Christian Experience and Usefulness

There is such a thing as a denominational zoology. There is a certain temperament, there are certain mental tendencies, from which, if a man is not content to remain a Presbyterian in Scotland or an Episcopalian in England, it may be predicted which other section of the Christian community he will join. The Wesleyan body is the great absorbent of warm hearts and fervid spirits. In the frequency of its devotional meetings, in the frankness and unreserve of its Christian intercourse, in the vigor of its responses and the soaring rapture of its hymns, and in the benevolent vivacity which finds a post and an employment for every member, it meets many cravings of the young and ardent convert. Is he crying, in the gladness of his soul, “Sing aloud unto God our strength: make a joyful noise unto the God of Jacob “? Alike in the cathedral and the conventicle, he is apt to be depressed by an organic solo or a rueful dirge; but escaping to the Methodist meeting, he finds their “glory” all “awake:”

they are “taking the psalm, and bringing the pleasant harp with the psaltery, and blowing up the trumpet,” and with exulting rivalry, “young men and maidens, old men and children.” are praising the Lord. In the eagerness of first love is he exclaiming, “Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul!” But nobody will stop to listen; and so, for an audience he is driven away to the love-feast or class-meeting. In the exuberance of a newly-awakened zeal, would he like an outlet for his energies, a field of Christian activity? In the sanctuary which he has hitherto frequented he feels himself a cipher. He has never been invited to engage in any scheme of usefulness, and, except the neat and noiseless sexton who bows him into his pew, no one seems to know him. But he has not worshipped three Sabbaths with the Methodists when he is recognised and accosted, and three months have not passed before he is installed in the Sunday-school, or with a bundle of tracts and a roving commission is sent out into the highways and hedges. The portrait of the great founder on the wall, a box for Wesleyan missions on the mantel-shelf, placards of the next anniversary in the shop window, the occasional dropping in of a brother during the day with friendly inquiry as to his health of soul, hearty hand-shakings at the evening prayer-meeting, and a vesper stanza from the consecrated hymn-book, all betoken the activity, the brotherly-kindness, and the cheerful piety in the midst of which the young Theophilus has found his ecclesiastical habitation and his congenial home.

The society which has yielded a logician so acute as the younger Treffry, and a systematist so masterly as Richard Watson, to say nothing of a scholar so erudite as Adam Clarke, — such a society cannot be reproached with the lack of Biblical or theological learning. Nevertheless, the lovers of metaphysical divinity and Scriptural exposition will not be apt to join a community whose migratory ministers and perpetual excitement make it a church upon wheels. Wesleyan Christianity is emotional and experimental; it has no attraction for severe reasoners and abstract speculators; nor is it adapted to spirits sedate or sombre. Its ready-made materials are the men of feeling; the sanguine, the impulsive, and enthusiastic natures, whom the grace of God makes the best evangelists, and the kind, humane, and homely natures whom the same grace converts into the salt of our English factories, the living epistles of such rural neighbourhoods as are blessed with their presence. And although the predominance of the emotional element in Wesleyan membership is not without its inconvenience and its perils; although it aggravates the task of the governing body, and renders periods of internal commotion vehement and almost volcanic; still, in the normal state of the society, it gives a peculiar animation to the services of its sanctuaries, and an intensity to its missionary zeal, far beyond the proportion of most of the other Christian communities; and from what we know of his ardent temperament, we cannot wonder that the Wesleyan Society was the church which, after his conversion, Mr Williams joined.

The last chapter left him on a tour of North Wales. A short journey re-established his health, and he returned to Burslem to receive a warm welcome from former patients and friends. We shall now resume his own narrative: —

“I sought to become connected with the visible Church of Christ. Previous to my illness I had for nearly twelve months attended divine service at the Wesleyan chapel, owing to the esteem I entertained for the abilities and eloquence of the ministers then laboring in the circuit. But I never looked on myself as a Methodist, nor professed to belong to any church. In my early years I had with my parents attended the tabernacle of the Independents, and as I grew older I occasionally went to the Established Church. When a student in London, except when some popular clergyman attracted my notice, I generally ab sented myself entirely from public worship. In those days I should have scorned the thought as an insult to my understanding, had it been suggested that I might some day join the Methodist Society. For them, of all sects, I had the greatest distaste, and they were a by-word and a reproach in my mouth. However, from many opportunities of judging of one individual amongst them — the same who proved such a friend during my illness — I had arrived at a much more elevated opinion of Christian integrity and worth than I had ever entertained before; and now gratitude as well as high respect bound me to the Wesley an Church through him. Besides, their fervent zeal for the cause of God was attractive to my now roused feelings. I desired that every creature should rejoice in the glorious tidings revealed to my self, and could have wished for a trumpet tongue to echo salvation over the length and breadth of the earth.

“Accordingly, on the 29th of November 1846, I presented myself at one of the class meetings, the leader of which was my already tried friend, and received a ticket on trial. The minister was present that evening, and, besides giving expression to that presence of God which he enjoyed in his own soul, he addressed interrogatories, counsel, admonition, and encouragement to each one of us. With our veteran leader I was delighted; such was the honest truthfulness of all he said, and such the evidence he afforded of living in very near communion with God in Christ Jesus. However, there were feelings in my breast which I little expected to find there. That pride which depreciates the understanding of others and exalts our own, and which so abounded in my secret thoughts and actions before my conversion, I found sensibly existing now. I tried to conquer it, but it was not yet overthrown. It was the intrenched fortress of the enemy, from which he could issue at any unguarded moment, and lay waste my peace of mind. Many have been his triumphs. Many a time has he taken me captive at his will; but I feel that I shall be more than conqueror through Him that loved me, and shall finally sing the glories of Him that giveth us the victory.

“As I became better acquainted with the society, I found that its doctrines and organisation wonderfully coincided with my daily increasing knowledge of the Scriptures, and with the teaching which God’s Spirit imparted to me. I found it was God’s will that I should be associated with one individual who served God in spirit and in truth; but, alas! how immeasurably distant was the period when I could hope to be thus fervent in spirit, serving the Lord! Day by day I found fresh evidence of the depravity of my evil heart. I certainly felt an earnest desire after righteousness; but my religion, I soon perceived, was too much characterised by fits and starts, too much influenced by circumstances and occasions. It was too much a religion of emotions and feelings; and in the brief space of a single day there were intervals of negligence and apathy, when worldly avocations darkened my mind; and when the hour of prayer arrived, the burden of my sins bore heavily on my heart.

“The most striking instance of the revealment of myself, in all my spiritual destitution, occurred some months after my conversion. For some time there had been a fearful conflict going on — desires to do the will of God, on the one part, and yet a total incapacity to make good my intentions. I perceived an increasing helplessness — a powerlessness and in ability to maintain a single resolution. The family devotions I had instituted I felt absolutely inadequate to perform. My prayers were without fervency. I could scarce find language for the most ordinary sentiment, and I was utterly ashamed and confounded at myself. The profession of religion in such circumstances seemed impossible, and I was dispirited at the prospect of attending my class, where I could only expose the poverty and listlessness of my mind. I was ready to despair, and give up the whole. The secret of it all was not then known to me. I had yet to learn a most important lesson, which was, that I had been hitherto trusting to my own strength, and had not recollected how, without the aid of God’s Holy Spirit, I could not perform one duty aright.

“For weeks — I may say for months — it continued thus. Various temptations came in my way, and I felt that I had repeatedly sinned against God. My soul became darker and darker, and in deep trouble I groaned and wept over my sad condition. Doubts assailed me as to the truth of all; but these I repelled with amazement and horror. There was still an inward sincerity of heart in seeking after

God; and hour after hour, on my bended knees, did I seek his help, but without any perceptible progress in inward holiness or spiritual enlightenment.

“The climax of this condition was attained on a Sunday night. I had spent part of the Sabbath carelessly, and my conscience was heavily laden with sin. My household had retired to rest, and I was left alone. I was disposed to follow their example, but I was not prepared to commit myself in prayer to God. I felt no inclination for it; but to go to bed without prayer was impossible. I therefore sat down and tried to read. However, my thoughts would not permit me to go on with the book, and I was compelled to desist. I was now sitting in what I may term a sullen moodiness. There was a heavy weight on my heart, and a terrible darkness began to throw its shadows around me. I began to be alarmed at my position; I was staggered at my callousness and insensibility. My convictions I retained in full force, but I felt that I was without religion. God seemed at an infinite distance. An abyss of darkness intervened between him and my soul. The thought that I was forsaken by the Spirit of God, and abandoned to a reprobate heart, took possession of my mind; and, looking to the future, I saw how different were now my hopes and prospects. I lay full length on the hearth-rug, in absolute despair. At length I tried to pray, but my lips refused their office: pray I could not. I felt that I had now a real foretaste of hell, for I was without God and without hope. Hours rolled away, and I loathed myself, and abhorred the picture of my own heart which I now beheld. I made renewed efforts at prayer, and determined that, if I could express no more, I would repeat the publican’s petition, ‘God be merciful to me, a sinner.’ I did so. Though it was the depth of winter, the morning’s light broke in whilst I was still engaged in fervent supplication. I acknowledged my guilt; I pleaded the blood of Christ shed for me; I sued for mercy; but no consolation was afforded, and, quite exhausted, I retired to bed. There I renewed my prayer, and while so doing I fell asleep. Shortly after, I awoke, and, kneeling by my bed-side, I be sought the Lord for a ray of heavenly light. Still without a satisfactory sense of God’s love, I rested again for a short time; and, on awaking, a flood of holy joy and peace burst in. God was present to my soul, and his love was manifest to a degree more rapturous than I had ever before experienced. I praised, I adored, I blessed my Redeemer.

“From this time I began to understand more fully, or rather it was now that I began to understand at all, the nature of the human heart in its unregenerate state, and what are the glorious changes to be expected from redeeming grace. I perceived what a vitally important part in the work of redemption pertains to the Holy Spirit, and that every change, and each step in the way of holiness, is effected by his agency; and this, too, in compliance with an earnest desire, and in answer to fervent prayer. A most abhorrent picture of my self had been set before me, and I felt that it was just what I should be were the Spirit of God with drawn. Hence there was nothing for self-righteousness to build upon, and all pride was utterly confounded. The glory of my salvation belonged only to the Redeemer — to God manifest in Christ Jesus; and every grace was furnished through him, and imparted by the Spirit of Grace. To me no thing remained but humility, and prayer, and praise. Self was prostrate; Christ was magnified. Hitherto I had believed in Christ, but now I began to see what faith in Christ really meant. It was no longer the mere belief of assent, but the belief of trust; no longer a dead, but a living and working faith. I had now no remote nor indefinite object to attain, but an immediate advantage to pursue. Glorious as was the thought of an ultimate salvation, it could scarce afford an impulse so quickening as the conviction that holiness of heart and the peace of God might be obtained in this life, and an absolute change of being be even now effected. Here was scope enough for all diligence, and for the fervency of prayer.

“For clearness I shall repeat the knowledge I now gained. I had fancied that in the change wrought upon me at my conversion, the vile condition of my heart would have been altogether amended and rectified; and I anticipated nothing but purity of thought and conformity to God. Disappointed in this, I began to doubt if the change I had undergone were sufficient, and when I found that sin had still dominion over me, I was almost tempted to mistrust the power assigned to religion. But when I knew my heart better, I perceived that I had never been truly self-abased, nor brought into a subjection to God sufficiently lowly. But now that I knew that the very essence of my nature was sin in God’s sight, in that very discovery there was laid the foundation for building a holy temple unto God. I now felt an enmity to the flesh which warred against the spirit, and I could now with delight and comfort seek the aid of God in the contest. The light of his countenance shone upon me; his Word grew precious to me; and with the knowledge that his Spirit helpeth our infirmities, I trust to set about the work of ordering all things rightly in his sight more seriously than ever.”

The grace which he coveted was granted, and the career of Mr Williams was henceforth marked by warm and consistent piety. In his profession more popular than ever, and, owing to his humane and disinterested exertions, in great request among the poor, he often seized the opportunity to urge on their attention the interests of their never-dying souls. His faithful counsels and exhortations were frequently crowned with success; and long before he had thoughts of laboring abroad, he had be come a medical missionary at home. In the year when Burslem was visited by cholera, the success of his treatment entailed on him an enormous pressure of employment; but, even amidst all the toil and hurry of that anxious season, he found time to pray with the sick, and to point them to the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world. In his manner there was something very softening and assuring, as well as very impressive; and in repeated instances he had reason to hope that his “labor was not in vain in the Lord.” Several departed declaring that their only confidence was in the merits and mediation of that Saviour to whom he had directed their dying eye; and in the memory of many of his patients he still lives as the good physician who strove so earnestly for the cure of “all their diseases.”

One field of his usefulness must not be forgotten. He was in the habit of visiting the barracks at Burslem, and distributing tracts to the soldiers. In two instances, at least, he succeeded in re awakening religious impressions; and the men whom he then induced to join the Wesley an Society still maintain their steadfastness. With one of them, after he left Burslem, Mr Williams kept up an affectionate correspondence; and we may transcribe a few sentences from the first of his letters: — “BuRSLEM, April 26, 1850.

...” Remember, my brother, that it is a matter of very little consequence what form our trials take. To the ungodly, afflictions are indeed vexations; but although to the Christian they are grievous, yet they are cheerfully to be submitted to, rejoicing that we are counted worthy to suffer as sons, and that our heavenly Father chasteneth us for our profit. The Lord give us more faith and love! Seek, my dear brother, ever to have fellowship with God the Father and God the Son in the Spirit, and let the thought of such amazing privilege raise and ennoble your affections, whilst you grow indifferent more and more to worldly hopes and worldly fears. Set all your affections on things above, and declare in the face of all men that here you are but a pilgrim and sojourner, as were all your fathers in the faith before you. When you find your heart oppressed, bethink you of the glorious reward Christ will give to all his tempted but faithful followers, who shall all come to the place of their rest through much tribulation.

“The Lord bless you, my dear brother. You must endeavour to beat up recruits and enlist them into the service of the great and glorious King of kings, the blessed and only Potentate. Shew every man who doubts your being appointed on such service the sign-manual of your Captain him self, — ‘The Spirit and the Bride say, Come; and let him that heareth say, Come’ You have heard and received the words of eternal life: therefore take up your cross, follow your crucified Master, and share his reproach and sufferings.

“From your sincerely affectionate brother in the Lord, “R. WILLIAMS.”

On the principle indicated in the close of this letter, Mr Williams was already acting. He opened rooms in several neglected districts of the town, and as many as could be induced to attend he exhorted with much power and tenderness to flee from the wrath to come. A marked impression was often produced; and an eye-witness informs us that from these labors “a few of the most useful men have been raised up, and are following his way of kindness to the souls and bodies of their neighbours.”

Mr Williams was thus gradually drawn into the work of a home missionary. He enjoyed it exceedingly. It was an outlet for all the energies of his eager and benevolent nature, and the impression frequently produced was a delightful recompence, and cheered him to proceed. He began to feel that in such labors he would fain “spend and be spent;” and belonging to a community in which evangelistic effort has been an almost invariable result from personal piety, it is not wonderful that his thoughts began to be directed towards the missionary enterprise. Just as his thorough-going enthusiasm at a former period had forced its way from the workshop to the college, so now the same fervor, intensified and consecrated, was urging him out into the field of the world; and, although in a quarter little expected, a door was about to open.