150 RICHARD WEAVER. home? Yes, they have. This little cot close by is their home, and they have beds there, and the children's play. things are there too. The father of those poor, shivering boys is in that home now. He is raving mad with drink; has just come home from the public-house as wild as if possessed with seven devils; and he has dragged that 1 poor mother from her bed and driven her and her frightened children to the door. The night is cold and dark ; so she has taken refuge in the pigsty. But she is not so much alone as the poor, brutal father, for she knows the Lord Jesus, and in that piggery she commits herself and little ones to him in prayer. Time passed away, and one of those boys grew up to be a man. He worked as a collier, and became wild, reckless, and drunken as his father. He was a great grief to his poor old mother. Being a strong, hearty fellow, he was often in the prize-ring as a fighter; and so bold and desperate was he, that he went by the name of "Dauntless Dick." Once he was brought to the verge of the grave by his own wickedness, and his poor mother thought he would die unsaved. Suffering did not soften his heart, for one day he struck his mother a shameful blow with his own hand, because she prayed for him and sought to lead him to the Saviour. Some time after this he was lying, one evening, in bed, thinking and planning about a fight that was about to come off between himself and another man. He was saying to himself, "Well, I have never been beaten yet, and I don't think I shall be long in settling him." In a room adjoining there were some Christian people, reading and talking, and he heard one of them say, "When God rises up in judgment how shall we meet him?" The words went to his heart, and again and again he asked RICHARD WEAVER. 151 himself, "How shall I meet God?" Afterwards, he got up, but felt very wretched. Some one said to him, "Go and get drunk and drown your troubles." He did get drunk, but remained as bad as ever, for then he was tormented with this text, "The drunkard shall not inherit the kingdom of God." At night he staggered home and got into bed, but could not sleep. In the morning he was worse, and, after getting up, he went out into a field and hid himself in a sand-pit. Oh, that was to him a dark and dismal hour! He thought of his cruelty to his mother, of his daring and wicked life; it seemed as if all the sins of the past had gathered as a mountain over his head, and were ready to crush him into hell. It was the turning-point of his life. He was alone with God. His heart was broken. "No hope, no hope for me!" was his first cry; but soon the Holy Spirit revealed to him the Lord Jesus, able and willing to save. He came out of that pit a new man, his heart overflowing with love and praise. This took place eight years ago. A message was sent to his poor old mother that her son was again." Tears filled her eyes, and, with a full, bursting heart, she exclaimed, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." "born And now, that godly mother has gone home to glory; the old drunken father is yet alive; but he is a Christian now, enjoying the love of God and the hope of heaven; the son is Richard Weaver the preaching collier, who has been the means of leading thousands of poor souls to the Saviour. Scarcely one knew him when he was induced to come to London four months ago. One day the following strange handbill made its appearance:— "To prize-fighters, dog-fanciers, and sporting men of 152 RICHARD WEAVER. every sort. Come and hear Richard Weaver, known as 'Undaunted Dick,' a converted prize-fighter, from the coal mines of Lancashire. He will sing and preach at Cumberland Market, Regent's Park, on Sunday morn ing, June 3rd, at eleven o'clock, and in the evening at six o'clock," &c. This brought crowds to hear, and many went away broken in heart ready to hide themselves in a sand-pit too. Old Allan Gray has himself seen and conversed with not a few of these, and tried to lend a helping hand in leading them to Jesus. Some have gone away rejoicing in the Lord, and others saying, "Oh that I knew where I might find him!" Allan Gray would go a long way to hear Richard Weaver sing his hymns-so hearty are they and so good. But for the present he and his young reader and Richard must part company; but he cannot do so without first commending to every unsaved one that great Physician who cured the collier of all his maladies, and gave him hope, and life, and joy. Richard says: "I was always fond of singing. But the songs I used to sing are not the songs I love now. I remember when 'Old Dog Tray,' and 'Britons never shall be Slaves,' used to my songs. Oh, my dear men, you sing 'Britons never shall be Slaves;' what slaves you are to your own lusts, to the devil and the landlord. I used to sing 'We won't go home till morning,' the landlady loves to hear that. I've sung that five nights together, and spent £14 on a spree, and got turned out at the end. But now I've learned better songs. I'll tell you the songs I love now :"We're travelling home to heaven above, Will you go? To sing the Saviour's dying love, PRAYER. Millions have reached that blissful shore, "We are going to walk the plains of light, Far, far from death, and curse, and night The crown of life we then shall wear, Dear reader, will you ?-When ?—Now? PRAYER. WAKE, little child, the morn is gay, Before you go to school. Kneel down, and speak the holy words: And when the quiet evening's come, Because you need Him day and night, 153 JESUS FORGIVING SINS. AT a cottage meeting held in the lowest part of St. Giles's, the text had been, "In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for sin and for uncleanness." The hymn t "There is a fountain filled with blood was being sung, when a poor Irishwoman present suddenly threw up her arms and exclaimed with great emotion, Oh, Jesus, bathe me in that fountain; wash me in that fountain!" The promise, "Before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear," is fulfilled in her case. Immediately she cries out, “Precious Jesus, thou hast put me in that fountain. Thy blood has washed me, I know. Thou hast put me in that precious, precious fountain." And continued repeating these and like expressions many times. This woman had not only been a violent Romanist, but a depraved character. When now asked, “Do you believe the Virgin Mary can save you?" or any similar question, her answer is, "Oh no, no; Jesus has washed me in that fountain." We hardly need add that she is called to suffer for her confession; but she stands steadfast, walking as a disciple. A servant of Jesus Christ was engaged in visiting from house to house in a respectable neighbourhood. He in. troduces the subject of the Gospel to the wife of a tradesman. She replies, "I don't wish you to call on me, I don't believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ: my husband doesn't believe in it." "Are you holy ? " 66 Oh, "Can you meet a holy God?" A few more words no." |