79 Sermon Illustrations on Repentance Needed

Latimer was obliged to attend the parliament and the convocation, but he always avoided meddling in state affairs, and never stayed in London longer than he could help. Once he was in town on new-year's day, at which season it was customary for the bishops and nobility, then at court, to make presents to the king: some of the former gave considerable sums of money, in proportion to their expectations; but Latimer's gift was more simple, and highly characteristic of himself. It was a New Testament, with a leaf doubled down at Hebrews xiii. 4: "Whoremongers and adulterers God will judge!" Henry the Eighth, forcibly as he must have felt this rebuke of his sins, did not appear offended, but manifested decided kindness to his reprover. Bad men seldom despise those whose holy and consistent character condemns their wicked conduct.

In the course of the forenoon of yesterday, says the New York Statesman, for 183—, a person called at the office of Messrs. Beers and Bunnell, and handed to Mr. Beers the sum of twenty dollars, stating that it was from a young man who, in changing money for his master, received that sum above what he should have received, at Beers and Bunnell's office, and, without saying any thing of it to his master, appropriated it to his own use. The person who handed in the money declined giving the name of the conscience-struck young man, but observed that he was lying on a bed of sickness, probably of death, and that he could not rest in view of the hereafter, till the money had been returned as evidence of his bitter contrition.

"Sabbath schools would have saved me from the gallows; but they were fifteen years too late for me," muttered the abandoned Gibbs, a few days before his execution. But the history of this pirate is not the only one that furnishes occasion for such a declaration. Hundreds before him, who have shed innocent blood, might as justly have said, if we had been instructed in Sabbath schools, they would have saved us from this ignominious death on the scaffold!

MEETING.—An interesting and intelligent young man in Canada, gave decisive evidence of a change of heart, and made a profession of religion. The church had strong hopes of his usefulness, and the firmest confidence in his piety; but, for some time they were much tried, in consequence of his leaning to the doctrine of universal salvation. For years the church was without any communion or regular preaching. He wandered away from God and his brethren; and, for a time, even the most sanguine had almost given him up. He had not, however, utterly lost a sense of divine things and his own duty. And the singular proposal which he made to his Universalist friends, and the result, brought him to doubt, more than ever, the practical tendency of their sentiments. As some of them worked in the same shop, he one day asked them, "Why don't you pray—why don't you have a prayer meeting? If I am going to be a Universalist, I am going to have a prayer meeting." They found he was in good earnest. A Universalist prayer meeting! How and by whom should it be conducted? The proposal was not seconded. He did not succeed. Reflection, and the merciful interposition of God, seemed to humble him, and brought him back to the prayer meeting and the communion of the church.

THEORY REDUCED TO PRACTICE.—A young man in A., N. Y., had been visited by a sad misfortune, and life had now but few attractions for him. In this state of mind he paid a visit to a Universalist minister, and concealing his purpose, questioned him very pointedly about his belief respecting the future destiny of different classes of evildoers. "Do you sincerely believe that the drunkard will be saved? Will the robber? Will the murderer? WILL THE SUICIDE?" To all these questions the minister promptly replied in the affirmative; it was his firm conviction that, according to reason and Scripture, all men, in whatever manner they lived or died, would be happy after death. After hearing his views on this subject, the young man went back to the store in which he was clerk, and committed suicide in a manner too shocking to detail. The next morning he was found dead in his room, having literally cut himself to pieces. The facts occurred at A. in 1844, and caused a great excitement at the time.

# 425. Absurdity and Folly of Universalism.

As the Rev. Mr. ——, a minister in Manchester, England, (1800,) was going to a Sunday school, he was met by a man, who inquired, with much anxiety, whether he was a minister. On being told that he was, "O, sir," he replied, "will you be so kind as to go and see a poor man who is dying, quite in despair?" The minister said, "I am going to a Sunday school; will it not do if I go and see him to-morrow?" "Oh, no," replied the man, "he will be dead before to-morrow." The minister, therefore, instantly complied with his request. When he entered the room, the wretched man, in the agonies of death, cried out that he was undone for ever—that there was no hope for him. At that moment four of his companions came in. When he saw them, he burst forth into a rage of anger, and uttered such dreadful oaths and curses, accusing them as the authors of all his misery, that they instantly left the room, seemingly in surprise and terror. When they were gone, the minister began to talk to him and repeated some suitable passages of Scripture. "That book," cried the dying man, "might have done for me now, but I have burnt it!" The good minister, knowing the power of prayer and that many a sinner had found for giveness, even at the eleventh hour, urged him to pray. Instantly he cried out, in accents most dreadful, "I can't pray, and I won't pray!" He then turned his head on his pillow, and expired!

"Should all the forms that men devise, Assault my faith with treacherous art, I'd call them vanity and lies, And bind the Bible to my heart."

BUOY.—Said a youth to one of the secretaries of the Bethel Companies: "I sailed from London in a Scotch vessel for the West Indies, second mate, the most abandoned wretch that ever sailed on salt water, particularly noted for profane swearing. Our captain, though a good seaman, and kind to his ship's company, cared not either for his own soul, or for the souls of his ship's crew. We had been at sea about sixteen days, when one night, during my watch on deck, a sudden puff of wind caused the vessel to give a heavy lurch. Not being prepared to meet it, I was capsized, and came head on against one of the stanchions. Feeling much hurt, I gave vent to my anger, by a dreadful oath, cursing the wind, the ship, the sea, and (awful to mention) the Being who made them. Scarce had this horrid oath escaped me when it appeared to roll back upon my mind with so frightful an image, that I ran aft, and for a moment or two thought I saw the sea parting, and the vessel going down. All that night my awful oath was passing before my eyes like a spectre, and its consequences, my certain damnation. For several days I was miserable; ashamed to say the cause. I asked one of the men for a book; he gave me one of Rousseau's novels. I asked him for a Testament; and he sneeringly answered by asking me if I was going to die. He never troubled himself with these things; he left Bibles and prayer-books to the priests. Several days thus passed in the greatest torment, this dreadful oath always before me, and the devil continually harassing me with the dreadful thought, "I shall be damned, I shall be damned." I could not pray; indeed, I thought it of no use. On the fifth day I was turning over some things in my chest, when I found some trifles I had purchased for seastock wrapped in paper—this piece of paper (putting his hand at the same time into his pocket, and from a small red case taking out a leaf containing nearly the whole of the first chapter of Isaiah) oh! how my heart throbbed, when I found it a part of the Bible! But, sir," said he with a tear, "conceive what I felt at these words, 'Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool!'" He paused to wipe away the tears. Indeed, says the Secretary, my eyes needed wiping too. "O, sir," he continued, "like a drowning man I clung to this life-buoy; on this I laid my soul, while the billows were going over me. I prayed, and the Lord was graciously pleased to remove in some measure the great guilt from my conscience, though I continued mournful and bowed down until last evening, on board the Mayflower, I stowed away among the Bethel Company. There the Lord spoke my pardon and peace. I am now like poor Legion, going home to my friends to tell them what great things the Lord has done for me. Farewell, sir." "Farewell, my lad; the Lord go with you."

# 69. Conversion of the Profligate and Vicious.

At a public meeting of the London City Mission, in 1836, the Rev. R. Ainslie related the following fact:—An infidel allowed his wife to send their two children to a Sunday school. One of them, not long after, was seized with illness, and it soon appeared, from the nature of the disease, he could not recover. The father came home, on the last evening of the child's life, from an infidel meeting, under the influence of the sentiments and principles usually taught in such societies, when his wife said to him, "James is dying." The father went up stairs, approached the bed-side of his dying child, and while the father was looking upon him, the child said, "Father, I am very happy; I am going to heaven; will you meet me there, father?" and immediately expired. This appeal was too much for him. Uttered with so much simplicity, and dictated by the Eternal Spirit, it was engraven upon the tablet of his heart as with a pen of iron upon lead, and sculptured there forever. He made many efforts to efface the impression from his mind, but without effect. He confesses, that he was a drunkard, a blasphemer, and, to use his own language, "the vilest wretch out of hell." The appeal continued to be more and more affecting to him, and on one Sabbath, having driven a party a few miles from town, for he was the driver of a fly, he put up his horses quickly, and went to church One of the lessons for the day was 2 Sam. xiii., containing the reflections of David on the death of his child. When he heard the words, "I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me," he thought, "It is impossible." His past life and infidel ridicule of heaven forbade the hope that he should ever meet his child in that happy world. Still his mind was greatly distressed. He had no pious friend; he could get neither light nor peace in this season of mental anguish. An agent of the City Mission at length called upon him; the man disclosed his state of mind, and the instructions, counsels, and prayers of the agent were blessed by the Holy Spirit: the man has renounced his infidelity—his character is entirely changed; he and his wife are regularly worshippers in the house of God, and he is now cherishing the hope, that he shall meet his child in heaven.

“About twenty years ago,” said a dying man, in G—, New-York, “I was convinced of sin; and so pungent were my convictions, that my life seemed insupportable. Instead of going, as urged by the word and Spirit of God, to him who gives rest to the weary and heavy-laden, I retired to a grove—knelt before God; but instead of pleading for his reconciled favor, prayed that he

# HONE:

# 197. Examples of.

A young lady in one of the large cities, (says the N. Y. Evangelist), of good native talent, was once condemning her folly, in terms of deepest regret, for cultivating her taste for novel reading. She had lately become pious, and now found to her sorrow, that her imagination had become so fascinated, and her taste so vitiated by this pernicious reading, that she could fix on nothing permanent, and said she, "Were it in my power, I could make any earthly sacrifice, could I thirst after the Bible, as I have after novels; and the greatest daily cross I am called to take up, is to pass by a novel without reading it. I would say it as a warning to all my sex, beware of this fatal rock; beware of wasting not only days but nights, to make yourselves fools all the rest of your days, if not absolutely wretched." This is a frank confession, which might be made by multitudes who are ciphers in society, because they have no fund within; for novels ever so attentively read, will furnish none.

A man in the state of New-York, who was extremely addicted to profane swearing, was one day at work with a yoke of oxen near his house The oxen not working to suit him, he began whipping them severely, at the same time uttering vollies of most horrid blasphemous oaths. The oxen breaking loose from their burthen, ran to the house, while the owner in a passion pursued them, and coming up with them at the house, began whipping them again, and swearing horridly as before. His little boy, at this time just old enough to begin to talk, began to prattle his profane oaths over after him. No sooner did the father hear this, than his feelings were wrought up to a lively sensibility. He paused for a moment, dropt his whip, sat down and wept bitterly. A flood of keen reflections at once rushed upon his convicted conscience, which produced such an effect, that he found no rest to his mind, day nor night, until his sins were forgiven and washed away in the blood of Christ, which took place a few weeks afterwards.

It is often the case that some comparatively slight deviation from duty on the part of the Christian causes him more remorse of conscience than the outbreaking sins of the impenitent. Rev. Mr. D., of Michigan, states that soon after his conversion, when a boy some fourteen years of age, he was standing at the door, and in a playful mood, pulling back and forth a sled belonging to his younger brother. The child saw him, and cried aloud as if some great outrage was being done to his property. Upon this Mr. D. was so much exasperated, that he hastily snatched up the sled and threw it over the fence. To most impenitent persons who should do such a deed, it would cause little afterthought or regret. But not so with the young convert. His conscience severely accused him; his convictions before his conversion were scarce more absorbing and severe. He felt he had treated his little brother unkindly and maliciously—acted inconsistently with his profession—above all, he had sinned, as he felt, against God. His agony of mind was distressing and awful; and it was not till he had wept and prayed, confessed his sins to God, to his brother whom he had injured, and his mother who had witnessed his conduct, that he felt forgiven or found relief to his conscience. Did that young convert suffer more than he deserved? Then he suffered unjustly, and the present retribution of conscience is evidently imperfect. Did he suffer no more than he deserved? Thousands of hardened sinners commit offences a hundred-fold more flagrant and feel little or no compunction. Justice, therefore, is not done in this life, and it must be done in another.

# 358. Because they take Delight in their Wickedness.

The Rev. John Wesley once traveled in a stage coach with a young officer, who swore and uttered curses upon himself in almost every sentence. Mr. W. asked him if he had read the Common Prayer Book; for, if he had, he might remember that collect beginning, "O God, who art ever more ready to hear than we are to pray, and art wont to give more than either we desire or deserve." The young gentleman, who had contracted a very common, but despicably vulgar and sinful habit, had the good sense to make the application, and behave accordingly.

A young Jew, who had been admitted into an asylum for the benefit of that nation, near Dusseldorf, in the Prussian dominions, after having long given profaneness, was without words. He happened to be crossing a ferry with Dr. John H. Rice. On account of shallows, the boat could not be brought to land, and they were carried to the shore by the black ferryman. One of these was so careless as to suffer Judge H.'s clothes to become wetted, and the latter expressed his anger by an imprecation. Dr. Rice, without saying a word, turned to him his large speaking eye, with sorrowful expression. "I never so felt a reproof," said the judge, "in my life; and instantly begged his pardon. 'Ask pardon of God,' said Dr. Rice. I shall never forget it." At this time Judge H. was entirely ignorant who his reprover was.

# SITUATION pain by his improper behavior, became very deeply impressed under a sermon, preached by the Rev. Mr. Schmidt, and afterwards furnished evidence that his impressions were deep and abiding.

In the course of one of his sermons, the minister, to whom we have referred, was led to speak of persons who glory in their shame, and even boast of their crimes in having robbed or defrauded their neighbors. This young man became visibly affected, turned pale, fell into fits, and was carried out of the place. He was afterwards visited by the minister, to whom he exclaimed, "I am lost; lost without remedy." In the course of the conversation, he confessed that he had robbed a widow of one thousand dollars, and that his life had been one whole series of awful crimes. The minister did not attempt to palliate his sins, but explained to him the atonement of Jesus, and the efficacy of his blood to take away all sin, encouraging him in this way to seek pardon. This at length afforded him rest. He now felt it his duty to travel to the residence of the widow, to acknowledge his crime, and thus to subject himself to the punishment of the law. When he was last heard of, he had set out on his journey, with the determination that, if the widow did not prosecute him, he would, by his labor, pay the debt due to her.

A gentleman in — attended the preaching of Dr. Clarke, and was deeply convinced of sin. With strong prayer and tears he sought pardon, but found not. Being confined by sickness soon after, he sent for Dr. Clarke, who came; but learning how long he had mourned, and with what earnestness he had sought salvation, he secretly wondered at God's so long withholding freedom from such deep repentance; and finding the lamp of life burning low, and mental agony hurrying on its extinction, with tender but firm language he said, "It is not often, Mr. —, that God thus deals with a soul so deeply humbled as yours, and in his own appointed way seeking redemption. Sir, there must be a cause. You have left something undone which it is your duty and interest to have done. God judge between you and it."

Fixing his eyes intently on Dr. Clarke, the gentleman gave the following narration: "In the year — I was at —, and took my passage in the ship — for England. Before sailing, some merchants put on board a small bag of dollars, which were given in charge to the captain for such and such parties. I saw the transaction, and noticed the captain's carelessness, who left the bag day after day rolling upon the locker. For the simple purpose of frightening him, I hid it. He made no inquiries, and we arrived at —. I still retained it till it should be missed. Months passed, and still no inquiry was made. The parties to whom it had been consigned came to the captain for it. He remembered receiving it in charge, but no more. It must have been left behind. Search was made, letters written, but it could not be found. All this occupied some months. I had now become alarmed and ashamed to confess, lest I should implicate my character.

"The captain was sued, and, having nothing to pay, was cast into prison. He maintained his innocence as to the theft, but confessed his carelessness. He languished two years in prison, and died. Guilt had by this time hardened my mind. I strove to be happy in the amusements of the world, but all in vain. Under your preaching the voice of God broke in upon my conscience. I have agonized at the throne of mercy for the sake of Christ for pardon; but God is deaf to my prayer. I must go down to the grave unpardoned, unsaved."

Dr. Clarke suggested to the dying penitent that God claimed from him not only repentance, but restitution. The widow and fatherless children still lived. The gentleman readily consented. The sum, with interest and compound interest, was made up and given to the widow, to whom the circumstances were made known. The dying man's mind was calmed, and soon, in firm hope of pardon, he died.

When certain persons attempted to persuade Stephen, king of Poland, pleasing God. With eyes beaming with joy, through tears that yet trembled on their surface, he determined now to quit the detestable practice of swearing, and take his father's godly example. Enraptured at the thought of having so easy an opportunity of convincing his father of the great change that had taken place in his mind, and with a voice as sweet as infant lips could speak, he said, "Father, give me a chew of tobacco!"

I will not attempt to describe the father's feelings; I will leave that to the reader. But what did the father do? what could he do? Could he contradict himself? Could he convince the child that it was right for the father to do a thing, and wrong for the son? No, no. With a conscience already awakened, by previous light, and having half-heartedly attempted to abandon the evil before—with a conscience now driving lashes inconceivably severe, the tobacco was tossed into the street, with this candid confession:

"My son, I have done wrong; I will now ask God to help me that I may do so no more. Will you ask God to help you that you may swear no more?"

The child looked disappointed, and sobbed out, "Well."

The father then took him in his arms, and retired into the garden to pray, a great deal worse whipped than the child.

# TOLERATION.

to constrain some of his subjects, who were of a different religion, to embrace his, he said to them, "I am king of men, and not of consciences. The dominion of consciences belongs exclusively to God."