From Death into Life by William Haslam

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"Yes, I do; and I am quite sure that if I had died in an unconverted
state I should have gone there; and this compels me to believe, also,
that what the Scripture says about it is true for every one."

"But what does the Scripture say?" he interposed. "It says that 'he that
believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed' (John
3:18); and in another place, 'tie that believeth not shall be damned'
(Mark 16:16). As surely as the believer is saved and goes to heaven, as
surely the unbeliever is lost and must So to hell."

"Do you mean Gehenna, the place of torment?"

"Yes, I do."

"This is very dreadful."

"More dreadful still." I said, "must be the solemn reality; and
therefore, instead of shrinking from the thought and putting it off, I
rather let it stir and rouse me to warn unbelievers, so that I may, by
any means, stop them on their dangerous path. I think this is the only
true and faithful way of showing kindness; and that, on the other hand,
it is the most selfish, heartless, and cruel unkindness to let sinners,
whether they are religious, moral, reformed, or otherwise, to go on in
an unconverted state, and perish."

"Do you believe, then," said my visitor, "in the fire of hell? Do you
think it is a material fire?"

"I do not know; I do not wish to know anything about it. I suppose
material fire, like every other material thing, is but a shadow of
something real. Is it not a fire which shall burn the soul--a fire that
never will be quenched--where the worm will never die?"

"Do you really believe all this?"

"Yes," I said, "and I have reason to do so." I remembered the anguish of
soul I passed through when I was under conviction, and the terrible
distress I felt for others whom I had misled. "When our blessed Lord was
speaking to the Jews, and warning them against their unbelief and its
fearful consequences, He did not allow any 'charitable hopes' to hinder
Him from speaking the whole truth. He told them of Lazarus, who died,
and went to Paradise, or Abraham's bosom; and of Dives, who died, and
went to Hell, the place of torment" (Luke 16).

"But," he said, interrupting me, "that is only a parable, or figure of
speech."

"Figure of speech!" I repeated. "Is it a figure of speech that the rich
man fared sumptuously, that he died, that he was buried? Is not that
literal? Why, then, is it a figure of speech that he lifted up his eyes
in torment, and said, 'I am tormented in this flame'(Luke 16:24). My
dear friend, be sure that there is an awful reality in that story--a
most solemn reality in the fact of the impassable gulf. If here we do
not believe in this gulf, we shall have to know of it hereafter. I never
saw and felt," I continued, "as I do now, that every man is lost, even
while on earth, until he is saved, and that if he dies in that unsaved
state he will be lost for ever."

My unknown visitor remained silent for a little time, and I could see
that he was in tears. At last he burst out and said, "I am sure you are
right. I came to try you upon the three great "R's"--'Ruin,'
'Redemption,' and 'Regeneration,' and to see if you really meant what
you preached. Now I feel more confirmed in the truth and reality of the
Scriptures." I thought I had been contending with an unbeliever all
along, but instead of this I found that he was a man who scarcely
ventured to think out what he believed to its ultimate result--he
believed God's Word, but, like too many, alas! held it loosely.

This gentleman had experienced the truth of the three "R's"--that is to
say, he had been awakened to know himself to be lost and ruined by the
fall, redeemed by the blood of Christ, and regenerated by the Holy
Ghost. In other words, he had been converted, and he knew it.

I found out that at the time of his conversion he was a beneficed
clergyman, and that, as such, not being responsible to any rector or
vicar, he began to preach boldly the things he had seen. His changed
preaching produced a manifest result, and the people were awakened, even
startled, and it would appear he was startled too. Instead of thanking
God and taking courage, he became alarmed at the disturbance amongst his
congregation, and finding that his preaching made him very unpopular, he
was weak enough to change his tone, and speak smooth things. Thus he
made peace with his congregation, and gained their treacherous good
will; but as a living soul he could not be satisfied with this state of
things. He knew that he was not faithful to God or to his people; so
being a man of competent means, he resigned his living, and retired into
private life--"beloved and respected," as they said, for being a good
and peaceable man.

At this distance of time I continue to thank God for his visit to me; it
helped to fix the truth more firmly in my own soul, and to confirm me in
the course in which I was working, and even contending, in the face of
much opposition. I must say that I have had no reason to waver in my
conviction, and still feel that I would not, for ten times that man's
wealth, and twenty times the amount of good-will which he enjoyed (if he
did enjoy it), stand in his place.

After long observation, I perceive that it is not the sword of the Word
which offends congregations, for preachers are commended and promoted
for declaring the whole truth, so long as it is judiciously put, and
with "much discretion," so as not to wound the prejudices of the people.
The majority of congregations rather like to see the sword drawn out to
its full length and flashed with dexterity, and they do not always
object to being hit with it, and even hit hard, so long as it is done
with the flat of the sword; but they very quickly resent a touch with
its edge, and more a thrust with its point. They admire sheet lightning,
which is beautiful, as it is harmless; but forked lightning is something
to be dreaded and avoided. For instance, a man may preach most
eloquently and acceptably on the three "R's" if he does not apply the
subject too pointedly, by telling the people, both in the pulpit and out
of it, that they are now ruined and lost; and that, having been
redeemed, they are responsible before God; and that, if they will not be
regenerated by the Spirit, they will be damned. They do not object to
your laying, "You hath He quickened," but to turn these same words into
a personal question is too often considered impertinent; though, indeed,
it is the sincerest kindness and truest Christian love.

"This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ
Jesus came into the world to save sinners" (1 Tim. 1:15). He came, and
is spiritually present now, everywhere, for this purpose. His real
presence with power is particularly promised to the preacher of the
Gospel (Matt. 28:20). The Lord Jesus is ever present to take especial
interest in the result of preaching. How disappointing then must it be
to Him, to find His servants so often spending their time and energies
upon other objects, however great or good they may be! When they do
preach the Gospel, it must grieve Him to see that their object is too
often not the same as His; and when He does apply the Word by the power
of the Spirit, it must also grieve Him to see that they are afraid of
the result.

Gospel preaching should not be to entertain people, nor even to instruct
them; but first to awaken them to see their danger, and to bring them
from death into life, which is manifestly the Lord's chief desire.

This was the definite object of my work: I preached for and aimed at it;
and nothing short of this could or would satisfy my longings. In the
church, in the school-room, or in the cottages, we prayed that the Holy
Spirit would bring conviction upon sinners, and then we sought to lead
them to conversion with the clear ringing testimony, "You must be born
again, or die to all eternity."

CHAPTER 10

The First Christmas, 1851-52.

The first Christmas-day, during the revival, was a wonderful time. The
people had never realized before what this festival was, beyond
regarding it as a season for domestic rejoicing. It surprised many to
see that their past Christmases were a true representation of their past
lives that they had cheered and tried to make themselves happy without
Christ, leaving Him out of their consideration in His own world, as they
had on His own birthday. What a Christless and hopeless life it had
been! What a Christless religion! Now we praised the Lord together for
His marvellous goodness to us, and desired that we might henceforth live
unto Him, singing in heart and life, "Glory to God in the highest, and
on earth peace, good-will towards men."

When New Year's eve arrived we had a midnight gathering, and dedicated
ourselves afresh to God's service. It was a blessed season, and several
hundreds were there, who, together with myself, were the fruits of the
revival during the previous two months. The new year opened upon us with
fresh manifestations of divine power and larger blessings. I endeavoured
to show the people that the Lord was called Jesus, not that He might
save us from hell or death, but from our sins; and this while we lived
on earth--that our heart and all our members being mortified from all
carnal lusts, we might live to His glory; that Christ's religion was not
intended for a death-bed, but for a happy and effectual Christian
life---a life showing forth the power of His grace.

After the Christmas holidays, our schoolmaster and his wife returned.
They came back full of disdain and prejudice against the work, and even
put themselves out of the way to go from house to house, in order to set
the people against me and my preaching. They said that they could bring
a hundred clergymen to prove that I was wrong; but their efforts had
just the contrary effect to what they expected. It stirred the people to
come more frequently to hear, and contend more zealously for what they
knew to be right. The master was particularly set against "excitement"
and noise. He said, "It was so very much more reverent to be still in
prayer, and orderly in praise; it was not necessary to make such an
unseemly uproar!" I had, however, discovered, long before this time,
that the people who most objected to noise had nothing yet to make a
noise about; and that when they had, they generally made as much or more
noise than others.

If a house is seen to be on fire, people cannot hello making an outcry;
which they do not, when they only read about it. Witnessing a danger
stirs the heart; and when people's eyes are open to see souls in eternal
danger, they cannot help being stirred up, and crying out. I am
sometimes asked, "Is there not such a thing as a feeling which is too
deep for expression?" It may be that at times people are so surprised
and astonished at some sudden announcement of good or bad news, that
they are stunned, and for a time unable to give vent to their joy or
grief; but soon there is a reaction, and then expression is given.
Generally speaking, these so-called "deep feelings" are only deep in the
way of being low down in the vessel--that is to say, very shallow, and
by no means sufficient to overflow.

We read that "the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice, and
praise God with a loud voice, for all the mighty works that they had
seen" (Luke 19:37). And we are told, over and over again, in the Psalms,
to "praise God with a loud voice," and to "shout." When we lift up our
voice, the Lord can stir our hearts; and surely the things of the Lord
have more right, and ought to have more power, to stir and arouse the
soul of man, than a boat-race, or a horserace, or a fictitious scene on
the stage. I think people would be all the better for letting out their
hearts in praise to God. It may lie it is trying and exciting to some,
but perhaps they are the very ones who need such a stimulus, and this
may be the best way of bringing it out.

Notwithstanding the schoolmaster's opposition, he still came to church,
and was very attentive to the sermons, taking copious notes. One Sunday,
when I had been preaching on the text, "Cut it down; why cumbereth it
the ground?" he was heard to say, "Thank God, I am not cut done yet;"
and then he proceeded for the first time to the after-meeting in the
school-room.

When I entered I saw him low down on his knees, and said how happy I was
to see him there. "Oh," he cried, "I fear there is no mercy--the
sentence is surely gone forth against me, 'Cut him down! cut him down!'"
And then the poor man howled aloud in his distress. The people prayed
for him with shouts of thanksgiving, while he threw himself about in
agony of mind, and made a great noise, which only drew still louder
acclamations from the people. In the midst of this tremendous din he
found peace, and rejoiced with the others in unmistakable accents, and
as loud as the loudest. Evidently he was not ashamed or afraid of
excitement and noise now.

While he was thus engaged I went round to his house to see his wife, and
tell her the news. I found her sitting on the stairs in profound dismay,
as if some dreadful calamity had happened. She was literally dumb with
fear and astonishment. When she could speak, she said, "What will happen
to him now? Will he die? What will become of us?" When I assured her
that her husband was only just beginning to live, she said, "Must we be
Dissenters now? Oh, what will become of us?" Her sister, who was staying
with her, became very angry at hearing of the master's conversion.
Finding that I could not do much with these two, I left them, and
returned to the schoolroom, where the people were even more uproarious
and happy than before; several others having also found pardon and
peace.

The Sunday after, the master was seen moving out of church as quickly as
he could; and when he reached the churchyard he was observed to run, and
then leap over a wall, and next over a hedge into a field. They could
not hear him, but he was shouting all the time as well as running. He
afterwards said that the Prayer-book was full of meaning; it was like a
new book to him; and that if he had stayed in church, he should have
disturbed the whole congregation. He became a very earnest Christian,
and took much pains and interest in the religious instruction of the
children. There were several revivals in the school while he was there,
and many of the children were converted. It was not long before he was
able to rejoice over the conversion of his wife, and her sister also.

I had been anxious about my clerk for some time; he was a good man in
his way, and most attentive to his work in and out of church; he was
also a regular communicant, and exemplary in his life; but with all
this, he was unconverted. I often warned him of his danger; and one day
it came to my mind to tell him of the man who went in to the marriage
supper without the wedding garment. I said, no doubt he thought himself
as good as others, but when the King came in to see the guests, he was
speechless; and because he was so, and had not on the wedding garment,
the King commanded that he should be bound hand and foot, and put into
outer darkness. Now, I continued, the King has often come in to see us,
and we have rejoiced before Him; but you have never spoken to Him, or
asked for mercy. It is a very hardening thing to hear so much as you do
and remain unsaved; and a very deadening thing to come to the Lord's
table as you do, going through the form without any real meaning. You
receive the bread and wine in remembrance that Christ died for you, and
yet you do not believe enough to thank Him. I was led to say, "I must
forbid your coming to the Lord's table till you have given your heart to
God. You know it is right to do it, and that you ought to be converted.
I will not have you come here again till you are."

The man looked at me as if to see whether I meant it, and then appeared
so sorrowful that I nearly relented. All through the service he was low
and dejected, and went away at the time of the administration of the
ordinance, and sat at the other end of the church. My heart ached for
him, for I had never seen him so touched about anything. Afterwards,
when he came into the vestry, I could see that he had been crying. "Ah,
friend," I said, "it is bad to be left out from the Lord's table here;
what will it be to be left out of heaven?"

In the evening he was more miserable than ever, and at the close of the
service came into the school-room, where he broke down, and asked the
people to pray for him, for he was a hard-hearted, miserable sinner.
"Pray the Lord to melt my heart." We did so: and soon the poor
broken-hearted man sobbed and cried aloud for mercy; and it was not long
before, to our great joy, he found peace. He afterwards told us that he
had been getting hardened by forms ever since he had been clerk, reading
solemn words without any meaning, which at first he trembled at doing.
He was right; it is good to hear the Gospel, good to attend the means of
grace, good to assemble in the company of God's people; but to rest in
the habit of doing these good things, without conversion, is most
dangerous, and calculated to deaden the heart. He said that he felt it
very much when 'master' was converted (meaning myself), and was also
dreadfully condemned; for he had believed in the necessity of conversion
all his life; and though he knew that I was unconverted, yet he never
told me, but rather encouraged me to go on as I was. He said that he had
had many sleepless nights about it; "but now, thank God" he added, "it
is all right; my feet are on the Rock, my soul is saved. I can praise
the Lord in the congregation."

The clerk's conversion did not stop with himself, for it was a call to
some of the ringers; they were still outside and unsaved, though they
knew, as well as he did, that they ought to be otherwise. One of these
men began to attend the meetings regularly, but we could not get him to
pray, or speak a word. I said to him one evening, "You will never have a
sound from the bell till you move it or its tongue; in like manner, you
must move your tongue, for you will have nothing until you speak, nor
get an answer until you pray." Still he remained silent, and shut up to
himself; till one night, as we were putting out the lights at ten
o'clock, the meeting being over, I said to him as he stood by, "James, I
wonder when you will ever give your heart to God?" He looked at me and
said, "Now." "That is right," I replied; "thank God! let it be so." I at
once stopped the extinguishing of the lights, and invited him to pray
with me, but he took no heed. It was evident he had deliberately made up
his mind what he would do, for he took off his coat, undid his neck-tie,
turned back his shirt-sleeves, and then, setting a form about nine or
ten feet long, square with the room, he knelt down and began to say,
"Lord, have mercy upon me!" "Lord, have mercy upon me!" This he repeated
with every returning breath, faster and louder as he went on, till at
last he worked himself up into a condition of frenzy. He went on without
cessation for two hours, and then stopped in an exhausted state, gasping
for breath. I pointed him to the cross, and told him of God's mercy in
giving His Son to die for sinners; but he was quite absent, and did not
appear to hear me, or take the least notice. After a little rest, he
commenced again praying as before, and got into terrible distress. What
with his noise, and the energy he put forth, it was frightful to see the
struggle. He cried, and beat the form till I thought his arms would be
black and blue; then he took up the form and beat the floor with it,
till I expected every moment it would come to pieces. The noise he made
brought some of the neighbours out of their beds in a fright to see what
was the matter.

At two o'clock in the morning, four hours after he began, he laid
himself across the form, and begged with tears that the Lord would not
cast him off. I told him that the Lord was actually waiting for him. At
last he found peace, or felt something, and, springing up, he began to
shout and praise God; and we all joined with him. When this was done, he
put on his coat and neck-tie, and saying "Good night," went home. From
this time he became a changed man, and an earnest and steadfast
believer.

CHAPTER 11

Dreams and Visions, 1851-4.

During the revival, the outpouring of the Spirit of God was very
manifest and unmistakable, and was seen in various ways. It was not, of
course, by power or might of men, but by divine influence, that souls
were awakened to see themselves in their true condition. The candle of
the Lord was lighted, and there was a searching of and for immortal
souls, as typified by our blessed Lord in the parable of the lost piece
of silver.

We read that the woman with her lighted candle discovered her treasure;
so the Divine Spirit, by awakening and searching hearts, found souls,
though they had been buried under sins, worldliness, and neglect, and
that for many years. It was astonishing to hear persons who had been
dull and silent before, break out into full and free expression of
spiritual truth; and their liberty and power in prayer were not less
remarkable. It was truly an opening of eyes to see, and ears to hear,
and hearts to understand--a raising of the dead to spiritual life and
animation. It was as wonderful as the speaking of tongues on the day of
Pentecost, with this difference--that those people spoke what they knew,
in tongues they had not known; and these, in their own speech, declared
things which they had never seen or known before.

We had another distinctive sign of Pentecost, which was, that while
believers rejoiced with overflowing joy, and sinners were pricked to the
heart, and cried out, "What must I do to be saved?" there were those who
mocked, saying, "These men are mad, or drunk." But, as St. Peter
testified long ago, these men, women, and children were not drunk, but
under the influence and power of the Holy Ghost.

We had yet another sign. The prophet Joel predicted, "It shall come to
pass that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and
your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your
young men shall see visions; and also upon the servants and upon the
handmaids in those days will I pour out my Spirit" (Joel 2:28, 29). And
I think my narrative would be very incomplete, and I should be holding
back the truth, if I did not tell of some of the dreams and visions
which continually happened at this time amongst us.

Every week, almost every day, we heard of some remarkable dream or
striking vision. Such things may be called "superstitious" by
incredulous people, but I merely state what actually took place without
attempting to explain or account for it. My own feeling is that I would
rather be among the superstitious than the incredulous; for I think that
the former lose nothing by believing, and the latter gain nothing by
their unbelief.

Among the people who are alive to spiritual realities these remarkable
tokens are not suspected or doubted. To believe nothing but what you can
understand or account for, is to believe nothing at all. Cornish people
at that time--and they may still be the same--lived in a spiritual
atmosphere, at least in their own county; so much so, that I have often
heard them complain, when they returned from the "shires," of the
dryness and deadness they felt there. I can certainly set my seal to
this testimony, and declare that those of us who had visions in Cornwall
have not had them in the same way out of that district.

I will give a few specimens, but only one of a kind, for it would fill
the volume if I told all; the reader can judge if there was meaning or
import in some of them or not.

At one time, when there was a depression or check in the congregation,
and preaching was hard, praying formal, and singing flat, I invited the
people to join with me in prayer, that the Lord would show us what was
the hindrance in the way of the work. They prayed with one accord and
without consulting one another, almost in the same words, whether in the
school-room or in the cottages; the substance of their petition was,
that we might know and put away the obstacle to spiritual blessing,
whatever that obstacle might be.

One night I dreamt that I was in the church, feeling very desolate and
forsaken; there were very few people there, but soon my eyes lighted on
an ugly-looking stranger, who tried to evade me. He was a very
disagreeable, sullen-looking man. When I spoke to him he gnashed his
teeth, and as I approached he drew out a knife and held it out before
me. I pursued him notwithstanding, when he backed towards the door and
went out. I followed him through the churchyard till he was outside the
lych-gate. As soon as he was gone, I saw a troop of happy people, all
dressed in white, come in at the same gate, leaping and running like so
many joyful children, and swinging their arms for gladness: they went
into the church and began to sing. The dream was as vivid to me as a
daylight scene.

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