Transcribed from the c1890’s Jarrold’s edition byDavid Price,
NORWICH CHEAP TRACTS. No.42.
“I’M GREATLY CONCERNED ABOUT YOURSOUL.”
In a small village in one of theWelsh counties, there lived an old Independent minister who waspeculiarly blessed in being settled amongst a people who workedwell with him, and did all in their power to lessen hislabours. They were a prayerful people, and thought no worktoo arduous, and no sacrifice too great, which would bring honourand glory to the Saviour’s name. Whilst in this stateof peaceful prosperity, the attention of this little flock wasaroused by hearing of a new tenant, who had come to reside at afarm, two or three miles from the little village. In duetime he was visited, but much to the astonishment and deep sorrowof the people, they found him to be very sceptical in hisnotions; nay, worse, he was all but an infidel. Great wastheir distress when they discovered this; they did all in theirpower to try and make him see the truth. Tracts, bibles,and many other books were sent; letters, and invitations toattend the chapel, but all of no use, he took no notice, and atlast they almost gave way to despair, for nothing seemed to movehim.
One night, after a public meeting in the little villagechapel, Mr. S—, one of the members, went into the vestry tothe minister and said, “Sir, what must we do for Mr.R— to make him see his danger?
“Nothing more,” replied the minister, “canbe done; we have done all we can do, and now we must leave it inthe hands of our Heavenly Father.” Mr. S— thenwent home, but felt that he had not done all he could, andwould therefore try again. He retired to his own room, andpaced up and down the whole night in great agony of mind. No prayer would escape his lips, but with his hands convulsivelyclasped and his head raised to heaven, he inwardly wrestled withGod in prayer for the conversion of his erring brother. Thefollowing morning he saddled his horse and rode off to see Mr.R—, who was busy at work in his fields. Hedismounted, and after the usual salutations, stood for a momentgazing at him without speaking. He knew not how to say thatwhich he had on his mind—he felt quite unnerved, the tearscame into his eyes and rolled one after the other down hischeeks, but no words would come; at last with a desperate efforthe exclaimed—“Sir, I’m greatly concerned aboutyour soul.” Then as if he were ashamed ofshewing his emotion he hastily mounted his horse and rode offwithout another word. Mr. R— stood motionless afterseeing this outburst of feeling, repeating, “Greatlyconcerned about my soul, greatly concerned about mysoul, then surely it is time I began to be concernedmyself.” He went on with his work, and tried toforget what he had heard, but the words still kept ringing in hisears, “I’m greatly concerned about yoursoul.” He went home and occupied himself with books,and did all in his power to drive off what he considereddisagreeable thoughts; but on they came, faster and faster,allowing him no peace. All that day and night, thatimportant sentence was uppermost in his mind, and he lay tossingon his bed exclaiming—“Oh! why am I notconcerned about my own soul?” As soon as morningdawned, he rose, and having breakfasted, went to the littlevillage and called upon the minister. He related