How I Escaped A Drunkard’s Hell
I well remember when on that sad, but glorious day when I returned home from town in an old sled half drunk on hard cider. How good God was to keep me from freezing! (A schoolmate did freeze to death because of drink and exposure.) When my wicked brother-in-law saw me and I declared I intended to seek religion, he roared and laughed, saying, “You are the biggest devil in the whole country and no one will believe you. I dare you to go up to the mourners bench you are half drunk and that is why you talk religion.”
“No, I mean it,” I said.
“Well, I will go with you!” But when the time came he backed out and later died unsaved, I fear.
When it became known that the worst boy in the community was seeking religion, the whole country side was stirred. One day I prayed five hours until my voice was gone and I could only whisper. After three days of seeking, I was powerfully converted. The change was as great as though the blazing sun had burst in at midnight. At first many said, “It won’t last long, the change is too great; he won’t hold out.” But they changed their tune and said, “He can’t hold in!” Blessed be God, it has held out now fifty-seven years. Anything that will stand every test that long is worth having.