After the meeting was over I went to her and asked her what the trouble was.

She said: “Oh, Mr. Moody, this has been the most miserable week of my life.”

I asked her if there was anyone with whom she had had trouble and whom she could not forgive.

She said: “No, not that I know of.”

“Well, did you tell your friends about having found the Savior?”

“Indeed I didn’t, I have been all the week trying to keep it from them.”

“Well,” I said, “that is the reason why you have no peace.”

She wanted to take the crown, but did not want the cross. My friends, you must go by the way of Calvary. If you ever get rest, you must get it at the foot of the cross.

“Why,” she said, “if I should go home and tell my infidel husband that I had found Christ I don’t know what he would do. I think he would turn me out.”

“Well,” I said, “go out.”

She went away, promising that she would tell him, timid and pale, but she did not want another wretched week. She was bound to have peace.

The next night I gave a lecture to men only, and in the hall there were eight thousand men and one solitary woman. When I got through and went into the inquiry meeting, I found this lady with her husband. She introduced him to me (he was a doctor, and a very influential man) and said:

“He wants to become a Christian.”

I took my Bible and told him all about Christ, and he accepted Him. I said to her after it was all over:

“It turned out quite differently from what you expected, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” she replied, “I was never so scared in my life. I expected he would do something dreadful, but it has turned out so well.”

She took God’s way, and got rest.

I want to say to young ladies, perhaps you have a godless father or mother, a sceptical brother, who is going down through drink, and perhaps there is no one who can reach them but you. How many times a godly, pure young lady has taken the light into some darkened home! Many a home might be lit up with the Gospel if the mothers and daughters would only speak the word.

The last time Mr. Sankey and myself were in Edinburgh, there were a father, two sisters and a brother, who used every morning to take the morning paper and pick my sermon to pieces. They were indignant to think that the Edinburgh people should be carried away with such preaching. One day one of the sisters was going by the hall, and she thought she would drop in and see what class of people went there. She happened to take a seat by a godly lady, who said to her:

“I hope you are interested in this work.”

She tossed her head and said: “Indeed I am not. I am disgusted with everything I have seen and heard.”

“Well,” said the lady, “perhaps you came prejudiced.”

“Yes, and the meeting has not removed any of it, but has rather increased it.”

“I have received a great deal of good from them.”

“There is nothing here for me. I don’t see how an intellectual person can be interested.”

To make a long story short, she got the lady to promise to come back. When the meeting broke up, just a little of the prejudice had worn away. She promised to come back again the next day, and then she attended three or four more meetings, and became quite interested. She said nothing to her family, until finally the burden became too heavy, and she told them. They laughed at her, and made her the butt of their ridicule.

One day the two sisters were together, and the other said: “Now what have you got at those meetings that you didn’t have in the first place?”

“I have a peace that I never knew of before. I am at peace with God, myself and all the world.” Did you ever have a little war of your own with your neighbors, in your own family? And she said: “I have self-control. You know, sister, if you had said half the mean things before I was converted that you have said since, I would have been angry and answered back, but if you remember correctly, I haven’t answered once since I have been converted.”

The sister said: “You certainly have something that I have not.” The other told her it was for her too, and she brought the sister to the meetings, where she found peace.

Like Martha and Mary, they had a brother, but he was a member of the University of Edinburgh. He be converted? He go to these meetings? It might do for women, but not for him. One night they came home and told him that a chum of his own, a member of the University, had stood up and confessed Christ, and when he sat down his brother got up and confessed; and so with the third one.

When the young man heard it, he said: “Do you mean to tell me that he has been converted?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” he said, “there must be something in it.”

He put on his hat, and coat, and went to see his friend Black. Black got him down to the meetings, and he was converted.

We went through to Glasgow, and had not been there six weeks when news came that that young man had been stricken down and died. When he was dying he called his father to his bedside and said:

“Wasn’t it a good thing that my sisters went to those meetings? Won’t you meet me in heaven, father?”

“Yes, my son, I am so glad you are a Christian; that is the only comfort that I have in losing you. I will become a Christian, and will meet you again.”

I tell this to encourage some sister to go home and carry the message of salvation. It may be that your brother may be taken away in a few months. My dear friends, are we not living in solemn days? Isn’t it time for us to get our friends into the Kingdom of God? Come, wife, won’t you tell your husband? Come, sister, won’t you tell your brother? Won’t you take up your cross now? The blessing of God will rest on your soul if you will.

I was in Wales once, and a lady told me this little story: An English friend of hers, a mother, had a child that was sick. At first they considered there was no danger, until one day the doctor came in and said that the symptoms were very unfavorable. He took the mother out of the room, and told her that the child could not live. It came like a thunderbolt. After the doctor had gone the mother went into the room where the child lay and began to talk to the child and tried to divert its mind.

“Darling, do you know you will soon hear the music of heaven? You will hear a sweeter song than you have ever heard on earth. You will hear them sing the song of Moses and the Lamb. You are very fond of music. Won’t it be sweet, darling?”

And the little tired, sick child turned its head away, and said, “Oh mamma, I am so tired and so sick that I think it would make me worse to hear all that music.”

“Well,” the mother said, “you will soon see Jesus, You will see the seraphim and cherubim and the streets all paved with gold”; and she went on picturing heaven as it is described in Revelation.

The little tired child again turned its head away, and said, “Oh mamma, I am so tired that I think it would make me worse to see all those beautiful things!”

At last the mother took the child up in her arms, and pressed her to her loving heart. And the little sick one whispered:

“Oh mamma, that is what I want. If Jesus will only take me in His arms and let me rest!”

Dear friend, are you not tired and weary of sin? Are you not weary of the turmoil of life? You can end rest on the bosom of the Son of God.

SEVEN “I WILLS” OF CHRIST.

A man when he says “I will,” may not mean much. We very often say “I will,” when we don’t mean to fulfil what we say; but when we come to the “I will” of Christ, He means to fulfil it. Everything He has promised to do, He is able and willing to accomplish; and He is going to do it. I cannot find any passage in Scripture in which He says “I will” do this, or “I will” do that, but it will be done.

1. The “I Will” of Salvation.

The first “I will” to which I want to direct your attention, is to be found in John’s gospel, sixth chapter and thirty-seventh verse: “Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out.”

I imagine someone will say, “Well, if I was what I ought to be, I would come; but when my mind goes over the past record of my life, it is too dark. I am not fit to come.”

You must bear in mind that Jesus Christ came to save not good people, not the upright and just, but sinners like you and me, who have gone astray, and sinned and come short of the glory of God. Listen to this “I will”—it goes right into the heart—“Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out.” Surely that is broad enough—is it not? I don’t care who the man or woman is; I don’t care what their trials, what their troubles, what their sorrows, or what their sins are, if they will only come straight to the Master, He will not cast them out. Come then, poor sinner; come just as you are, and take Him at His word.

He is so anxious to save sinners, He will take everyone who comes. He will take those who are so full of sin that they are despised by all who know them, who have been rejected by their fathers and mothers, who have been cast off by the wives of their bosoms. He will take those who have sunk so low that upon them no eye of pity is cast. His occupation is to hear and save. That is what He left heaven and came into the world for; that is what He left the throne of God for—to save sinners. “The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.” He did not come to condemn the world but that the world through Him might be saved.

A wild and prodigal young man, who was running a headlong career to ruin came into one of our meetings in Chicago. The Spirit of God got hold of him. Whilst I was conversing with him, and endeavoring to bring him to Christ, I quoted this verse to him.

I asked him: “Do you believe Christ said that?”

“I suppose He did.”

“Suppose He did! do you believe it?”

“I hope so.”

“Hope so! do you believe it? You do your work, and the Lord will do His. Just come as you are, and throw yourself upon His bosom, and He will not cast you out.”

This man thought it was too simple and easy.

At last light seemed to break in upon him, and he seemed to find comfort from it. It was past midnight before he got down on his knees, but down he went, and was converted. I said:

“Now, don’t think you are going to get out of the devil’s territory without trouble. The devil will come to you to-morrow morning, and say it was all feeling; that you only imagined you were accepted by God. When he does, don’t fight him with your own opinions, but fight him with John 6:37: ‘Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.’ Let that be the ‘sword of the Spirit.’”

I don’t believe that any man ever starts to go to Christ, but the devil strives somehow or other to meet him and trip him up. And even after he has come to Christ, the devil tries to assail him with doubts, and make him believe there is something wrong in it.

The struggle came sooner than I thought in this man’s case. When he was on his way home the devil assailed him. He used this text, but the devil put this thought into his mind: “How do you know Christ ever said that after all? Perhaps the translators made a mistake.”

Into darkness he went again. He was in trouble till about two in the morning. At last he came to this conclusion. Said he:

“I will believe it anyway; and when I get to heaven, if it isn’t true, I will just tell the Lord I didn’t make the mistake—the translators made it.”