e has to wait.--John
Wesley goes back to Bristol.--The Kingswood of the
North.
"WHO'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!
[Illustration: Music]
All people that on earth do dwell
Sing 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.
[Illustration: "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 the
gentlemen 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
|