One hearing of William Booth was enough for Mr. Rabbits, a practical, go-ahead man, who had raised up out of the old-fashioned little business of his forefathers one of the great “stores” of London, and who longed to see the same sort of development take place in connexion with the old-fashioned, perfectly correct, and yet all but lifeless institutions that professed to represent Jesus Christ the Saviour of the world.  His sense of the contrast between this preacher and others whom he knew was proportionately rapid and acute.  The effects produced on hearers were the same at every turn.

This living preaching was and is a perfect fit with all the rush of the world outside, and the helplessness of the poor souls around.

William Booth was, as we have seen, only seventeen when he was fully recognised as a preacher of the Gospel according to the custom of the Methodist Churches, and at nineteen his minister urged him to give up his life to the ministry.  At that time, however, he felt himself too weak physically for a ministerial career, and in this view his doctor concurred.  So determined was he to accomplish his purpose, however, that he begged the doctor not to express his opinion to the minister, but to allow the matter to stand over for a year.  Unless a man with a nervous system like his was “framed like a bullock,” and had “a chest like a prize-fighter,” he would break down, said the physician, and seeing that he was not so built, he would be “done for” in twelve months.  The doctor went to the grave very soon afterwards, whereas The General continued preaching for over sixty years after that pronouncement.

At this period, some of the Wesleyans who were discontented with their leaders in London broke into revolt, and there was so much bitter feeling on both sides, that the main object of John Wesley—­the exaltation of Christ for the Salvation of men—­was for the moment almost lost sight of.

Mr. Booth joined with the most earnest people he could find; but though they gave him opportunity to hold Meetings, he wrote to one of his old associates:—­

     “How are you going on?  I wish I knew you were happy, living to God
     and working for Jesus.

“I preached on Sabbath last to a respectable but dull and lifeless congregation.  Notwithstanding this I had liberty in both prayer and preaching.  I had not any one to say ‘Amen’ or ‘Praise the Lord’ during the whole of the service.  I want some of you here with me in the Prayer Meetings, and then we should carry all before us.”

Thus we see emerging from the obscurity of a poor home a conqueror, fired with one ambition, out of harmony with every then existing Christian organisation, because of that strange old feeling, so often expressed in the Psalms of David, that the praises of God ought to be heard from all men’s lips alike, and that everything else ought to give way to His will and His pleasure.