of thousands. What a reward was this for a single sermon preached "out of season!"

Among other converts of Mr. Brainerd's, was a man who had been a most notorious sinner, a drunkard, a murderer, a conjurer; but who at length appeared to be an illustrious trophy of the power and the riches of Divine grace. He lived near the Forks of Delaware, and occasionally attended Mr. Brainerd's ministry; but, for a time, like many others of the Indians, was not at all reformed by the instructions which he enjoyed. About that very time he murdered a promising young Indian, and he still followed his old trade of conjuring, being held in high reputation among his countrymen. Hence, when Mr. Brainerd told them of the miracles of Christ, and represented them as a proof of his Divine mission, and of the truth of his religion, they immediately mentioned the wonders of the same kind which this man had wrought by his magical charms. As he was, in this manner, a powerful obstruction to the progress of the gospel among the Indians, Mr. Brainerd often thought it would be a great mercy if God were to remove him out of the world, for he had little or no hope that such a wretch would ever himself be converted; but He, "whose thoughts are not as our thoughts," was pleased to take a more gracious and a more effectual method of removing the difficulty.

Having been impressed by witnessing the baptism of Mr. Brainerd's interpreter, he followed him to Croosweeksung shortly after, and continued there several weeks during the season of the most remarkable and powerful awakening of the Indians. He was then brought under deep concern for his soul.

His convictions of his sinfulness and misery became by degrees more deep, and the anguish of his mind was so increased, that he knew not what to do, or whither to turn.

After continuing in his state of mind upwards of a week, he obtained such a view of the excellency of Christ, and of the way of salvation through him, that he burst into tears, and was filled with admiration, and gratitude, and praise. From that time he appeared a humble, devout, affectionate Christian.

A nobleman of great wealth, Lord —, was a man of the world. His pleasures were drawn from his riches—his honors and friends. His daughter was the idol of his heart. Much had been expended in her education: and well did she repay, in her intellectual endowments, the solicitude of her parents. She was highly accomplished, amiable in her disposition, and winning in her manners. They were all strangers to God. At length Miss — attended a Methodist meeting in London, was deeply awakened, and soon happily converted. Now she delighted in the service of the sanctuary and social religious meetings. To her the charms of Christianity were overpowering; frequenting those places where she met with congenial minds animated with similar hopes, she was often found in the house of God.

The change was marked by her fond father with awful solicitude. To see his lovely daughter thus infatuated, was to him occasion of deep grief, and he resolved to correct her erroneous notions on the subject of the real pleasures and business of life. He placed at her disposal large sums of money, hoping she would be induced to go into the fashions and extravagances of others of her birth, and leave the Methodist meetings, but she maintained her integrity. He took her on long and frequent journeys, conducted her in the most engaging manner, in order to divert her mind from religion; but she still delighted in the Savior. After failing in many projects which he fondly anticipated would be effectual in subduing the religious feelings of his daughter, he introduced her into company under such circumstances that she must either join in the recreation of the party or give high offence. Hope lighted up the countenance of the infatuated but misguided father, as he saw his snare about to entangle in its meshes the object of his solicitude. It had been arranged among his friends, that several young ladies should, on the approaching festive occasion, give a song, accompanied by the piano forte. The hour arrived—the party assembled. Several had performed their parts to the great delight of the party, who were in high spirits: Miss—was now called on for a song, and many hearts beat high in hope of victory. Should she decline, she was disgraced. Should she comply, their triumph was complete. This was the moment to seal her fate. With perfect self-possession she took her seat at the piano forte, ran her fingers over its keys, and commenced playing and singing in a sweet air, the following words:

No room for mirth or trifling here, For worldly hope or worldly fear, If life so soon is gone; If now the Judge is at the door, And all mankind must stand before The inexorable throne;

No matter which my thoughts employ, A moment's misery or joy; But Oh! when both shall end! Where shall I find my destined place? Shall I, my everlasting days, With fiends or angels spend?

She arose from her seat. The whole party was subdued. Not a word was spoken. Her father wept aloud. One by one they left the house. Lord—never rested till he became a Christian. He lived an example of Christian benevolence—having given to benevolent Christian enterprises, at the time of his death, nearly half a million of dollars.

The conversion of Dr. Vanderkemp was preceded by a very remarkable interposition of the providence of God, in the preservation of his life. He was sailing on the river near Dort, in company with his wife and daughter, when a violent storm arose, and a water-spout broke on the boat, by which it was instantly overset. Mrs. and Miss Vanderkemp were immediately drowned; and the survivor, clinging to the boat, was carried down the stream nearly a mile; no one daring, in so dreadful a storm, to venture from the shore to his assistance. A vessel then lying in the port of Dort, was by the violence of the storm driven from her moorings, and floated towards the part of the river in which he was, just ready to perish; and the sailors took him from the wreck. Thus remarkably was a life preserved, which was afterwards to be employed for the advantage of mankind, and for the propagation of that faith which he had labored to destroy. The sudden loss of his earthly comforts, and his long struggle against a painful death, softened his hard heart, shook the infidel principles he had hitherto cherished, and ended in the consecration of his life to the cause of God.

A minister from England being at Edinburgh, was accosted very civilly by a young man in the street, with an apology for the liberty he was taking: "I think, sir," said he, "I have heard you at Spafield's chapel." "You probably may, sir; for I have some times ministered there." "Do you remember," said he, "a note put up by an afflicted widow, begging the prayers of the congregation for the conversion of an ungodly son?" "I do very well remember such a circumstance." "Sir," said he, "I am the very person; and, wonderful to tell, the prayer was effectual. Going on a frolic with some other abandoned young men, one Sunday, through the Spafields, and passing by the chapel, I was struck with its appearance, and hearing it was a Methodist chapel, we agreed to mingle with the crowd, and stop for a few minutes to laugh and mock at the preacher and the people. We had only just entered the chapel, when you, sir, read the note, requesting the prayers of the congregation for an afflicted widow's son. I heard it with a sensation I cannot express. I was struck to the heart; and, though I had no idea that I was the very individual meant, I felt that it expressed the bitterness of a widow's heart, who had a child as wicked as I knew myself to be. My mind was instantly solemnized. I could not laugh; my attention was riveted on the preacher. I heard his prayer and sermon with an impression very different from that which had carried me into the chapel. From that moment, the truths of the gospel penetrated my heart; I joined the congregation; cried to God in Christ for mercy, found peace in believing, and became my mother's comfort, as I had long been her heavy cross.

(A) THE PERSECUTING FATHER AND HIS DAUGHTER.— During a series of religious meetings, held in the school-house of a small village, a very little girl became much interested for the salvation of her soul. Her father, a hater of holiness, who lived next door to the place of meeting, finding that his little daughter was much interested in the meetings, and had been forward to be prayed for, strictly forbade her again entering the "house of prayer." The poor little girl was much oppressed, and knew not what to do, but obeyed her father until the next meeting was nearly half through, then slipping out without his knowledge, and getting through a hole in the back yard fence, she hastily ran to the meeting. It was some time before her father missed her, but when he found her gone, he went immediately to the meeting, where she was on her knees, with others whom the people of God were praying for. So enraged was he, that he went directly forward, and took her in his arms, to carry her from the place. As he raised her from her knees, she looked up with a heavenly smile, and said, "It is too late now, pa; I have given my heart to the Savior." This was too much for the hardened sinner: he too sunk on his knees, while he was prayed for; and very soon he found that Savior he had in vain attempted to shut out from his daughter's heart.

# 350. Overruling various forms of Wickedness.

When the Rev. G. Whitefield and J. Wesley commenced their zealous and successful labors, there was a very prevalent disposition to oppose and misrepresent them. Many of the public-houses became places where their doctrines and zeal were talked of and ridiculed. Mr. Thorpe, and several other young men in Yorkshire, undertook at one of these parties to mimic the preaching of these good men. The proposition met with applause; one after another stood on a table to perform his part, and it devolved on Mr. T. to close this very irreverent scene. Much elated, and confident of success, he exclaimed, as he ascended the table, "I shall beat you all." Who would have supposed that the mercy of God was now about to be extended to this transgressor of his law! The Bible was handed to him; and, by the guidance of unerring Providence, it opened at Luke 13: 3. "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." The moment he read the text his mind was impressed in a most extraordinary manner; he saw clearly the nature and importance of the subject; and as he afterwards said, if he ever preached with the assistance of the Holy Spirit, it was at that time. His address produced a feeling of depression in his auditors; and, when he had finished, he instantly retired to weep over his sins: he associated with the people of God; and became a useful minister of the New Testament, and died at Masborough, in 1776.

A young man of the city of Norwich, (Eng.), about eighteen years of age, was walking one morning with several companions, who had agreed on that day to take their pleasure. The first object that attracted attention was an old woman, who pretended to tell fortunes. They immediately employed her to tell theirs, and that they might qualify her for the undertaking, first made her thoroughly intoxicated. The young man, of whom mention was first made, was informed, among other things, that he would live to a very old age, and see his children, grandchildren, and greatgrandchildren growing up around him. Though he had assisted in intoxicating the old woman, he had credulity enough to be struck with those parts of the prediction which related to himself. "And so," said he, when alone, "I am to see children, grandchildren, and greatgrandchildren! At this age, I must be a burden to the young people. What shall I do? There is no way for an old man to render himself more agreeable to youth, than by sitting and telling them pleasant and profitable stories. I will then," thought he, "during my youth, endeavor to store my mind with all kinds of knowledge. I will see and hear, and note down every thing that is rare and wonderful, that I may sit, when incapable of other employments, and entertain my descendants. Thus shall my company be rendered pleasant, and I shall be respected, rather than neglected, in old age. Let me see, what can I acquire first? Oh! here is the famous methodist preacher, Whitefield; he is to preach, they say, to-night—I will go and hear him."

From these strange motives the young man declared he went to hear Mr. Whitefield. He preached that evening from Matthew, 3: 7. "But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees come to his baptism, he said unto them, O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come?" "Mr. Whitefield," said the young man, "described the Sadducees' character; this did not touch me; I thought myself as good a Christian as any man in England. From this he went to that of the Pharisees. He described their exterior decency, but observed, that the poison of the viper rankled in their hearts. This rather shook me. At length, in the course of his sermon, he abruptly broke off; paused for a few moments; then burst into a flood of tears; lifted up his hands and eyes, and exclaimed, 'Oh, my hearers! the wrath's to come! the wrath's to come!' These words sunk into my heart, like lead in the waters; I wept, and, when the sermon was ended, retired alone. For days and weeks could think of little else. Those awful words would follow me wherever I went, 'The wrath's to come! the wrath's to come!' The issue was, that the young man soon after made a public profession of religion, in a little time became an eminent preacher, and he himself related these circumstances to the late Rev. Andrew Fuller of Kettering.

An aged Christian in Berwick upon the Tweed, England, gave a visitor of the poor the following account of his conversion. He said, that previous to the Lord's meeting with him, he was a notoriously wicked character, and, among many other vices, he was much addicted to drinking to excess. On a certain occasion, he had, what he termed, broke out, and had been in a state of intoxication for, I think he said, a fortnight. When the effects of the liquor left him, and he began to come to himself, his spirits sunk unusually low, and guilt and remorse preyed on his mind so much, that he was driven to despair, and felt himself so miserable, that he determined on the rash act of putting an end to his existence; he accordingly procured a rope to hang himself. At that time, his wife, who was a truly pious woman, was at Spafields chapel. A thought came into his mind, that he should like his wife to know his fate soon after he was dead; this induced him to go round the back of the chapel, to seek for a convenient place to commit the fatal deed, expecting that when the congregation came out he should be found dead, and that his wife would be informed. When passing the back of the chapel, with the rope in his pocket, the sound of the minister's voice caught his ear, and induced him to go and look in at the door. At the instant the minister was preaching, in a very animated manner, on the efficacy of the blood of Christ to cleanse the guilty conscience, stated that the Savior was able and willing to save the vilest rebels, and then gave a most pressing invitation to the chief of sinners, saying,

"Come and welcome, come and welcome, All that feel your need of him." These and similar sentences so penetrated his heart, that they produced feelings which are easier conceived than described.

When the service was over, he went home, fell on his knees, and cried for mercy. His wife was, at first, astounded at the wonderful change; but, on inquiry, she found the Lord had answered her prayer in behalf of her husband.

A deist whose infidelity was shaken by the conversation of his little daughter, who attended a Sabbath school, was induced to attend the preaching of the gospel. The Holy Spirit accompanied it with his blessing. On the following November 5th, he convened his family together, and having made a bonfire of his infidel books, they all joined in singing that hymn, "Come let us join our cheerful songs." &c.

In a certain school in New England, in 1832, sixty-one out of fifteen classes of 160 pupils, under 16 years of age, became hopefully pious. In six classes, embracing 71 young persons over 16 years of age, sixty indulged hope that they had passed from death unto life, making in all ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-ONE who became hopefully pious, in a school of 231 scholars.

A pastor's wife solicited a little boy whose father was dissolute in his habits and skeptical in his sentiments, to attend the Sabbath school. He obtained consent of his parents, came the following Sabbath, and took his place in the class. Books were served out to him among the rest; he carried them home; they were read. This had a tendency to draw his father out to church, to hear preaching, and lectures on the subject of temperance. At one of the lectures, the pastor presented the pledge to him—he signed it with his own hand. Very soon the pastor was sent for to pray and converse with him on the subject of religion. In short, he found the husband and wife both deeply convicted on account of their sins! They were converted, baptized, and added to the church. They both honored their profession. The husband became an active, zealous member of the church. His efforts were untiring, his prayers simple, fervent and effective.

At the annual meeting of the Religious Tract Society, in 1832, John Fyson, Esq., of Thetford, stated among others, the following pleasing facts:—

A tract distributor, in passing through a village a few miles from where he lived, met a man, whom he asked if he could read; and, on being answered in the affirmative, he gave him a tract on drunkenness. The man went to a woman who stood at her door, and said, "You have been telling that man I'm a drunkard." The woman of course denied it. The man said, "You know that I am the greatest drunkard in the village, and you told him so, or he would not have given me this book." The woman again said she had not, and added, "But he has hit the right nail on the head."—The tract proved the means of converting this man. As the first fruits of this reformation, he went to his aged father, whom he had frequently beaten, fell on his knees, and begged his pardon. After this he was engaged at harvest, at which, according to custom, the farmer gave a feast. He saw an old companion there; and, calling him out, told him, that unless he left off drunkenness, and became sober, he could not associate with him any more. The man burst into tears, and told him he had left it off, and that, in fact, he had also been reformed, through the instrumentality of a tract. He, Mr. Fyson, had been told, by the master of the man himself, that he was astonished at the change in him, it was so great. A clergy can called upon him, Mr. Fyson, and expressed his great joy at what had taken place in his parish, which had originated from some young men whom he had sent to distribute tracts; the people had become regular in their attendance at the parish church, and the congregation was trebled.

As I was passing from house to house, on the second week in January, (says one) inviting all to attend public worship, then held every evening, a shoemaker, about middle age, replied, "No; I can't attend. We are on the point of starvation, and it takes me morning, noon and night to get something to live on. I used to go; but I have been a hard character these last nine years, and we now see the consequences of it." Who can tell, thought I, but here is an immortal spirit that may yet be a star in the Redeemer's crown; and does not his providence beckon me here to concentrate humble prayer and efforts? I called the next day, and found he was the son of a Methodist preacher in Ireland. That for about nine years he had frequented the grog-shop, and often reveled in gross intoxication, which led to quarrels, abuse of his family, and want of bread to satisfy their hunger. His Sabbaths were whiled away among intemperate companions; he had become an advocate of infidelity, and for about three years had not entered the sanctuary. After a miserable fight, a few days before I saw him, from which he reached home at three in the morning, no unusual hour, he was about to take the law of his antagonist, when he said to himself; "What a fool I am. I am reduced to poverty and misery; my wife and children are wretched, and it is all from strong drink and my ungodly associates. Henceforward, God helping me, not another drop, and no more of such company."

When I manifested an interest in his moral and spiritual welfare, he grasped me, as if I had been a deliverer sent from heaven. He felt that the resistless temptation lay in his companions, and that he must get a new train of social influences, or he was lost. I preached to him "Christ crucified"—sin, and salvation from sin through atoning blood; and as I saw him almost daily, for many weeks, I found, all the way, that his sorrow for sin, discernment of the plan of salvation, love of the Bible and of the people and sanctuary of God, went forward of my anticipations, so that I seemed rather to be watching how the Spirit taught him, than teaching him myself.

His clothes, and his wife's clothes, which had been pawned, were early redeemed, with other aid, that they might go to the house of God; and he was helped to resume his business with more energy and advantage. He early gave his name to the total abstinence pledge; read me letters received in the days of his folly from his father, which rebuked him terribly, especially for abuse of his amiable wife; and again and again he poured out the full sorrows of his heart over his heaven-daring sins. At one time, raising his right hand clenched, "There," said he, "are five bones which have been put out of joint in fighting in my revels. I have been a great sinner, and it is a wonder I have not been cut off and sent to hell. I have been guilty of every sin but murder—yes, and of that, too, a thousand times—I murdered Him who was murdered for me."

Speaking of the anguish caused by his sins, I said, "Yes, but confessing them to God, there's a pleasure in the pain." "Yes," said he seriously, in a meditating mood, "there is—it is so—I know it—I feel it."

Soon he began to see more clearly the sins of his heart, and even when hoping in Christ, declared that the sin and short-coming of every day appeared to him, and were, probably, in the sight of the heart-searching God more heinous than were his outbreaking sins, which were against less light and mercy. All the earth, it would seem, would not shake his purpose to trust evermore wholly and alone in Christ, and join himself irrevocably to his cause and people.

But he did not come alone. His wife would sit in silence, listening to all that was said. I knew she rejoiced in her husband's temperance; but feared that our religious conversation would pall upon her ear. Sometimes I said: "I want you to take each other by the hand, and come together—place your feet on the Rock of Ages, and devote yourselves to the service of Christ; train up your children for him; be a family for God, and nothing will turn you aside." To my surprise I soon found that her heart had sympathized in all she had heard; and she seemed as steadfastly determined to serve the Lord as was her husband; and at length she told me that the last three days had been the happiest of her life. The care of her little ones, and a want of clothing which for some time I did not ascertain, had detained her from the house of God; but when, after about ten weeks, her husband proposed to join the church, she felt that she also must claim to eat of "the children's bread." The evidence of their saving conversion was deemed satisfactory, and we, last Sabbath, sat down together at the table of our common Lord.

The bonds that bound them to their old associates are broken, and their friends are the friends of Zion. They cheerfully bear their privations; erected, some weeks since, the family altar; their children were in the Sabbath school; and now the first sound that strikes the ear of the father, as he wakes at peace with God, is often their morning hymn of praise. The Bible and the place of prayer are loved; and not unfrequently he, who once scoffed, points me to passages, especially in Paul's epistles, so rich in the fullness and glory of the gospel and of the cross, that I must believe he will have a harp to strike to his Redeemer's praise for ever and ever.

My own soul has been richly blessed in these interviews. I thank and praise God for them and for what he has done. Give me the joy of such labors, and it is enough, till I join the song of, I trust, these and all redeemed spirits before the throne.

A pious young physician called on a gentleman one day, after friendly salutations and expressions, of Christian affection, said, "Do you know, sir, how much I am indebted to you, for giving me a tract many years ago?" His friend told him he had no knowledge of ever presenting him with one; but recollecting that the father of this young physician formerly kept a turnpike-gate, and that often, when he stopped to pay his toll, he used to give tracts to the children who were playing about the door, it occurred to him a spos-sible, that he might have given him one on some of these occasions. "When I was a boy," said the physician, "you gave me a tract, as you were riding by my father's house, and the first words that caught my eye were, 'Stop, poor sinner! stop, and think.' I was much affected with the whole hymn beginning with these words, and committed it to memory. Five years ago, while a member of an university, in a time of universal attention to religion, I was present at a meeting for prayer and other devotional exercises, when they commenced singing the hymn, 'Stop, poor sinner! stop, and think.' My early impressions were all instantly revived: I saw that I was ruined by sin; that an eternity of woe was before me; and I found no peace till I looked to the Savior who was crucified for me; and, as I hope, by true repentance and faith in his blood, gave myself to him, to be his for ever." This student became an active, pious, praying physician.

# 419. Converts becoming Ministers.