Morrison's Testimony of Salvation

                    A Testimony of Salvation 

                 THE TESTIMONY OF HENRY CLAY MORRISON,

              BOYD’S CREEK METHODIST CHURCH, BARREN COUNTY KENTUCKY Ca. 1868

I arrived at church a little late, and, on going forward to the “mourners’ bench,” found it full of seekers. So I kneeled down at the end of the front bench, in the “Amen Corner”, up next to the wall and commenced to pray. I did not hear the sermon. But after Bro. Phillips concluded the people sang and came around and instructed the seekers. Someone came to me and said” Joe Mansfield has found peace. Take courage and the Lord will save you.” To think that the Lord was so near, that others were saved, and that I was in darkness, plunged me more into despair. I began to wail out my sorrow at the top of my voice. Uncle Emory Hammer , a devout deacon in the Baptist Church, came to me. I was flat, face down on the floor. He took me into his arms and lifted me up upon his bosom. He pressed his mouth against my ear and whispered, “Buddie, God is not mad at you.” That shot through me a ray of hope. I began to say, ”Sir? Sir? Sir? “ I wanted him to repeat that. He was quiet for a while. Then he pressed his dear old mouth through his heavy mustache up to my ear and whispered, “Buddie, God loves you.” What a thrill it gave me! Again, I began to say “Sir? Sir? Sir? Longing for a repetition. He held me tightly in his big arms and by and by he pressed his lips to my ear and whispered, “Buddie, God so loved you that He gave his only son to die for you.” Something inside of me said, “that is so.” My burden fell off. A joyful sense of forgiveness went through me. I leaped to my feet praising the Lord. I felt as if I would burst with a gracious agony of joy and praise. My whole heart was aglow with love. I leaped for joy. Mike Smith, a neighbor boy was sitting on the steps of the old- time pulpit, planked up in front of me at one end. I caught him about the neck and hugged him with all my might; it seemed that I would die of joy if some vent of expression could not be found. Everyone looked so beautiful, my heart was aglow with love. I leaped into the pulpit, ran across and shook hands with the choir, and then faced the people and began to exhort them to come to Christ. I saw my schoolteacher, one of the best educated men in the neighborhood, and a skeptic, halfway down the aisle, looking at me. I ran out of the pulpit, ran down the aisle, embraced him and wept and begged him to give his heart to Christ. He did make a profession of faith sometime afterward and united with the church. Many years of conflict have passed away since that glad night, but sitting here in the silent room, by the smoldering fire in the grate, the memory of the incidents of that happy hour are as clear and as fresh in my mind as if they had occurred only last week; it seems that I can almost see the bright faces which smiled upon me that evening, and almost hear the songs. I thank God I still have the peace He gave me then.  

 

Abridged from, the books, Life Sketches and Sermons 1903, and Some chapters of My Life Story 1941, by Henry Clay Morrison