11 - Events at Resolven and Hirwain

11 EVENTS AT RESOLVEN AND HIRWAIN

I WAS AMONG the throng crowding the gallery, but seated on a step, not a seat, in the large Congregational church, when Mr. Roberts arrived. During the service he seemed to be as free from the "burden of the Lord" as a bird escaped from the fowler. He sang blithely with the wor­shipers around him--quite an unusual thing for him. He was so often weighed down beneath the burdens of others.

Sometimes during the prolonged service (lasting throughout the day) a season of prayer broke forth that overwhelmed all present. Hundreds must have taken part simultaneously. In the gallery, somewhat near to Mr. Roberts, I was led to participate. Mr. Roberts caught some of the words and at a later period mentioned the prayer in a very special way. He emphasized the extreme impor­tance of seeking divine guidance in all spiritual matters, whether great or small. For, as the tiniest pin or socket had its place prescribed for it in the structure of the Tabernacle in the wilderness, so the insignificant details in our lives were woven into a heavenly pattern. Guid­ance and obedience were the words crossing his lips with almost monotonous reiteration.

I had been for days seeking guidance on a matter of extreme spiritual significance. I was deeply perplexed. Mr. Roberts urged abandonment to the will of God. This I was prepared to give immediately and at whatever cost.

I desired clear, unmistakable direction from God. Un­conscious of the importance of words uttered with the utmost simplicity, the revivalist made an affirmation that the course premeditated was the one mapped out for me and which I would have to pursue. The conflict termin­ated there and then. My faith immediately became robust enough to declare that the victory had been won. There was nothing for it but obedience "to the heavenly vision." The question was in regard to my call to service for the Lord. When the revival was at its height, many left their homes on the impulse of the moment, claiming to have received a vision which called them to give up all and follow the Lord. Off they went, some to Ireland, a few to Scotland, several to different parts of England. London was a favorite choice because of the London­-Welsh population in the metropolis. This exodus of in­experienced novices continued for some time. In a very short time, however, many returned disillusioned. Others struggled on until their slender resources were exhausted, and they were compelled to retrace their steps in peni­tence, exposing themselves to unsympathetic criticisms. Spiritual people were desirous that the good work should not suffer irreparable damage because of precipitate ac­tion of some of the converts. Deep concern was felt when young people were seen to discard restraint and give up their jobs to engage in work the nature of which they were ignorant.

It should be admitted that the fault was not entirely on the side of these young enthusiasts. People coming from other countries were so impressed by what they witnessed that they foolishly concluded that if they could but induce a few of these "firebrands" to visit their churches and towns, to testify and sing, a similar revival would ensue. To advertise the presence of Welsh revivalists, coming straight from the midst of the awakening, would assure large congregations, followed by great blessing-so they reasoned. To some extent, they were right, for the very mention of anyone coming from the Welsh revival to conduct meetings commanded wide attention. People came in large numbers to see and to hear. What did they hear? Once the young convert’s testimony had been given, often, with wonderful effect, their lack of religious knowledge and training soon manifested itself, to the detriment of the work. Lionizing young converts, at any time, may easily prove to be disastrous. They are placed in positions for which they possess little or no qualification. So it was that visitors to Wales, impressed by a bright experi­ence and a pleasing personality, and profoundly anxious to see a spiritual movement break forth in their home area, would invite these untried young folk to visit their home churches.

Knowing these things, one naturally felt a restraint when contemplating a similar step. Such was the case with me when entering the chapel in Resolven. After I sur­rendered myself entirely to the Lord at the challenge in the service in Aberdare, I felt that I would ultimately be called upon to work in the Master’s vineyard. This I dreaded, for I positively had no ambitions in that direc­tion. Other projects had occupied my thoughts for years, and all my studies and training were undertaken with a view to the pursuit and fulfillment of those plans. Now it looked as if they were to be crushed, and it was a crucial moment. Moreover, I feared I would repeat the mistake of others who had been blessed in the revival. They had gone forth in many cases and were compelled to return. Was the urge within divine or human? Did it originate with me, or did it come from God? Fully conscious of the consequences of such a decision, I did as the Psalmist did, "I waited for the Lord." "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble." So "I waited" for Him. Through Evan Roberts He sent the answer. The struggle was ended. From that moment I knew that I would have to take the revival message somewhere other than to my own little country. The time of departure and the length of my mission were still unrevealed, but the greatest conflict was over. My heart was at rest. Resolven will be forever associated with my work for the Lord, wherever I go. From Resolven, the revival party moved up the valley to Glyn Neath. Here again the "fire" was brightly burning. Crowds walked about from early morning, in spite of cold weather and snow. Nothing could dampen the ardor of these people who were bent on securing divine blessing. Although the pretty village could not boast a large popula­tion, it seemed as if the nations of the world were repre­sented, judging by the color of the costumes. Following Mr. Roberts day by day for some time gave opportunity to compare the characteristics of the congregations in different localities. Trainloads seemed to come from any­where and everywhere. Hobnobbing, rubbing shoulders with and, better still, sitting beside Indians, Chinese, Japanese, Germans, French, and Russians in a spirit of worship was certainly a unique experience in a small Welsh village like Glyn Neath. Why had they come from such distances? To reach these somewhat obscure hamlets was not easy, for they were off the main line of travel. Changing lines, changing trains, and consulting timetables seemed to entail no hardship. Lingual difficulties were completely absorbed in the pursuit of spiritual blessing. People prayed in several languages simultaneously. It was the nearest thing to Pentecost imaginable. The divine presence of God was so powerfully manifested that there was no incongruity whatsoever. Men and women of all nationalities were so intent on worship that occupation with other human beings sitting near, or at a distance, did not concern them. Bidding adieu to this charming district, famous for waterfalls, and enchanting surroundings, we traveled to Hirwain (the long veldt, or common).

Hirwain had once been famous in the world for its iron industry. The contours of its roads and wide streets were eloquent testimonies of the great days gone by. The industry that had brought fame and wealth to the town had received a mortal blow by the imposition of American tariffs, the McKinley tariff more especially. Many of its prominent and respected families had been compelled to emigrate to the United States, leaving but a remnant be­hind. It was sad to see stark old walls standing here and there, parts of dilapidated buildings that had once provided accommodation for huge machinery to turn out thousands of tons of iron for export. Portions of railroads that were once of great service lay buried in earthmounds. A large lake, which in bygone days provided much needed water for the works, was now almost filled with weeds. But the people were happy. New life had come. The revival seemed to have rejuvenated everybody. From tiny, spotlessly dean cottages there came music in ceaseless streams. Little organs gave forth revival hymns, while happy families sang the wonderful old hymns that were stirring Wales and the world. These family choirs at­tracted widespread attention, for visitors from distances commented on this characteristic of the work. Little did they know that the great choirs of our land were born in simple cottages. Y Cor Mawr (The Famous Choir), conducted by Caradog, which captured the world’s prize in Crystal Palace in the 1870’s, was made up of people who had practiced their choral pieces in humble homes in this very neighborhood. Caradog, the famous conductor, lived only three miles away, at Aberdare. Were there present in these meetings men and women who had actually sung in Crystal Palace and thereby won world-renown? It is quite possible, even probable. These homes were ringing with the hymns of the sanctuary, as people passed to and fro through the streets, going to the churches where they hoped to see and hear Mr. Roberts.

There was the generous hospitality manifested by the people. It was not unusual to see strangers knocking at the doors and asking if they might enter to enjoy the feast of song provided by the family. They were welcomed. Thrilled with the homeliness of the atmosphere and the intense spirituality in evidence within the family circle, what wonder that they felt a longing for its continuance? These folk freely gave the very best that they possessed. They gathered around their board men and women from all parts of the world, to partake of their frugal fare, irrespective of country, caste, or creed. Like the Maltese of old, of whom Luke declares that they "showed us no little kindness: for they kindled a fire, and received us everyone, because of the present rain, and because of the cold" (Acts 28:2). There was "a fire," a spiritual fire, kindled in Wales that dispersed "the cold" that had pre­vailed too long in churches and homes. Consequently, they "showed no little kindness" to all that would accept their hospitality. Wherever revival power was felt, doors were opened wide to welcome pilgrims, especially those traveling long distances in pursuit of spiritual uplift. Wales had donned her "beautiful garment" of a truth.

Hirwain being near Trecynon (the first place visited by the revivalist outside of Loughor), what wonder that the people walked the two miles to the meetings and literally crowded the road! To hear them sing as they tramped along in groups was uplifting. Scores, if not hundreds, of them recently converted probably.

Hirwain being a junction, passengers disembarked there for trains going in other directions. On the day the revivalist was due, trainloads of happy people left the station in search of the chapel where Mr. Roberts was to appear. Nobody knew to which place of worship it would be. He did go to each of them sometime during the day­-I believe that he stayed only one busy day in that place.

Although Hirwain boasted very fine churches, built in the heydey of their economic prosperity, no one had dreamed that there would come a spiritual crisis in the history of the place that would tax it as the revival had done. Wherever one looked, crowds could be seen on their way to the town. Two miles over the mountain was Tre­herbert, at the head of the famous Rhondda Valley, well known throughout the world as the place of productive coal mines. At daybreak, one could see people going to­ward Hirwain. On the way they held prayer meetings on the rugged mountain. Listening to their resonant voices early in the morning created a sense of the majesty and presence of God. Five miles in another direction lay Fern­dale, guarding the approaches to another Rhondda, Rhond­da Fach (Little Rhondda), where the revival had been going on for weeks. Old and young came to the meetings in large numbers, utterly oblivious of the rough way over which they had to travel. They had but one purpose-to reach their destination early so as to secure a seat in one of the churches.

Wisdom suggested to the leaders that the churches should be opened early, and no sooner had keys been turned in the doors than every house of God was crowded with keenly expectant worshipers.

There was no waiting for a leader to guide the worship. That was entirely out-of-date wherever the revival had been felt in power. Every church in the place could have been filled time and again each day as the people sought admittance when Mr. Roberts was in a certain building. I was privileged to be present morning and afternoon in services where the revivalist was present. These services seemed to lack the deep spiritual tone of worship mani­fested in the other services when Mr. Roberts was absent. One felt that the consuming passion for seeing the leader, shown by the majority of the worshipers, militated against the freedom and anointing of the Holy Spirit experienced in several other places. Mr. Roberts spoke of heaviness and burdens. Tears ran down his cheeks almost continu­ally. There was no agonizing outburst of weeping, yet there was a consciousness existing in our hearts that some­thing was working against the success of that service.

Someone must have been burdened, for the hymn, "I Need Thee Every Hour," was begun during the most op­pressive moments. Mr. Roberts was on his feet, for these words had stirred his spirit. Although the people sang in a subdued mood, apparently appreciative of the spiritual import of the words, Mr. Roberts lifted his long arm to signify that he wanted silence. Immediately the audience responded to his wish. Then came one of the most impres­sive messages that I had heard at any time. With em­phasis he denounced insincerity and hypocrisy in public worship. Quietly, without an attempt at oratory, using the words of the hymn as his text, he exposed arrogant postures adopted by thoughtless people when they came to worship, as if patronizing the Almighty, especially at the time of special annual Thanksgiving for harvest. It was what might be called a "blistering" denunciation.

"Coming once in the year to give thanks for countless blessings received," said he with withering scorn that made people cringe, "brings us perilously near to blas­phemy, if not to sinning against the Holy Ghost." If it is true-and it most certainly is true-that we need Him every hour, and every minute of that hour, what becomes of our boastful appearance just once a year? "Shame!" That one word dwarfed every soul that heard it. Like the crack of a pistol it rang through the building. People all over the congregation cried as though smitten with plague. When Savonarola denounced the vanity and vagaries of the flippant citizens of Florence, we are told that people by the hundreds flung themselves upon the hard pavements of the city, bewailing their sinfulness. Similar demonstra­tions followed immediately upon the revivalist’s word in this service. God’s messenger had skillfully wielded "the sword of the Spirit," and it must have drawn blood, to some extent, in every heart. In the afternoon, the scenes of the morning were re­produced. Our revivalist spoke again on words which had been spoken in prayer, words which had evidently touched him.

"I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me on;

I loved to choose and see my path; but now Lead Thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years."

John Henry Newman’s verse was repeated with such spiritual emphasis and power that everyone present must have seen strange beauty and meaning in it, some perhaps for the first time. Shortly after, a pictorial card came from the press, showing Mr. Roberts sitting at a table, writing these words which were printed underneath. This card was broadcast throughout the world as representing the thoughts of the man most prominent in the revival in Wales. One could not but feel that Newman had expressed in graphic phrase the spiritual conflicts of Mr. Roberts in the past. He was not ashamed to confess it. Were there not hundreds of others present, listening to him, who had travailed in sorrow as they remembered the "past years"? The revivalist repeated the words, "Pride ruled my will," until his hearers felt that the past were harassing him relentlessly. "Pride"!

It seemed impossible! Could this Spirit-filled vessel of the Lord have been once dominated by conceit? Was he whipping himself unnecessarily? There was certainly no trace of it at this time. We had been taught by him to pray for humbleness of spirit. Did we not hear him time and again praying the words, "Empty me! Fill me! Use me!" until they had become part of our thinking? "Re­member not past years." When those words came from his lips there was no mistaking the fact that "deep was calling unto deep." It was with gladness of heart that one re­peated the words, "Your sins and your iniquities will I remember no more," to himself in this tense atmosphere, "Remember not past years ... I will remember no more." How they dovetailed in that hour of self-searching! How delightful was the recollection of the divine forgetfulness and forbearance! Mr. Roberts infused new life into the hymn that some have sung with extreme reluctance be­cause of the galling experience through which the writer of it is reputed to have passed when they were written.