CHAPTER XV.

Child

Fetter Lane.—Popular preachers.—Old friends meet again.—Love-feasts.—1739—Small beginning of a great gathering.—A crowded church.—A lightning thought.—But a shocking thing.—George Whitefield's welcome at Bristol.—"You shall not preach in my pulpit."—"Nor mine."—"Nor mine."—Poor Mr. Whitefield.

HILE Mr. Wesley was in Germany, his brother Charles had been preaching and working in London, and when Mr. John returned he found about thirty-two people had joined the society there. They had hired a room in Fetter Lane, and here they held their meetings. Mr. Wesley had come back so full of love to Jesus Christ, and therefore so full of love to everybody, and so eager for all to be as happy as he was, that he soon got many others to join them. When he wrote to his German friends, he said: "We are trying here, by God's help, to copy you as you copy Christ."

He and his brother still preached in any church where they were allowed, and wherever they went crowds of poor people followed to hear them. They used to go, too, to the prisons, and the hospitals, and preach to the sinful and the suffering. They told them how Jesus forgave sins, and how He used to heal the sick; and the sinful were made sorry, and the suffering ones were comforted, and many believed in Jesus and prayed for forgiveness.

Mr. Wesley had returned from Germany in September; a few months later Mr. George Whitefield came back from Georgia. He had got on very well with the people there, because he did not try to alter the ways they had been accustomed to, unless it was really necessary.

Mr. Wesley went to meet his old friend, and, oh! how pleased they were to see each other again. Mr. Whitefield joined the little society in Fetter Lane, and they all worked together most happily.

I dare say most of my Methodist readers will have been to a love-feast; those of you who have not, will at any rate have heard of them. Well, it was just about this time that love-feasts were first started. The little bands or companies that I told you about used to join together, and have a special prayer meeting once a month on a Saturday; and the following day, which, of course, was Sunday, they all used to meet again between seven o'clock and ten in the evening for a love-feast—a meal of bread and watereaten altogether and with prayer. It was a custom of the Moravians, and it was from them Mr. Wesley copied it.

I have also heard that the love-feast was provided for the people, who had walked a great many miles to hear Mr. Wesley preach, and were tired and hungry. If this was the idea of the love-feast, they would have to give the people a great deal more bread than they do now, or they would still be hungry when they had done.

The year after Mr. Whitefield returned from Georgia, 1739, was a wonderful year for the Methodists. It started with a love-feast and prayer meeting, which lasted half through the night. Then a few days later, on January 5th, the two Mr. Wesleys and Mr. Whitefield, with four other ministers, met together to talk about all they hoped to do during the year, and make rules and plans for their helpers and members.

I told you, if you remember, that first one pulpit and then another was closed against these clergymen. At last there were only two or three churches where they were allowed to preach. One day when Mr. Whitefield was preaching in one of these, the people came in such crowds to hear him, that hundreds could not get into the church. Some of them went away, but a great number stood outside.

All at once there flashed across Mr. Whitefield's mind this thought: "Jesus preached in the open airto the people, why can't I?" Numbers had often before been turned away when he preached, but he had never thought of having a service outside a church, it seemed a most shocking thing. However, the message seemed to come straight from God. He dared not act on it at once, for you see he was a clergyman, and had always been brought up to believe that inside the church was the only place where people can properly worship God.

When he mentioned the matter to his friends, some of them were very much shocked, and thought to preach in the open air would be a very wrong thing. But some said: "We will pray about it, and ask God to show us what we ought to do." So they knelt down and prayed to be guided to do the right thing.

Soon after this Mr. Whitefield went to Bristol, where he had been liked so much before he went to America. When he got there he was invited to preach first in one church and then in another, all were open to him. But before very long the clergymen in the place showed that they disapproved of the plain way in which he spoke to the people, and they told him they would not allow him to preach in their pulpits again.

By and by all the churches were closed against him, and there was nowhere but the prison where he was allowed to preach. Soon the mayor of Bristol closed that door also.

Poor Mr. Whitefield! what could he do now?I think I know one thing he would do. He would turn to his Bible, and there he would read: "In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths."

In the next chapter you shall hear how God fulfilled His promise to George Whitefield.

Bird

Kingswood.—Grimy colliers.—The shocking thing is done.—A beautiful church.—From 200 to 20,000.—John Wesley shocked.—Drawing lots.—To be or not to be.—To be.—Mr. Wesley gets over the shock.—George Whitefield's "good-bye" to the colliers.

ONG, long ago, before all this happened that I have been telling you, there was a forest near Bristol where the kings of England used to hunt, Kingswood it was called. But at the time of which I write, most of the trees had been cut down; a great many coal mines had been dug, and the people who lived round about and worked in the mines were a wild and wicked lot. They had no churches, and those in Bristol were three or four miles away.

Surely, Mr. Whitefield thought, these people ought to have the gospel of Jesus Christ preached to them; they have no church, it cannot be wrong to preach to them in the open air. So, one Saturday in this year, 1739, Mr. Whitefield set off to Kingswood. It was a cold winter's day, but his heart was warminside with love for these poor neglected colliers, and he soon got warm outside with his long walk.

When he reached Kingswood he found an open space called Rose Green, which he thought was just the place for a service. Standing on a little mound which did for a pulpit, he commenced to preach; and surely that was the grandest church in which a Methodist minister ever held a service. The blue sky of heaven was his roof, the green grass beneath him the floor; and as Mr. Whitefield stood in his FIRST FIELD PULPIT, his thoughts went back, down the ages, to the dear Master whose steps he was seeking to follow—the Preacher of Nazareth, whose pulpit was the mountain-side, and whose hearers were the publicans and sinners. Two hundred grimy colliers stood and listened to that earnest young preacher.

Mr. Whitefield continued his visits to Kingswood; the second time, instead of two hundred there were 2,000 eager listeners. The next time over 4,000 came to hear; and so the numbers went on increasing until he had a congregation of 20,000.

Once, after he had been preaching, he wrote this: "The trees and the hedges were all in full leaf, and the sun was shining brightly. All the people were silent and still, and God helped me to speak in such a loud voice that everybody could hear me. All in the surrounding fields were thousands and thousands of people, some in coaches and some on horseback,while many had climbed up into the trees to see and hear."

As Mr. Whitefield preached, nearly all were in tears. Many of the men had come straight from the coal-pits, and the tears that trickled down their cheeks made little white gutters on their grimy faces. Then, in the gathering twilight, they sang the closing hymn, and when the last echoes died away in the deepening shadows, Mr. Whitefield felt how solemn it all was, and he, too, could hardly keep back the tears.

Mr. Whitefield soon found there was more work at Kingswood than he could do alone, so he wrote and asked Mr. John Wesley to come and help him. Being verypropersort of clergymen, John and Charles Wesley could not help thinking it a dreadful, and almost a wrong thing to preach anywhere but in a church, or, at any rate, in a room; and for some time they could not decide what to do.

They asked the other members at Fetter Lane what they thought about it; some said Mr. John ought to go, and some said he ought not. So at last they decided to draw lots. You know what that is, don't you? If you look in your Bible, in Acts i. 26, you will see that the disciples drew lots when they wanted to make up their number to twelve, after wicked Judas had killed himself. And in John xix. 24, you can read how the soldiers cast lots for the coat that had belonged to Jesus, whichthey took away after they had crucified Him. And in many other places in the Bible we read about people casting lots.

So the society at Fetter Lane cast lots, and it came out that Mr. John Wesley should go. Everybody was satisfied after this, and even Mr. Charles, who more than any of the others had objected, now felt that it was right. So Mr. John set off for Bristol and joined his friend.

The first Sunday he was there he heard Mr. Whitefield preach in the open air, and this is what he wrote about it: "It seemed such a strange thing to preach in the fields, when all my life I had believed in everything being done properly and according to the rules of the Church. Indeed, I should have thought it almost a sin to preach anywhere else."

However, because of the lots, he felt it was all right; and he was still more sure of this when he saw the crowds, who would never have gone into a church, listening so intently to God's Word. He very soon got used to open-air preaching, and by and by Mr. Whitefield left the work at Kingswood to him.

When the people heard that Mr. Whitefield was going to leave them, they were very, very sorry; and the day he rode out of Bristol, a number of them, about twenty, rode on horseback with him, they could not bear to say "good-bye."

As he passed through Kingswood, the poor colliers, who were so grateful for all he had done for them,came out to meet him, and told him they had a great surprise for him. They had been very busy collecting money for a school for poor children, and now they wanted their dear friend, Mr. Whitefield, to lay the corner-stone of their new building.

He was surprised and delighted; and when the ceremony was over, he knelt down and prayed that the school might soon be completed, and that God's blessing might ever rest upon it; and all those rough colliers bowed their heads, and uttered a fervent "Amen."

At last "good-bye" was said to the dear minister who had brought them the glad tidings of salvation, and leaving them in charge of Mr. Wesley, George Whitefield rode away.

Cherub

John Wesley's moral courage.—What some carriage people thought of him.—And why.—The fashionable Beau in the big, white hat.—Interrupts Mr. Wesley.—Gets as good as he gives.—And better.—The King of Bath slinks away.

O you know what "moral courage" is, young readers? How shall I explain it? I think you will understand it best if I say it is "courage to do what is right." A boy may have courage to fight a bigger boy than himself, but he may not have the moral courage to own to a fault before his school-fellows, or to side with the right when that side is unpopular.

Now, I think John Wesley showed a great deal of moral courage when he started to preach in the open air. Remember, he was born a gentleman, he was educated as a gentleman, and as Fellow of an Oxford College had always mixed with distinguished gentlemen. Then he was brought up a strict Churchman, and had always believed that the ways andrules of the Church were the only right and proper ways.

Fancy this most particular Church clergyman, wearing his gown and bands, just as you have seen him in the pictures, and getting upon a table in the open air, or on the stump of a tree, or climbing into a cart and preaching to a lot of dirty, ignorant men and women. This was, indeed, moral courage; he did it because he felt it was the right thing to do, and that God wanted him to do it.

Mr. Wesley was quite as much liked by the people as Mr. Whitefield had been, and the sight of him preaching was such a wonderful one, that ladies and gentlemen came in their carriages to see and to hear.

In his sermons, Mr. Wesley spoke as plainly to the rich as he did to the poor. He told them how God hated sin, and that it was impossible for a sinner to get to heaven. Some of the ladies and gentlemen did not like this at all, and called Mr. Wesley "rude and ill-mannered," but it made them feel uncomfortable all the same.

You have heard of a place called Bath, and that it is noted for its mineral waters. It is a fashionable place now, but it was a great deal more fashionable in Mr. Wesley's time. Not being far from Bristol, Mr. Wesley used sometimes to go and preach there. Once when he went, some of his friends said: "Don't preach to-day, for Beau Nash means to come and oppose you."

Beau Nash was a gambler, and in other ways, too, a very bad man. But, somehow, he always managed to get enough money to make a great show, and many of the people looked up to him as a leader of fashion. Indeed, he was quite popular among most of the visitors to Bath.

Of course when Mr. Wesley heard that this man was coming to oppose him, instead of being frightened, he was all the more determined to preach.

A great number of people had assembled, many of them Nash's friends, who had come to see "the fun." By and by Beau Nash himself came, looking very grand in a big white hat, and riding in a coach drawn by six grey horses, with footmen and coachmen all complete.

Soon after Mr. Wesley had commenced his sermon, Beau Nash interrupted him by asking: "Who gave you leave to do what you are doing?"

"Jesus Christ," said Mr. Wesley, "through the Archbishop of Canterbury, when he laid his hands upon my head, and said: 'Take thou authority to preach the gospel.'"

This answer rather settled Beau Nash. Then he accused Mr. Wesley of frightening the people out of their wits.

"Did you ever hear me preach?" said Mr. Wesley.

"No," was the reply.

"Then how do you know I frighten people?"

"By what I have heard."

"Oh!" said Mr. Wesley. "Then is not your name Nash?"

"It is," said the Beau.

"Well, sir, I suppose, then, I must judge you by what I have heard of you."

This reply so confounded the young man that he could not say a word, and when an old woman in the congregation stood up and told the Beau what she thought about him, the "King of Bath," as he was called, slunk away, and took himself off.

This affair made a great stir in Bath, and when Mr. Wesley went through the town the streets were full of people, hurrying up and down, wanting to see him.

Child

Good out of evil.—What Mr. Wesley preached.—"Hurrah!"—In the prison.—How the wicked Methodists spoiled the woollen trade.—Emilia Wesley says strong things.—In the sunlight.

KNOW you will have thought it very unkind of the clergymen not allowing such a good man as Mr. Wesley to preach in their churches; and so it was, very unkind, and very wrong. These clergymen thought so themselves after a time; but God often uses the wrong doings of people to bring about a great good, and He did so in this case.

Perhaps if the churches had not been closed against Mr. Wesley and Mr. Whitefield they would never have preached in the open air, and thousands of people, who would not go to a church, might never have heard the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

You boys and girls love father and mother and home, do you not? And when you have been away at day-school or boarding-school, oh! how glad you always are to get to them again. Well, in the sameway we all come from God; He is our Father, and heaven is our home, and all of us, deep down inside of us, have a longing to go home again some day. But Adam and Eve had to be punished for their disobedience; and the punishment was that they and all that were born after them should die, and never go back to home and to God. This was a terrible punishment, was it not? But you know how Jesus Christ, God's Son, in His great love and pity for us said He would come down from heaven, and be a man on earth; that He would go through life just as we have to do, and at last die. Then God said if His dear Son did this, and lived on earth a life that should be a beautiful copy for men and women and boys and girls to follow; and if the people would believe on Him and follow His example, God would forgive them, and they should go back to Him, their Father, and to heaven their home.

All this Mr. Wesley explained to the people, and told them if they believed this and loved and followed the Saviour that died for them, they would always be happy, and God would give them His own peace, the peace He has promised to those that love Him.

One wonders how the clergymen could disapprove of such preaching, and why they should shut Mr. Wesley out of their pulpit, for if they did not preach this same Gospel they certainly ought to have done.

However, Mr. Wesley got much larger congregationsoutside the churches than they ever got inside, and wherever he went hundreds of people believed the wonderful story he told them, and became true followers of the Lord Jesus Christ. Strange things happened at his services; some of the people were so overjoyed at what they heard they could not help shouting "Hurrah!" and "Hallelujah!" and they poked each other in the ribs, as much as to say: "Isn't that good?"

Then, when Mr. Wesley told them how Jesus Christ suffered, and how cruelly Judas betrayed Him, and that He allowed all this in order that we might be saved, the people would burst into tears, and you could hear their sobs all over the great congregation. All sorts of people came to the services, thieves and gamblers, poor people and rich people, and all heard the same glad tidings of salvation.

Mr. Wesley did not remain at Bristol; several times he went up to London, and wherever he went crowds came to hear him. One day when he was preaching at Newgate, a prison in London, and was telling the people what would become of them if they did not give up their wicked ways, a woman whom he had known for many years as a very bad character, burst into tears and begged Mr. Wesley to pray for her. Many of the other prisoners did the same, and numbers believed in Jesus Christ as their Saviour, and became Christian men and we men.

It was just wonderful; but it is sad to think thatif these people had only heard the Gospel before, they might never have been the wicked men and women they were. As soon as ever they heard, they believed.

All the magazines and newspapers that were published were full of the doings of the Methodists. They were still called all sorts of names and abused dreadfully. But the good people had got so used to this that they did not mind, indeed, they hardly expected any other treatment. In those days very few of the poor people could read, and one newspaper complained that nearly every one who went to hear the Methodists wanted to learn to read the Bible, and as soon as ever he could spell out a chapter he would go and read it to some one who could not read, and then they would talk about it together. This, the paper said, wasted a great deal of time, for the men were so busy talking and reading their Bibles that they could not get on with their work, and the woollen trade in Yorkshire would soon be ruined. Of course this last was not true, and was only said to stop the Methodists from preaching. It showed, however, how sincere and how much in earnest the people were.

But amidst all the persecutions of mobs of ignorant and brutal men and women who knew no better, and of abuse and slander by the rich and the educated, who ought to have known better, nothing pained Mr. Wesley so much as the unkind words of hissister Emilia. She was his favourite sister, and he thought a great deal about her opinion. In an angry letter she wrote him, she said the Methodists were "a lot of bad people."

However, John Wesley and his friends calmly went on doing the work they felt God had called them to do. The peace of God was in their hearts, and the sunlight of His love brightened their faces, and made them tender and forgiving to all their enemies. As Jesus Christ prayed for the cruel men who crucified Him, so they prayed: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Harp

Don't believe all you hear.—Mrs. Wesley finds her "dear Jack" true to his colours.—She joins the Methodists.—And thus dreadfully shocks her eldest son.—Death of Mr. Samuel Wesley.—A loving mother's letter to "her boy."

THINK Mr. Wesley's greatest trouble at this time was, that even his dear mother, whom he had not seen for a long, long time, believed many of the things that people were saying about him, and felt sure he had wandered away from the true religion of Jesus Christ.

It does not do for us to believe all we hear, and when at last Mrs. Wesley went to London, and saw and talked with her sons, she found all the tales had been untrue, and that her "dear Jack" was the same loyal soldier and servant of Jesus Christ that he had ever been.

Instead of going back to where she had been living, Mrs. Wesley, freed from her fears, remained in London with her "boys," a proud and happy mother. She joined the Society in Fetter Lane, went every Sunday to hear her sons preach, and helped them in every way she could. Once she stood by Mr. Wesley's side when he preached on Kennington Common to a congregation of about 20,000 people, and I don't know which was the prouder, mother or son.

You remember Mr. Samuel Wesley, the eldest brother? He was one who strongly disapproved of open-air preaching, and thought John and Charles were very much in the wrong for not behaving like other clergymen. When he heard that even his mother had joined the Methodists he was more indignant than ever, and wrote her what I think was a very rude letter.

"I was very much surprised and grieved," he said, "when I heard that you had joined the Methodists, and, indeed, become one of Jack's congregation. My brothers are brothers to me no longer, and now, must my mother follow too?"

It is sad to think that two weeks after Mr. Samuel wrote this he was taken ill and died in a few hours. He was a clever and a sensible man, but he did not understand, or even try to understand, the work his brothers were doing, and, therefore, disapproved of it.

When Mr. Wesley heard the news of his brother'sdeath he set off at once to Bristol to Mr. Charles, and together they went to Tiverton to comfort and help their sister-in-law. They forgot all the unkind things their brother had said against them, and only thought how they could best show their love and sympathy to those that were left.

Poor Mrs. Wesley was very ill when she heard the sad news. She had always dearly-loved her eldest child, and his death was a great sorrow. But she said: "It is God's will, therefore it is all right."

You can tell what a real comfort Mr. John was to her at this time, by the letter she wrote to Charles at Bristol about a month after Mr. Samuel's death. This is what she said:

"Dear Charles,"You cannot want to see me more than I want to see you. Your brother Jack, whom I shall call son Wesley, now that my dear Sam is gone home, has just been in to see me, and has cheered me up ever so much. Indeed, he never comes but he does me good; his visits are all too seldom and too short. For this I cannot blame him, for I know he is about his Heavenly Father's business."But, dear Charles, I do so want one of you, for I feel weak as a little child. I do pray that God will bless you both in your work, and keep you from harm; and that He will give you strength and courage to preach the true Gospel of Jesus Christ."This is the hearty prayer of, dear Charles,"Your loving mother,"Susanna Wesley."

"Dear Charles,

"You cannot want to see me more than I want to see you. Your brother Jack, whom I shall call son Wesley, now that my dear Sam is gone home, has just been in to see me, and has cheered me up ever so much. Indeed, he never comes but he does me good; his visits are all too seldom and too short. For this I cannot blame him, for I know he is about his Heavenly Father's business.

"But, dear Charles, I do so want one of you, for I feel weak as a little child. I do pray that God will bless you both in your work, and keep you from harm; and that He will give you strength and courage to preach the true Gospel of Jesus Christ.

"This is the hearty prayer of, dear Charles,

"Your loving mother,"Susanna Wesley."

Is not that a loving letter? No wonder Mr. Charles prized it very much. Little folks generally take care of all the letters they get. I know I did when I was a little girl, indeed I have some of them now. Grown-up people usually tear theirs up, they get so many. But this letter that Mr. Charles had from his dear old mother was too precious to be so treated; he took great care of it, and after his death it was found among his papers.

Dogwood

A very old school.—The first Methodist Chapel.—Well done, Bristol!—Empty purses.—How they were filled.—The penny-a-week rule.

OU remember the school at Kingswood, that the colliers collected the money for and started? Although it is one hundred and fifty years ago since it was opened, there has been a school at Kingswood ever since, and it is the very oldest thing we have in connection with Methodism.

If you will listen at chapel some time—in October I think it generally is—you will hear the minister say: "Collections will be taken to-day, morning and evening, on behalf of the Kingswood Schools." When you hear this will you just think, that the money you give is for the same school that was started by those good-hearted colliers near Bristol, more than one hundred and fifty years ago.

Now I must tell you of the very first MethodistChapel that was ever built; for this, too, we have to thank the Bristol people. Having heard about Jesus Christ themselves, they were eager for their friends and neighbours to hear about Him too. They worked very hard, and were so much in earnest inviting people to come to the services, that at last the room where they held their meeting got far too small for all the people who wanted to come. It was only a tumble-down sort of place, and they were afraid the floor might give way or the roof fall in, and somebody be hurt.

At last they secured a piece of ground in what was called the Horse Fair in Bristol, and one bright May morning, in 1739, the first stone of the

FIRST METHODIST CHAPEL

was laid, amidst great shouting of praise and thanksgiving. I have called it a Chapel, but the Methodists called it a "Preaching House."

You may think what a great deal of money it took to carry on all the work that the Methodists were doing; sometimes their purses were very empty, and they wondered however they should get them filled again. But it was God's work they were doing, and of course the money always came.

Like most Methodist Chapels nowadays, the money to pay for the Bristol Preaching House was not got all at once; but a plan was adopted which, I think, was a very good one. Every Methodist inBristol promised to pay a penny a week until all the money was raised; and as there were some hundreds of Methodists, the debt was soon paid off. Some of the people, however, were too poor to pay even this small amount, so it was arranged that the richer men should each call upon eleven poorer ones every week, and collect their pennies, and when they could not give them, the rich man was to make it up. This was the beginning of the weekly class money which your fathers and mothers, if they are Methodists, pay in their class-meetings to-day.

When Mr. Wesley told the society in Fetter Lane, London, of the good plan the Bristol people had made, they adopted it too, and always after that wherever the Methodists commenced a society, the penny-a-week rule was followed.

Book

An explosion.—A new business at the old Foundry.—Mr. Wesley and his mother at home.—Grand helpers.—Poor little Tom.—The worst man in Bristol.—And one of the best.

OW old would John Wesley be in 1716, if he was born in 1703? Thirteen, would he not? a school-boy at the Charterhouse School. In that year there was a terrible explosion at a cannon foundry, where the guns were made for war. The roof of the building was blown off, and a great many workmen were injured and killed.

After this explosion, the machinery and iron were removed to Woolwich, which, as you will learn in your geography is still the great place for making cannon and other weapons of war. All the years from 1716 to 1739 the old foundry had never been touched, there it was, still in ruins.

One day in this year, 1739, while Mr. Wesley was in London, two gentlemen came and asked him if he would preach in this old tumble-down place. Heconsented, and one dreary November morning at eight o'clock, before the grey clouds of night had fled, he preached to about six thousand people in the old King's Foundry.

The following week many of those who had listened to him, came and begged him to buy the old place for a meeting-house. After thinking and praying about the matter he consented, and before very long the roof was mended, galleries were made, and the first Methodist preaching-place in London was ready for use.

Class-rooms and a school-room were afterwards built, and a house fitted up where Mr. Wesley and his mother could live. At the end of the chapel was another house for his servants and some of his helpers. There was also a coach-house and stable where the travelling preachers could "put up."

Though Mr. John and Mr. Charles Wesley were so clever and worked so hard, they could never have got on without their earnest, loving helpers. There was Thomas Maxfield, one of those devoted, go-a-head men of Bristol; then there was John Nelson, a stone-mason, in Yorkshire, who, when his master wanted him to work on Sunday, refused; and, like other Methodists, having become a Christian himself he sought to win others for Christ.

Thomas Olivers was another. Poor Thomas, when he was a wee boy, only four years old, both his father and his mother died, and little Tom was left togrow up a wicked boy. He used to swear and gamble and drink, and when he became a man was one of the worst characters in Bristol. But he heard Mr. Whitefield preach, and from that time a change came over him. He felt he was too great a sinner ever to be forgiven, and would kneel down and pray for hours and hours. God saw how sorry he was for all his wickedness, and how much he longed to be different, so He just whispered His forgiveness, bidding him, "Go and sin no more," and Thomas Olivers rose up a converted man, and became as brave a Christian as he had been bold a sinner.

cherub

Billy and Polly.—A little sunbeam visits Sandgate.—What happened at seven o'clock in the morning.—And at five o'clock in the evening.—"The Old, Old Story."—Newcastle wants to know more.—But Newcastle has to wait.—John Wesley goes back to Bristol.—The Kingswood of the North.

HO'S yon man?"

"Which man?"

"Yon. Him with the long hair, and dressed like a parson."

"I dunno. Why there's two on 'em."

"I say, Polly, let's go and hear 'em, they're singing. Come on, Bob."

Bob and Billy and Polly were very ragged and very dirty children, and they lived in Newcastle.

The boys were almost naked, and Polly, though nearly fifteen had no clothes on at all, only a dirty bit of blanket wrapped round her. Their fathers and mothers worked in the coal mines, and because they had never been taught different, they were drunken,swearing, wicked people; even the children cursed and swore.

But Bob and Billy and Polly have got to the top of Sandgate, the street where their miserable home is; let us follow. Some of their companions are with them, children as ragged and dirty as themselves. The women, too, have come to their doors to listen. What is it these men are singing? Hark!

Music

[Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clickinghere.]

All people that on earth do dwellSing to the Lord with cheerful voice;Him serve with fear, His praise forth tell:Come ye before Him and rejoice.

It was a lovely May morning, and a kind little sunbeam had left the green fields and the chirping birdlets to peep into Sandgate. I think it must have heard the singing, and wanted to shine its gladness, that God's praises were at last being sung to those poor people.

It was quite early, about seven o'clock in the morning, and some of the men and women were still in bed; but little sunbeam went first to one and then to another and kissed them awake, and when they had rubbed their eyes and opened their ears, they heard a strange sound. What could it be? They had never heard anything like it before.

"If you come to yon hill at five o'clock to-night, I'll tell you what I mean."—Page 95."If you come to yon hill at five o'clock to-night, I'll tell you what I mean."—Page 95.

They sat up in bed and listened, then they got dressed, and then they went out. The music acted like a magic spell, and drew them to it. One man, two men, three men, four men, five men; oh, dear! there are too many to count. Such a number of women too, why, there must be five hundred people all together, and still they keep coming. One of thegentlemen is now talking. Listen what he is saying! He is preaching a sermon, and this is his text: "He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed." He is telling those poor men and women that it was Jesus, the Son of God, who suffered this for them,because He loved them.

The people, who numbered about twelve hundred, stood gaping and staring, they had never heard anything like this before.

"Who are you?" shouted one man.

"What do you mean?" called out another.

The gentleman with the long hair and beautiful face answered them: "If you want to know who I am, my name is John Wesley, and if you come to yon hill at five o'clock to-night, I'll tell you what I mean."

At five o'clock the hill was covered with people from the top to the bottom, and as Mr. Wesley stood with that great crowd round him, all eager to learn about the wonderful Saviour who had died for them, and of whom they had never heard, tears of pity filled his eyes, and a big love for them filled his heart.

Oh, so sweetly and tenderly did he read to them God's own words: "I will heal their back-sliding, I will love them freely;" and then he told them the "Old, Old Story."

He told it very slowly:

"'That they might take it in,That wonderful redemption,God's remedy for sin.'

He told them the story simply:

'As to a little child,For they were weak and weary,And helpless and defi'ed.'

He told them the story softly:

'With earnest tones and grave,For were they not the sinnersWhom Jesus came to save?'"

When the preacher finished, the people stood as if spell-bound, then they all crowded and pressed round him, full of love and kindness towards the man who had brought them such good news. They nearly trampled him down in their eagerness to speak to him, and he had to slip round a back way in order to escape. When he got to the inn where he was staying, he found some of the people had got there before him; they had come to beg and pray him to stay among them. No, he could not.

"Stay a few days," said one. No, he could not do that.

"Just one day more," they begged.

Poor Mr. Wesley was very loth to leave these eager hearers, but he had promised to be in Bristol on the Tuesday, and this was Sunday night, and it would take him all the time to get to his appointment,and he was a man that could not break his word. So he was sadly obliged to refuse.

Before very long, however, Mr. Charles Wesley went to Newcastle, and after a time, Mr. Wesley himself paid a second visit.

It was a plan of the Methodists always to go to the poorest and most uncared-for people. These they generally found among the colliers. Wherever there were coal mines, the district round them was sure to be the abode of dirt, ignorance, and sin. You remember what a dreadful place Kingswood was when the Methodists first went? Because they found Newcastle just as bad, they called it "The Kingswood of the North."

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