Reprinted from The Skipper Parson: On the Bays and Barrens of Newfoundland by James Lumsden
Transcribed by Wanda Garrett, January 2015
Seasons of Refreshing
“Men may die without any opinions, and yet be carried into Abraham’s bosom; but if we die without love, what will knowledge avail? I will not quarrel with you about your opinions. Only see that your heart be right with God. I am sick of opinions. Give me good and substantial religion, a humble, gentle love of God and man.” — John Wesley.
It is useless to argue for or against revivals in religion. True revivals are of God, and “by their fruits ye shall know them.” When we hear of “abounding heathenism,” “lapsed masses,” many “holding a form of godliness, but having denied the power thereof,” “worldly Christians and worldly churches,” if there be not revival, what, then, will there be?—Death. Cold conventionality and stiff respectability pray not to be disturbed, asking only to be allowed to sleep on; but the breath of the Spirit is the life of the churches and the salvation of the nations.
The work of grace I here recount started at a time and in a way no man looked for. Human agency was little evident, but divine power impressed every mind.
On a certain Sunday, early in my first year in Random South, I preached at Lee Bight, intending to continue my circuit tour next morning. When the day dawned we found that a deep snow had fallen during the night, and that it was still snowing heavily. Consequently my way was effectually blocked for that day at least, and it was arranged that I should remain and preach in the house of my host. From apostolic times to the present God has often blessed house-preaching. On that memorable evening God poured out his spirit on that little company, and when we parted we could say of a truth that “this one and that one” “was born there,” but no one imagined that the Paraclete had started a revival flame that would sweep the entire circuit, and result in the conversion of many precious souls. The young converts from Lee Bight carried the fire to Northern Bight, and from there again it spread to every cove and harbor on the circuit, and to places beyond. Almost every convert sought to win for Jesus his child, his parent, his brother, or sister, or friend. There sprang up immediately a band of noble Christian workers, particularly young men. At Northern Bight for about three weeks all but the most necessary work stopped, and the people devoted themselves to praise and prayer. The church was packed whenever open, always twice on each day.. There was no preaching needed. “All hands for Christ,” the words of one of our number who was mighty in appeal, struck the right keynote. Though the meeting would last for hours, there was never a break in song or prayer. I remember on one occasion I pronounced the benediction twice, and still found the devout congregation unwilling to disperse. Passing their houses at almost any hour of the day, I would hear the cheerful strain of some sweet hymn, and see little groups gathering for prayer. From the lips of children crying “Hosanna” to those of the old man gray and bent with the weight of threescore years and ten, there was heard the voice of thanksgiving. Some who had not been in the house of God for years, repenting of foolish and rash vows, were found frequenting the sanctuary again. Family feuds were healed, and a new spirit of love and zeal filled the churches. As a result, ninety-eight persons were received into the church that year, and there were many besides who witnessed for Jesus as Master. There was a similar work on the adjoining circuit, and revival influences were abroad. Some extravagances and disappointments necessarily appeared, but the resultant good was overwhelmingly great, and with new courage we pressed on.
Let me describe a few incidents and scenes of the revival. A sealing schooner from Northern Bight, destined for the ice fields, was lying in Fox Harbor, the nearest point of anchorage to Trinity Bay and the open sea. The skipper was only waiting for the first of March, the legal clay of sailing, to hoist his sails and bear away in search of coveted seals. How often has it happened according to the proverb, “Man proposes: God disposes!” So with the skipper and crew, God ruled otherwise, intending a blessing for them. In all, there were some ten or twelve men of reckless and irreligious character in this little vessel. In God’s great mercy a wonderful change took place in a short time.
The revival was proceeding at Northern Bight when Abraham Martin, a young man, one of the ship’s crew, was sent back for some tools that had been forgotten. Almost immediately he became the subject of saving grace, and from the first the change in his life and character was complete, such as none could dispute. Returning to the ship, he stood for his Master, Christ, like a Christian hero clothed in the panoply of God. His companions, hearing of his conversion, thought they could laugh or mock him out of his religion. The whole crew were at their evening meal, in a house ashore, when he arrived among them. They opened fire upon him at once in cruel banter. He endured it for a while; then, standing, he spoke, in effect: “Mates, you all know I have been a wicked lad. No one has known it as well as myself, and, while pretending to be happy, I have been miserable. When I went back to No’thern Bight, and saw what God had done for many, and heard what he was able and willing to do for me, I said, T will give my heart to God;’ and now, by God’s help, I will live and die for Jesus.” That ended their sport. They felt a new respect for their chum, and deep seriousness rested on every one. Nor was that all. God had greater blessings to bestow. Because the ice blocked their way seaward, and continued to do so, with no immediate promise of a change, the skipper ordered his men home for the time being. Thus in every step we may see the hand of God. In Northern Bight they were brought under the saving grace of the gospel.
The skipper and all the crew, with the exception of one man, humbled themselves at the cross. I spent a long time with the skipper in prayer and in urging him to pray, but he was silent. “If you cannot say a word, say half a one,” was the word spoken at random that reached his heart. He did pray; and O, how he prayed! He rose from his knees praising God; and his next act, though the hour was late, was to seek one who had something against him, and they were reconciled. When they returned to the vessel, prayer meeting and class meeting were instituted; I myself had the pleasure of conducting a prayer meeting in that little cabin. When at last the schooner spread her white wings to catch the breezes that bore her northward, their friends felt great satisfaction in the assurance that the peace and blessing of God went with them. One of the crew said, “Our ship before was a floating hell; now it’s a floating Bethel.”
At the farther extreme of the circuit, Deer Harbor, to which the revival spread, under the preaching of the Word, a young man was stricken with the convicting Spirit. In thrilling and agonizing tones he cried, “What must I do to be saved?” All left the chapel except two or three praying brethren with myself, and one woman—his widowed mother. Not until he found “peace through believing” did we rise from our knees. Then his joy was as great as his anguish had been. We were rejoicing together, when suddenly he espied the little woman in the far corner—his mother. He had not previously been aware of her presence, and he literally sprang toward her, embracing her with the cry of joy, “O, mother, won’t we have a happy home now ?” There was no dry eye in that little company then; nor was there a little later when we saw the stalwart son and the little woman, she leaning on his arm, her care-worn face lit up with a smile of ineffable thankfulness, together wending their way homeward. Doubtless her heart kept time to the music of the words, “This my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.”
There were critics and opponents of the revival, as there always are. Let me narrate how one of the strongest of them capitulated, and became a convert, “sitting, in his right mind, at the feet of Jesus.” Scene first: I call at this man’s house. He immediately introduces the subject of the revival, scornfully denouncing it, and saying that he can prove from Scripture that it is but the sacrifice of fools, quoting Eccl. 5. 1, “Keep thy foot when thou goest to the house of God, and be more ready to hear, than to give the sacrifice of fools.” Strange proof that! Truth to tell, he based his condemnation upon mere report; not actual knowledge. Is not this a common sin of the critic? Scene second: About a fortnight later I visit the same place and conduct a prayer meeting. The congregation is composed almost entirely of converts, conspicuous among whom is our friend the critic. Here, indeed, is a wonder—a miracle of grace. Every eye is suffused with tears as he tells of the way God led him; how he was convinced, not by any man’s words, but by his own son’s conversion. Seeing what grace had done for his own boy, disbelief and antagonism gave place to faith and prayer. Now both father and son were rejoicing in a conscious salvation. We praised God, remembering the saying, “The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou nearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.”
Abraham Martin, the young man whose “good confession” before his shipmates we have already described, lived a truly Christian life and died early a triumphant death. As I boarded at his father’s house, I had opportunity for the closest observation. His life was nurtured by prayer. Often in the middle of the day, when all was quiet, he would leave his work and retire to his room for prayer. Sitting in my study, I could hear his voice in earnest prayer and supplication broken with sobs. He was one of a number early called home to God, whose was “the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith,” all the fruit of the revival.
“There all the ship’s company meet,
Who sailed with the Saviour beneath;
With shouting each other they greet,
And triumph o’er trouble and death;
The voyage of life’s at an end,
The mortal affliction is past;
The age that in heaven they spend,
Forever and ever shall last.”
With extraordinarily large circuits, stupendous difficulties of travel, and consequently rather infrequent though regular visits of the missionary to the more distant settlements, the wonder may be how the Methodist Church in Newfoundland has won her present position and sustains her work. Early in its history Methodism was providentially led to utilize the gifts and energies of the laity, both men and women, and found in them its arm of strength. This applies particularly to Newfoundland, where, apart from its devoted lay helpers, Methodism could never have attained its present growth.
First in order of usefulness are lay readers, an order not created by act of Conference, but born of the necessities of the hour, and taking the place of the more Methodistic local preacher. Doubtless, as education spreads, out of the lay reader the local preacher will be evolved. In the meantime the people hear the best sermons of Moody and Spurgeon, and are edified. After these come in order class leaders, exhorters, and Sunday school teachers, and these faithful laborers, augmenting the work of the regular ministry, have made for efficiency and success. It is marvelous how rich the church has been in the material out of which workers are made, and how many and how willing are those who spend time and talents in the church’s interest. This delightful feature of Newfoundland Methodism is all the more remarkable, remembering that educational advantages have in the past been so meager.
To illustrate what lay help meant in Newfoundland we may instance Deer Harbor on my first circuit. With sixteen appointments, separated by stormy waters and trackless barrens, a monthly visit was all that was within the region of the possible. There was no other church in Deer Harbor, and none but the Methodist minister preached the gospel there. The people of this place comprised some twenty or thirty families, a community apart, shut in and separated by the wild waters of the bay in front and the dreary land wastes in the rear. Under these circumstances, they would have suffered a system of feast and fast in spiritual diet—feast during the minister’s presence, fast during the greater period of his absence—but for earnest helpers in the gospel among the people themselves. There was, first of all, Brother King, a fisherman, who acted as schoolmaster (when there was a school), and to whom the people looked up as “a very larned man.” He was also wise and pious. This man stood in the minister’s place, reading sermons regularly on Sundays, and, with other like-spirited men and women, keeping all the machinery of the church in full operation.
This order of things was duplicated in every other place on the circuit. From year’s end to year’s end, the work never ceased. The minister was not the sole prop and stay of the churches, but the overseer of many workers. Many of these lay brethren were marvelously gifted in exhortation and prayer. No one could listen to them without magnifying the grace of God, which made humble men and women mighty witnesses for the truth. Need we wonder at the remarkable increase in church membership from 4,829 in 1873 to 11,665 m i 9°3j which is in thirty years more than a hundred and twenty-five per cent, and this while the increase in the population has been very slight?
The ministers of the church have been gifted and devoted men. They have preached not only in the towns and settlements, but in love for souls have reached out to distant Labrador,1 the remotest habitations and the islands lying off the coast; but without the aid of consecrated lay workers, and a polity of which Methodists are justly proud, much of their labor would have been lost. As it is, in Terra Nova Methodism lives and grows, having found the way to the hearts of the people whose lives of loneliness and deprivation make them more than ordinarily appreciative of the means of grace.
1 The Methodist Conference of Newfoundland sustains on Labrador two missionaries, at Hamilton Inlet and Red Bay; and sends besides, during the summer months, a young man to minister to the fishing fleet.
These transcriptions may contain human errors. As always, confirm these as you would any other source material.