"Incidents"
Used By A. B. Earle In His Meetings Absalom Backus Earle (1812-1895) American evangelist. A.B. Earle was born in Charlton, New York. He was converted at the age of 16 and began to preach two years later. The next three years were spent in study and preaching, until, at the age of 21, he was ordained at Amsterdam, New York. After pastoring there for five years, Earle felt led of the Lord to enter the evangelistic ministry. Fifty-eight years of his life were spent in holding meetings in the United States, every state, and Canada. He compiled the following statistics: Number of series of meetings: 960; Number of services: 39,330; Miles traveled: 370,000; Total amount received for 64 years of ministry: $65,520.00; Conversions to Christ: 160,000; Men entering the ministry: 400. Earle authored the following books: Bringing in the Sheaves, Abiding Peace, Rest of Faith, The Human Will, The Work of an Evangelist, Evidences of Conversion, and Winning Souls. He died at his home in Newton, Massachusetts, on March 30, 1895, at the age of 83. (biographical info found at www.believersweb.org) |
I was just
sitting down at my own table, at twelve o'clock, one day, when one of my
neighbors
came in greatly excited, and said
to me:
"I wish you would go over to my house as soon
as you can. I fear my son Charles is dying, and I desire very much to know how
he feels."
I did not stay to dine, but hurried to the house,
and it was well I did for the young man was dead in thirty minutes after I reached
the house.
I found him sitting in a large arm rocking chair,
dying with a putrid sore throat. He could breathe easier in that position. I
saw that death was upon him, and if I said anything to him I must do it at once.
I very mildly asked him this question:
"Charley, if it should please your Heavenly Father
to call you away pretty soon, do you think you have a good hope?"
He struggled with this terrible disease (the putrid
sore throat) for a moment, determined to let me know how he felt, and finally
got out these words:
"Won't you pray that God will have mercy on my
soul?"
I said, "I will Charles."
After a few words pointing out the way to Christ
(for I had to be very brief, death was doing his work so rapidly) I said to the
neighbors in the room:
"Will you all kneel down with me whether you are
Christians or not, and help me pray for this dear young man."
They did kneel down with me, and oh, how we begged
of God for Christ's sake to save Charles if possible, even in this extremity;
to pluck him as a brand from the burning. We could hear his strange voice during
the prayer:
"O God, have mercy on my soul."
When we rose from our knees, his sobbing mother
put her arms around his neck and her wet face upon his, bathing it with her tears,
as if to get the comforting words, said:
"Charles, don't you think you will meet us in
heaven?"
His reply was, "No, mother, I've no hope."
Turning his dying eyes on me, he said:
"Won't you pray that God will have mercy on my
soul."
Although I had just risen from my knees, I said:
"I will Charley. Come neighbors, kneel down
with me again and help me pray."
Oh, what a moment it was, while we plead once
more that if possible, God would save Charley.
When we arose from our knees the second time,
death was so near that I assisted in laying him upon the bed. While we stood
over him in his death struggles, his poor mother, said:
"Let me come, I must speak to him once more."
She spread her arms over him, putting her wet
face upon his again as if determined to get the comforting words, and said:
"Charles, don't you think you will meet us in
heaven?"
"No, mother, no, I've no hope."
These were the last words that dropped from his
lips. He gasped a few times, and was gone. May God save any of you from witnessing
such a scene.
The family threw their arms around each other
and sobbed aloud. When I tried to speak a word of comfort to them, they cried:
"No sir, we can't have it so."
But it was so. I think they continued this sobbing
for a full half hour. When they became calm enough so that I could,
I kneeled and prayed with them, and for them, that God would sustain and comfort
them.
As I left that house, and went towards my home,
and looked up into the open heavens, I said:
"Jesus, I will be a better minister; wherever
I go I will plead with young men, to seek thee while they may."
I do intreat every one who may read this incident,
if you have not already done it, not to delay one hour in securing the salvation
of your soul.
The Spirit calls to-day,
Yield to his power,
Oh, grieve him not away,
Tis mercy's hour."
At
the close of a series of meetings in Springfield, Mass., a mother handed
me a little girl's picture wrapped in two one-dollar
bills, at the same time relating the following touching incident:
Her only child, at the age of six years, gave
her heart to the Saviour, giving, as the pastor with whom I was laboring said,
the clearest evidence of conversion.
At once she went to her mother and said, "Ma,
I have given my heart to Jesus and he has received me; now, won't you give your
heart to him?" (The parents were both unconverted at the time). The mother replied, "I
hope I shall some time, dear Mary." The little girl said, "Do it now, ma," and
urged the mother, with all her childlike earnestness, to give herself to
the Saviour then.
Finding she could not prevail in that way, she
sought to secure a promise from her mother, feeling sure she would do what
she promised; for her parents had made it a point never to make her a promise
without
carefully fulfilling it. So time after time she would say, "Promise me, ma;" and
the mother would reply, "I do not like to promise you, Mary, for fear I shall
not fulfill."
This request was urged at times for nearly six
years, and finally the little petitioner had to die to secure the promise.
Several times during her sickness the parents
came to her bedside to see her die, saying to her "You are dying now, dear Mary." But
she would say, "No, ma, I can't die till you promise me." Still her mother was
unwilling to make the promise, lest it should not be kept. She intended to give
her heart to Jesus some time, but was unwilling to do it "now."
Mary grew worse, and finally had uttered her
last word on earth: her mother was never, again to hear that earnest entreaty, "Promise
me, ma."
But the little one's spirit lingered, as if it
were detained by the angel sent to lead her mother to Jesus, that the long-sought
promise might be heard before it took its flight.
The weeping mother stood watching the countenance
of the dying child, who seemed to say, by her look, "Ma,
promise me, and let me go to Jesus." There
was a great struggle in her heart as she said to herself, "Why do I not
promise this child? I mean to give my heart to Jesus; why not now? If
I do not promise
her now, I never can."
The Spirit inclined her heart to yield. She
roused her child, and said, "Mary, I will give my heart to Jesus." This was
the last bolt to be drawn; her heart was now open, and Jesus entered at once,
and she
felt the joy and peace of sins forgiven.
This change was so marked, she felt constrained
to tell the good news to her child, that she might bear it with her when
she went to live with Jesus; so, calling her attention once more, she said, "Mary,
I have given my heart to Jesus, and he is my Saviour now."
For six years Mary had been praying to God and
pleading with her mother for these words; and now, as they fell upon her
ear, a peaceful smile lighted up her face, and, no longer able to speak, she
raised
her little, pale hand, and pointing upward, seemed to say, "Ma, we shall meet
up there." Her life's work was done, and her spirit returned to Him who gave
it.
The mother's heart was full of peace, though her
loved one had gone. She now felt very anxious that her husband should have this
blessing which she found in Christ.
The parents went into the room where the remains
were resting, to look upon the face of her who slept so sweetly in death,
when the mother said, "Husband, I promised our little Mary that I would give
my heart to Jesus, and he has received me. Now, won't you promise?"
The Holy Spirit was there. The strong man resisted
for a while, then yielded his will, and taking the little cold hand in his,
kneeled and said, "Jesus, I will try to seek thee."
The child's remains were laid in the grave. The
parents were found in the house of prayer- the mother happy in Jesus, and the
father soon having some evidence of love to Christ.
When I closed my labors in Springfield, Dr.
Ide said to his congregation, "I hope you will all give brother Earle some token
of your regard for his services before he leaves. As this mother heard these
words, she said she could, as it were, see her little Mary's hand pointing down
from heaven, and hear her sweet voice saying, "Ma, give him my two one-dollars."
Those two one-dollars I have now, wrapped around
the picture of that dear child, and wherever I go, little Mary will speak for
the Saviour.
Reader, is there not some loved one now pointing
down from heaven and saying to you, "Give your heart to Jesus?" Are you
loving some earthly object more than Jesus? God may sever that tie -may
take away
your little Mary, or Willie, or some dear friend. Will you not come to
Jesus, without
such a warning?
I once asked a lady whose character seemed as
spotless as it is possible to be in this life, who said she had always
enjoyed secret prayer, if there was a friend in the world whose society she
enjoyed when
she wanted nothing of that friend except to be in his presence, no
personal or selfish end in view, nothing wanted except to enjoy being in his
society. She
said:
"There is just such a friend, in whose society
and presence I spend hours of the greatest pleasure, simply because
I love him."
I inquired if she felt the same or equal pleasure
in the closet or in communion with God; whether she had seasons for
secret praise to God, when nothing was wanted except to be in his presence,
to praise him for
his purity and holiness.
She replied:
"I see my heart, sir. I see myself a lost sinner.
My pleasure in prayer has been all selfishness, no love for holiness. Although I have lived a moral
life, and enjoyed secret prayer, it has been only when I wanted some
favor from God, not because I loved his purity, and desired to be in his presence.
I see
that my heart has been dead in its affections towards God all this
time;
1 see the need of being born again, of a new heart."
I have seldom seen a more earnest seeker than
this lady. It was not a change in her outward life she sought, -this was apparently
without blemish, -but a change in her affections toward the holiness of God.
There is nothing in our fallen nature, which,
if cultivated in the best possible manner, would bring our hearts, or affections,
into union with holiness and purity. If unregenerate men were taken into
heaven itself, and if it were possible to live in the society of the pure and
the holy
for ages, even this would not bring love to God and holiness into the soul. "Ye
must be born again," would still remain true. Being in heaven among the redeemed
would not bring life into the dead affections.
I heard of a man who was a profane swearer,
a rejecter of offered mercy, who could not sleep until he had repeated
aloud the
prayer his mother taught him when a child, "Now I lay me down to
sleep."
Having repeated this simple prayer,
he was so far satisfied that he could go quietly to sleep. if we
were in the habit of going
to a rich man for favors; even if we really disliked him, yet, if
he received us kindly, and granted our requests, we should feel a
kind of satisfaction in
going for those favors, although we had no love for the man. So we
may find a certain satisfaction in prayer, a degree of pleasure,
it may be, in going to
God for what we think we want.
This is a very different thing from feeling a
real pleasure in simply being in God's presence to praise him for his holiness
and purity, when we want nothing in particular, to have seasons for secret praise.
Let me ask the reader whether [the pleasure
you feel in secret prayer is only when you want something in particular of
him, and
so may be entirely selfish pleasure, or do you, at least, have seasons
when you want simply to praise God for his purity and holiness, finding real
pleasure
in being in his presence, because you love him?
The most effectual, unanswerable argument with
which to meet infidelity is intense desire for men's salvation,
or, as Paul. expresses it, "I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in
my heart. For I could wish myself accursed from Christ for my brethren, my
kinsmen according
to the flesh."
Infidelity stands trembling in the presence of
soul-travail. It is an unanswerable argument.
An incident occurred a number of years ago that
illustrates the real power of this argument. A man of great ability
and reading supposed himself invulnerable to any argument Christians could
bring in favor
of Christianity. Able ministers had endeavored to convince him,
but he would laugh them down. A very able, pious lawyer had been sent to reason
with him,
but it was all of no avail, until a humble Christian satisfied
him he was "greatly
concerned for his salvation."
I will
give his experience in his own language, as related by himself
in a prayer-meeting:
"I stand," said Mr. R___, "to tell you the story
of my conversion."
His lips trembled slightly as he spoke, and his
bosom heaved with suppressed emotion.
"I am as a brand plucked out of the burning.
The change in me is an astonishment to myself, and all brought about by the
grace
of God and that unanswerable argument. It was a cold morning in January,
and I had just begun my labor at the anvil in my shop, when I looked out, and
saw
Mr. B____ approaching. He dismounted quickly, and entered.
"As he drew near, I saw he was agitated. His
look was full of earnestness. His eyes were bedimmed with tears. He took me
by the
hand. His breast heaved with emotion, and with indescribable tenderness he
said:
"Mr. R___, I am greatly concerned for your salvation
- greatly concerned for your salvation,' and he burst into tears.
"He stood with my hand grasped in his. He struggled
to regain self-possession. He often essayed to speak, but not a word could
he utter, and finding that he could say no more, he turned, went out of the
shop,
got on his horse, and rode slowly away.
"'Greatly concerned for my salvation! ' said
I, audibly, and I stood, and forgot to bring my hammer down. There I stood
with
it upraised 'greatly concerned for my salvation!'
"I went to my house. My poor, pious wife, whom
I had always ridiculed for her religion, exclaimed:
"'Why, Mr. R___, what is the matter with you?
"'Matter enough,' said I, filled with agony,
and overwhelmed with a sense of sin. 'Old Mr. B____ has ridden two miles this
cold
morning to tell me he was greatly concerned for my salvation. What shall
I do? What shall I do?'
"'I do not know what you can do,' said my astonished
wife. 'I do not know what better you can do than to get on your horse, and
go and see him. He can give you better counsel than I, and tell you what you
must
do to be saved.'
"I mounted my horse, and pursued after him.
I found him alone in that same little room where he had spent
the night in prayer
for my poor soul, where he had shed many tears over such a
reprobate as I, and had besought God to have mercy
upon me.
" 'I am come,' said I to him, 'to tell you that
I am greatly concerned for my own salvation.'
" 'Praised be God!' said the aged man. It is
a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came into
the
world to save sinners, even the chief,' and he began at that same Scripture,
and preached to me Jesus. On that same floor we knelt, and together we prayed,
and we did not separate that day till God spoke peace to my soul.
"I have often been requested to look at the evidence
of the truth of religion, but, blessed be God, I have evidence.for its truth
here," laying his hand upon his heart, "which nothing can gainsay or resist.
I have often been led to look at this and that argument for the truth of
Christianity; but I could overturn, and, as I thought, completely demolish
and annihilate them
all. But I stand here, to-night, thankful to acknowledge that God sent an
argument to my conscience and heart which could not be answered or resisted,
when a weeping
Christian came to tell me how greatly concerned he was for my salvation.
God taught him that argument when he spent the night before him in prayer
for my
soul."
If we would lead men to the Saviour, let us
satisfy them that we see and feel their danger; that alone before
God we are "greatly
concerned for their salvation."
A tender incident; one that illustrates the
truth of Christ's word, "A little child shall lead them."
A saloon-keeper of considerable note had an only
daughter, named Eva. The father almost idolized this child. She was very lovely.
He would often take her into his saloon, to show her to his company. His life
seemed bound up in this child. He would gratify, as far as possible, every wish
of his Eva, of whom he was becoming very proud.
When she was about six years old; a Christian
temperance woman came into that place and formed a Children's Temperance Society.
Eva was invited to attend the meeting, and became a member. Her father, proud
of having her noticed, gave his consent, thinking she was too young to be influenced
by what might be said about his business.
The lady conducting the services asked the children
to bow their heads while she asked God to bless them. Eva had never heard a prayer
before. It seemed very strange to her, and made a lasting impression on her mind.
After returning home, she at once began her lifework,
which was to terminate in a few weeks. She went at once to her father, and said:
"Papa, it is wrong to sell rum; it makes people
bad."
He was pleased to see that she remembered so much
that she had heard in the meeting, and so did not keep her from attending them.
Eva, though so young, had evidently given her heart to the Saviour.
A few weeks after giving herself to Christ,
she was taken very sick. Her father watched over her day and night with the
tenderest
care. How could he have the pride and idol of his heart
taken away! She would often look up in his face so earnestly, and say:
"Papa, don't sell any more rum, because it is
wrong."
Still his saloon was open.
She was fast fading away. Death was about to liberate
the soul of little Eva Just then, with her face almost angelic, she looked up
in her father's face, and said:
"Papa, dear papa, won't you promise me that
you won't sell any more rum?"
The father, almost overcome with emotion, replied:
"Yes, Eva dear, I will promise you anything
if you will only get well. How can I live without you!"
She asked him to go and shut up his saloon right
away, that she could "tell Jesus what he had done."
He was too much affected to speak, but left the
room. In a short time he returned, and said:
"My darling, I have shut up my saloon, so that
no one can come in."
He then promised his child he would never sell
another drop of liquor, and would throw away all there was in his saloon.
Eva was very happy about her father's decision,
and for some time was very quiet. After a while she opened her eyes, and looking
about the room, on them all, with her face beaming with the love of Christ, said:
"I am going to live with Jesus very soon, and
I do want my papa and mamma there too. Papa, will you promise to give your
heart to him and do all he wants you to, and then come and live with him?"
The father was silent. He did not like to promise
anything he was not sure he could fulfill. His weeping wife said:
"Oh, George, do grant your dying child's request.
I have promised to meet her in heaven, and I want you should."
At last; in broken accents, he said:
"I promise what you wish, my darling child.
I will seek your Saviour with all my heart, and serve him the rest of my life,
and hope to meet you in heaven."
Eva had accomplished her mission. Her work was
ended, and she fell asleep. She went away with the angels to her happy home above,
to welcome her father and mother when they come to meet her there.
Why would not these parents come to Jesus without
this severe trial? Reader, will it be necessary for God to deal in a similar
way with you, to bring you to heaven?