Assistant to the President! Somewhat of a lordly designation, and that might have gratified one of the sons of Zebedee, if only they had understood. I think I did not understand the honor and confidence expressed by such an appointment -- I was too much afraid of myself, and feared that the position was rather to test me out. However it was a good Circuit to which I was thus sent from college, and it had many advantages. It was one of the oldest fields in the connection, and the good people delighted in regaling me with the names and virtues of the great preachers who had had appointment there, and had been makers of ecclesiastical and Canadian history; I was not always sure whether they were trying to inspire me to look up, or rather to depress me with the thought of being so unworthy to step into the shoes of such an ancestry.
It gloried in having had the first Grammar School in the Province of Ontario, a school which had continued without cessation, and at my time of writing, which is forty-five years later, still continues, and as a consequence, if the young people were not conceited, they were at least intellectually proud, and they put me on my mettle. Because I did not wish to fear them, I pinned a scarlet geranium to my clerical coat the first Sunday morning that I appeared in their pulpit. But these young people were very friendly and appreciative; only they were guilty of one sin that nearly meant my undue exaltation and fall, when in more than a whisper they informed me that their then best preacher was "the young minister". For such a drug as that a bitter remedy had to be provided, and a Methodist Conference knows how to mix the prescription. It was a fine privilege to meet with these cultured young people in their homes, in the Young People's Society of the church, and in many public functions in connection with the schools.
It was the Principal of the Grammar School who meant much to me, because my college habits of study were continued in a definite non-resident university course that brought to me a few difficult problems, such as often found me of an evening at my friend's home, and found us two labouring for solutions until midnight. For such helpers by the way, I have never failed to be grateful; whatever glory I may have attained has really been a "feather" for their "cap".
My superintendent, the President of Conference, was a white-headed man who had seen much service, and who, while quiet and tactful to the finest finish of a diamond pen, yet spoke with authority when he chose. In matters of book-learning he had nothing to say to me, but on Circuit management there was everything to learn. Our field of labour had five churches, three villages and two farming communities, and when he told me to go to such an appointment and tell the people that we needed so much collection, I had to do it.
It was under one of those distressing circumstances that I made a statement on one Sunday, in the church wherein was held long ago the first Conference of Canadian Methodism. My announcements were always made immediately preceding the sermon, and I was on my feet to announce my text, when the brother who was responsible for the care of church finances, sprang to his feet and said:- "This is an important matter that our young minister has been talking about, and now before he asks us to sing the last hymn I propose that we take up a special collection to cover this deficit. Brother George will take that aisle and I will take this". The amount was fully made up. But the people broadly smiled, and the ardent brother looked astonished when he found that instead of singing a hymn he had to listen to a sermon. He had been having a long sleep and did not know how the ritual for the morning had proceeded.
Five nights a week for nineteen weeks I joined hands with my superintendent in special evangelistic meetings, and we had some wonderful experiences. They were not meetings in which we found satisfaction if "seekers" held up their hand; ours was rather that old style of procedure of which no one at that time knew the contrary -- every seeker was expected to "come to the altar" to be prayed with and instructed in the matter of a "personal trust in a personal Saviour", and when they became clear in mind on such a point, we expected them, and encouraged them, to express themselves. Well do I remember an elderly man whom I visited every Monday during those months. He was outside of our fold, and apparently without a pastor, and as he lay in bed it was evident that his time on earth was not for long. After my first salutation to him I presently asked:- "And how is it with you in spiritual matters?" Turning his gaze fully upon me he said:- "I never did understand nor agree with you Methodist teachers. I do not think that any man can know that he is saved in this world when there is always a possibility of him falling by the way, but I have a good hope that it will be alright with me beyond". "Now my friend" I replied "if you were drowning in that river just outside of the house, and you saw me run down and push out the boat, you would have a good hope that the boat was water tight, that my oars were strong, and that I was a good oarsman; and very much would depend on your willingness to give me your hand and let me pull you into the boat. And all this time you would have "a good hope" that the boat would save. But when you were in the boat it would no longer be a good hope -- it would be a knowledge that the boat does save.
I had many visits with him after that, but no allusion was ever made to the allegory which I thought was divinely inspired, for I had never before used it, but one Monday morning some six months after, I called, and after my usual greeting I asked "And how is it with you this morning?" "Oh, thank God" he exclaimed with radiant face, "the boat saves!" "And when did you come to such an experience?" I asked. "Two nights ago, as I was lying here and suffering, I prayed, and I am sure the Saviour came and stood by my bed, and He spoke to me, and He said 'your sins are all forgiven'. And oh thank God the Boat saves". I had never had the opportunity of preaching to this man in church -- this was a bit of that house to house work which I have always valued.
At one of those revival meetings we had very much hard village work and I attributed it largely to the influence of one young man. He was a leader in the village and in the mill. If he would break away from his unbelief and wilfulness, all of the young men would do so, but as he remained hard the rest of the youths were afraid to act. Night after night I pleaded, but apparently Without avail. Then one night in his presence, but without naming him I spoke of the responsibility of a young man who did not use his influence aright. The shaft went home. At the close of the meeting and while still in church he came forward and denounced me saying that he was responsible for no one; he kept back no one; every young man was responsible for himself.
After that he remained away from church, and never again heard my voice. But one day there was a tragedy in the village. The young man went home from the mill as usual at noontime, but complained to his mother of a pain. He ate no dinner. His first request was that I might be sent for; but I had moved away two hundred miles. Before the Superintendent or the doctor could reach him he had become unconscious. Two days later he passed away; his opportunity was lost.
Of much better moment was another experience during that protracted series of meetings. It was at one of the country churches, where the young people were, for the most part, of two families, and in two houses the fathers were "local preachers". All of the young people were thus accustomed to family prayers, Sunday School teaching, and the midweek Prayer meeting. One would think that he had "good" ground to work upon in opening a revival in such a neighbourhood. And yet for two weeks, night after night, there sat together rows of young men, always in the back of the church, and not a young man responded to an appeal. I preached and the Superintendent made the appeal, or he preached, and I took the after meeting; it was all the same, and we closed with a cheery word to strengthen each other's courage. We had gotten into the third week, and I think it was under the Spirit's inspiration that I was led to exclaim:- "young men, I wonder what you are waiting for? Are you waiting for some one to take the first step? If that is it I wish that you would all come together." And they did. There filed down the aisle of that church a line of fine young men who completely filled the Communion rail of that church. Oh, our hearts were glad; and to God be the glory!
It was at the close of these many weeks of meeting that I enjoyed the pleasure which often becomes the lot of young preachers in Canada -- the pleasure of a "Donation", or "Surprise" as it is sometimes called, which implies a present made by popular effort in addition to the regular salary. It was winter time and I think that the young people observed that the junior minister was not any too well clothed. So it came to pass that at the close of nineteen weeks of special meetings, the house being crowded, a mysterious parcel was taken to the front of the church by two young men, who proceeded to unroll it while I was required to stand up and listen to a written address; and then, oh wonders! there unfolded a shiny black Labrador sealskin overcoat, and along with it two pairs of home-knitted woollen socks, and a great pair of Persian lambskin gauntlets! What riches were mine. Who would not wish to share the joys of a young Canadian minister under such trying circumstances?
That I might make the most of time, carry out my purposes in continued studies, and avoid duplicating my efforts, I invented a system of records and time tables. Thus Monday was regarded as my Sunday -- a day off for light reading, rest and recreation. After that, the mornings were sacredly regarded as times to stay in and study, and studies were arranged in order of time for each day, Friday being preserved for the finishing touches for the Sunday sermon. My sermons were written in full, and for convenience were written in notebooks four by six and a half inches, sufficient in thickness to contain four or five sermons; this was a handy book to carry in my coat pocket, and it served the purpose of keeping my mind employed when in my travels I was obliged to wait on the farmer's wife for a meal. My volumes were all numbered, and the sermons were likewise numbered consecutively from volume to volume. On the first page of the sermon, there were also entered the numbers of the hymns that were appropriate, and the reading lessons; thus the work of preparation once done was done permanently. At the end of each sermon was a record for time and place where the sermon might have been delivered. I avoided all use of manuscript in the pulpit, contenting myself with memorising the divisions and order of facts, and leaving myself free for extemporising language as I talked.
Thus it happened one Sunday morning, while my little book lay on the sofa beside me in the pulpit, a movement of my hand sent it tumbling down a narrow crack between the pulpit platform and the church wall, to remain there until strong hands could remove the platform after service, and rescue the precious bit of literature, and so I was compelled to offer a silent prayer and fall back on my memory for hymns, lessons, text and outline of sermon on Spiritual Worship. But this was not nearly so bad as to find myself in a meeting place to which neither I nor any one in the congregation had taken either Bible or hymn book, and there was no copy of either resident in the place; under the unexpected circumstances God helped me to remember, so that I announced three hymns in order, stanza by stanza, which the congregation sang all the more heartily because their heads were up; I recited the ninety-first Psalm, and the first sixteen verses of the eighth chapter of Romans, and delivered my sermon with confidence, and unhampered by any of the "things that are seen".
But to return to my sermon records -- my ultimate reference has always been to my wide-margined Bagster Bible, where my text is underlined, or perhaps printed over with black ink, and the number of the sermon is given. With such an outfit I found myself practically always ready for an emergency, and certainly never flustrated. My first text after leaving college was from St Paul:- "To me to live is Christ", and all of these systematisations of mine were in His service.
As my year with the President was ending, the Official Board gave me a cordial invitation to return for another year; it was a delightful field to work on, but I had reached a marriageable stage, and the Conference powers judged that a married man should be given responsibility. "It is alright" the President said. "I have it arranged. You will be your own boss; you will have a circuit all to yourself". And so I had.
But what a contrast! To this day I know nothing like it. Methodist Union had brought into one village church the congregations of three denominations, and had left their three country appendages to form my circuit. That, under some conditions, would not have seemed too bad, but for a young and vigorous youth, three country churches, on a straight road within four miles from outpost to outpost, in a farming community that was not given to even seek the news of the day, and whose congregations had in the past been built up on ecclesiastical antipathies -- it really was like a bath of ice water. I missed the culture and the commendations of my previous field. However I did not complain. I went about my work, resolved if it were possible for any human to weld the diverse elements, that I would do so, and I worked systematically, diligently and strenuously, but it all seemed like labour lost.
I now had a new Chairman, who also was an ex-President, and who lived but five miles away. He sympathised with me and occasionally called me in to supply in his fine village church. Oh, but that was a refreshing view of Beulah land, but it always made the return to the wilderness more bitter, because it was not only the sterility of a land without water, but the jealousies of the wanderers became all the more pronounced when they thought that they were forsaken and others were preferred.
This stage in my career is to be noted for one especial conversation with my Chairman, which as events long afterwards revealed became a sort of prophecy. "Do you know" I said, "I think I am wasting my time on that charge. College training does not mean anything there and while I am a fair judge of a cow, and can estimate her value, time is too valuable, and life is too short to allow a preacher of the gospel to be spending his time in imitation of the farmer. I would like to go to a neglected neighbourhood in some big city, and begin at the bottom and work up". That was my unpremeditated dream.
The Chairman smiled and said:- "Every city has all the churches it can take care of". The next meeting of Conference did not send me into a city; it sent me instead one hundred and fifty miles into the backwoods.
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