Murray felt a great longing sweep over him to be washed whiter than snow. He had never heard talk like this, but it filled his need. He felt soiled inside. He did not understand it at all, but he seemed to have been wandering for a long time in filth, and now he realized that what he needed was cleansing. His own soul began to cry out with the spirit of the prayer-song that was trembling about him from all these people, who seemed to know the words, and by some miracle to all feel the same way that he did. Why! Were they all praying for him?
—“wounded and weary, help me I pray!
Power, all power, surely is Thine!
Touch me and heal me Saviour divine!”
They sang with such assurance, as if they knew He could and would do what they asked. Dared he ask too? Were there conditions to such assurance? Would God take a man who had killed a girl, and then gone on masquerading as a Christian just to save his skin alive?
“Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!” went on the quiet prayer. Ah! That was the condition. Surrender! Well, he was ready. That was what that fellow Saul did, just said, “Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?” He could ask that.
“Hold o’er my being absolute sway!” went on the song. Yes, he could echo that. He was ready for anything, if there was only a way out of this awful hole he was in. He was sick of himself and his own way. It had never been much but froth. He saw that now. Why had he not seen it before?
“Fill with Thy Spirit till all shall see
Christ only, always, living in me!”
What would that be like? Filled with Christ’s spirit! And men looking at him would see Christ, not Murray Van Rensselaer any more. He understood. That was just what he had been trying to put across about Allan Murray, and he had almost done it. That was the reason why he had not been able to get away, because men looking at him had seen Allan Murray, and taken him for what they expected Allan Murray to be! Ah! But this was to be Jesus Christ! Could he possibly get away with that? Only this was not to be a getaway. It was to be real. He was to surrender, and let Jesus Christ live in him. Just cut out the things he wanted as if they were not, and let the Spirit of Christ do with him what He liked. Would that be unbearable? What was there he cared for anyway now? Why! He wanted to do this! He wanted to be made over! He wanted to die to the old life forever and be made new, and this seemed to be the only way to do it: Could this be the new birth?