The emblems were blessed, the bread was broken, the wine poured, the invitation given, “eat ye all of it.” Interesting and touching reminiscences were indulged in, often with much tenderness of feeling. The heart-hymn, “My faith looks up to Thee,” every line of which breathes a prayer, ascended in its wedded tune of Olivet. The benediction was said; the service was over.
Thus we tell you of the first ingathering of sheaves from the harvest not yet fully garnered. Silently, as God’s greatest blessings always come, this favor has come to us. Seed scattered through many years by loving hands has, all unnoticed, been springing up. Sowing, pruning, digging about, preparing the ground to receive the watering of Divine mercy, has not been in vain. In answer to fervent, long-continued prayer, not with boisterous storm or rush of wind, but gently, the rich showers of blessing fell, “Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the Lord.”
The awakening began in our day-school. Much seriousness seemed manifest during the week of prayer, when daily after-school meetings were held, and in connection with the labors of Mr. and Mrs. H. E. Brown, a few weeks later, in many hearts a settled purpose to serve the Lord found expression. The church and school, like twin-born sisters, go hand in hand. One can not be troubled and the other be unaffected; one cannot be blessed and the other remain unmoved. The work of grace went on, making the Sunday-school and all church services solemn seasons. Each night the place of prayer was crowded, many anxious to know the way of life or avowing their purpose to live for Christ, sometimes struggling through days of darkness to find the clear light from the sun of righteousness just beyond. Sweet always will be the remembrance of a morning greeting from a bright-faced girl of fourteen, as she waited at the school-yard gate. Her beaming countenance told the story even before the lips, which quickly uttered the glad words, “I have found Christ at last! He has forgiven my sins!”
Some among those who seemed the stoutest-hearted were the first to submit to Christ, while sadly we look upon others, who remind us of the young man whom Jesus loved, who seemed near the kingdom and yet took no step nearer.
The joy it gives every new-born soul to welcome one after another to their newly-formed ranks has been beautiful to behold. A hopeful sign is that everyone seemed so ready, nay, so eager, to do some service in showing to others the path in which their own feet had just begun to tread. All love the place of prayer, and often spend the half-hour recess at noon in a prayer-meeting by themselves in the small library up-stairs. Some of tender years are as thoughtful in face and manner as the oldest ones. One in telling of her new-found love said, “I felt that I loved everybody, and if my arms had been large enough I thought I would like to take in the whole world;” and with eyes and voice full of tears, she begged prayers for her father, who had said, when she urged him to come to Christ, “I am too old.”
Just as in days gone by, many benighted ones outside of us believe that “gettin’ religion” consists in the seeing of visions and the dreaming of dreams, and those who have been taught the truth in our Sunday-school are often interrogated; “How far did you go?” “What did you see in your travels?” “How long did you stay in torment?” and when they have no answer but the unvarying one, “We are trying to do Christ’s commands,” they are taunted with “You’re no Christian!” “Bible religion ain’t no religion.” Yet they show only a feeling of pity for such ignorant ones.
There is still among us a spirit of inquiry. At our usual Monday after-school prayer-meeting many said, “Pray for us!”
Through all there seems to underlie a current of earnestness and desire for holier living in God’s children, and more, much more we crave of willingness and strength, that so we may—
“Joy to find in every station
Something still to do or bear.”