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Story of John Wesley Told to Boys and Girls

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<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> <div class="blockquot"><p>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.</p> </div> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/cap-w-quote.png" width-obs="115" height-obs="100" alt="W" title="" /></div> <div class='unindent'><br/>HO'S yon man?"</div> <p>"Which man?"</p> <p>"Yon. Him with the long hair, and dressed like a parson."</p> <p>"I dunno. Why there's two on 'em."</p> <p>"I say, Polly, let's go and hear 'em, they're singing. Come on, Bob."</p> <p>Bob and Billy and Polly were very ragged and very dirty children, and they lived in Newcastle.</p> <p>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,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</SPAN></span> swearing, wicked people; even the children cursed and swore.</p> <p>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!</p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/music.png" width-obs="500" height-obs="747" alt="Music" title="" /></div> <div class="center"><small>[<i>Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking</i> <SPAN href="music/hundredth.mid">here</SPAN>.]</small></div> <div class='poem'><br/> All people that on earth do dwell<br/> Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;<br/> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</SPAN></span>Him serve with fear, His praise forth tell:<br/> Come ye before Him and rejoice.<br/></div> <p>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.</p> <p>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.</p> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i-111.png" width-obs="343" height-obs="500" alt=""If you come to yon hill at five o'clock to-night, I'll tell you what I mean."—Page 95." title="" /> <span class="caption">"If you come to yon hill at five o'clock to-night, I'll tell you what I mean."—<SPAN href="#Page_95">Page 95</SPAN>.</span></div> <p>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 the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</SPAN></span> gentlemen is now talking. Listen what he is saying! He is preaching a sermon, and this is his text: "<i>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.</i>" He is telling those poor men and women that it was Jesus, the Son of God, who suffered this for them, <i>because He loved them</i>.</p> <p>The people, who numbered about twelve hundred, stood gaping and staring, they had never heard anything like this before.</p> <p>"Who are you?" shouted one man.</p> <p>"What do you mean?" called out another.</p> <p>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."</p> <p>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.</p> <p>Oh, so sweetly and tenderly did he read to them God's own words: "<i>I will heal their back-sliding, I will love them freely;</i>" and then he told them the "Old, Old Story."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</SPAN></span></p> <p>He told it very slowly:</p> <div class='poem'> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'That they might take it in,</span><br/> That wonderful redemption,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">God's remedy for sin.'</span><br/></div> <p>He told them the story simply:</p> <div class='poem'> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">'As to a little child,</span><br/> For they were weak and weary,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And helpless and defi'ed.'</span><br/></div> <p>He told them the story softly:</p> <div class='poem'> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">'With earnest tones and grave,</span><br/> For were they not the sinners<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom Jesus came to save?'"</span><br/> <br/><br/></div> <p>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.</p> <p>"Stay a few days," said one. No, he could not do that.</p> <p>"Just one day more," they begged.</p> <p>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,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</SPAN></span> and he was a man that could not break his word. So he was sadly obliged to refuse.</p> <p>Before very long, however, Mr. Charles Wesley went to Newcastle, and after a time, Mr. Wesley himself paid a second visit.</p> <p>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."</p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i-033.png" width-obs="109" height-obs="109" alt="Book" title="" /></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</SPAN></span></p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i-115.png" width-obs="530" height-obs="146" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />

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