I continued at Nordhausen two years and six months. During this time I studied with considerable diligence the Latin classics, French, history, my own language, etc.; but did little in Hebrew, Greek, and the mathematics. I lived in the house of the director, and got, through my conduct, highly into his favor, so much so that I was held up by him in the first class as an example to the rest. I used now to rise regularly at four, winter and summer, and generally studied all the day, with little exception, till ten at night.
But whilst I was thus outwardly gaining the esteem of my fellow-creatures, I did not care in the least about God, but lived secretly in much sin, in consequence of which I was taken ill, and for thirteen weeks confined to my room. During my illness I had no real sorrow of heart, yet, being under certain natural impressions of religion, I read through Klopstock’s works without weariness. I cared nothing about the word of God. I had about three hundred books of my own, but no Bible. Now and then I felt that I ought to become a different person, and I tried to amend my conduct, particularly when I went to the Lord’s Supper, as I used to do twice every year, with the other young men. The day previous to attending that ordinance, I used to refrain from certain things; and on the day itself I was serious, and also swore once or twice to God, with the emblem of the broken body in my mouth, to become better, thinking that for the oath’s sake I should be induced to reform. But after one or two days were over, all was forgotten, and I was as bad as before.
At Easter, 1825, I became a member of the University of Halle, and that with very honorable testimonials. I thus obtained permission to preach in the Lutheran Establishment; but I was as truly unhappy and as far from God as ever. I had made strong resolutions now at last to change my course of life, for two reasons: first, because, without it, I thought no parish would choose me as their pastor; and secondly, that without a considerable knowledge of divinity I should never get a good living. But the moment I entered Halle, the university town, all my resolutions came to nothing. Being now more than ever my own master, I renewed my profligate life afresh, though now a student of divinity. Yet in the midst of it all I had a desire to renounce this wretched life, for I had no enjoyment in it, and had sense enough left to see that the end, one day or other, would be miserable. But I had no sorrow of heart on account of offending God.
One day, when I was in a tavern with some of my wild fellow-students, I saw among them one of my former school-fellows, named Beta, whom I had known four years before at Halberstadt, but whom at that time I had despised, because he was so quiet and serious. It now appeared well to me to choose him as my friend, thinking that, if I could but have better companions, I should by that means improve my own conduct. “Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm.”
This Beta was a backslider. When formerly he was so quiet at school, I have reason to believe it was because the Spirit of God was working on his heart; but now, having departed from the Lord, he tried to put off the ways of God more and more, and to enjoy the world of which he had known but little before. I sought his friendship, because I thought it would lead me to a steady life; and he gladly formed an acquaintance with me, as he told me afterwards, because he thought it would bring him into gay society.
At the commencement of August, Beta and I, with two other students, drove about the country for four days. When we returned, instead of being truly sorry on account of this sin, we thought of fresh pleasures; and as my love for travelling was stronger than ever, through what I had seen on this last journey, I proposed to my friends to set off for Switzerland. The obstacles in the way, the want of money, and the want of the passports, were removed by me. For, through forged letters from our parents, we procured passports, and through pledging all we could, particularly our books, we obtained as much money as we thought would be enough. Forty-three days we were day after day travelling, almost always on foot.
I had now obtained the desire of my heart. I had seen Switzerland. But still I was far from being happy. I was on this journey like Judas; for, having the common purse, I was a thief. I managed so that the journey cost me but two thirds of what it cost my friends. I had, by many lies, to satisfy my father concerning the travelling expenses. During the three weeks I stayed at home, I determined to live differently for the future. I was different for a few days; but when the vacation was over, and fresh students came, and, with them, fresh money, all was soon forgotten.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] The opinion is often entertained that persons who become eminent for power in prayer and nearness of communion with God, owe their attainments to natural excellence of character, or to peculiarly favoring circumstances of early education. The narrative of the youth of Müller exhibits the fallaciousness of this view, and shows that the attainments which he made are within the reach of any one who will “ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not.”—Ed.
CHAPTER II.
THE PRODIGAL’S RETURN.
1825–1826.
A TREASURE FOUND—DAWNING OF THE NEW LIFE—THE PEACE OF GOD—“I AM COME TO SET A MAN AT VARIANCE AGAINST HIS FATHER”—“LET HIM THAT HEARETH SAY, COME”—THE FIRST SERMON—DELIGHT IN THE LORD—A COMMON ERROR—THE FOUNTAIN NEGLECTED.
The time was now come when God would have mercy upon me. At a time when I was as careless about him as ever, he sent his Spirit into my heart. I had no Bible, and had not read in it for years. I went to church but seldom; but, from custom, I took the Lord’s Supper twice a year. I had never heard the gospel preached. I had never met with a person who told me that he meant, by the help of God, to live according to the Holy Scriptures. In short, I had not the least idea that there were any persons really different from myself, except in degree.
On Saturday afternoon, about the middle of November, 1825, I had taken a walk with my friend Beta. On our return he said to me that he was in the habit of going on Saturday evenings to the house of a Christian, where there was a meeting. On further inquiry, he told me that they read the Bible, sang, prayed, and read a printed sermon. No sooner had I heard this than it was to me as if I had found something after which I had been seeking all my life long. We went together in the evening. As I did not know the manners of believers, and the joy they have in seeing poor sinners, even in any measure, caring about the things of God, I made an apology for coming. The kind answer of the dear brother I shall never forget. He said: “Come as often as you please; house and heart are open to you.” We sat down and sang a hymn. Then brother Kayser, now a missionary in Africa, fell on his knees and asked a blessing on our meeting. This kneeling down made a deep impression upon me; for I had never either seen any one on his knees, nor had I ever myself prayed on my knees. He then read a chapter and a printed sermon; for no regular meetings for expounding the Scriptures were allowed in Prussia, except an ordained clergyman was present. At the close we sang another hymn, and then the master of the house prayed. Whilst he prayed, my feeling was something like this: “I could not pray as well, though I am much more learned than this illiterate man.” The whole made a deep impression on me. I was happy; though, if I had been asked why I was happy, I could not have clearly explained it.
When we walked home, I said to Beta: “All we have seen on our journey to Switzerland, and all our former pleasures, are as nothing in comparison with this evening.” Whether I fell on my knees when I returned home, I do not remember; but this I know, that I lay peaceful and happy in my bed. This shows that the Lord may begin his work in different ways. For I have not the least doubt that on that evening he began a work of grace in me, though I obtained joy without any deep sorrow of heart, and with scarcely any knowledge. But that evening was the turning-point in my life. The next day, and Monday, and