A man’s hidden struggle with sin reveals the danger of false conversions during revival.
DRINKER'S CONVERSION.—During the revival at S., says Rev. Mr. Nettleton, I witnessed an instance which, if you please, I will relate. Mr. A. was one of the most respectable men in that village, about thirty years of age, who kept a large boarding-house. His wife was under deep conviction, and soon was rejoicing in hope, and prayed with and for her husband. This was the means of his conviction; though, at the time, it was not known. Report said he was confined to his bed, and dangerously ill. Hints were privately circulating that he was anxious for his soul, and was ashamed to have it known. It was late in the evening, when Brother G. went to his house, and found him in a bedroom, in a remote corner, in the greatest agony. "What is the matter?" said Brother G. "Oh, I am sick! I am in such distress!" "But your pulse is regular. Where is your pain?" He made no reply; but with violence smote upon his breast. He was asked, "Is it there?" "It is," he replied. The next evening I called, and found him still in the same distress. His convictions appeared to be deep. But when I returned, I suggested to Brother G. a suspicion of the smell of ardent spirits. I then related a number of anecdotes of false conversions, connected with this suspicious scent. "Mr. A. is a very moral man," said he, "and far from suspicion on that point." But, for fear, he sent me back to give him a solemn caution. I returned, and with much delicacy, warned him not to taste, lest ——. He seemed startled at my suggestion, and assured me that he was far from that habit. I requested his wife to watch him, and learned from her, that through his distress his strength had greatly failed, and that he had taken a very little, only, to prevent his sinking entirely. I returned, and observed to Brother G. that I feared Mr. A. was a ruined man. His concern continued for a few days, when he became exceedingly joyful. His conversion was considered wonderful. But my joy was checked. I could not forget the smell of ardent spirits. I called and found him much elated with joy. But when I cautioned him, he seemed surprised and somewhat offended, and observed—"I think I have been distressed enough to experience religion." "Ah!" said I, "now I doubt more than ever whether your heart has ever been changed. Do you think there is any merit in the distress of an awakened sinner? Suppose you had been to hell, and endured the torments of the damned; what then? It is not distress, but love to God and a change of heart
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