oon of a hot July day (July 13,
1886). I was in perfect health, having been off from the drink for
nearly a month. I was in no way troubled about my soul. In fact, God
was not in my thoughts that day. A young lady friend sent me a copy of
Professor Drummond's Natural Law in the Spiritual World, asking me my
opinion of it as a literary work only. Being proud of my critical
talents and wishing to enhance myself in my new friend's esteem, I took
the book to my bedroom for quiet, intending to give it a thorough
study, and then write her what I thought of it. It was here that God
met me face to face, and I shall never forget the meeting. 'He that
hath the Son hath life eternal, he that hath not the Son hath not
life.' I had read this scores of times before, but this made all the
difference. I was now in God's presence and my attention was
absolutely 'soldered' on to this verse, and I was not allowed to
proceed with the book till I had fairly considered what these words
really involved. Only then was I allowed to proceed, feeling all the
while that there was another being in my bedroom, though not seen by
me. The stillness was very marvelous, and I felt supremely happy. It
was most unquestionably shown me, in one second of time, that I had
never touched the Eternal: and that if I died then, I must inevitably
be lost. I was undone. I knew it as well as I now know I am saved.
The Spirit of God showed it me in ineffable love; there was no terror
in it; I felt God's love so powerfully upon me that only a mighty
sorrow crept over me that I had lost all through my own folly; and what
was I to do? What could I do? I did not repent even; God never asked
me to repent. All I felt was 'I am undone,' and God cannot help it,
although he loves me. No fault on the part of the Almighty. All the
time I was supremely happy: I felt like a little child before his
father. I had done wrong, but my Father did not scold me, but loved me
most wondrously. Still my doom was sealed. I was lost to a certainty,
and being naturally of a brave disposition I did not quail under it,
but deep sorrow for the past, mixed with regret for what I had lost,
took hold upon me, and my soul thrilled within me to think it was all
over. Then there crept in upon me so gently, so lovingly, so
unmistakably, a way of escape, and what was it after all? The old, old
story over again, told in the simplest way: 'There is no name under
heaven whereby ye c