HISTORY OF THOMAS.
Thomas, the second brother, remained much longer in the school. Possessing a retentive memory, he learned the whole of the three Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and part of John. After remaining as a scholar for about three years, during which time he was often employed in teaching the junior classes, he was formally admitted as a teacher, in the presence of the whole school, the secretary delivering an interesting and affecting address to him, on the duties and responsibilities of his position as the guide of youth; at the conclusion of which he presented him with a book, entitled "The Guilty Tongue," as a reward for his good conduct and proficiency. Thomas had not long been a teacher, before a vacancy occurred in the first class, to which he had formerly belonged as a scholar, and he was at once nominated to it.
After continuing as a scholar for three, and a teacher for about two years, he removed to a neighboring town, as an apprentice. Absent from the parental roof,—placed in the midst of temptation, and surrounded by many allurements,—Thomas soon became forgetful of his former instructions, and his Sabbath-school engagements: instead of connecting himself with the school, and being found on the form by the side of his class, he might be seen ranging over the fields, and wandering through lanes, in company with those whom he had chosen as his associates. One thing is worthy of remark, and it shows the force of habit, and the power of early associations: he was regular in his attendance at the Wesleyan Chapel twice a day. This happened, perhaps, not more from choice than from a partial restraint which he felt, from the knowledge, that if he neglected this duty, it would come to the ears of his parents, and not only grieve them, but bring down on him their displeasure.
Though thus, for a brief space, led away into the sins of youth, Thomas was far from falling into what would be called gross sins.
The superintendent of the H—— circuit at this time was the Rev. J.R., a man who, in the work of the Lord, was instant in season, and out of season; and who was made very useful, not only by his public ministrations, but in his numerous and constant private visits among his flock, and the members of his congregation.
Under a sermon by Mr. R., addressed specially to the young, the subject of our sketch was powerfully wrought upon by the Holy Spirit, and awakened to a right sense of his danger as a sinner. But he strove to banish these convictions, and soon again became careless and indifferent to the great concerns of his soul's salvation.
About this period Thomas's father, anxious that he should become decided for God, told him he would send Mr. R. to visit him. But so averse was Thomas from seeing him, that he declared should Mr. R. walk in at one door, he would walk out at the other. However, Mr. R. called; and Thomas did not, and could not, put his threat into execution. Mr. R. urged upon him the danger of a course of sin,—the necessity and advantages of seeking God in youth,—and begged him to join his class, which met at seven o'clock on Sabbath mornings. Thomas promised to go; but when the morning came he broke his promise, and remained at home. In the succeeding week Mr. R. again called. Thomas again promised; and on the following Sabbath met in class for the first time. In about a month after joining the society, he was enabled to exercise faith in Christ, and obtained a clear evidence of his acceptance with God: this took place on a Sabbath evening, in company with one of his religious friends; while they were pouring out their souls at the throne of grace, light from heaven beamed upon his soul,—he was enabled to believe.
Connected with Thomas's joining the people of God, there is an incident not unworthy of mention here. A short time previously he had, with his elder brother James, paid a visit to their father's house. During that visit, the subject of union with God's people was strongly urged upon both of them by their parents. They had each been the subjects of the Holy Spirit's striving for some time, and were fully awakened to their danger and duty. While walking through one of the shady lanes situated between their home and the chapel, and conversing on the subject of religion, and the necessity of devoting themselves to God, Thomas said, if James would join the society he would. No immediate result followed; but about a fortnight before Thomas's connection with the Church, James had joined the Wesleyans, and had written to his father informing him of Thomas's promise. It was in consequence of this, that Mr. R. was requested to call on him; the result of which, through the blessing of God, was, as the reader has seen, his becoming connected with the Church.
Thomas had joined himself to God's people but a short time, when he determined, by the advice and invitation of his friends, to become a Sabbath-school teacher. His experience and success in this sphere of labor will be best described in his own words: "Soon after my union with the Wesleyans, I became a teacher in the Sunday-school, which, at that time, was not very prosperous. Here, as teacher of one of the junior classes, I strove to do my duty to God and the children placed under my care. A few of our teachers determined to establish a school at I——, a small village about two miles distance from H——, in which the Wesleyans had preaching at a private house, and a class of five members, to whom I willingly gave my assistance. But where should we get a room? was the next question to be solved. After some difficulty on this point, we got the use of an old barn; but which, by the way, had no window in it, and was consequently so dark, that we were obliged to keep the door constantly open, and, it being winter season, we found it very cold. Yet even this was too good to last long, for we were soon told that we could not have the barn any longer, and we were, therefore, obliged to look out for another place. Our next remove was to a different part of the village, to a room over some stables, the floor of which, besides having sundry large holes in it, was so rotten that we were obliged to range the children around by the walls, fearing lest the floor should give way from their weight, if placed in the centre. Even in such a place as this, our school increased from twenty to forty.
"After remaining in this room for some months, I may say truly, in continual fear of our lives, we removed to a much more commodious place, offered us by a Mr. H——, the only person in the village who was in circumstances of ease. But his love after a time grew cold, and we were surprised on our arrival one Sunday, to find that, without giving us the slightest intimation of his intention to do so, he had turned out forms, boxes of books, and all our paraphernalia, and locked the door; alleging as a reason, to the persons who lived at the next house—members of our society—that he wanted the place for potatoes; but to do him justice, I must add, that the room did not see a potato for many months after. I have before stated that we had preaching at the village, in a private house; the persons in whose house the service was held, were, I should say, both past sixty. They were poor, but excellent people. At the same hour with our school, the class used to meet at their house; and as they had only two rooms, it met in the one in which preaching was held. But no sooner did these good old people hear of our being turned out of our place, than they at once—before our arrival—got the forms and books into their house, and seated and arranged the children; so that you may judge of our surprise, when, on finding ourselves shut out from the one place, we were so unexpectedly put into the other. These noble-minded Christians consented that the class should meet in their sleeping-room, and that we should have the use of the other for our school. We could not allow such generous and self-denying devotion for the cause of God to go unrewarded, and we therefore determined to pay them a small sum per annum for the use of the room.
"I have not done with our difficulties yet. The road leading to the village was anything but a good one; indeed, in the winter it was very bad: so that, though in summer we could get plenty of teachers, yet when winter came we could get none, and the whole concern of the school then fell upon three or four. In the midst of our discouragements, one of our superintendents left us. The other was taken ill, and was prevented from being with us for six months. I was nominated to the office of our friend who had left, and excepting when a substitute could be found—which was not very often—I had to take the place of our sick one also: add to this the fact that we had only two other teachers who regularly attended, and you will see that our difficulties were of no light character. Often have I been at our little school with only one teacher and myself; and, indeed, at length things were come to such a crisis, that I said on my return home one afternoon, 'I will go no more; I'll give it all up,' But my friends reasoned with, and showed me the impropriety of such a decision; they told me that as the school was now entirely dependent upon myself for support, I should be much to blame if I gave it up. I listened to their advice, and continued to discharge my duties as well as I was able."
"Beware of desperate steps; the darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, 't will have pass'd away."
So sang Cowper, and so it proved in the case of I—— school!
"I determined," writes the subject of our narrative, "not to abandon the school. I made its position a matter of earnest prayer; canvassed our people for teachers; and God raised us up friends, so that soon we had a supply of teachers, and things went on smoothly. And here I would remark, that during the lack of teachers the attendance of the children was most gratifying, considering that most of them had to come a distance of from one to two miles, through roads which a 'Londoner' would consider almost, if not quite, impassable.
"Our little school, from this time, began to attract some notice, and we had an examination or two, had sermons preached, and gave the children an annual treat. This mode of procedure we found absolutely necessary; so that, by coming out prominently, we might draw the attention of our friends, and so reach their pockets.
"Our school continuing to prosper, we began to talk about a chapel, and several subscriptions were promised toward it; but in consequence of the landowner's antipathy to Methodism, we could not obtain a spot of ground to build upon. The death of the landowner, some time after, obviated the difficulty; a suitable site was obtained, and a chapel built, in which, a few years after, I had the pleasure of addressing the children on one of their festive occasions. The scene had changed, the new chapel which had been erected was well attended, the school prosperous, and the blessing of God evidently rested upon the place."
In my former narrative I made a remark or two on the evils and dangers to which a young man is exposed in coming to the metropolis, and the dreadful consequences to which a yielding to them leads. Those remarks will, I think, be fully borne out in the case of Thomas; for, although, by the preserving grace of God, he was kept from all gross and outward sins, yet it will be seen that he lost the sweets and comforts of religion, which before he had possessed. But I will give his own account of his residence in London.
"I have said," he writes in continuation, "that in the beginning of 18—I removed to London: but I should have remarked, that, for some time previous to my leaving H——, I was impressed with the conviction that it was my duty to be engaged in a more prominent sphere of labor in the Church. This impression received countenance and strength from the fact, that several persons connected with the society urged such a step upon me. I had for some months been accustomed to accompany a very excellent friend of mine, a local preacher, to his appointments in the country, and now and then to take part of the service: but by natural temperament, my youth, my inexperience, together with the overwhelming feelings of responsibility which I attached to the office, prevented my acceding to the request of my friends that I would preach; until just a month before my leaving for London, when I made an essay at the house in which our school was held, at I——. Had I remained in the country, it is likely that I should have continued in the work of calling sinners to repentance; but on coming to town, I had not moral courage to obey the dictates of my conscience, and to offer myself for this work. I shall repent this step as long as I live!
"I had not been in London a week, before I succeeded in procuring a situation in a very respectable house on the Surrey side of the Thames; and being nearer to Southwark than any other Wesleyan Chapel, I decided on making that my place of worship. Here again I fell into error. I did not, as I had been warned and entreated to do—and as I knew I ought to do—join myself to a class at once; but, at the end of a month or six weeks, I connected myself with one which met in the vestry, at seven o'clock on Sunday mornings, and for about eight or ten months I went on pretty well; but when winter came, I was not regular in my attendance, and as every one acquainted with the benefits of class-meetings will judge, was not so prosperous in my soul's health.
"Nor was this the only error into which I fell during my stay in town. I fell into others which have often proved fatal to the piety of youth, and, but for the amazing goodness of God, would have proved so to me. One of these was the evil of itching ears. I could not be contented with my own place of worship, and our own ministers: but must be running here and there, to hear Dr. So-and-so, or Mr. Somebody; or, when indisposed to ramble after popular men, must go to this or that church or chapel, to see some beauty or peculiarity which it was said to possess: thus a kind of spiritual dissipation was kept up, which was far from being beneficial to growth in grace. Instead of going to the house of God that the soul might be fed with the bread of heaven, it was too frequently the case that I went to gratify a taste for curiosity, or to get an intellectual feast. Another error into which I fell, and that, too, a serious one, was indolence. I was in no way employed for God. Instead of taking my seat in the Sabbath-school, or going from house to house as a distributer of tracts, or being in some way or another employed for God, I stood aloof from all, and preferred idleness to employment. And in thus acting I sinned against my conscience. I have before stated what were my convictions respecting preaching; but fear kept me from that path of duty. I ought to have been engaged in the Sabbath-school; but constant and excessive confinement—our hours of business being from seven to nine in the winter, and from seven to half-past ten in summer—and the alleged want of fresh air, were pleaded as an excuse for not engaging in this duty.
"I cannot reflect on this period of my life without painful emotion. When I think of the precious time murdered, time which might, and which ought to have been employed for the glory of God,—I am filled with sorrow. O, had I been faithful; had I but improved the grace imparted; had I yielded to the strivings of the Spirit, and the convictions of my conscience, I should, I am confident of it, now have been occupying a different position in the Church, and should at this moment have been in the possession of more vital godliness. These are painful reflections: yet I trust they are not without their benefits, for they lead me to humility before God, and I hope will ever have the effect of keeping me distrustful of self, and dependent upon God alone.
"But to go on with my narrative. After about fifteen months' residence in London, my health began to fail, from the labor and confinement of my situation; and at the expiration of nineteen months, I was under the necessity of quitting the metropolis, and returning to my native county. Here I again took up my residence with my late employer, at Y——, with whom I remained about five months.
"I had never, during the whole of my stay in London, been free from the conviction that it was my duty to call 'sinners to repentance;' and I made a solemn vow, that should God again lead me to my native place, I would at once offer myself to the Church. Now came the trial. 'Remember your vow,' said my conscience. 'You are not well enough yet; wait till you have got better,' answered inclination: and as there was much truth in the answer—my friends, together with myself, for some time thinking me in a consumption—inclination was listened to. But as I grew better, conscience was not so easily silenced, and a mental conflict was for some time kept up, which is more easily felt than described; and such was its effect upon me, that I began again to sink, and to get very ill.
"Well do I remember the day on which I became decided. It was on a Sabbath evening: I had been hearing a very faithful and powerful sermon from the Rev. Mr. G——, on the responsibility of individual Christians, and the duty of all to be employed for God. I saw my duty, and felt that I was grieving the Spirit by the course I was pursuing. I determined that I would open my mind to a friend with whom I was spending the evening. I did so; and the counsel I received was, 'Parley with temptation no longer; but to-morrow go to Mr. G., and open your mind to him,' 'I cannot do that,' said I. 'Then write to your leader,' answered my friend. This was just the advice I wanted; and I determined, by the help of God, to act upon it.
"Monday evening, at the close of business, I retired to my room; and after earnest prayer, commenced a letter to my leader. It was nearly finished: but on reading it over I was not pleased with its composition, and tearing it in pieces, commenced another. The agony of my mind was now at its height: my head seemed ready to burst; my brain was bewildered, and I was in a state bordering on distraction! While I write I seem almost to pass through this agony again. I finished a second letter! What I said in it I no more know than a child: I feared to read it over, lest I should be displeased with and destroy it, as I did the former. I at once sealed it up, and thrust it out of sight. I then threw myself on the bed, where I lay for a considerable time, till the exquisite excitement of the struggle being over, I retired to rest, thankful to God for the victory I had gained. In the morning my first work was to send the letter to my leader: after which I had another struggle with the powers of darkness. 'You cannot retract now,' whispered the enemy. 'You have done it; and now where are your sermons to come from? You know you have only two in the world: suppose you should make a failure in your first attempt, what a fool you would look like! how you would get laughed at!' But the step was taken, and I rejoiced to feel that I had done my duty: a load which had long been too heavy for me was removed, and I felt altogether a new man.
"I fear I have been tiresome; but I will now soon conclude. I was proposed at the local preachers' meeting, accepted, preached several times before the brethren, with some degree of acceptance; and after remaining about four months in Y——, from the period referred to, my health being re-established, I again removed to the metropolis, where my name was regularly inserted on the plan. Having passed my examination in the usual way, I was received into full connection as a local preacher. I need not tell you that I am now fully occupied in this blessed work; that my happiest hours are those spent in it; that, were it the will of God, I am willing to live and die in the work."
Thomas is now a local preacher in one of the London circuits; and although by his occupation he is necessarily prevented from much study, being in business, as unfortunately most young men are, from early in the morning till late at night, he is, nevertheless, an acceptable, and, it is hoped, a useful preacher.