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Lecture X CONVERSION--Concluded
In this lecture we have to finish the subject of Conversion, considering at first those strikinginstantaneous instances of which Saint Paul's is the most eminent, and in which, often amidtremendous emotional excitement or perturbation of the senses, a complete division is establishedin the twinkling of an eye between the old life and the new. Conversion of this type is an important phase of religious experience, owing to the part which it has played in Protestant theology, and itbehooves us to study it conscientiously on that account.

I think I had better cite two or three of these cases before proceeding to a more generalizedaccount. One must know concrete instances first; for, as Professor Agassiz used to say, one can seeno farther into a generalization than just so far as one's previous acquaintance with particularsenables one to take it in.

I will go back, then, to the case of our friend Henry Alline, and quote his report of the 26th ofMarch, 1775, on which his poor divided mind became unified for good.

"As I was about sunset wandering in the fields lamenting my miserable lost and undonecondition, and almost ready to sink under my burden, I thought I was in such a miserable case asnever any man was before. I returned to the house, and when I got to the door, just as I wasstepping off the threshold, the following impressions came into my mind like a powerful but smallstill voice. You have been seeking, praying, reforming, laboring, reading, hearing, and meditating,and what have you done by it towards your salvation? Are you any nearer to conversion now thanwhen you first began? Are you any more prepared for heaven, or fitter to appear before theimpartial bar of God, than when you first began to seek?

"It brought such conviction on me that I was obliged to say that I did not think I was one stepnearer than at first, but as much condemned, as much exposed, and as miserable as before. I criedout within myself, O Lord God, I am lost, and if thou, O Lord, dost not find out some new way, Iknow nothing of, I shall never be saved, for the ways and methods I have prescribed to myselfhave all failed me, and I am willing they should fail. O Lord, have mercy! O Lord, have mercy!

"These discoveries continued until I went into the house and sat down. After I sat down, being allin confusion, like a drowning man that was just giving up to sink, and almost in an agony, I turnedvery suddenly round in my chair, and seeing part of an old Bible lying in one of the chairs, Icaught hold of it in great haste; and opening it without any premeditation, cast my eyes on the 38thPsalm, which was the first time I ever saw the word of God: it took hold of me with such powerthat it seemed to go through my whole soul, so that it seemed as if God was praying in, with, andfor me. About this time my father called the family to attend prayers; I attended, but paid no regardto what he said in his prayer, but continued praying in those words of the Psalm. Oh, help me, helpme! cried I, thou Redeemer of souls, and save me, or I am gone forever; thou canst this night, ifthou pleasest, with one drop of thy blood atone for my sins, and appease the wrath of an angryGod. At that instant of time when I gave all up to him to do with me as he pleased, and was willingthat God should rule over me at his pleasure, redeeming love broke into my soul with repeatedscriptures, with such power that my whole soul seemed to be melted down with love, the burden ofguilt and condemnation was gone, darkness was expelled, my heart humbled and filled withgratitude, and my whole soul, that was a few minutes ago groaning under mountains of death, andcrying to an unknown God for help, was now filled with immortal love, soaring on the wings offaith,<215> freed from the chains of death and darkness, and crying out, My Lord and my God;thou art my rock and my fortress, my shield and my high tower, my life, my joy, my present andmy everlasting portion. Looking up, I thought I saw that same light [he had on more than oneprevious occasion seen subjectively a bright blaze of light], though it appeared different; and assoon as I saw it, the design was opened to me, according to his promise, and I was obliged to cry out: Enough, enough, O blessed God! The work of conversion, the change, and the manifestationsof it are no more disputable than that light which I see, or anything that ever I saw.

"In the midst of all my joys, in less than half an hour after my soul was set at liberty, the Lorddiscovered to me my labor in the ministry and call to preach the gospel. I cried out, Amen, Lord,I'll go; send me, send me. I spent the greatest part of the night in ecstasies of joy, praising andadoring the Ancient of Days for his free and unbounded grace. After I had been so long in thistransport and heavenly frame that my nature seemed to require sleep, I thought to close my eyesfor a few moments; then the devil stepped in, and told me that if I went to sleep, I should lose it all,and when I should awake in the morning I would find it to be nothing but a fancy and delusion. Iimmediately cried out, O Lord God, if I am deceived, undeceive me.

"I then closed my eyes for a few minutes, and seemed to be refreshed with sleep; and when Iawoke, the first inquiry was, Where is my God? And in an instant of time, my soul seemed awakein and with God, and surrounded by the arms of everlasting love. About sunrise I arose with joy torelate to my parents what God had done for my soul, and declared to them the miracle of God'sunbounded grace. I took a Bible to show them the words that were impressed by God on my soulthe evening before; but when I came to open the Bible, it appeared all new to me.

"I so longed to be useful in the cause of Christ, in preaching the gospel, that it seemed as if Icould not rest any longer, but go I must and tell the wonders of redeeming love. I lost all taste forcarnal pleasures, and carnal company, and was enabled to forsake them."[120]

[120] Life and Journals, Boston, 1806, pp. 31-40, abridged.

Young Mr. Alline, after the briefest of delays, and with no book-learning but his Bible, and noteaching save that of his own experience, became a Christian minister, and thenceforward his lifewas fit to rank, for its austerity and single-mindedness, with that of the most devoted saints. Buthappy as he became in his strenuous way, he never got his taste for even the most innocent carnalpleasures back. We must class him, like Bunyan and Tolstoy, amongst those upon whose soul theiron of melancholy left a permanent imprint. His redemption was into another universe than thismere natural world, and life remained for him a sad and patient trial. Years later we can find himmaking such an entry as this in his diary: "On Wednesday the 12th I preached at a wedding, andhad the happiness thereby to be the means of excluding carnal mirth."The next case I will give is that of a correspondent of Professor Leuba, printed in the latter'sarticle, already cited, in vol. vi. of the American Journal of Psychology. This subject was anOxford graduate, the son of a clergyman, and the story resembles in many points the classic case ofColonel Gardiner, which everybody may be supposed to know. Here it is, somewhat abridged:-"Between the period of leaving Oxford and my conversion I never darkened the door of myfather's church, although I lived with him for eight years, making what money I wanted byjournalism, and spending it in high carousal with any one who would sit with me and drink itaway. So I lived, sometimes drunk for a week together, and then a terrible repentance, and wouldnot touch a drop for a whole month.

"In all this period, that is, up to thirty-three years of age, I never had a desire to reform onreligious grounds. But all my pangs were due to some terrible remorse I used to feel after a heavy carousal, the remorse taking the shape of regret after my folly in wasting my life in such a way--aman of superior talents and education. This terrible remorse turned me gray in one night, andwhenever it came upon me I was perceptibly grayer the next morning. What I suffered in this wayis beyond the expression of words. It was hell-fire in all its most dreadful tortures. Often did I vowthat if I got over 'this time' I would reform. Alas, in about three days I fully recovered, and was ashappy as ever. So it went on for years, but, with a physique like a rhinoceros, I always recovered,and as long as I let drink alone, no man was as capable of enjoying life as I was.

"I was converted in my own bedroom in my father's rectory house at precisely three o'clock inthe afternoon of a hot July day (July 13, 1886). I was in perfect health, having been off from thedrink for nearly a month. I was in no way troubled about my soul. In fact, God was not in mythoughts that day. A young lady friend sent me a copy of Professor Drummond's Natural Law inthe Spiritual World, asking me my opinion of it as a literary work only. Being proud of my criticaltalents and wishing to enhance myself in my new friend's esteem, I took the book to my bedroomfor quiet, intending to give it a thorough study, and then write her what I thought of it. It was herethat God met me face to face, and I shall never forget the meeting. 'He that hath the Son hath lifeeternal, he that hath not the Son hath not life.' I had read this scores of times before, but this madeall the difference. I was now in God's presence and my attention was absolutely 'soldered' on tothis verse, and I was not allowed to proceed with the book till I had fairly considered what thesewords really involved. Only then was I allowed to proceed, feeling all the while that there wasanother being in my bedroom, though not seen by me. The stillness was very marvelous, and I feltsupremely happy. It was most unquestionably shown me, in one second of time, that I had nevertouched the Eternal: and that if I died then, I must inevitably be lost. I was undone. I knew it aswell as I now know I am saved. The Spirit of God showed it me in ineffable love; there was noterror in it; I felt God's love so powerfully upon me that only a mighty sorrow crept over me that Ihad lost all through my own folly; and what was I to do? What could I do? I did not repent even;God never asked me to repent. All I felt was 'I am undone,' and God cannot help it, although heloves me. No fault on the part of the Almighty. All the time I was supremely happy: I felt like alittle child before his father. I had done wrong, but my Father did not scold me, but loved me mostwondrously. Still my doom was sealed. I was lost to a certainty, and being naturally of a bravedisposition I did not quail under it, but deep sorrow for the past, mixed with regret for what I hadlost, took hold upon me, and my soul thrilled within me to think it was all over. Then there crept inupon me so gently, so lovingly, so unmistakably, a way of escape, and what was it after all? Theold, old story over again, told in the simplest way: 'There is no name under heaven whereby ye canbe saved except that of the Lord Jesus Christ.' No words were spoken to me; my soul seemed tosee my Saviour in the spirit, and from that hour to this, nearly nine years now, there has never beenin my life one doubt that the Lord Jesus Christ and God the Father both worked upon me thatafternoon in July, both differently, and both in the most perfect love conceivable, and I rejoicedthere and then in a conversion so astounding that the whole village heard of it in less than twenty-four hours.

"But a time of trouble was yet to come. The day after my conversion I went into the hay-field tolend a hand with the harvest, and not having made any promise to God to abstain or drink inmoderation only, I took too much and came home drunk. My poor sister was heart-broken; and I felt ashamed of myself and got to my bedroom at once, where she followed me weeping copiously.

She said I had been converted and fallen away instantly. But although I was quite full of drink (notmuddled, however), I knew that God's work begun in me was not going to be wasted. Aboutmidday I made on my knees the first prayer before God for twenty years. I did not ask to beforgiven; I felt that was no good, for I would be sure to fall again. Well, what did I do? Icommitted myself to him in the profoundest belief that my individuality was going to be destroyed,that he would take all from me, and I was willing. In such a <219> surrender lies the secret of aholy life. From that hour drink has had no terrors for me: I never touch it, never want it. The samething occurred with my pipe: after being a regular smoker from my twelfth year the desire for itwent at once, and has never returned. So with every known sin, the deliverance in each case beingpermanent and complete. I have had no temptation since conversion, God seemingly having shutout Satan from that course with me. He gets a free hand in other ways, but never on sins of theflesh. Since I gave up to God all ownership in my own life, he has guided me in a thousand ways,and has opened my path in a way almost incredible to those who do not enjoy the blessing of atruly surrendered life."So much for our graduate of Oxford, in whom you notice the complete abolition of an ancientappetite as one of the conversion's fruits.

The most curious record of sudden conversion with which I am acquainted is that of M.

Alphonse Ratisbonne, a free-thinking French Jew, to Catholicism, at Rome in 1842. In a letter to aclerical friend, written a few months later, the convert gives a palpitating account of thecircumstances.[121] The predisposing conditions appear to have been slight. He had an elderbrother who had been converted and was a Catholic priest. He was himself irreligious, andnourished an antipathy to the apostate brother and generally to his "cloth." Finding himself atRome in his twenty-ninth year, he fell in with a French gentleman who tried to make a proselyte ofhim, but who succeeded no farther after two or three conversations than to get him to hang (halfjocosely) a religious medal round his neck, and to accept and read a copy of a short prayer to theVirgin. M. Ratisbonne represents his own part in the conversations as having been of a light andchaffing order; but he notes the fact that for some days he was unable to banish the words of theprayer from his mind, and that the night before the crisis he had a sort of nightmare, in the imageryof which a black cross with no Christ upon it figured. Nevertheless, until noon of the next day hewas free in mind and spent the time in trivial conversations. I now give his own words.

[121] My quotations are made from an Italian translation of this letter in the Biografia del sig. M.

A. Ratisbonne, Ferrara, 1843, which I have to thank Monsignore D. O'Connell of Rome forbringing to my notice. I abridge the original.

"If at this time any one had accosted me, saying: 'Alphonse, in a quarter of an hour you shall beadoring Jesus Christ as your God and Saviour; you shall lie prostrate with your face upon theground in a humble church; you shall be smiting your breast at the foot of a priest; you shall passthe carnival in a college of Jesuits to prepare yourself to receive baptism, ready to give your life forthe Catholic faith; you shall renounce the world and its pomps and pleasures; renounce yourfortune, your hopes, and if need be, your betrothed; the affections of your family, the esteem ofyour friends, and your attachment to the Jewish people; you shall have no other aspiration than to follow Christ and bear his cross till death;'--if, I say, a prophet had come to me with such aprediction, I should have judged that only one person could be more mad than he--whosoever,namely, might believe in the possibility of such senseless folly becoming true.

And yet that folly is at present my only wisdom, my sole happiness.

"Coming out of the cafe I met the carriage of Monsieur B. [the proselyting friend]. He stoppedand invited me in for a drive, but first asked me to wait for a few minutes whilst he attended tosome duty at the church of San Andrea delle Fratte. Instead of waiting in the carriage, I entered thechurch myself to look at it. The church of San Andrea was poor, small, and empty; I believe that Ifound myself there almost alone. No work of art attracted my attention; and I passed my eyesmechanically its interior without being arrested by any particular thought. I onlyrememberanentir(over) ely black dog which went trotting and turning before me as I mused.(can) In aninstant the dog had disappeared, the whole church had vanished, I no longer saw anything, . . . ormore truly I saw, O my God, one thing alone. "Heavens, how can I speak of it? Oh no! humanwords cannot attain to expressing the inexpressible. Any description, however sublime it might be,could be but a profanation of the unspeakable truth.

"I was there prostrate on the ground, bathed in my tears, with my heart beside itself, when M. B.

called me back to life. I could not reply to the questions which followed from him one upon theother. But finally I took the medal which I had on my breast, and with all the effusion of my soul Ikissed the image of the Virgin, radiant with grace, which it bore. Oh, indeed, it was She! It wasindeed She! [What he had seen had been a vision of the Virgin.]

"I did not know where I was: I did not know whether I was Alphonse or another. I only feltmyself changed and believed myself another me; I looked for myself in myself and did not findmyself. In the bottom of my soul I felt an explosion of the most ardent joy; I could not speak; I hadno wish to reveal what had happened. But I felt something solemn and sacred within me whichmade me ask for a priest. I was led to one; and there alone, after he had given me the positiveorder, I spoke as best I could, kneeling, and with my heart still trembling. I could give no accountto myself of the truth of which I had acquired a knowledge and a faith. All that I can say is that inan instant the bandage had fallen from my eyes, and not one bandage only, but the whole manifoldof bandages in which I had been brought up. One after another they rapidly disappeared, even asthe mud and ice disappear under the rays of the burning sun.

"I came out as from a sepulchre, from an abyss of darkness; and I was living, perfectly living.

But I wept, for at the bottom of that gulf I saw the extreme of misery from which I had been savedby an infinite mercy; and I shuddered at the sight of my iniquities, stupefied, melted, overwhelmedwith wonder and with gratitude. You may ask me how I came to this new insight, for truly I hadnever opened a book of religion nor even read a single page of the Bible, and the dogma of originalsin is either entirely denied or forgotten by the Hebrews of to-day, so that I had thought so littleabout it that I doubt whether I ever knew its name. But how came I, then, to this perception of it? Ican <222> answer nothing save this, that on entering that church I was in darkness altogether, andon coming out of it I saw the fullness of the light. I can explain the change no better than by thesimile of a profound sleep or the analogy of one born blind who should suddenly open his eyes tothe day. He sees, but cannot define the light which bathes him and by means of which he sees theobjects which excite his wonder. If we cannot explain physical light, how can we explain the light which is the truth itself? And I think I remain within the limits of veracity when I say that withouthaving any knowledge of the letter of religious doctrine, I now intuitively perceived its sense andspirit. Better than if I saw them, I FELT those hidden things; I felt them by the inexplicable effectsthey produced in me. It all happened in my interior mind, and those impressions, more rapid thanthought shook my soul, revolved and turned it, as it were, in another direction, towards other aims,by other paths. I express myself badly. But do you wish, Lord, that I should inclose in poor andbarren words sentiments which the heart alone can understand?"I might multiply cases almost indefinitely, but these will suffice to show you how real, definite,and memorable an event a sudden conversion may be to him who has the experience. Throughoutthe height of it he undoubtedly seems to himself a passive spectator or undergoer of an astoundingprocess performed upon him from above. There is too much evidence of this for any doubt of it tobe possible. Theology, combining this fact with the doctrines of election and grace, has concludedthat the spirit of God is with us at these dramatic moments in a peculiarly miraculous way, unlikewhat happens at any other juncture of our lives. At that moment, it believes, an absolutely newnature is breathed into us, and we become partakers of the very substance of the Deity.

That the conversion should be instantaneous seems called for on this view, and the MoravianProtestants appear to have been the first to see this logical consequence. The Methodists soonfollowed suit, practically if not dogmatically, and a short time ere his death, John Wesley wrote:-"In London alone I found 652 members of our Society who were exceeding clear in theirexperience, and whose testimony I could see no reason to doubt. And every one of these (without asingle exception) has declared that his deliverance from sin was instantaneous; that the change waswrought in a moment. Had half of these, or one third, or one in twenty, declared it wasGRADUALLY wrought in THEM, I should have believed this, with regard to THEM, and thoughtthat SOME were gradually sanctified and some instantaneously. But as I have not found, in so longa space of time, a single person speaking thus, I cannot but believe that sanctification is commonly,if not always, an instantaneous work."[122]

[122] Tyerman's Life of Wesley, i. 463.

All this while the more usual sects of Protestantism have set no such store by instantaneousconversion. For them as for the Catholic Church, Christ's blood, the sacraments, and theindividual's ordinary religious duties are practically supposed to suffice to his salvation, eventhough no acute crisis of self-despair and surrender followed by relief should be experienced. ForMethodism, on the contrary, unless there have been a crisis of this sort, salvation is only offered,not effectively received, and Christ's sacrifice in so far forth is incomplete. Methodism surely herefollows, if not the healthier-minded, yet on the whole the profounder spiritual instinct. Theindividual models which it has set up as typical and worthy of imitation are not only the moreinteresting dramatically, but psychologically they have been the more complete.

In the fully evolved Revivalism of Great Britain and America we have, so to speak, the codifiedand stereotyped procedure to which this way of thinking has led. In spite of the unquestionable factthat saints of the once-born type exist, that there may be a gradual growth in holiness without acataclysm; in spite of the obvious leakage (as one may say) of much mere natural goodness into the scheme of salvation; revivalism has always assumed that only its own type of religiousexperience can be perfect; you must first be nailed on the cross of natural despair and agony, andthen in the twinkling of an eye be miraculously released.

It is natural that those who personally have traversed such an experience should carry away afeeling of its being a miracle rather than a natural process. Voices are often heard, lights seen, orvisions witnessed; automatic motor phenomena occur; and it always seems, after the surrender ofthe personal will, as if an extraneous higher power had flooded in and taken possession. Moreoverthe sense of renovation, safety, cleanness, rightness, can be so marvelous and jubilant as well towarrant one's belief in a radically new substantial nature.

"Conversion," writes the New England Puritan, Joseph Alleine, "is not the putting in a patch ofholiness; but with the true convert holiness is woven into all his powers, principles, and practice.

The sincere Christian is quite a new fabric, from the foundation to the top-stone. He is a new man,a new creature."And Jonathan Edwards says in the same strain: "Those gracious influences which are the effectsof the Spirit of God are altogether supernatural--are quite different from anything that unregeneratemen experience. They are what no improvement, or composition of natural qualifications orprinciples will ever produce; because they not only differ from what is natural, and fromeverything that natural men experience in degree and circumstances, but also in kind, and are of anature far more excellent. From hence it follows that in gracious affections there are [also] newperceptions and sensations entirely different in their nature and kind from anything experienced bythe [same] saints before they were sanctified. . . . The conceptions which the saints have of theloveliness of God, and that kind of delight which they experience in it, are quite peculiar, andentirely different from anything which a natural man can possess, or of which he can form anyproper notion."And that such a glorious transformation as this ought of necessity to be preceded by despair isshown by Edwards in another passage.

"Surely it cannot be unreasonable," he says, "that before God delivers us from a state of sin andliability to everlasting woe, he should give us some considerable sense of the evil from which hedelivers us, in order that we may know and feel the importance of salvation, and be enabled toappreciate the value of what God is pleased to do for us. As those who are saved are successivelyin two extremely different states--first in a state of condemnation and then in a state of justificationand blessedness--and as God, in the salvation of men, deals with them as rational and intelligentcreatures, it appears agreeable to this wisdom, that those who are saved should be made sensible oftheir Being, in those two different states. In the first place, that they should be made sensible oftheir state of condemnation; and afterwards, of their state of deliverance and happiness."Such quotations express sufficiently well for our purpose the doctrinal interpretation of thesechanges. Whatever part suggestion and imitation may have played in producing them in men andwomen in excited assemblies, they have at any rate been in countless individual instances anoriginal and unborrowed experience. Were we writing the story of the mind from the purelynatural-history point of view, with no religious interest whatever, we should still have to writedown man's liability to sudden and complete conversion as one of his most curious peculiarities.

What, now, must we ourselves think of this question? Is an instantaneous conversion a miracle inwhich God is present as he is present in no change of heart less strikingly abrupt? Are there twoclasses of human beings, even among the apparently regenerate, of which the one class reallypartakes of Christ's nature while the other merely seems to do so? Or, on the contrary, may thewhole phenomenon of regeneration, even in these startling instantaneous examples, possibly be astrictly natural process, divine in its fruits, of course, but in one case more and in another less so,and neither more nor less divine in its mere causation and mechanism than any other process, highor low, of man's interior life?

Before proceeding to answer this question, I must ask you to listen to some more psychologicalremarks. At our last lecture, I explained the shifting of men's centres of personal energy withinthem and the lighting up of new crises of emotion. I explained the phenomena as partly due toexplicitly conscious processes of thought and will, but as due largely also to the subconsciousincubation and maturing of motives deposited by the experiences of life. When ripe, the resultshatch out, or burst into flower. I have now to speak of the subconscious region, in which suchprocesses of flowering may occur, in a somewhat less vague way. I only regret that my limits oftime here force me to be so short.

The expression "field of consciousness" has but recently come into vogue in the psychologybooks. Until quite lately the unit of mental life which figured most was the single "idea," supposedto be a definitely outlined thing. But at present psychologists are tending, first, to admit that theactual unit is more probably the total mental state, the entire wave of consciousness or field ofobjects present to the thought at any time; and, second, to see that it is impossible to outline thiswave, this field, with any definiteness.

As our mental fields succeed one another, each has its centre of interest, around which theobjects of which we are less and less attentively conscious fade to a margin so faint that its limitsare unassignable. Some fields are narrow fields and some are wide fields. Usually when we have awide field we rejoice, for we then see masses of truth together, and often get glimpses of relationswhich we divine rather than see, for they shoot beyond the field into still remoter regions ofobjectivity, regions which we seem rather to be about to perceive than to perceive actually. Atother times, of drowsiness, illness, or fatigue, our fields may narrow almost to a point, and we findourselves correspondingly oppressed and contracted.

Different individuals present constitutional differences in this matter of width of field. Your greatorganizing geniuses are men with habitually vast fields of mental vision, in which a wholeprogramme of future operations will appear dotted out at once, the rays shooting far ahead intodefinite directions of advance. In common people there is never this magnificent inclusive view ofa topic. They stumble along, feeling their way, as it were, from point to point, and often stopentirely. In certain diseased conditions consciousness is a mere spark, without memory of the pastor thought of the future, and with the present narrowed down to some one simple emotion orsensation of the body.

The important fact which this "field" formula commemorates is the indetermination of themargin. Inattentively realized as is the matter which the margin contains, it is nevertheless there,and helps both to guide our behavior and to determine the next movement of our attention. It liesaround us like a "magnetic field," inside of which our centre of energy turns like a compass needle, as the present phase of consciousness alters into its successor. Our whole past store ofmemories floats beyond this margin, ready at a touch to come in; and the entire mass of residualpowers, impulses, and knowledges that constitute our empirical self stretches continuously beyondit. So vaguely drawn are the outlines between what is actual and what is only potential at anymoment of our conscious life, that it is always hard to say of certain mental elements whether weare conscious of them or not.

The ordinary psychology, admitting fully the difficulty of tracing the marginal outline, hasnevertheless taken for <228> granted, first, that all the consciousness the person now has, be thesame focal or marginal, inattentive or attentive, is there in the "field" of the moment, all dim andimpossible to assign as the latter's outline may be; and, second, that what is absolutely extra-marginal is absolutely non-existent. and cannot be a fact of consciousness at all.

And having reached this point, I must now ask you to recall what I said in my last lecture aboutthe subconscious life. I said, as you may recollect, that those who first laid stress upon thesephenomena could not know the facts as we now know them. My first duty now is to tell you what Imeant by such a statement.

I cannot but think that the most important step forward that has occurred in psychology since Ihave been a student of that science is the discovery, first made in 1886, that, in certain subjects atleast, there is not only the consciousness of the ordinary field, with its usual centre and margin, butan addition thereto in the shape of a set of memories, thoughts, and feelings which are extra-marginal and outside of the primary consciousness altogether, but yet must be classed as consciousfacts of some sort, able to reveal their presence by unmistakable signs. I call this the mostimportant step forward because, unlike the other advances which psychology has made, thisdiscovery has revealed to us an entirely unsuspected peculiarity in the constitution of humannature. No other step forward which psychology has made can proffer any such claim as this.

In particular this discovery of a consciousness existing beyond the field, or subliminally as Mr.

Myers terms it, casts light on many phenomena of religious biography. That is why I have toadvert to it now, although it is naturally impossible for me in this place to give you any account ofthe evidence on which the admission of such a consciousness is based. You will find it set forth inmany recent books, Binet's Alterations of Personality[123] being perhaps as good a one as any torecommend.

[123] Published in the International Scientific Series.

The human material on which the demonstration has been made has so far been rather limitedand, in part at least, eccentric, consisting of unusually suggestible hypnotic subjects, and ofhysteric patients. Yet the elementary mechanisms of our life are presumably so uniform that whatis shown to be true in a marked degree of some persons is probably true in some degree of all, andmay in a few be true in an extraordinarily high degree.

The most important consequence of having a strongly developed ultra-marginal life of this sort isthat one's ordinary fields of consciousness are liable to incursions from it of which the subject doesnot guess the source, and which, therefore, take for him the form of unaccountable impulses to act,or inhibitions of action, of obsessive ideas, or even of hallucinations of sight or hearing. The impulses may take the direction of automatic speech or writing, the meaning of which the subjecthimself may not understand even while he utters it; and generalizing this phenomenon, Mr. Myershas given the name of automatism, sensory or motor, emotional or intellectual, to this wholesphere of effects, due to "up-rushes" into the ordinary consciousness of energies originating in thesubliminal parts of the mind.

The simplest instance of an automatism is the phenomenon of post-hypnotic suggestion, so-called. You give to a hypnotized subject, adequately susceptible, an order to perform somedesignated act--usual or eccentric, it makes no difference--after he wakes from his hypnotic sleep.

Punctually, when the signal comes or the time elapses upon which you have told him that the actmust ensue, he performs it;--but in so doing he has no recollection of your suggestion, and healways trumps up an improvised pretext for his behavior if the act be of an eccentric kind. It mayeven be suggested to a subject to have a vision or to hear a voice at a certain interval after waking,and when the time comes the vision is seen or the voice heard, with no inkling on the subject's partof its source.

In the wonderful explorations by Binet, Janet, Breuer, Freud, Mason, Prince, and others, of thesubliminal consciousness of patients with hysteria, we have revealed to us whole systems ofunderground life, in the shape of memories of a painful sort which lead a parasitic existence,buried outside of the primary fields of consciousness, and making irruptions thereinto withhallucinations, pains, convulsions, paralyses of feeling and of motion, and the whole procession ofsymptoms of hysteric disease of body and of mind. Alter or abolish by suggestion thesesubconscious memories, and the patient immediately gets well. His symptoms were automatisms,in Mr. Myers's sense of the word. These clinical records sound like fairy-tales when one first readsthem, yet it is impossible to doubt their accuracy; and, the path having been once opened by thesefirst observers, similar observations have been made elsewhere. They throw, as I said, a whollynew light upon our natural constitution.

And it seems to me that they make a farther step inevitable. Interpreting the unknown after theanalogy of the known, it seems to me that hereafter, wherever we meet with a phenomenon ofautomatism, be it motor impulses, or obsessive idea, or unaccountable caprice, or delusion, orhallucination, we are bound first of all to make search whether it be not an explosion, into thefields of ordinary consciousness, of ideas elaborated outside of those fields in subliminal regions ofthe mind. We should look, therefore, for its source in the Subject's subconscious life. In thehypnotic cases, we ourselves create the source by our suggestion, so we know it directly. In thehysteric cases, the lost memories which are the source have to be extracted from the patient'sSubliminal by a number of ingenious methods, for an account of which you must consult thebooks. In other pathological cases, insane delusions, for example, or psychopathic obsessions, thesource is yet to seek, but by analogy it also should be in subliminal regions which improvements inour methods may yet conceivably put on tap. There lies the mechanism logically to be assumed-butthe assumption involves a vast program of work to be done in the way of verification, in whichthe religious experiences of man must play their part.[124]

[124] The reader will here please notice that in my exclusive reliance in the last lecture on thesubconscious "incubation" of motives deposited by a growing experience, I followed the methodof employing accepted principles of explanation as far as one can. The subliminal region, whatever else it may be, is at any rate a place now admitted by psychologists to exist for the accumulation ofvestiges of sensible experience (whether inattentively or attentively registered), and for theirelaboration according to ordinary psychological or logical laws into results that end by attainingsuch a "tension"that they may at times enter consciousness with something like a burst. It thus is"scientific" to interpret all otherwise unaccountable invasive alterations of consciousness as resultsof the tension of subliminal memories reaching the bursting-point. But candor obliges me toconfess that there are occasional bursts into consciousness of results of which it is not easy todemonstrate any prolonged subconscious incubation. Some of the cases I used to illustrate thesense of presence of the unseen in Lecture III were of this order (compare pages 59, 60, 61, 66);and we shall see other experiences of the kind when we come to the subject of mysticism. The caseof Mr. Bradley, that of M. Ratisbonne, possibly that of Colonel Gardiner, possibly that of saintPaul, might not be so easily explained in this simple way. The result, then, would have to beascribed either to a merely physiological nerve storm, a "discharging lesion" like that of epilepsy;or, in case it were useful and rational, as in the two latter cases named, to some more mystical ortheological hypothesis. I make this remark in order that the reader may realize that the subject isreally complex. But I shall keep myself as far as possible at present to the more "scientific" view;and only as the plot thickens in subsequent lectures shall I consider the question of its absolutesufficiency as an explanation of all the facts. That subconscious incubation explains a greatnumber of them, there can be no doubt.

And thus I return to our own specific subject of instantaneous conversions. You remember thecases of Alline, Bradley, Brainerd, and the graduate of Oxford converted at three in the afternoon.

Similar occurrences abound, some with and some without luminous visions, all with a sense ofastonished happiness, and of being wrought on by a higher control. If, abstracting altogether fromthe question of their value for the future spiritual life of the individual, we take them on theirpsychological side exclusively, so many peculiarities in them remind us of what we find outside ofconversion that we are tempted to class them along with other automatisms, and to suspect thatwhat makes the difference between a sudden and a gradual convert is not necessarily the presenceof divine miracle in the case of one and of something less divine in that of the other, but rather asimple psychological peculiarity, the fact, namely, that in the recipient of the more instantaneousgrace we have one of those Subjects who are in possession of a large region in which mental workcan go on subliminally, and from which invasive experiences, abruptly upsetting the equilibrium ofthe primary consciousness, may come.

I do not see why Methodists need object to such a view. Pray go back and recollect one of theconclusions to which I sought to lead you in my very first lecture. You may remember how I thereargued against the notion that the worth of a thing can be decided by its origin. Our spiritualjudgment, I said, our opinion of the significance and value of a human event or condition, must bedecided on empirical grounds exclusively. If the fruits for life of the state of conversion are good,we ought to idealize and venerate it, even though it be a piece of natural psychology; if not, weought to make short work with it, no matter what supernatural being may have infused it.

Well, how is it with these fruits? If we except the class of preeminent saints of whom the namesillumine history, and consider only the usual run of "saints," the shopkeeping church-members and ordinary youthful or middle-aged recipients of instantaneous conversion, whether at revivals or inthe spontaneous course of methodistic growth, you will probably agree that no splendor worthy ofa wholly supernatural creature fulgurates from them, or sets them apart from the mortals who havenever experienced that favor. Were it true that a suddenly converted man as such is, as Edwardssays,[125] of an entirely different kind from a natural man, partaking as he does directly of Christ'ssubstance, there surely ought to be some exquisite class-mark, some distinctive radiance attachingeven to the lowliest specimen of this genus, to which no one of us could remain insensible, andwhich, so far as it went, would prove him more excellent than ever the most highly gifted amongmere natural men. But notoriously there is no such radiance. Converted men as a class areindistinguishable from natural men; some natural men even excel some converted men in theirfruits; and no one ignorant of doctrinal theology could guess by mere every-day inspection of the"accidents" of the two groups of persons before him, that their substance differed as much asdivine differs from human substance.

[125] Edwards says elsewhere: "I am bold to say that the work of God in the conversion of onesoul, considered together with the source foundation, and purchase of it, and also the benefit, end,and eternal issue of it, is a more glorious work of God than the creation of the whole materialuniverse."The believers in the non-natural character of sudden conversion have had practically to admitthat there is no unmistakable class-mark distinctive of all true converts. The super-normalincidents, such as voices and visions and overpowering impressions of the meaning of suddenlypresented scripture texts, the melting emotions and tumultuous affections connected with the crisisof change, may all come by way of nature, or worse still, be counterfeited by Satan. The realwitness of the spirit to the second birth is to be found only in the disposition of the genuine child ofGod, the permanently patient heart, the love of self eradicated. And this, it has to be admitted, isalso found in those who pass no crisis, and may even be found outside of Christianity altogether.

Throughout Jonathan Edwards's admirably rich and delicate description of the supernaturallyinfused condition, in his Treatise on Religious Affections, there is not one decisive trait, not onemark, that unmistakably parts it off from what may possibly be only an exceptionally high degreeof natural goodness. In fact, one could hardly read a clearer argument than this book unwittinglyoffers in favor of the thesis that no chasm exists between the orders of human excellence, but thathere as elsewhere, nature shows continuous differences, and generation and regeneration arematters of degree.

All which denial of two objective classes of human beings separated by a chasm must not leaveus blind to the extraordinary momentousness of the fact of his conversion to the individual himselfwho gets converted. There are higher and lower limits of possibility set to each personal life. If aflood but goes above one's head, its absolute elevation becomes a matter of small importance; andwhen we touch our own upper limit and live in our own highest centre of energy, we may callourselves saved, no matter how much higher some one else's centre may be. A small man'ssalvation will always be a great salvation and the greatest of all facts FOR HIM, and we shouldremember this when the fruits of our ordinary evangelicism look discouraging. Who knows howmuch less ideal still the lives of these spiritual grubs and earthworms, these Crumps and Stigginses, might have been, if such poor grace as they have received had never touched them atall?[126]

[126] Emerson writes: "When we see a soul whose acts are regal, graceful and pleasant as roses,we must thank God that such things can be and are, and not turn sourly on the angel and say:

Crump is a better man, with his grunting resistance to all his native devils." True enough. YetCrump may really be the better CRUMP, for his inner discords and second birth; and your once-born "regal" character though indeed always better than poor Crump, may fall far short of what heindividually might be had he only some Crump-like capacity for compunction over his ownpeculiar diabolisms, graceful and pleasant and invariably gentlemanly as these may be.

<235> If we roughly arrange human beings in classes, each class standing for a grade of spiritualexcellence, I believe we shall find natural men and converts both sudden and gradual in all theclasses. The forms which regenerative change effects have, then, no general spiritual significance,but only a psychological significance. We have seen how Starbuck's laborious statistical studiestend to assimilate conversion to ordinary spiritual growth. Another American psychologist, Prof.

George A. Coe,[127] has analyzed the cases of seventy-seven converts or ex-candidates forconversion, known to him, and the results strikingly confirm the view that sudden conversion isconnected with the possession of an active subliminal self. Examining his subjects with referenceto their hypnotic sensibility and to such automatisms as hypnagogic hallucinations, odd impulses,religious dreams about the time of their conversion, etc., he found these relatively much morefrequent in the group of converts whose transformation had been "striking," "striking"transformation being defined as a change which, though not necessarily instantaneous, seems tothe subject of it to be distinctly different from a process of growth, however rapid."[128]

Candidates for conversion at revivals are, as you know, often disappointed: they experiencenothing striking. Professor Coe had a number of persons of this class among his seventy-sevensubjects, and they almost all, when tested by hypnotism, proved to belong to a subclass which hecalls "spontaneous," that is, fertile in self-suggestions, as distinguished from a "passive" subclass,to which most of the subjects of striking transformation belonged. His inference is that self-suggestion of impossibility had prevented the influence upon these persons of an environmentwhich, on the more "passive" subjects, had easily brought forth the effects they looked for. Sharpdistinctions are difficult in these regions, and Professor Coe's numbers are small. But his methodswere careful, and the results tally with what one might expect; and they seem, on the whole, tojustify his practical conclusion, which is that if you should expose to a converting influence asubject in whom three factors unite: first, pronounced emotional sensibility; second, tendency toautomatisms; and third, suggestibility of the passive type; you might then safely predict the result:

there would be a sudden conversion, a transformation of the striking kind.

[127] In his book, The Spiritual Life, New York, 1900.

[128] Op. cit., p. 112.

Does this temperamental origin diminish the significance of the sudden conversion when it hasoccurred? Not in the least, as Professor Coe well says; for "the ultimate test of religious values isnothing psychological, nothing definable in terms of HOW IT HAPPENS, but something ethical,definable only in terms of WHAT IS ATTAINED."[129]

[129] Op. cit., p. 144As we proceed farther in our inquiry we shall see that what is attained is often an altogether newlevel of spiritual vitality, a relatively heroic level, in which impossible things have becomepossible, and new energies and endurances are shown. The personality is changed, the man is bornanew, whether or not his psychological idiosyncrasies are what give the particular shape to hismetamorphosis. "Sanctification" is the technical name of this result; and erelong examples of itshall be brought before you. In this lecture I have still only to add a few remarks on the assuranceand peace which fill the hour of change itself.

One word more, though, before proceeding to that point, lest the final purpose of my explanationof suddenness by subliminal activity be misunderstood. I do indeed believe that if the Subject haveno liability to such subconscious activity, or if his conscious fields have a hard rind of a marginthat resists incursions from beyond it, his conversion must he gradual if it occur, and mustresemble any simple growth into new habits. His possession of a developed subliminal self, and ofa leaky or pervious margin, is thus a conditio sine qua non of the Subject's becoming converted inthe instantaneous way. But if you, being orthodox Christians, ask me as a psychologist whether thereference of a phenomenon to a subliminal self does not exclude the notion of the direct presenceof the Deity altogether, I have to say frankly that as a psychologist I do not see why it necessarilyshould. The lower manifestations of the Subliminal, indeed, fall within the resources of thepersonal subject: his ordinary sense-material, inattentively taken in and subconsciouslyremembered and combined, will account for all his usual automatisms. But just as our primarywide-awake consciousness throws open our senses to the touch of things material so it is logicallyconceivable that IF THERE BE higher spiritual agencies that can directly touch us, thepsychological condition of their doing so MIGHT BE our possession of a subconscious regionwhich alone should yield access to them. The hubbub of the waking life might close a door whichin the dreamy Subliminal might remain ajar or open.

Thus that perception of external control which is so essential a feature in conversion might, insome cases at any rate, be interpreted as the orthodox interpret it: forces transcending the finiteindividual might impress him, on condition of his being what we may call a subliminal humanspecimen. But in any case the VALUE of these forces would have to be determined by theireffects, and the mere fact of their transcendency would of itself establish no presumption that theywere more divine than diabolical.

I confess that this is the way in which I should rather see the topic left lying in your minds until Icome to a much later lecture, when I hope once more to gather these dropped threads together intomore definitive conclusions. The notion of a subconscious self certainly ought not at this point ofour inquiry to be held to EXCLUDE all notion of a higher penetration.

If there be higher powers able to impress us, they may get access to us only through thesubliminal door. (See below, p. 506 ff.)Let us turn now to the feelings which immediately fill the hour of the conversion experience. Thefirst one to be noted is just this sense of higher control. It is not always, but it is very often present.

We saw examples of it in Alline, Bradley, Brainerd, and elsewhere. The need of such a higher controlling agency is well expressed in the short reference which the eminent French ProtestantAdolphe Monod makes to the crisis of his own conversion. It was at Naples in his early manhood,in the summer of 1827.

"My sadness," he says, "was without limit, and having got entire possession of me, it filled mylife from the most indifferent external acts to the most secret thoughts, and corrupted at theirsource my feelings, my judgment, and my happiness. It was then that I saw that to expect to put astop to this disorder by my reason and my will, which were themselves diseased, would be to actlike a blind man who should pretend to correct one of his eyes by the aid of the other equally blindone. I had then no resource save in some INFLUENCE FROM WITHOUT. I remembered thepromise of the Holy Ghost; and what the positive declarations of the Gospel had never succeededin bringing home to me, I learned at last from necessity, and believed, for the first time in my life,in this promise, in the only sense in which it answered the needs of my soul, in that, namely, of areal external supernatural action, capable of giving me thoughts, and taking them away from me,and exerted on me by a God as truly master of my heart as he is of the rest of nature. Renouncingthen all merit, all strength, abandoning all my personal resources, and acknowledging no other titleto his mercy than my own utter misery, I went home and threw myself on my knees and prayed asI never yet prayed in my life. From this day onwards a new interior life began for me: not that mymelancholy had disappeared, but it had lost its sting. Hope had entered into my heart, and onceentered on the path, the God of Jesus Christ, to whom I then had learned to give myself up, little bylittle did the rest."[130]

[130] I piece together a quotation made by W. Monod, in his book la Vie, and a letter printed inthe work: Adolphe Monod: I,. Souvenirs de sa Vie, 1885, p. 433.

It is needless to remind you once more of the admirable congruity of Protestant theology with thestructure of the mind as shown in such experiences. In the extreme of melancholy the self thatconsciously is can do absolutely nothing. It is completely bankrupt and without resource, and noworks it can accomplish will avail. Redemption from such subjective conditions must be a free giftor nothing, and grace through Christ's accomplished sacrifice is such a gift.

"God," says Luther, "is the God of the humble, the miserable, the oppressed, and the desperate,and of those that are brought even to nothing; and his nature is to give sight to the blind, to comfortthe broken-hearted, to justify sinners, to save the very desperate and damned. Now that perniciousand pestilent opinion of man's own righteousness, which will not be a sinner, unclean, miserable,and damnable, but righteous and holy, suffereth not God to come to his own natural and properwork. Therefore God must take this maul in hand (the law, I mean) to beat in pieces and bring tonothing this beast with her vain confidence, that she may so learn at length by her own misery thatshe is utterly forlorn and damned. But here lieth the difficulty, that when a man is terrified and castdown, he is so little able to raise himself up again and say, 'Now I am bruised and afflicted enough;now is the time of grace; now is the time to hear Christ.' The foolishness of man's heart is so greatthat then he rather seeketh to himself more laws to satisfy his conscience. 'If I live,' saith he, 'I willamend my life: I will do this, I will do that.' But here, except thou do the quite contrary, exceptthou send Moses away with his law, and in these terrors and this anguish lay hold upon Christ whodied for thy sins, look for no salvation. Thy cowl, thy shaven crown, thy chastity, thy obedience, thy poverty, thy works, thy merits? what shall all these do? what shall the law of Moses avail? If I,wretched and damnable sinner, through works or merits could have loved the Son of God, and socome to him, what needed he to deliver himself for me? If I, being a wretch and damned sinner,could be redeemed by any other price, what needed the Son of God to be given? But because therewas no other price, therefore he delivered neither sheep, ox, gold, nor silver, but even God himself,entirely and wholly 'for me,' even 'for me,' I say, a miserable, wretched sinner. Now, therefore, Itake comfort and apply this to MYSELF.

And this manner of applying is the very true force and power of faith. For he died NOT to justifythe righteous, but the UN-righteous, and to make THEM the children of God."[131]

[131] Commentary on Galatians, ch. iii. verse 19, and ch. ii. verse 20, abridged.

That is, the more literally lost you are, the more literally you are the very being whom Christ'ssacrifice has already saved. Nothing in Catholic theology, I imagine, has ever spoken to sick soulsas straight as this message from Luther's personal experience. As Protestants are not all sick souls,of course reliance on what Luther exults in calling the dung of one's merits, the filthy puddle ofone's own righteousness, has come to the front again in their religion; but the adequacy of his viewof Christianity to the deeper parts of our human mental structure is shown by its wildfirecontagiousness when it was a new and quickening thing.

Faith that Christ has genuinely done his work was part of what Luther meant by faith, which sofar is faith in a fact intellectually conceived of. But this is only one part of Luther's faith, the otherpart being far more vital. This other part is something not intellectual but immediate and intuitive,the assurance, namely, that I, this individual I, just as I stand, without one plea, etc., am saved nowand forever. [132] Professor Leuba is undoubtedly right in contending that the conceptual beliefabout Christ's work, although so often efficacious and antecedent, is really accessory and nonessential,and that the "joyous conviction" also come by far other channels than this conception.Itistothejoyousconvictionitself,t(can) he assurance that all is well with one, that hewould give the name of faith par excellence. "When the sense of estrangement," he writes,"fencing man about in a narrowly limited ego, breaks down, the individual finds himself 'at onewith all creation.' He lives in the universal life; he and man, he and nature, he and God, are one.

That state of confidence, trust, union with all things, following upon the achievement of moralunity, is the Faith-state. Various dogmatic beliefs suddenly, on the advent of the faith-state, acquirea character of certainty, assume a new reality, become an object of faith. As the ground ofassurance here is not rational, argumentation is irrelevant. But such conviction being a mere casualoffshoot of the faith-state, it is a gross error to imagine that the chief practical value of the faith-state is its power to stamp with the seal of reality certain particular theological conceptions.[133]

On the contrary, its value lies solely in the fact that it is the psychic correlate of a biologicalgrowth reducing contending desires to one direction; a growth which expresses itself in newaffective states and new reactions; in larger, nobler, more Christ-like activities. The ground of thespecific assurance in religious dogmas is then an affective experience. The objects of faith mayeven be preposterous; the affective stream will float them along, and invest them with unshakablecertitude. The more startling the affective experience, the less explicable it seems, the easier it is tomake it the carrier of unsubstantiated notions."[134]

[132] In some conversions, both steps are distinct; in this one, for example:-"Whilst I was reading the evangelical treatise, I was soon struck by an expression: 'the finishedwork of Christ.' 'Why,' I asked of myself, 'does the author use these terms? Why does he not say"the atoning work"?' Then these words, 'It is finished,' presented themselves to my mind. 'What isit that is finished?' I asked, and in an instant my mind replied: 'A perfect expiation for sin; entiresatisfaction has been given; the debt has been paid by the Substitute. Christ has died for our sins;not for ours only, but for those of all men. If, then, the entire work is finished, all the debt paid,what remains for me to do?' In another instant the light was shed through my mind by the HolyGhost, and the joyous conviction was given me that nothing more was to be done, save to fall onmy knees, to accept this Saviour and his love, to praise God forever." Autobiography of HudsonTaylor. I translate back into English from the French translation of Challand (Geneva, no date), theoriginal not being accessible.

[133] Tolstoy's case was a good comment on those words. There was almost no theology in hisconversion. His faith-state was the sense come back that life was infinite in its moral significance.

[134] American Journal of Psychology, vii. 345-347, abridged.

The characteristics of the affective experience which, to avoid ambiguity, should, I think, becalled the state of assurance rather than the faith-state, can be easily enumerated, though it isprobably difficult to realize their intensity, unless one has been through the experience one's self.

The central one is the loss of all the worry, the sense that all is ultimately well with one, thepeace, the harmony, the WILLINGNESS TO BE, even though the outer conditions should remainthe same. The certainty of God's "grace," of "justification," "salvation," is an objective belief thatusually accompanies the change in Christians; but this may be entirely lacking and yet the affectivepeace remain the same--you will recollect the case of the Oxford graduate: and many might begiven where the assurance of personal salvation <243> was only a later result. A passion ofwillingness, of acquiescence, of admiration, is the glowing centre of this state of mind.

The second feature is the sense of perceiving truths not known before. The mysteries of lifebecome lucid, as Professor Leuba says; and often, nay usually, the solution is more or lessunutterable in words. But these more intellectual phenomena may be postponed until we treat ofmysticism.

A third peculiarity of the assurance state is the objective change which the world often appears toundergo. "An appearance of newness beautifies every object," the precise opposite of that othersort of newness, that dreadful unreality and strangeness in the appearance of the world, which isexperienced by melancholy patients, and of which you may recall my relating some examples.

[135] This sense of clean and beautiful newness within and without is one of the commonestentries in conversion records. Jonathan Edwards thus describes it in himself:-[135] Above, p. 150.

"After this my sense of divine things gradually increased, and became more and more lively, andhad more of that inward sweetness. The appearance of everything was altered; there seemed to be,as it were, a calm, sweet cast, or appearance of divine glory, in almost everything. God's excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in everything; in the sun, moon, andstars; in the clouds and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, and trees; in the water and all nature; whichused greatly to fix my mind. And scarce anything, among all the works of nature, was so sweet tome as thunder and lightning; formerly nothing had been so terrible to me. Before, I used to beuncommonly terrified with thunder, and to be struck with terror when I saw a thunderstorm rising;but now, on the contrary, it rejoices me."[136]

[136] Dwight: Life of Edwards, New York, 1830, p. 61, abridged.

<244> Billy Bray, an excellent little illiterate English evangelist, records his sense of newnessthus:-"I said to the Lord: 'Thou hast said, they that ask shall receive, they that seek shall find, and tothem that knock the door shall be opened, and I have faith to believe it.' In an instant the Lordmade me so happy that I cannot express what I felt. I shouted for joy. I praised God with my wholeheart. . . . I think this was in November, 1823, but what day of the month I do not know. Iremember this, that everything looked new to me, the people, the fields, the cattle, the trees. I waslike a new man in a new world. I spent the greater part of my time in praising the Lord."[137]

[137] W. F. Bourne: The King's Son, a Memoir of Billy Bray, London, Hamilton, Adams & Co.,1887, p. 9.

Starbuck and Leuba both illustrate this sense of newness by quotations. I take the two followingfrom Starbuck's manuscript collection. One, a woman, says:-"I was taken to a camp-meeting, mother and religious friends seeking and praying for myconversion. My emotional nature was stirred to its depths; confessions of depravity and pleadingwith God for salvation from sin made me oblivious of all surroundings. I plead for mercy, and hada vivid realization of forgiveness and renewal of my nature. When rising from my knees Iexclaimed, 'Old things have passed away, all things have become new.' It was like entering anotherworld, a new state of existence. Natural objects were glorified, my spiritual vision was so clarifiedthat I saw beauty in every material object in the universe, the woods were vocal with heavenlymusic; my soul exulted in the love of God, and I wanted everybody to share in my joy."The next case is that of a man:-"I know not how I got back into the encampment, but found myself staggering up to Rev. ----'sHoliness tent--and as it was full of seekers and a terrible noise inside, some groaning, somelaughing, and some shouting, and by a large oak, ten feet from the tent, I fell on my face by abench, and tried to pray, and every time I would call on God, something like a man's hand wouldstrangle me by choking. I don't know whether there were any one around or near me or not. Ithought I should surely die if I did not get help, but just as often as I would pray, that unseen handwas felt on my throat and my breath squeezed off. Finally something said: 'Venture on theatonement, for you will die anyway if you don't.' So I made one final struggle to call on God formercy, with the same choking and strangling, determined to finish the sentence of prayer forMercy, if I did strangle and die, and the last I remember that time was falling back on the groundwith the same unseen hand on my throat. I don't know how long I lay there or what was going on.

None of my folks were present. When I came to myself, there were a crowd around me praisingGod. The very heavens seemed to open and pour down rays of light and glory. Not for a momentonly, but all day and night, floods of light and glory seemed to pour through my soul, and oh, howI was changed, and everything became new. My horses and hogs and even everybody seemedchanged."This man's case introduces the feature of automatisms, which in suggestible subjects have beenso startling a feature at revivals since, in Edwards's, Wesley's and Whitfield's time, these became aregular means of gospel-propagation. They were at first supposed to be semi-miraculous proofs of"power" on the part of the Holy Ghost; but great divergence of opinion quickly arose concerningthem. Edwards, in his Thoughts on the Revival of Religion in New England, has to defend themagainst their critics; and their value has long been matter of debate even within the revivalisticdenominations.[138] They undoubtedly have no essential spiritual significance, and although theirpresence makes his conversion more memorable to the convert, it has never been proved thatconverts who show them are more persevering or fertile in good fruits than those whose change ofheart has had less violent accompaniments. On the whole, unconsciousness, convulsions, visions,involuntary vocal utterances, and suffocation, must be simply ascribed to the subject's having alarge subliminal region, involving nervous instability. This is often the subject's own view of thematter afterwards. One of Starbuck's correspondents writes, for instance:-[138] Consult William B. Sprague: Lectures on Revivals of Religion, New York, 1832, in thelong Appendix to which the opinions of a large number of ministers are given.

"I have been through the experience which is known as conversion. My explanation of it is this:

the subject works his emotions up to the breaking point, at the same time resisting their physicalmanifestations, such as quickened pulse, etc., and then suddenly lets them have their full sway overhis body. The relief is something wonderful, and the pleasurable effects of the emotions areexperienced to the highest degree."There is one form of sensory automatism which possibly deserves special notice on account ofits frequency. I refer to hallucinatory or pseudo-hallucinatory luminous phenomena, photisms, touse the term of the psychologists. Saint Paul's blinding heavenly vision seems to have been aphenomenon of this sort; so does Constantine's cross in the sky. The last case but one which Iquoted mentions floods of light and glory. Henry Alline mentions a light, about whose externalityhe seems uncertain. Colonel Gardiner sees a blazing light. President Finney writes:-"All at once the glory of God shone upon and round about me in a manner almost marvelous. . . .

A light perfectly ineffable shone in my soul, that almost prostrated me on the ground. . . . Thislight seemed like the brightness of the sun in every direction. It was too intense for the eyes. . . . Ithink I knew something then, by actual experience, of that light that prostrated Paul on the way toDamascus. It was surely a light such as I could not have endured long."[139]

[139] Memoirs, p. 34Such reports of photisms are indeed far from uncommon. Here is another from Starbuck'scollection, where the light appeared evidently external:- "I had attended a series of revival services for about two weeks off and on. Had been invited tothe altar several times, all the time becoming more deeply impressed, when finally I decided I mustdo this, or I should be lost. Realization of conversion was very vivid, like a ton's weight beinglifted from my heart; a strange light which seemed to light up the whole room (for it was dark); aconscious supreme bliss which caused me to repeat 'Glory to God' for a long time. Decided to beGod's child for life, and to give up my pet ambition, wealth and social position. My former habitsof life hindered my growth somewhat, but I set about overcoming these systematically, and in oneyear my whole nature was changed, i. e., my ambitions were of a different order."Here is another one of Starbuck's cases, involving a luminous element:-"I had been clearly converted twenty-three years before, or rather reclaimed. My experience inregeneration was then clear and spiritual, and I had not backslidden. But I experienced entiresanctification on the 15th day of March, 1893, about eleven o'clock in the morning. The particularaccompaniments of the experience were entirely unexpected. I was quietly sitting at home singingselections out of Pentecostal Hymns. Suddenly there seemed to be a something sweeping into meand inflating my entire being--such a sensation as I had never experienced before.

When this experience came, I seemed to be conducted around a large, capacious, well-lightedroom. As I walked with my invisible conductor and looked around, a clear thought was coined inmy mind, 'They are not here, they are gone.' As soon as the thought was definitely formed in mymind, though no word was spoken, the Holy Spirit impressed me that I was surveying my ownsoul. Then, for the first time in all my life, did I know that I was cleansed from all sin, and filledwith the fullness of God."Leuba quotes the case of a Mr. Peek, where the luminous affection reminds one of the chromatichallucinations produced by the intoxicant cactus buds called mescal by the Mexicans:-"When I went in the morning into the fields to work, the glory of God appeared in all his visiblecreation. I well remember we reaped oats, and how every straw and head of the oats seemed, as itwere, arrayed in a kind of rainbow glory, or to glow, if I may so express it, in the glory ofGod."[140]

[140] These reports of sensorial photism shade off into what are evidently only metaphoricalaccounts of the sense of new spiritual illumination, as, for instance, in Brainerd's statement: "As Iwas walking in a thick grove, unspeakable glory seemed to open to the apprehension of my soul. Ido not mean any external brightness, for I saw no such thing, nor any imagination of a body oflight in the third heavens, or anything of that nature, but it was a new inward apprehension or viewthat I had of God."In a case like this next one from Starbuck's manuscript collection the lighting up of the darknessis probably also metaphorical:-"One Sunday night, I resolved that when I got home to the ranch where I was working, I wouldoffer myself with my faculties and all to God to be used only by and for him. . . . It was raining andthe roads were muddy; but this desire grew so strong that I kneeled down by the side of the roadand told God all about it, intending then to get up and go on. Such a thing as any special answer tomy prayer never entered my mind, having been converted by faith, but still being most undoubtedly saved. Well, while I was praying, I remember holding out my hands to God andtelling him they should work for him, my feet walk for him, my tongue speak for him, etc., etc., ifhe would only use me as his instrument and give me a satisfying experience--when suddenly thedarkness of the night seemed lit up--I felt, realized, knew, that God heard and answered my prayer.

Deep happiness came over me; I felt I was accepted into the inner circle of God's loved ones."In the following case also the flash of light is metaphorical:-"A prayer meeting had been called for at close of evening service. The minister supposed meimpressed by his discourse (a mistake--he was dull). He came and, placing his hand upon myshoulder, said: 'Do you not want to give your heart to God?' I replied in the affirmative. Then saidhe, 'Come to the front seat.' They sang and prayed and talked with me. I experienced nothing butunaccountable wretchedness. They declared that the reason why I did not 'obtain peace' wasbecause I was not willing to give up all to God. After about two hours the minister said we wouldgo home. As usual, on retiring, I prayed. In great distress, I at this time simply said, 'Lord, I havedone all I can, I leave the whole matter with thee.' Immediately, like a flash of light, there came tome a great peace, and I arose and went into my parents' bedroom and said, 'I do feel sowonderfully happy.' This I regard as the hour of conversion. It was the hour in which I becameassured of divine acceptance and favor. So far as my life was concerned, it made little immediatechange."The most characteristic of all the elements of the conversion crisis, and the last one of which Ishall speak, is the ecstasy of happiness produced. We have already heard several accounts of it, butI will add a couple more. President Finney's is so vivid that I give it at length:-"All my feelings seemed to rise and flow out; and the utterance of my heart was, 'I want to pourmy whole soul out to God.' The rising of my soul was so great that I rushed into the back room ofthe front office, to pray. There was no fire and no light in the room; nevertheless it appeared to meas if it were perfectly light. As I went in and shut the door after me, it seemed as if I met the LordJesus Christ face to face. It did not occur to me then, nor did it for some time afterwards, that itwas wholly a mental state. On the contrary, it seemed to me that I saw him as I would see anyother man. He said nothing but looked at me in such a manner as to break me right down at hisfeet. I have always since regarded this as a most remarkable state of mind; for it seemed to me areality that he stood before me, and I fell down at his feet and poured out my soul to him. I weptaloud like a child, and made such confessions as I could with my choked utterance. It seemed tome that I bathed his feet with my tears; and yet I had no distinct impression that I touched him, thatI recollect. I must have continued in this state for a good while, but my mind was too absorbedwith the interview to recollect anything that I said. But I know, as soon as my mind became calmenough to break off from the interview, I returned to the front office, and found that the fire that Ihad made of large wood was nearly burned out. But as I turned and was about to take a seat by thefire, I received a mighty baptism of the Holy Ghost. Without any expectation of it, without everhaving the thought in my mind that there was any such thing for me, without any recollection that Ihad ever heard the thing mentioned by any person in the world, the Holy Spirit descended upon mein a manner that seemed to go through me, body and soul. I could feel the impression, like a waveof electricity, going through and through me. Indeed, it seemed to come in waves and waves of liquid love; for I could not express it in any other way. It seemed like the very breath of God. I canrecollect distinctly that it seemed to fan me, like immense wings.

"No words can express the wonderful love that was shed abroad in my heart. I wept aloud withjoy and love; and I do not know but I should say I literally bellowed out the unutterable gushingsof my heart. These waves came over me, and over me, and over me, one after the other, until Irecollect I cried out, 'I shall die if these waves continue to pass over me.' I said, 'Lord, I cannotbear any more;' yet I had no fear of death.

"How long I continued in this state, with this baptism continuing to roll over me and go throughme, I do not know. But I know it was late in the evening when a member of my choir --for I wasthe leader of the choir--came into the office to see me. He was a member of the church. He foundme in this state of loud weeping, and said to me, 'Mr. Finney, what ails you?' I could make him noanswer for some time. He then said, 'Are you in pain?' I gathered myself up as best I could, andreplied, 'No, but so happy that I cannot live.'"I just now quoted Billy Bray; I cannot do better than give his own brief account of his post-conversion feelings:-"I can't help praising the Lord. As I go along the street, I lift up one foot, and it seems to say'Glory'; and I lift up the other, and it seems to say 'Amen'; and so they keep up like that all the timeI am walking."[141]

[141] I add in a note a few more records:-"One morning, being in deep distress, fearing every moment I should drop into hell, I wasconstrained to cry in earnest for mercy, and the Lord came to my relief, and delivered my soulfrom the burden and guilt of sin. My whole frame was in a tremor from head to foot, and my soulenjoyed sweet peace. The pleasure I then felt was indescribable. The happiness lasted about threedays, during which time I never spoke to any person about my feelings." Autobiography of DanYoung, edited by W. P. Strickland, New York, 1860.

"In an instant there rose up in me such a sense of God's taking care of those who put their trust inhim that for an hour all the world was crystalline, the heavens were lucid, and I sprang to my feetand began to cry and laugh." H. W. Beecher, quoted by Leuba.

"My tears of sorrow changed to joy, and I lay there praising God in such ecstasy of joy as onlythe soul who experiences it can realize." --"I cannot express how I felt. It was as if I had been in adark dungeon and lifted into the light of the sun. I shouted and I sang praise unto him who lovedme and washed me from my sins. I was forced to retire into a secret place, for the tears did flow,and I did not wish my shopmates to see me, and yet I could not keep it a secret."--"I experiencedjoy almost to weeping."--"I felt my face must have shone like that of Moses.

I had a general feeling of buoyancy. It was the greatest joy it was ever my lot to experience."--"Iwept and laughed alternately.

I was as light as if walking on air. I felt as if I had gained greater peace and happiness than I hadever expected to experience." Starbuck's correspondents.

One word, before I close this lecture, on the question of the transiency or permanence of theseabrupt conversions. Some of you, I feel sure, knowing that numerous backslidings and relapsestake place, make of these their apperceiving mass for interpreting the whole subject, and dismiss itwith a pitying smile at so much "hysterics." Psychologically, as well as religiously, however, thisis shallow. It misses the point of serious interest, which is not so much the duration as the natureand quality of these shiftings of character to higher levels. Men lapse from every level--we need nostatistics to tell us that. Love is, for instance, well known not to be irrevocable, yet, constant orinconstant, it reveals new flights and reaches of ideality while it lasts. These revelations form itssignificance to men and women, whatever be its duration. So with the conversion experience: thatit should for even a short time show a human being what the high-water mark of his spiritualcapacity is, this is what constitutes its importance--an importance which backsliding cannotdiminish, although persistence might increase it. As a matter of fact, all the more striking instancesof conversion, all those, for instance, which I have quoted, HAVE been permanent. The case ofwhich there might be most doubt, on account of its suggesting so strongly an epileptoid seizure,was the case of M. Ratisbonne. Yet I am informed that Ratisbonne's whole future was shaped bythose few minutes. He gave up his project of marriage, became a priest, founded at Jerusalem,where he went to dwell, a mission of nuns for the conversion of the Jews, showed no tendency touse for egotistic purposes the notoriety given him by the peculiar circumstances of his conversion-which,for the rest, he could seldom refer to without tears--and in short remained an exemplary sonof the Church until he died, late in the 80's, if I remember rightly.

The only statistics I know of, on the subject of the duration of conversions, are those collectedfor Professor Starbuck by Miss Johnston. They embrace only a hundred persons, evangelicalchurch-members, more than half being Methodists. According to the statement of the subjectsthemselves, there had been backsliding of some sort in nearly all the cases, 93 per cent. of thewomen, 77 per cent. of the men. Discussing the returns more minutely, Starbuck finds that only 6per cent. are relapses from the religious faith which the conversion confirmed, and that thebacksliding complained of is in most only a fluctuation in the ardor of sentiment. Only six of thehundred cases report a change of faith. Starbuck's conclusion is that the effect of conversion is tobring with it "a changed attitude towards life, which is fairly constant and permanent, although thefeelings fluctuate. . . . In other words, the persons who have passed through conversion, havingonce taken a stand for the religious life, tend to feel themselves identified with it, no matter howmuch their religious enthusiasm declines."[142]

[142] Psychology of Religion, pp. 360, 357.


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