On the 14th of August I heard a man preach in the Presbyterian Church where my membership had been. The congregation was large. I wanted to get up and tell the people not to believe what he said, that if they knew the truth concerning that text it would comfort them. I thought if they felt as I had felt before my hope came he was distressing them greatly. I could hardly keep my seat. I went home with my head down. As I entered my room I spoke aloud, as though another had spoken in me, "I must preach." Then I was startled. I wanted to go to the ends of the earth to tell everybody that salvation was by grace, and that what that man preached was not true. But the word "preach" was too great a word for me.

Soon after that I wrote to Elder Beebe, telling him of that wonderful experience, and asking what it meant. In his reply he said the brethren had thought I had a work to do in the church, and were waiting till the Lord should let me know it, and that they had appointed a certain night, September 4th, f6r me to exercise my gift. Then I was afraid. It did not seem possible that I could preach; and I could not yet think it possible for me to leave my business. This caused me great anxiety and some distress of mind. I find in my diary of August 14th, the evening when I had first had the thought that I must preach, this Sentence: "I am certain I must engage in another work than the law."

A few days after this, a large coal operator came to my office and asked me to take charge of the legal work connected with his business. I looked it over, and took time to think of it. All that day I worked hard and enjoyed the work. Much business was brought to me, and during the day I hardly thought of anything but the work. During the past winter I had done but little, having been much with my two brothers, one in Washington and one at my father's home, both very sick. Since my baptism I had not cared much for legal work, only to do my duty. And this was really the first day in many weeks that I had been devotedly engaged in work. All other things were put out of my mind, and the thought of preaching was gone, so far as I can remember. I had during all of my practice been preparing for the line of work which appeared now to be coming to me in such measure as to animate me much. I must, however, have remembered my thoughts about preaching, for I told the coal operator that possibly I might not stay there, and if I arranged to go away I would turn the business over to a friend, H. W. Palmer. He said that man would be his next choice.

That night I went into my room with very peculiar feelings. I had spent evening after evening there with the Bible, the hymn book and the "Signs," in unspeakable comfort. Now, as I entered the room, l realized that something was lacking. I looked around and the room seemed empty. I took the Bible, but there was nothing for me. I was not at rest. I sat down but instantly rose again. Unrest! It was terrible, distressing. It seemed almost as though I were going to die. All at once I thought of the day just closed, and the work I had done, and the enjoyment of it. Then I said to myself; "On Sunday night you felt that you must go to the ends of the earth and tell the glad tidings of salvation by grace, and what have you been doing today?" Then I said, whether aloud or only in thought I cannot tell; "If I were sure of making fifty thousand dollars by the end of this year I could not and I would not stay." Oh, what a sweet peace and rest and a feeling of holy solemnity came into my soul. From that day to this, nearly forty-four years,, there has been no going back in my mind from that decision. I have still had times when it seemed impossible for me to preach; one so unworthy, so poor in spirit, so ignorant. Qualification has seemed utterly lacking, but the thought of business and money has never since been a hindrance to me. It seemed the words were sweetly been a hindrance to me. It seemed the words were sweetly given to given to me by the dear Saviour: "Your heavenly Father knoweth ye have need of these things." From that day to this my needs been all supplied, and I am sure they will be to the end, but not all wants.

One night about this time these words were in my mind all night: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will you rest." All night the meaning of them kept unfolding in my and the inexpressible sweetness of them was tested in my spirit. Whether I slept I do not know. I did not need to sleep. I had a more satisfying rest than sleep could give. Not long after this I at a conference meeting at Vaughan Hill, perhaps Sunday, 28th. On that day my next older brother James was baptized by Elder Schoonover. My next younger brother Warren had been baptized in July, when I was not present. Both had been extremely ill during the past year, and both had received a hope, each in a most wonderful manner. At the conference referred to I spoke concerning the words of the dear Saviour which had been so blessed to me during one whole night. After this they seemed to pass away from my mind in a manner, though not any means forgotten.

Now I began to think with trembling to try to prepare myself for the trial of my gift at Middletown at the meeting appointed for the evening of Sunday, September 4th. I thought if I could preach at all I could preach from those words: "Come unto me, etc." So I carefully laid them up in my mind for that occasion, occasionally thinking them over, and arranging my thoughts concerning them. The Sunday came and I was present at the Wallkill Meeting House in the morning. It rained and few were out. Elder Beebe said I must preach, I was in consternation. I had but one text and that was for the meeting in Middletown at night. Elder Beebe and all the rest insisted that I go forward. Just then I remembered the peculiar language of 29:11, 12 and 18 about the book which the learned could not read because it was sealed, and the one that was not learned because he was not learned, but the deaf shall hear the words of the book, etc. I spoke a little about that, and one of the deacons, an old man, said he was edified by what I said. I looked at him sadly for I thought he had said what was not true in order to encourage and comfort me. I knew it could not be that what I had said could have been of any benefit. But perhaps at night I might preach. Elder Beebe was called from the morning meeting to attend a funeral and told me I must preach at the afternoon meeting in Middletown. I urged and begged to be let off from that; said I could not do it. The thought of trying to preach in the afternoon was frightful, and especially as I had only the one text, and that I must use at night. When I found it was inevitable, I looked around in my mind and finally thought of the text used by the Presbyterian preacher the night i felt such a strong desire to contradict him, and when afterward I, for the first time, thought I must preach: "As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." But to use that I must speak upon the subject of the resurrection, and I knew that one prominent person would be present who, had told me she did not believe in the resurrection of the body in the same way that some of us did and I feared I would offend her. My mind was in a tumult. However, the time came and I tried to tell what I thought of the text, and declared the resurrection of the body. Though I will say here that I did not then, and do not now, believe that the body, which is sown a natural body, is raised a natural body and then changed into a spiritual body; but "it is raised a spiritual body." Well, I got through the afternoon, and was spoken to very kindly by the one referred to, as well as by the rest of the friends. I did not, however, in my own mind, call it preaching. But if I could preach at all (which I began to doubt very much) I thought I could do it at night. My text I had kept laid away, and neither 'm the morning nor afternoon had I interfered with it.

At night there came together a large congregation, and I took my text. But what work I made. I talked, it is true, for near forty minutes, but I felt as though I had my hands full of dead, dry leaves, rattling them. There was no life or light or feeling, except a feeling of self-abasement, helplessness and distress. One followed me, the one I have already referred to, who afterward left us, and said some surface things in a smooth, cold manner, with no help or interest to me. I had tried to get down into the depth and sweetness of the text. "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest," and I could not. I felt that I had absolutely said nothing, and worse than nothing. The church gave me license to preach, but I am convinced they could not have seen any gift in what I said that night. If it had not been for the morning and afternoon meetings, and what they had heard before, they could not have thought I had a gift.

The night was a distressing one to me. I tossed sleeplessly till morning, writing bitter things against myself, feeling sure that I had made the church mourn on my account; that I had no gift, and that I ought never to have allowed them to have an appointment for me. How' my soul cried unto the Lord for mercy, that he would direct me and uphold me in the right way. Toward morning I became somewhat quiet, and promised myself that if the Lord ever had anything for me to say I would try to say it if he would give me ability, but that I would never lay up a text again, nor try to arrange beforehand what I should say. I had been humiliated greatly and my pride had been broken down, and now I did feel humble. But I have not kept my promise. Many a time I have tried to arrange a sermon for a future occasion, and have as often been shut up, and three or four times during the first year I had to stop and sit down.

The next week I went in company with several brethren to the Lexington Association, and enjoyed the meetings and the preaching very much. I was called upon to speak, and felt very much at liberty in my soul. It seemed to me then that preaching the gospel was an easy an(l most delightful work, but I soon found that it was so only when the Lord filled my soul with the comfort of his love and gave me to feel at the time the power of his word. But when left to myself to depend upon the power of my own mind, preaching is the hardest work I ever did.

When my sister Bessie received a hope ten years before I was brought into the church, she received in her own mind an assurance that I would have to preach. When I wrote her that I had united with the Presbyterian Church, she was deeply affected that for a time she almost lost her power to breath. Soon, however, the remembrance of the power with which that assurance had come to her that I must preach quieted her, and she rested. I knew nothing of this until the church had liberated me to preach.

I still have times of soul searching, and of crying unto God as a little child, that he will lead me and guide me in the path of duty, and uphold me by His spirit, and I must acknowledge with humble gratitude and thanksgiving that the dear Lord has not been unmindful of my petitions. And I would love, if enabled by his grace, to recount some of his blessings, and tell of his goodness to me. I can say with the Apostle, "Having obtained help of the Lord, I Continue unto this present, trying to preach as with the ability that God giveth, the unsearchable riches of Christ."

The terrible afflictions of soul I cannot describe. I cannot tell of the sorrows on account of sin in thought and word and deed, of the going down into the depths, when deep has called unto deep in my soul, when I have felt that "the bars of the earth were about me forever.'' But so far the Lord has showed me his delivering power and grace, and out of every one of these deep and heavy afflictions the Lord has brought me into some deeper and more glorious understanding of his goodness.