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.