A great deal of the favour which "Little Abe" met with was due to his sincerity. He was very droll in his sayings; he was very original in his manner of dealing out truth; his illustrations were mostly drawn from things in everyday life which everybody understood; his language was the plain home-spun provincialism of the locality where his hearers were born and brought up; but however much may be due to these things, those who knew him best would say, that his almost universal acceptance was due to his undoubted sincerity. This made everything he said in the pulpit quite proper. What would appear out of place in any other man, was becoming in him; all his odd sayings and gestures were kindly received, and never an unpleasant feeling was excited in the breast of any who really knew the man.
Oh, it is a grand thing when a man has so lived and proved himself among those around him, that they all feel his religion to be sincere! What good may not such a man be capable of doing? He may be unschooled and unread, he may be poor, and hold but a humble position in the ranks of life, and yet withal, he may exert a power which neither rank nor learning can acquire, nor wealth purchase. He rules hearts; learning may rule heads, and wealth may influence manners, but sincere goodness enshrines itself on the throne of the heart.
Men among whom "Little Abe" lived and worked, with whom he met from day to day,—men who professed to have no regard for religion as such, respected Abe's presence more than they would that of their own fathers, and stopped their unclean conversation at his approach, or by some other unmistakable means indicated their deep respect for him. They all knew what grace had done for him, and they honoured the genuine work, thereby entitling Abe to say, "I'm a wonder unto many."
One man says, "If there were no other evidence that religion is a good thing, there was proof enough in Little Abe. I have had ample opportunities of watching his daily life for many years, having worked in the same mill with him, and I know what the other mill hands thought of him as well; everybody believed in the 'Little Bishop,' and there wasn't a man to be found that would utter a disrespectful word of him. He was often employed in what is called 'cuttling,' that is, drawing cloth from the machine. To do this he had to kneel on the ground; it was easy work, and required very little thought. Many a time have I seen him, while in this position, praying and drawing off the cloth, and I have thought that Abe couldn't help praying if he got on his knees, whether it was in the mill or anywhere else.
"Sometimes on a Saturday the young people in the mill would say, 'Well, Bishop, where are you going to preach to-morrow?' and then, with the brightest, kindest smile, he would tell them where his work for the next day lay, and perhaps he would ask them to go with him; but on their refusing, he would add, 'Ah, my lads, yo' want your hearts changing by th' grace of God, and then yo' would be glad to run onywhere in His Name.' As years grew on him and he became infirm, I have seen him come into the mill on a Monday morning looking very tired, and I have said I thought he was working too hard on Sundays. 'Canna do that,' he would reply; 'I would do a thausand toimes maar for Jesus if I could;" and then brightening up, he would add, "I'd raather wear aat loike gooid steel, than rust aat loike owd iron;' and he was true to his word; he did wear out."
Many such testimonies might be added if it were necessary, all showing that religion in "Little Abe" was the all-engrossing thing, but let this suffice. It is delightful to see how a good man may live in the midst of the ungodly, and keep his garments unspotted, and his name unsullied by the adverse influences around him. What a rebuke such a life is to many who excuse their looseness and irregularities because they are thrown among the irreligious; and how stimulative it becomes to others that are similarly situated, and trying to live consistently in the midst of all their evil surroundings!
CHAPTER XVII.
Abe as a Class Leader
The Class-meeting is one of the best institutions in Methodism. It has done as much as anything else, if not more, to keep up the spiritual life of the churches; it has been a refuge for tens of thousands of tempted ones; it has been a seasonable corrector to many who were just beginning to fall into the paths of sin, and has brought them back to Christ again; it has supplied the social need of our Christian faith, and gathered friends together for spiritual communion; it has been a safeguard against the devices of the devil by affording opportunities for the disciples of our Lord to compare their experiences, tell their temptations, and impart mutual encouragement to each other in the Divine life; it is a natural, seemly, and modest vent for the spiritual fire which glows and flashes in every heart that loves the Lord with sincerity. It was almost self-appointed; it came to be, or grew out of a class of circumstances which would at any other time have produced essentially the same thing; it is the outgrowth of the fervent piety which marked the lives of our fathers in the churches, and it has met the tendencies of glowing Christianity among us ever since. It is an encumbrance only where this kind of Christianity is not maintained; as godly zeal declines, so sinks the estimation for class-meetings; just as the appetite for food forsakes a sickly person, so the desire for experience meetings declines in a sickly church. Persons who never did attend class-meetings cannot be judged by them; their piety may deepen or diminish, but other tests must be found for them. The class-meeting is a Methodist gauge, and only here can it apply.