When I first went to Kensington, I was requested to visit an old member of the Church, a shoemaker by trade, who I learnt had been converted under the ministry of Dr. Leifchild. I went and found him bedridden. He was a remarkable man, with a handsome face, but a cripple. In very humble circumstances, and uneducated, except in things pertaining to the kingdom of God, he had a good deal of that natural politeness which appeared all the more striking from its humble surroundings. He won my affections; and I delighted to sit by the good man’s bed when he would describe, in emphatic language and with strong emotion, his strange life-story. Good-tempered from a boy, ready for fun and frolic, and of a daring spirit, he plunged one day, if I remember right, into the thick of the traffic in the high road, and was so crushed under a cart wheel, that it was a wonder he survived the accident. He had mixed with dissolute company, and been accustomed, as he loitered about the end of an alley opposite the church, to insult those who passed by on the way to worship. His habits did not improve when he became a married man, and his notoriety for evil was a village scandal. But two of his children went to the Sunday school, and they persuaded their father to come to chapel. Dr. Leifchild preached from the words of St. Jude: “Preserved in Jesus Christ, and called,” and spoke of the remarkable preservation of sinful people before they were called and converted. He happened to relate an anecdote of Mr. Cecil, who, previously to his becoming decidedly religious, narrowly escaped with his life, when thrown by his horse across the track of a wagon, which in passing only crushed his hat. The incident struck the listener. It resembled his own experience, and rivetted his attention. When the preacher followed up the illustration with a characteristic appeal, addressed to such as were still unconverted after signal providential deliverances, the cripple trembled from head to foot. Greatly impressed, he went to chapel again and again, till he found himself another man, “a new creature in Christ Jesus.” He would weep as he told the story, and go on to speak of his subsequent spiritual joy. “I am a wonder unto many,” he would say, and then sing:—
“Amazing grace! how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me;
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.”
Before I knew him a chair was made, in which he was wheeled from place to place, and was conveyed to the chapel where God’s grace touched his heart. He loved the memory of the minister who had led him to Christ; and that minister relates: “Whenever he heard that I was about to re-visit the town, which I had subsequently left for another sphere of labour, he caused his little carriage to be wheeled out to meet me. I saw his eyes glistening with emotion, and the tears rolling down his cheeks, as I approached him, and then he invariably exclaimed aloud, ‘I am a wonder to many, sir; but God is my strong refuge.’” [47]
This remarkable conversion came to be common talk, and reached the ears of the Vicar, the Rev. Thomas Kennell.
“Shortly afterwards (says Dr. Leifchild) the Vicar called upon me and entered into familiar conversation with me on the great truths of the Gospel, evidently as the result of the impression which the shoemaker’s wonderful conversion had produced. Thenceforth his kindly feeling toward me never decreased, and this was the more to be remarked on account of his standing in the Episcopal Church, as respected his learning, oratorical power, and zeal for God according to his knowledge. He was comparatively young, but with a magnanimous mind he had early determined to appreciate truth and goodness wherever they were to be found, and to follow them whithersoever they might lead. Soon afterwards he fell into a decline, and one evening while we were holding a prayer-meeting, news was brought us of his dangerous illness. I immediately requested those who led our devotions to bear him on their minds before God, and afterwards desired that no mention might be made of this circumstance, as I did not wish to draw attention to ourselves. But a report of it reached his sick chamber, and shortly after, upon the occasion of his removal for the benefit of change of air, I received from him the following note:
‘April 29th.
‘I cannot leave Kensington without expressing to you my grateful feelings for the truly kind and Christian manner in which, during a very critical period of my illness, you were pleased to direct the prayers of your congregation to the throne of grace for my recovery. It has made a deep impression upon my mind.
‘Those prayers were mercifully heard, and, by the blessing of God, I trust that I am in a state of progressive amendment. Slow indeed have been my advances, insomuch that even now I am totally incapable of the ordinary exertions of life; but I trust that a good Providence, whose mercies have indeed been around my path and about my bed, will, in His good time, perform the perfect work of restoration.’”
Another remarkable fact must not be passed by:
“One sabbath morning (says the pastor) a singular lapse of memory befell me, which I had never before and have never since experienced. When I rose from sleep I could not recollect any portion of the discourse which I had prepared on the day before; and, what was most strange, I could not even remember the text of the prepared sermon. I was perplexed, and walked out before breakfast in Kensington Gardens. While there a particular text occurred to my mind; and my thoughts seemed to dwell on it so much that I resolved to preach from that without further attempting to recall what I had prepared, a thing which I had never ventured to do during all my ministry.
“From this text I preached, and it was ‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.’ I preached with great liberty, and in the course of the sermon I quoted the lines:
‘Beware of desperate steps! the darkest day—
Live till to-morrow—will have passed away.’“I afterwards learned that a man in despair had that very morning gone to the Serpentine to drown himself in it. For this purpose he had filled his pockets with stones, hoping to sink at once. Some passengers, however disturbed him while on the brink, and he returned to Kensington, intending to drown himself in the dusk of the evening. On passing my chapel he saw a number of people crowding into it, and thought he would join them in order to pass away the time. His attention was rivetted to the sermon, which seemed to be in part composed for him; and when he heard me quote the lines alluded to, he resolved to abandon his suicidal purpose.”
Another incident deserves relation:
“A bricklayer came one evening drunk, yet towards the close was impressed. The next Sunday he came again, and I noticed him as one of the two young men who had behaved rudely the Sabbath evening preceding; but he had been cut to the heart. ‘I,’ said he to himself, ‘am the man intended.’ He soon fell ill, when the good work deepened. He is now consistent.”
Dr. Leifchild left a list of thirty-two persons to whom he had been useful, and under each name a notice of particulars connected with it. [49]