“While I was thus struggling to improve my mind, I had no higher end in view than to raise myself above the humble condition in which I was placed. I could not bear to be looked down upon by those in more favored circumstances than myself. I attended church regularly twice every Sabbath, but it was not from love to the truth or a desire to profit by the Word, but simply from habit and obedience to my parents. My memory being retentive, I could in the Sabbath evening repeat large portions of the sermons; but this only tended to foster my pride, as I got credit for attention to the discourse, and was praised for being a good boy. Often, indeed, my heart was pricked by the faithful and earnest preaching under which I sat,—often was I inclined to cry out, ‘What must I do to be saved?’ Alas! how often did I quench the Spirit, yet He did not leave me to my own devices. When I saw the members of the church approach the communion table while I was left behind, I had sore misgivings. I felt that it was my bounden duty to acknowledge my Lord and Saviour before men and angels, and I often resolved that I would do so before the next communion. For six weeks previous to the celebration of the Supper, notice was given from the pulpit of the day in each week when the minister would be glad to converse with those who desired to unite with the church in sealing ordinances. This was to me a time of searching of heart. I read Willison’s Sacramental Meditations, and Henry's Communicant’s Companion, and other devotional works fitted to instruct and impress my mind, and at last I resolved to call upon the minister and state my convictions. I was then fourteen years of age, a poor weaver lad, almost entirely excluded from society,—so much so that I had never until now entered the house
