Whether it was something in my words, or my manner, or my look, I know
not; but all of a sudden a local preacher, who happened to be in the
congregation, stood up, and putting up his arms, shouted out in a
Cornish manner, "The parson is converted! The parson is converted!
Hallelujah!" and in another moment his voice was lost in the shouts and
praises of three or four hundred of the congregation. Instead of
rebuking this extraordinary "brawling," as I should have done in a
former time, I joined in the outburst of praise; and to make it more
orderly, I gave out the Doxology--"Praise God, from whom all blessings
flow"--and the people sang it with heart and voice, over and over again.
My Churchmen were dismayed, and many of them fled precipitately from the
place. Still the voice of praise went on, and was swelled by numbers of
passers-by, who came into the church, greatly surprised to hear and see
what was going on.

When this subsided, I found at least twenty people crying for mercy,
whose voices had not been heard in the excitement and noise of
thanksgiving. They all professed to find peace and joy in believing.
Amongst this number there were three from my own house; and we returned
home praising God.

The news spread in all directions that "the parson was converted," and
that by his own sermon, in his own pulpit to. The church would not hold
the crowds who came in the evening. I cannot exactly remember what I
preached about on that occasion; but one thing I said was, "that if I
had died last week I should have been lost for ever." I felt it was
true. So clear and vivid was the conviction through which I had passed,
and so distinct was the light into which the Lord had brought me, that I
knew and was sure that He had "brought me up out of an horrible pit, out
of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a Rock, and put a new song into