Anything is better than the stillness of death, however aesthetic and beautiful, however reverential and devout a mere outward ceremonial may appear.  Imposing pageants and religious displays may excite enthusiastic religiosity or devotionism; but they do not, and never can, promote spiritual vitality.  Far from this, they draw the heart and mind into a channel of human religion, where it can sometimes over-flow to its own satisfaction; but they never bring a sinner to see himself lost, or, unworthy by nature to be a worshipper, and consequently, as such, utterly unfit to take any part in religious ceremonies.

On the Monday after my conversion we had our first week-day revival service in the church, which was filled to excess.  In the sermon, I told them once more that God had “brought me up out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon the Rock, and... put a new song in my mouth” (Ps. 40:2-3).  I had not spoken long, when some one in the congregation gave a shriek, and then began to cry aloud for mercy.  This was quickly followed by cries from another and another, until preaching was altogether hopeless.  We then commenced praying for those who were in distress, and some experienced men who were present dealt with the anxious.

I cannot tell how many people cried for mercy, or how many found peace that night; but there was great rejoicing.  I, who was still in my grave-clothes, though out of the grave, was sorely offended at people praying and praising God so heartily and so loudly in the church.  I thought that if this was to become a regular thing, it would be akin to “brawling,” and quite out of order.  Practising singing and rehearsing anthems in the church, I did not think much about; but somehow, for people to cry out in distress of soul, and to praise God out of the abundance of their hearts, was too much for me.  I was sadly perplexed!

At the close of the service, I told the people I would have a short one again the next evening, in the church, and that after that we would go into the schoolroom for the prayer-meeting.  Thus ended the second day of my spiritual life.

On Tuesday evening we assembled in the church, and then went to the schoolroom for the after-meeting.  There the people had full liberty to sing, praise, and shout too, if they desired, to their hearts’ content, and truly many availed themselves of the opportunity.  In Cornwall, at the time I speak of (now twenty-nine years ago), Cornish folk did not think much of a meeting unless it was an exciting and noisy one.

In this schoolroom, evening by evening, the Lord wrought a great work, and showed forth His power in saving many souls.  I have seldom read of any remarkable manifestations in revivals the counterpart of which I did not witness in that room; and I saw some things there which I have never heard of as taking place anywhere else.  I was by this time not afraid of a little, or even much noise, so long as the power of the Lord’s presence was evident.  The shouts of the people did not hinder me, of their loud praying, or their hearty responses.