Three Hours’ Seed Sowing, and Its Results
By S. N. Bell
ON Sunday afternoon, August —, 1901, after a season of prayer, in which we asked the guidance of our blessed Master, that we might be of service to him, my companion and I started out on a missionary tour, our chief object being to win souls for Christ. At the first cottage where we called, our rap was answered by a woman, who, seeing the Bible in our hands (by the way, the Word of God is our passport into every home), threw the door open, and ushered us into a small room, in which was a man who had been bedfast for nine months. We were kindly received by the family, and after making ourselves known, were introduced to the sick man. We spoke to him of Jesus of Nazareth, and in a few minutes the tears started, and we could see that the Lord was working with him. After a stay of about twenty minutes, we arose to leave. The family gave us a pressing invitation to return, and Tuesday evening was set for a cottage prayer meeting. We passed on to another street, where we did not know a single soul, as far as we were aware. We found a little boy sitting on the curbstone, and taking a seat by his side, I inquired, “Johnny, who lives in the little green cottage just across the street?”—“Mrs. ——,” a sob. “What church does she attend?”—“Methodist.” “Who lives in the next house to the right?”—“Mrs. ——.” We entered these names, with others, in our notebook, thanked the boy, and went across to the little green cottage. An elderly lady appeared in answer to our ring. “This is Mrs. ——, I believe?”—“Yes, sir; won’t you come in?” “Mrs. ——, this is my wife, Mrs. Bell.” “Pleased to meet you.” After we were all comfortably seated in the little parlor, we made some inquiries regarding the family, which brought out the fact that this poor soul was in deep trouble. Her little daughter was very sick in Arizona, the mother expecting every minute to hear funeral of her death, and,—“O [sobbing], she’s not saved!” After a season of prayer we were invited to call again Wednesday evening, Tuesday evening being already occupied. By the way, we have to do all our missionary work evenings and Sabbaths, as we have to labor during the day (I am a carpenter). We passed on to the next house, which was occupied by foreigners, who could not understand English. We left them a copy of the Signs of the Times, and went to the next house. Rapping on the door, which stood open, a lady appeared. “Oh, here are Brother and Sister Bell. We were just talking about you. Come in, you are just the persons we want to see,” introducing us to others in the room, and all being again seated. “Brother Bell, Mrs. —— has six children, and we wanted to ask you if we could not have a Sunday school here.” Arrangements were made, and a committee chosen to give invitations to the children of the neighborhood and to their parents during the week, announcing that a Sunday school would be opened at the home of Mrs. ——, at 2:30 P. M. the next Sunday. Two other visits were made without important results, and our three hours’ seed sowing was ended. Now for the results. Tuesday evening about a dozen people attended the cottage meeting at the sick man’s house, and the Lord manifested his presence with us in a wonderful manner. Some precious truths were presented, which impressed the whole company, and especially the sick man. After spending a very happy hour, we arose to leave. “Brother Bell, won’t you come over Saturday night, and read the Scriptures to me?”—“Why, certainly, my brother.” Prayer meeting was held on Tuesday evening and Bible reading on Saturday evening for several weeks. In the meantime our elders had been called in to anoint him and pray for his recovery; and as the light of God’s precious truth dawns upon his mind, he gives it to every one who comes to see him. Remember, fellow workers, that a seed cast into the ground multiplies. One Saturday night after the reading I saw that something was weighing heavily upon his mind. As I took his hand before leaving, he grasped it tighter than usual. I waited until he choked back a sob. “O brother, pray for me that I may get well, if it’s only for a day. Since the reading you gave me on baptism, the one desire of my heart is to go to your church and be buried with Christ in baptism. I cannot die until I have been immersed.” “My brother, you need not wait to go to the church to be baptized, we can do it here.” “What, here?”—“Yes, here.” So we carried down a large bath tub, and placing it by his bedside, we filled it with water, and Elder Owen baptized him in the name of the Lord. Praise his holy name! We held three Bible readings at the little green cottage, and then this poor mother was called away to attend the funeral of her daughter, and we lost track of her. The Sunday school was started, as appointed, with about forty present. Officers were elected, classes formed, and teachers assigned. Our Little Friend and the Youth’s Instructor were distributed to the children, and Lesson Quarterlies to the older ones, and a collection of one dollar was taken. This school is still running, and has a membership of nearly sixty. The mother of the six children has been converted to the truth, and has joined our church. The interest in this school has been so great that we have set apart Friday evening for Bible study and social meeting in connection with the school. As a result of these meetings, two precious souls have been baptized, and one has united with the church on profession of faith. And still the good work goes on. As a result of this three hours’ seed sowing, the gospel has been presented to nearly three hundred souls; four persons have joined the church, and many children have been taught in the school from week to week. O my brethren and sisters, to work! to work! The harvest is truly great, and the laborers, how few! Many precious souls are floundering in the sea of despair. Shall we stand idly by and see these souls for whom Christ died, go down to a Christless grave, without stretching out a hand to save them?—No, no; a thousand times, no. This is only one of many similar instances in our experience.