In Darkest England and The Way Out [104]
to the power of God to save. A more enthusiastic wave of sympathy never greeted any speaker than that which met her from that crowd, every one of whom was familiar with her past history. After a few broken words, in which she spoke of the wonderful change that had taken place, a cousin, who, like herself, had lived a notoriously evil life, came to the Cross.
Rose is now War Cry sergeant. She goes into the brothels and gin palaces and other haunts of vice, from which she was rescued, and sells more papers than any other Soldier.
The Superintendent of Police, soon after her conversion, told the Captain at the Corps that in rescuing Rose a more wonderful work had been done than he had seen in all the years gone by.
S. was a native of Lancashire, the son of poor, but pious, parents. He was saved when sixteen years of age. He was first an Evangelist, then a City Missionary for five or six years, and afterwards a Baptist Minister. He then fell under the influence of drink, resigned, and became a commercial traveller, but lost his berth through drink. He was then an insurance agent, and rose to be superintendent, but was again dismissed through drink. During his drunken career he had delirium tremens four times, attempted suicide three times, sold up six homes, was in the workhouse with his wife and family three times. His last contrivance for getting drink was to preach mock sermons, and offer mock prayers in the tap-rooms.
After one of these blasphemous performances in a public-house, on the words, "Are you Saved?" he was challenged to go to the Salvation Barracks. He went, and the Captain, who knew him well, at once made for him, to plead for his soul, but S. knocked him down, and rushed back to the public-house for more drink. He was, however, so moved by what he had heard that he was unable to raise the liquor to his mouth, although he made three attempts. He again returned to the meeting, and again quitted it for the public-house. He could not rest, and for the third time he returned to the Barracks. As he entered the last time the Soldiers were singing: --
"Depth of mercy, can there be Mercy still reserved for me? Can my God his wrath forbear? Me, the chief of Sinners, spare?
This song impressed him still further; he wept, and remained in the Barracks under deep conviction until midnight. He was drunk all the next day, vainly trying to drown his convictions. The Captain visited him at night, but was quickly thrust out of the house. He was there again next morning, and prayed and talked with S. for nearly two hours. Poor S. was in despair. He persisted that there was no mercy for him. After a long struggle, however, hope sprung up, he fell upon his knees, confessed his sins, and obtained forgiveness.
When this happened, his furniture consisted of a soap-box for a table, and starch boxes for chairs. His wife, himself, and three children, had not slept in a bed for three years. He has now a happy family, a comfortable home, and has been the means of leading numbers of other slaves of sin to the Saviour, and to a truly happy life.
Similar cases, describing the deliverance of drunkards from the bondage of strong drink, could be produced indefinitely. There are Officers marching in our ranks to-day, who where once gripped by this fiendish fascination, who have had their fetters broken, and are now free men in the Army. Still the mighty torrent of Alcohol, fed by ten thousand manufactories, sweeps on, bearing with it, I have no hesitation in saying, the foulest, bloodiest tide that ever flowed from earth to eternity. The Church of the living God ought not--and to say nothing about religion, the people who have any humanity ought not, to rest without doing something desperate to rescue this half of a million who are in the eddying maelstrom. We purpose, therefore, the taking away of the people from the temptation which they cannot resist. We would to God that the temptation could be taken away from them, that every house licensed to send forth the black streams of bitter death were
Rose is now War Cry sergeant. She goes into the brothels and gin palaces and other haunts of vice, from which she was rescued, and sells more papers than any other Soldier.
The Superintendent of Police, soon after her conversion, told the Captain at the Corps that in rescuing Rose a more wonderful work had been done than he had seen in all the years gone by.
S. was a native of Lancashire, the son of poor, but pious, parents. He was saved when sixteen years of age. He was first an Evangelist, then a City Missionary for five or six years, and afterwards a Baptist Minister. He then fell under the influence of drink, resigned, and became a commercial traveller, but lost his berth through drink. He was then an insurance agent, and rose to be superintendent, but was again dismissed through drink. During his drunken career he had delirium tremens four times, attempted suicide three times, sold up six homes, was in the workhouse with his wife and family three times. His last contrivance for getting drink was to preach mock sermons, and offer mock prayers in the tap-rooms.
After one of these blasphemous performances in a public-house, on the words, "Are you Saved?" he was challenged to go to the Salvation Barracks. He went, and the Captain, who knew him well, at once made for him, to plead for his soul, but S. knocked him down, and rushed back to the public-house for more drink. He was, however, so moved by what he had heard that he was unable to raise the liquor to his mouth, although he made three attempts. He again returned to the meeting, and again quitted it for the public-house. He could not rest, and for the third time he returned to the Barracks. As he entered the last time the Soldiers were singing: --
"Depth of mercy, can there be Mercy still reserved for me? Can my God his wrath forbear? Me, the chief of Sinners, spare?
This song impressed him still further; he wept, and remained in the Barracks under deep conviction until midnight. He was drunk all the next day, vainly trying to drown his convictions. The Captain visited him at night, but was quickly thrust out of the house. He was there again next morning, and prayed and talked with S. for nearly two hours. Poor S. was in despair. He persisted that there was no mercy for him. After a long struggle, however, hope sprung up, he fell upon his knees, confessed his sins, and obtained forgiveness.
When this happened, his furniture consisted of a soap-box for a table, and starch boxes for chairs. His wife, himself, and three children, had not slept in a bed for three years. He has now a happy family, a comfortable home, and has been the means of leading numbers of other slaves of sin to the Saviour, and to a truly happy life.
Similar cases, describing the deliverance of drunkards from the bondage of strong drink, could be produced indefinitely. There are Officers marching in our ranks to-day, who where once gripped by this fiendish fascination, who have had their fetters broken, and are now free men in the Army. Still the mighty torrent of Alcohol, fed by ten thousand manufactories, sweeps on, bearing with it, I have no hesitation in saying, the foulest, bloodiest tide that ever flowed from earth to eternity. The Church of the living God ought not--and to say nothing about religion, the people who have any humanity ought not, to rest without doing something desperate to rescue this half of a million who are in the eddying maelstrom. We purpose, therefore, the taking away of the people from the temptation which they cannot resist. We would to God that the temptation could be taken away from them, that every house licensed to send forth the black streams of bitter death were