He caught sight of the
words, "The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin".
The message went home. That night he hardly slept. With the morning
came LIGHT AND LIFE. Like Christian in the _Pilgrim's Progress_ he
looked to the cross, and his burden rolled away.
Feeling keenly his own weakness he bought a large Bible, and placed it
open on the table in his sitting-room, determined that an open Bible
in the future should be his colours. "It was to speak for me," he
said, "before I was strong enough to speak for myself." The usual
result followed. His friends did not like his "new colours". One
accused him of "turning Methodist," and departed; another warned him
not to become a hypocrite, and remarked, "Bad as you were, I never
thought you would come to this, old fellow!" So for a time he was
nearly deserted.
But he had got that which was better than any ordinary friendships.
Though he often came under the fire of jeers and taunts--more trying
to most men than the rifle bullets of the enemy--he experienced a new
joy which increased and deepened.
Later on he would spend four or five hours daily in Bible reading,
meditation and prayer, so that whereas he had written a few months
earlier: "Oh! dear mother, I wish I felt more what I write!" he
was now daily becoming more earnest, patient and watchful, and was
gradually putting on the whole armour of God.
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