The Welshman'S Sabbath School
A lone teacher's faithful Sunday school ministry led to lasting spiritual fruit and leadership.
"When I stand in the pulpit before my own people on the Sabbath," says the Rev. John Todd, "I see before me an aged man in the gallery, for each Sabbath he is there, and the sight of him brings with it delightful associations.
"In former days he resided in North Wales. There were no Christians in his neighborhood. He wished to commence a Sunday-school, but could find no better place than a back-kitchen. Here he weekly assembled his little flock, and, for eleven years, labored alone, except with the aid of the scholars he had trained. Among his first pupils were two children of impenitent parents. These two girls had a little brother, to whom they were accustomed to teach what they learned in the Sabbath school. They were so interested in the Bible, that, being occupied in braiding straw as a business, they would first braid the length of a straw, then study a verse, then braid, and then study, so that they always came prepared with their Bible lesson.
"Their instructor, a long time ago, emigrated to this country, and this aged parishioner showed me a letter he had received from this scene of his early labors. The Sunday school is still taught there, not as before, in a back kitchen, but in a neat house of God. The minister of this sanctuary is a devoted man, laboring faithfully and successfully in his Master's vineyard. He is the "little brother" of those "little girls." His sisters are married. One is the mother of nine children, and lost her husband the last year by the falling in of a coal mine; but she had the happiness to know that, only the day before this event, he had renewedly consecrated himself to God. The minister lives contentedly upon forty pounds a year, happy in his home—happy in his people—happy in his Savior—blessed of God, and blessing others. This minister, this church, this flock, all sprang from that Sunday school; and, when I look upon my aged parishioner in the gallery, I cannot but reflect what a crown he has for his hoary head." # 391. Revivals.