SECOND BLESSING
HOLINESS -- A BEFORE AND AFTER PICTURE
From the November Issue of the 1858
Primitive Methodist Magazine
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My friend had been but a short time from college. He was a preacher—a scholar—a gentleman. He had been sent to a station in the midst of a wealthy community, where there were but few members of the Church, and where moralists, infidels, and speculators combined to support him. He preached constantly, learnedly, and, we presume, faithfully. Months passed, and no indications of good appeared. We met him at a camp-meeting. Holiness was the great theme of the meeting. We loved the young man, and sought an opportunity to converse with him. He felt that all was not right. He believed himself a Christian, and lived with fixed purpose to obey and serve God.
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But there was a want of power in his preaching. He could say good things, but they did not cut. He seemed to himself to be preaching into the air. He felt often the conviction, that he needed a deeper work of grace. He prayed, and wept, and tried, but, as it seemed in vain, to rise; and still, he had no such power with God as he felt belonged to his sacred profession. We were in a prayer-meeting together, when he uttered with earnestness, but not with much emotion, the prayer, "O Lord, sanctify my soul." We ventured to whisper in his ear such words of encouragement and advice as we thought his condition required.
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It was long before he melted down before the Lord; but when the struggle came on, it was a fearful one; his agony was terrible. He spoke of his unfaithfulness. He cried out against himself. He shrank with alarm from his inward impurities. With tears rolling from his eyes, and sweat gushing from every pore, he deprecated—covenanted—pleaded—agonized! It was the very wrestling of Jacob. He knew no defeat,—but the conflict was protracted. We left him to meet other demands on our little remaining strength.
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How long he lay, a bleeding offering upon the altar of God, before the evidence of full salvation came, we know not. But he had been carried strengthless to his tent. We found him prostrate upon his couch, with his eyes closed, and his hands clasped, and with the brightness of an angel beaming from every feature. He wept, and shouted, and praised, with a voice so sweet, so changed, so humble and tender that we would not have known him. The tears and sighs of the multitude within the tent, and the awe and terror upon the countenances of the wicked crowd about the door, told of an unearthly spirit in the spectacle before them, and in the words which were uttered.
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We pronounced his name to get his attention. He gently opened his eyes, and then raising himself, threw his arms about our neck, and in broken sentences intermingled with sobs and praise; he told us the story of his deliverance. Oh, the triumph—the power—the glory of that hour! We shall never forget it. His evidence of entire sanctification was clear as the light. He was soon too much absorbed in the ravishing glories of full redemption, and in the contemplation of his manifested Saviour, to give special attention to his dearest friends; and there he lay, drinking in the streams of life, holding converse with the Divine Anointed; and it was no illusion; his face shone with the light of another world. All eyes beheld it, and, like Israel before Moses, when he descended from the Mount of God, we stood awe-struck before the reflected glories of divinity.
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The meeting closed, and "another spirit" was in our friend. He was humble, simple-hearted, and sweet as a child; but the power of Jehovah was in his preaching and his prayer. His hearers were amazed at the change in the preacher. The spirit of holiness burned and flamed out in every sermon. The word like a two-edged burnished Jerusalem blade, cut its way to the hearts of the people; brave men wept like children; strong men bowed themselves under a might which they could not see. Infidels trembled and stood aghast, before the divinity which spoke in the words and appeared in the movements of a man!
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The work was powerful beyond all precedent in that vicinity. It swept like fire through that hitherto hardened and unbelieving community, bringing down infidel teachers, moralists and scoffers indiscriminately, before the altar of God. Whole families were converted, the church was firmly established. They "who were not a people," had become the strong and conquering army of the Lord; and all—let no one dare to doubt it—by the baptism of fire, which, in answer to faith and prayer, had fallen upon the servant of God.—"The Central Idea of Christianity," by J. T. Peck
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From the November Issue of the 1858
Primitive Methodist Magazine
|
My friend had been but a short time from college. He was a preacher—a scholar—a gentleman. He had been sent to a station in the midst of a wealthy community, where there were but few members of the Church, and where moralists, infidels, and speculators combined to support him. He preached constantly, learnedly, and, we presume, faithfully. Months passed, and no indications of good appeared. We met him at a camp-meeting. Holiness was the great theme of the meeting. We loved the young man, and sought an opportunity to converse with him. He felt that all was not right. He believed himself a Christian, and lived with fixed purpose to obey and serve God.
|
But there was a want of power in his preaching. He could say good things, but they did not cut. He seemed to himself to be preaching into the air. He felt often the conviction, that he needed a deeper work of grace. He prayed, and wept, and tried, but, as it seemed in vain, to rise; and still, he had no such power with God as he felt belonged to his sacred profession. We were in a prayer-meeting together, when he uttered with earnestness, but not with much emotion, the prayer, "O Lord, sanctify my soul." We ventured to whisper in his ear such words of encouragement and advice as we thought his condition required.
|
It was long before he melted down before the Lord; but when the struggle came on, it was a fearful one; his agony was terrible. He spoke of his unfaithfulness. He cried out against himself. He shrank with alarm from his inward impurities. With tears rolling from his eyes, and sweat gushing from every pore, he deprecated—covenanted—pleaded—agonized! It was the very wrestling of Jacob. He knew no defeat,—but the conflict was protracted. We left him to meet other demands on our little remaining strength.
|
How long he lay, a bleeding offering upon the altar of God, before the evidence of full salvation came, we know not. But he had been carried strengthless to his tent. We found him prostrate upon his couch, with his eyes closed, and his hands clasped, and with the brightness of an angel beaming from every feature. He wept, and shouted, and praised, with a voice so sweet, so changed, so humble and tender that we would not have known him. The tears and sighs of the multitude within the tent, and the awe and terror upon the countenances of the wicked crowd about the door, told of an unearthly spirit in the spectacle before them, and in the words which were uttered.
|
We pronounced his name to get his attention. He gently opened his eyes, and then raising himself, threw his arms about our neck, and in broken sentences intermingled with sobs and praise; he told us the story of his deliverance. Oh, the triumph—the power—the glory of that hour! We shall never forget it. His evidence of entire sanctification was clear as the light. He was soon too much absorbed in the ravishing glories of full redemption, and in the contemplation of his manifested Saviour, to give special attention to his dearest friends; and there he lay, drinking in the streams of life, holding converse with the Divine Anointed; and it was no illusion; his face shone with the light of another world. All eyes beheld it, and, like Israel before Moses, when he descended from the Mount of God, we stood awe-struck before the reflected glories of divinity.
|
The meeting closed, and "another spirit" was in our friend. He was humble, simple-hearted, and sweet as a child; but the power of Jehovah was in his preaching and his prayer. His hearers were amazed at the change in the preacher. The spirit of holiness burned and flamed out in every sermon. The word like a two-edged burnished Jerusalem blade, cut its way to the hearts of the people; brave men wept like children; strong men bowed themselves under a might which they could not see. Infidels trembled and stood aghast, before the divinity which spoke in the words and appeared in the movements of a man!
|
The work was powerful beyond all precedent in that vicinity. It swept like fire through that hitherto hardened and unbelieving community, bringing down infidel teachers, moralists and scoffers indiscriminately, before the altar of God. Whole families were converted, the church was firmly established. They "who were not a people," had become the strong and conquering army of the Lord; and all—let no one dare to doubt it—by the baptism of fire, which, in answer to faith and prayer, had fallen upon the servant of God.—"The Central Idea of Christianity," by J. T. Peck
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