Retrogression.

Would God I had retained my simple faith in Jesus!  But it was not long before I wandered away from Christ, and the life of prayerfulness and obedience.  For years my religious experience was most unsatisfactory.  I was under frequent convictions, and knew that the Spirit was striving with me persistently, but I hardened my heart and would not yield completely to God.  As I look back at those years of restlessness and rebellion, I recall with gratitude the forbearance and long-suffering of a now sainted mother.  How she carried her proud, stubborn boy on her heart, and how she held onto God’s skirt and tugged away until He answered.

The striving of the spirit.

During the winter of 1891-1892 I became almost wretched on account of conviction.  The Holy Ghost fairly dogged my steps and whispered in my ear at every turn.  There were many things which He used to convict me of—­my unfaithfulness and aridity of soul and life.  My junior year at Oak Grove Seminary is distinctly remembered as a time of continuous conviction and unrest.  Now and then I would find peace and comfort for a time, but they remained only for a time.  I kept up secret devotions very carefully.  I never missed my daily prayers, but my life was inconsistent and God-dishonoring.  The lives of real Christians rebuked me, and the mockery of my empty profession haunted me like a spectre.

Reclamation.

In the summer of 1892 I began to seek God earnestly, and was not long in finding pardon and reclamation.  No sooner was I at peace with God than I began to hunger for holiness.  O, how my heart longed for full salvation!  I saw much about me that was an indication that there was an experience enjoyed by some of which I was not possessed.  My mother’s calm, victorious life, and her constant unwavering Christian faith, convicted me.  I was proud and selfish, and hypersensitive and ambitious.  She was restful, contented, loving, meek.  How frequently I gave way to some temptation, and how mortified I was to be so humiliated by the Adversary.

Hunger for holiness.

Many of the members of my father’s church at Portsmouth had an experience of freedom and liberty which I craved.  In July my father, my mother, and I spent a couple of days at Douglas camp-meeting.  I remember so well every incident of the trip—­my deep unrest as we entered the grounds, my aversion to certain “boisterous persons” who said “Bless the Lord” so frequently, my disrelish for food, my dislike of taking a front seat in the audience.  Two old sisters sat facing the preacher one evening.  Their faces were full of joy, and they seemed to overflow with joy and spiritual exhilaration.  I inwardly said, “I wish I had an experience like they seem to have.”  I made up my mind I would seek.  I can not recall a word of the sermon.  I do not think I heard it at the time—­my mind was so full of an inward struggle.