Controls the Winds and the Waves
John Easter's Prayer.
In his "Memorials of Methodism in Virginia," Dr. W.W. Bennet relates the following incidents in the life of John Easter, one of the pioneer ministers who labored there nearly one hundred years ago: He is represented as being the most powerful exhortatory preacher of his day. His faith was transcendent, his appeals irresistible, his prayers like talking with God face to face. Perhaps no man has ever been more signally honored of God as an instrument in the conversion of souls. On one of his circuits eighteen hundred members were added to the church in a single year.
Many thrilling scenes under his preaching yet linger among the people in those counties where he principally labored. A most extraordinary display of his faith was witnessed in Brunswick. At Merritt's meeting-house a quarterly meeting was in progress, and so vast was the concourse of people from many miles around, that the services were conducted in a beautiful grove near the church. In the midst of the exercises, a heavy cloud arose, and swept rapidly towards the place of worship. From the skirts of the grove the rain could be seen coming on across the fields. The people were in consternation; no house could hold one-third of the multitude, and they were about to scatter in all directions. Easter rose in the midst of the confusion--"Brethren," cried he at the top of his voice, "be still while I call upon God to stay the clouds, till His word can be preached to perishing sinners." Arrested by his voice and manner, they stood between hope and fear. He kneeled down and offered a fervent prayer that God would then stay the rain, that the preaching of His word might go on, and afterwards send refreshing showers. While he was praying, the angry cloud, as it swiftly rolled up to them, was seen to part asunder in the midst, pass on either side of them, and close again beyond, leaving a space several hundred yards in circumference perfectly dry. The next morning a copious rain fell again, and the fields that had been left dry were well watered."
The Hushed Tempest.
The following circumstance is communicated to The Christian by a minister of the editor's acquaintance, as a memorial of God's care for the poor and needy who trust in him:
It was about the year 1853, and near the middle of a Canadian Winter, we had a succession of snowfalls, followed by high winds and severe cold. I was getting ready to haul my Winter's stock of wood, for which I had to go two miles over a road running north and south, entirely unprotected from the keen cold west winds that prevail the most of the time in that part of Canada during the Winter months.
The procuring of my Winter's supply of wood was no small task for me, for I had very little to do with, and was unable to endure much fatigue, or bear the severe cold. I had, however, succeeded in securing the services of an excellent hand to chop, and help me load, and had also engaged a horse of one neighbor, and a horse and sled of another, and was ready on Monday morning to commence my job. Monday morning the roads were fair, the day promised well, and my man was off at daybreak to the woods to, have a load ready for me. There had been quite a fall of snow during the night; not enough to do any harm if it only lay still, but should the wind rise, as it had after every snow-fall before, it would make it dreadful for me. Soon as possible I harnessed my team, and started. I had not gone a quarter of a mile before it became painfully evident that a repetition of our previous "blows" was impending. The sky was dark and stormy, the wind rose rapidly, and in every direction clouds of the newly fallen snow were beginning to ride on the "wings of the wind," pouring over the fences, and filling the road full! My heart sank within me. What could I do? At this rate, by next morning the roads would be impassable, and it was so cold! Besides, if I failed to go on now, it would be very difficult to get my borrowed team together again, and impossible to get my man again; and we could as well live without bread as without wood in a Canadian Winter.
Every moment the wind increased. In deep distress, I looked upon the threatening elements, exclaiming over and over, "What shall I do?" I felt then that there was but one thing that I could do, and that was just what poor sinking Peter did; and with feelings I imagine something like his, I looked up to God, and cried out, "O, my God, this is more than I am able to bear. Lord, help me! The elements are subject to thee; thou boldest the winds in thy fist. If thou wilt speak the word, there will be a great calm. O, for Jesus' sake, and for the sake of my little helpless family, let this snow lie still and give me an opportunity of accomplishing this necessary labor comfortably!" I do not think it was above fifteen minutes after I began to call upon the Lord before there was a visible change. The wind began to subside, the sky grew calm, and in less than half an hour all was still, and a more pleasant time for wood-hauling than I had that day, I never saw nor desire to see. Many others beside me enjoyed the benefit of that "sudden change" of weather, but to them it was only a "nice spell of weather," a "lucky thing;" while to me it was full of sweet and encouraging tokens of the "loving-kindness of the Lord." And now, after so many years, I feel impelled to give this imperfect narrative, to encourage others in the day of trouble to call upon the Lord; and also, as a tribute of gratitude to Him who has "never said to the house of Jacob, seek ye my face in vain."
Praying In Fair Weather.
The ways in which God saves those whom he wishes to deliver from death, are sometimes too wonderful for our understanding. A certain ship was overtaken in a severe and prolonged storm at sea. She had a noble Christian man for a captain, and as good a sailor as ever trod the quarter-deck, and he had under him a good and obedient crew. But they could not save the ship; she was too badly strained, her leaks were too great for the pumps, she must go to the bottom. The captain committed them all to the care of the God in whom he put his trust, and made ready to take to their boats. Just then a sail was descried, and, by signals of distress, drawn to their relief. All on board were taken off safely and put on the ship, soon after which they saw their own ship go down.
Now comes the peculiar part. The ship was soon overtaken in a dreadful storm, was cast on her beam ends, and everything seemed to be lost. The passengers were praying, and many of the old seamen were calling on God to save them from the great deep. The captain of the ship had done his best, but could not right the vessel, and all was given up to go down. The captain, whose ship was lost, then asked if he might take his crew and try to right the vessel.
"Take them, and do what you can," was the reply. He called to his men and told them they must save that ship; he inspired them with confidence, for they knew he was a true man of God. They executed his orders with alacrity and care. They cut away the masts, and cleared away the rigging, and brought all the force they could to right the vessel. God prospered the efforts--the ship righted; they got the pumps at work, rigged a sail, and were finally all saved. It seemed as if it was necessary to put the captain of the first ship and his crew on the second ship, that they might save it and those on board when the terrible storm came.
Now it was particularly noticed in connection with this deliverance, that the captain of the lost vessel did not make any ado in prayer, or in calling on God, while the storm was raging; and knowing that he was a Christian man, they asked him the reason of this. He answered them, that he did his praying in fair weather; "and then" said he, "when the storm comes, I work." He did not distrust God then, any more than in fair weather; but he knew that God requires man to do all he can to save himself, and praying might lose him his ship, when his own efforts must save it.
The Rescue from the Ville du Havre, and the Loch Earn.
A remarkable illustration of God's mysterious way is found in connection with the rescue of some of the passengers of the ill-fated French steamship, Ville du Havre, which was sunk by a collision with the Loch Earn, November 22, 1873, on her voyage from New York to France. After the sinking of the Ville du Havre, with some two hundred of her passengers, the rest were taken up by the Loch Earn, from which most of them were afterwards transferred to the Trimountain. Others remained on board the Loch Earn, where in consequence of its disabled condition they seemed again in imminent danger of being lost.
On the 11th of December, while Mr. D.L. Moody was conducting a noonday prayer-meeting in the city of Edinburgh, Rev. Dr. Andrew Thompson read a letter from a Christian lady, the mother of one of these imperiled passengers, which contained the following account:
"After the Trimountain left them, and they had examined their ship, many a heart failed, and they feared they would never see land again. They could not navigate the vessel, and were left to the mercy of the winds and waves, or rather to the care of Him who ruleth wind and waves. Vain was the help of man. The wind drove them out of the course of ships, northward. You are aware that two ministers were left on board the Loch Earn. One, Mr. Cook, a truly godly man, did all he could to encourage their hearts. Every day, at noon, he gathered them together, and earnestly, by prayer, strove to lead them to the Savior; and this he continued to do till they reached England. The day before they were rescued they knew that very shortly the ship must go down. The wind had changed, bringing them nearer the track of ships, but they had little hope of being saved. Mr. Cook told them of his own hope, that death to him would be eternal life, and he urgently entreated them to put their trust in 'Him who was mighty to save.' At the same time he told them he had no doubt they would be rescued, that even then a vessel was speeding to save them, that God had answered their prayers, that next day as morning dawned they would see her. That night was one of great anxiety.
"As morning dawned every eye was strained to see the promised ship. There truly she was, and the British Queen bore down upon them. You may think that with thankful hearts they left the Loch Earn. One thing is remarkable--the officer in charge on board the British Queen had a most unaccountable feeling that there was something for him to do, and three times during the night he changed the course of the vessel, bearing northward. He told the watch to keep a sharp lookout for a ship, and immediately on sighting the Loch Earn bore down upon her. At first he thought she had been abandoned, as she lay helpless in the trough of the sea, but soon they saw her signal of distress. It seems to me a remarkable instance of faith on the one side and a guiding Providence on the other. After they were taken on board the pilot-boat that brought them into Plymouth, at noon, when they for the last time joined together in prayer, Mr. Cook read to them the account of Paul's shipwreck, showing the similarity of their experience. 'What made that captain change his course against his will?' but the ever present Spirit of God".
The Storm Made Calm.
At a Sunday morning meeting at Repository Hall, January 25, 1874, a Christian brother, in illustration of the power and faithfulness of God, and his willingness to hear and answer prayer, related these facts in his own experience. An account of them was subsequently published in the Christian:
"In 1839 I was a sailor on board the brig Pandora, Captain G----, bound from Savannah to Boston, with a cargo of cotton. When off the coast of Virginia, some twenty-five miles distant from Chesapeake Bay, we encountered a heavy gale. Saturday evening, December 21st, the wind blew gently from the south. On sounding, we found ourselves in thirty fathoms of water. At midnight the wind veered to the eastward, gradually increasing until four o'clock Sunday morning, by which time the brig was under close-reefed topsails and foresail. The wind still increasing, every stitch of canvas was taken in, and now the vessel lay helpless and unmanageable in the trough of the sea, not minding her helm at all, while the wind blew a perfect hurricane. The vessel being very light, loaded with cotton, made much leeway, and though we had worn ship four times during the preceding night, hoping, if possible, to weather some shoals which the captain judged were near, and to make Chesapeake Bay, where we might have a clear beach before us in case the vessel should strand, yet at eight o'clock Sunday morning we were in but seventeen fathoms of water.
"The gale now increased with fearful violence, waves rising like mountains, and rain and sleet pouring from the dismal clouds. At ten, A.M., being then in fifteen fathoms of water, and drifting rapidly towards the shore, the captain summoned all hands into the cabin to consult about throwing our deck-load overboard, in order to leave us a better chance to secure ourselves to the rigging, and thus save our lives when the vessel should strike, which he judged would be in about half an hour. Not a gleam of hope appeared, and here our distress was increased by observing that the captain seemed under the influence of liquor, to which he had probably resorted in order to stifle his fears of approaching death.
"The order was given, and we went to work to throw the cotton over, while the captain, frightened and despairing, went into the cabin to drown his fears in drink. Seeing the state of things, and believing that shipwreck was imminent, I found two of my shipmates who were Christians, and who had prayed daily with me in the forecastle, and I asked them if they had any faith in God now, that he would hear our prayers and deliver us? They both said they had; and I told them to pray, then, that the Lord might rebuke the winds and calm the waves.
"With an unspeakable mingling of fear and hope we applied ourselves to the task of casting the cotton into the sea, at the same time lifting up earnest and united prayers to God for deliverance from the threatened destruction, occasionally gliding in close contact with each other, and speaking words of hope in each other's ears, and feeling, as we toiled, a blessed confidence that our prayers were not in vain.
"It did not seem more than five minutes from the time we commenced to throw the cotton overboard, for we had scarcely tumbled twenty bales into the sea, when we heard a shout from the quarter deck:
"'Avast heaving cotton overboard! The wind is coming out from our lee! Avast there!'
"It was the captain's voice, bidding us stay our hands; we obeyed, and looking up we saw him clinging to the rigging, apparently so drunk that he could hardly stand, while away over our lee-bow we could see blue sky and fair weather, and it seemed that in less than ten minutes from the time the hurricane was at its height, the wind had chopped around in shore, and was gently wafting us away from danger, and out into deep water again.
"There were glad souls on board the Pandora that day, as she swung around in obedience to the helm, and we laid her course again for our destined port. And some who before had mocked at prayers and blasphemed the God we loved, admitted then that God had answered prayer, and that he had delivered us from death.
"And I love to repeat the story to the praise of the Lord, who yet lives to hear, and bless, and save his trusting children."
No Fear Of Thunder.
Some years ago a camp-meeting was held in Southern Indiana. It rained nearly all the time of the meeting. Father Haven, a man mighty in prayer, rose to preach. Just as he announced his text it thundered, and the congregation seemed to be restless and alarmed. The old hero instantly said, "Let us engage a moment in prayer." He prayed that God would allow the storm to pass by and not disturb them.
After having plead for a few moments he said, "Friends, keep your seats; it will not rain one drop here to-day." He commenced to preach, and it thundered again. He repeated his assurance, and thus it continued until the storm-cloud was almost over the encampment. It divided north and south, and passed about a quarter of a mile on either side of them, reunited again and passed on, and not one solitary drop of rain fell on that encampment.
The Prayer of the Pilgrims for Rain Answered.
It is well known that many of the good men who were driven from England to America by persecution in the seventeenth century, had to endure great privations. In the Spring of 1623 they planted more corn than ever before; but by the time they had done planting, their food was spent. They daily prayed, "Give us this day our daily bread;" and in some way or other the prayer was always answered. With a single boat and a net they caught some fish, and when these failed, they dug in the sand for shell-fish. In the month of June their hopes of a harvest were nearly blasted by a drought which withered up their corn and made the grass look like hay. All expected to perish with hunger.
In their distress the pilgrims set apart a day of humiliation and prayer, and continued their worship for eight or nine hours. God heard their prayers, and answered them in a way which excited universal admiration. Although the morning of that day was clear, and the weather very hot and dry during the whole forenoon, yet before night it began to rain, and gentle showers continued to fall for many days, so that the ground became thoroughly soaked, and the drooping corn revived.
The Enemies Of A God Fearing Nation.
"An answer to prayer," says Le Clerc, "may be seen by what happened on the coast of Holland in the year 1672. The Dutch expected an attack from their enemies by sea, and public prayers were ordered for their deliverance. It came to pass that when their enemies waited only for the tide, in order to land, the tide was retarded, contrary to its usual course, for twelve hours, so their enemies were obliged to defer the attempt to another opportunity; which they never found, because a storm, arose afterwards, and drove them from the coast."
Changing The Course One Point.
Walking across Palace Square in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, with an American ship-master, (says a correspondent of the Watchman) he invited me to accompany him to his hotel. While there he showed me a very large gold medal he had received from the British government for saving a ship's company at sea. The circumstances were these: One night at sea, when it was the captain's "mid-watch,"--the watch from twelve, midnight, till four o'clock in the morning--just before turning in, he gave the officer of the watch the ship's course; the direction in which she was to be steered. While undressing, it was impressed on his mind that he ought to change the course a point; but he could see no reason for the change, as the ship was on the right course for the port of her destination. He turned in and tried to fall asleep, as it was only four hours to his watch; but the impression that he ought to change the ship's course kept him awake. In vain he tried to throw off that impression; and yielding to it, he went on deck and gave the order for the change. On returning to his berth, he was asleep as soon as his head was on the pillow. The next day he sighted a ship in distress, and made sail for her. The ship was in a sinking condition, and he rescued the whole ship's company. Shortly after, a gale of wind arose and carried the sinking ship to complete destruction. Had not the American captain changed the course of his ship that evening, he would not have come in sight of the ship in distress, and all of the company would have perished.
Query--What made that Captain arise in the middle of the night and, contrary to all science, reason and his own will, change the course of his vessel, but a Supreme Being, whose power he could not resist, and what made him exactly reach that sinking ship just in time.