Catherine Booth
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Colonel Mildred Duff >> Catherine Booth
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Of the struggle and conflict which she went through, before the blessing
of Holiness became hers, she shall tell you in her own words:--
'I had been earnestly seeking all the week to know Jesus as an all-
sufficient Saviour dwelling in my heart, and thus cleansing it every
moment of all sin; but on Thursday and Friday I laid aside almost
everything else, and spent the chief part of the day in reading and
prayer, and trying to believe for it. On Thursday afternoon at tea-time I
was well-nigh discouraged, and felt my old visitant, irritability, and
the Devil told me I should never get it, and so I might as well give it
up at once. However, I know him of old as a liar and the father of lies,
and pressed on, cast down, yet not destroyed.
'On Friday morning God gave me two precious passages. First, "Come unto
Me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Oh,
how sweet it sounded to my poor, weary, sin-stricken soul! I almost dared
to believe that He did give me rest from inbred sin--the rest of perfect
Holiness. But I staggered at the promise through unbelief, and therefore
failed to enter in. The second passage consisted of those thrice-blessed
words, "Of Him are ye in Christ Jesus, who is made unto us wisdom,
righteousness, sanctification, and redemption." But again unbelief
hindered me, although I felt as if getting gradually nearer.
'I struggled through the day until a little after six in the evening,
when William joined me in prayer. We had a blessed season. While he was
saying, "Lord, we open our hearts to receive Thee," that word was spoken
to my soul, "Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If any man hear My
voice, and open unto Me, I will come in, and sup with him." I felt sure
He had long been knocking, and Oh, how I yearned to receive Him as a
perfect Saviour! But Oh, the inveterate habit of unbelief! How wonderful
that God should have borne so long with me! When we got up from our
knees, I lay on the sofa, exhausted with the excitement and effort of the
day. William said, "Don't you lay all on the altar?" I replied, "I am
sure I do!" Then he said, "And isn't the altar holy?" I replied in the
language of the Holy Ghost, "The altar is most holy, and whatsoever
toucheth it is holy." Then, said he, "Are you not holy?" I replied with
my heart full of emotion and with some faith, "Oh, I think I am!"
Immediately the word was given me to confirm my faith. "Now are ye clean
through the word which I have spoken unto you." And I took hold--true,
with a trembling hand, and not unmolested by the tempter, but I held fast
the beginning of my confidence, and it grew stronger, and from that
moment I have dared to reckon myself dead indeed unto sin, and alive unto
God through Jesus Christ my Lord.
'I did not feel much rapturous joy, but perfect peace, the sweet rest
which Jesus promised to the heavy laden. I have understood the Apostle's
meaning when he says, "We who believe do enter into rest." This is just
descriptive of my state at present. Not that I am not tempted, but I am
allowed to know the Devil when he approaches me, and I look to my
Deliverer Jesus, and He still gives me rest. Two or three very trying
things occurred on Saturday, which at another time would have excited
impatience, but I was kept by the power of God through faith unto full
Salvation.
'And now what shall I say? "Unto Him who has washed me in His own Blood
be glory and dominion for ever and ever," and all within me says "Amen!"
Oh! I cannot describe, I have no words to set forth the sense I have of
my own utter unworthiness. Satan has met me frequently with my peculiarly
aggravated sins, and I have admitted it all. But then I have said, the
Lord has not made my sanctification to depend in any measure on my own
worthiness or unworthiness, but on the worthiness of my Saviour. He came
to seek and to save "that which was lost." "Where sin hath abounded,
grace doth much more abound"'
How wonderfully in after years Mrs. Booth explained and led others into
this same blessing, we know. Was not, then, the long struggle and agony
on her own behalf worth it? Yes, indeed, and it will be so with you when
you get this glorious blessing in your soul.
You will have noticed how in struggling for Holiness Mrs. Booth had to
fight unbelief. This determination to trust God fully marked her out as
strong in faith.
She had this marvellous faith because she obeyed and struggled to throw
herself on the Lord; but faith was not _natural_ to her any more
than it is to you or me.
Often money was short, and she hardly knew how she would be able to feed
and clothe her family: this was a sore trial of her faith. On one such
occasion she wrote to her mother:--
'We have not at present received as much as our travelling expenses and
house rent. I feel a good deal perplexed, and am sometimes tempted to
mistrust the Lord. But I will not allow it. Our Father knows!'
Later on we get a sight of her own experience in one of her letters, when
she said:--
'I am much tried just now by perplexities of every kind; uncertainty,
from a human standpoint, hedges me in on every side. Satan says it is
useless trying to steer straight through such a labyrinth; but I am
determined to hold on to the promises, come what will. My God is the
living God. He sees me, knows me, loves me, cares for me, wants to have
me with Him in Glory, as much as He did Abraham, or Paul, or John. If
this be true, what have I to fear?'
And again:--
'"Said I not unto thee, that, if thou wouldst believe, thou shouldst see
the Salvation of God?" This is a precious word. It has kept my soul alive
many a time when Satan has almost overthrown me. "If thou canst believe,
all things are possible to thee. Never mind whether anybody else can or
cannot. If others are too strong to let Me carry them, if thou art weak
enough to throw up all self-effort, and trust Me with thy whole weight, I
will carry thee, and thou shalt glorify Me." I know this is the way.
Hence the babes go in with the simple and the great sinners, while the
reasoners, and the strong, and the proud, and the fearful are shut out.'
Again, to one who was cast down, and tempted to be discouraged because of
his failings, she writes:--
'It is well to see them, for how can we take hold of Jesus to mend what
we don't see? It is best to know ourselves, but we Salvationists are in
danger of erring on the other side. We look too much at ourselves apart
from Him who is or would be our righteousness, sanctification, and
redemption. Faith in Him as your keeper will do more in five minutes than
years of conflict without it.'
Once, in another letter, she gives us a beautiful bit of her own soul's
experience on this subject:--
'I had such a view of His love and faithfulness on the journey from
Wellingborough, that I thought I would never doubt again about anything.
I had the carriage to myself, and such a precious season with the Lord,
that the time seemed to fly. As the lightning gleamed around I felt ready
to shout, "The chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof." Oh, how
precious it is when we see as well as believe, but yet more blessed to
believe and not see! Lord, work this determined, obstinate, blind,
unquestioning, unanswering faith in me and my beloved friend, and let us
two dare to trust Thee in the midst of our peculiar trials. As I looked
at the waving fields, and grazing sheep, the flashing sky, a Voice said
in my soul, "Of what oughtest thou to be afraid? Am I not God? Cannot I
supply thy little, tiny needs?" My heart replied, "It is enough, Lord; I
will trust Thee, forgive my unbelief."'
IX
LOVE
The truest love must ever seek the highest good of its object; sometimes
even with forgetfulness of important smaller advantages.'--MRS. BOOTH.
The second great quality in Mrs. Booth's character, as given by the first
General, was her love.
'She was _love_,' he says. 'Her whole soul was full of tender, deep
compassion. Oh, how she loved, how she pitied the suffering poor! How she
longed to put her arms round the sorrowful, and help them!'
'How,' asked Mrs. Booth once, 'are we to put heart into people? Even
grace seems to fail to do so in many instances. I think it needs mothers
to do this from infancy upwards.'
You will recollect that Mrs. Mumford fostered this 'heart' and love in
her little girl; and you will remember how keenly Katie felt, blazing up
into wrath at any story of wrong or injury, and ready to sacrifice her
life for those she loved. This spirit grew with her. She could not help
caring and struggling to help all who needed her. The General often told
her in later years that she was killing herself by carrying every one's
burdens. Then she would try to leave off for a little, but her heart was
too strong, and she could not hold it back.
When but a child, running down the road with her hoop and stick, she saw
a drunkard being dragged off to prison by a policeman. All the people
were jeering and mocking at the poor friendless wretch. Instantly Katie's
pity and love fired up. She dashed across the street, and marched along
close by the man's side, so that he might feel that at least one little
heart cared for him, and wanted to help him.
To the end of her life she carried this deep, tender pity wherever she
went. She loved the poor. 'With all their faults,' she said, 'they have
larger hearts than the rich'; and she loved them for it.
Where any one had a warm heart, she could forgive and overlook many
mistakes; but with cold, narrow, 'fishy' souls, she had neither sympathy
nor patience.
Our Army Mother's help was practical. She did not only give money or
pity, but she--so to speak--rolled up her sleeves and helped the
suffering herself.
Every sort of suffering and need appealed to her. If an animal was
wounded or in pain, she stopped, and herself relieved it as best she
could; and to the last, if she saw a horse or any creature being ill-
treated, she would not hesitate to rush out and stop the driver, or in
some way force him to leave off his cruelty.
She was not only kind and helpful to those she liked, but every living
thing that suffered had a claim upon her, and the greater the need the
more tender and ready was her help.
Mrs. Booth was a people's woman, and she was never weary of scheming and
planning how to help the poor in the most practical way.
'When I see people going wrong,' she said, when but a girl of twelve, 'I
must tell the poor things how to manage.'
Dirt and sin, and drink and misery, could not quench this love; it was a
part of her very nature. Long, long before Slum Sisters were ever thought
of, Mrs. Booth did their work herself, just because she so loved the
poor, and longed to help them. You shall read the story in her own
words:--
'I remember in one case finding a poor woman lying on a heap of rags. She
had just given birth to twins, and there was nobody of any sort to wait
upon her. I can never forget the desolation of that room. By her side was
a crust of bread and a small lump of lard. "I fancied a bit o' bootter
(butter)," the woman remarked apologetically, noticing my eye fall upon
the scanty meal, "and my mon, he'd do owt for me he could, bless'm--he
couldna git me iny bootter, so he fitcht me this bit o' lard. Have
_you_ iver tried lard isted o' bootter? It's _rare good_!" said
the poor creature, making me wish I had taken lard for "bootter" all my
life, that I might have been the better able to minister to her needs.
However, I was soon busy trying to make her a little more comfortable.
The babies I washed in a broken pie-dish, the nearest approach to a tub
that I could find. And the gratitude of those large eyes, that gazed upon
me from out of that wan and shrunken face, can never fade from my
memory.'
Before public Meetings took up so much of her time, she delighted in this
house-to-house visiting, and went especially for the drunkards, over whom
God gave her a wonderful power.
'I used to visit in the evenings,' she says, 'because it was the only
part of the day in which I could get away; and, besides, I should not
have found the men at home at any other time. I used to ask one
drunkard's wife where another lived. They always knew. After getting hold
of eight or ten in this way, and getting them to sign the pledge, I used
to arrange Cottage Meetings for them, and try to get them saved. They
used to let me talk to them in homes where there was not a stick of
furniture, and nothing to sit down upon.'
In this way our Army Mother sought and cared for the drunkards long
before Drunkards' Brigades were dreamt of.
When, at a later time in her life, she first heard of the wicked and
cruel way in which young girls are trapped and drawn into sin, Mrs.
Booth's soul was filled with a whirlwind of holy indignation.
'I feel as though I could not rest, but as though I must go and ferret
out these monsters myself,' she wrote. 'Almost everybody, notwithstanding
the indignation, seems so content with talking. Nobody appears willing to
take the responsibility of doing or risking anything. Oh, what a state
the world has got into!'
But, deep and practical as was her love in earthly things, her passion
for lifting and leading souls into Salvation and Holiness was a thousand
times more intense. 'If we only realized, as we ought, the value of
souls, we should not live long under it,' she said; and she herself
realized it fully enough to make her fight on ceaselessly in spite of
intense weakness. 'If it were not for eternity,' she often sighed, 'I
should soon give up this life.'
It was love for souls which made her go from town to town, care-worn,
weary, often quite unfit to meet the immense congregations which came to
hear her.
It was love for souls which kept her sitting for hours at her writing-
table, when she should have been resting, trying to help those who turned
to her for counsel and direction from every part of the globe.
It was love for souls which gave her many a sleepless night, and chained
her to her knees, weeping and pleading, agonizing with God on behalf of
the people she was to face the next day.
And this love for souls grew even stronger as death came near. 'Eva,' she
exclaimed to one of her daughters, as she lay racked with agonizing pain,
'don't you forget that man with the handcuffs on. Find him. Go to
Lancaster Jail; let somebody go with you, and find that man. Tell him
that your mother, when she was dying, prayed for him, and that she had a
feeling in her heart that God would save him; and tell him, hard as the
ten years of imprisonment may be, it will be easier with Christ than it
would be without Him.'
She was lying between earth and Heaven, thinking of the joy and peace
awaiting her, when it seemed as if she saw the dark face of a heathen
woman, and heard the cry, 'Won't you help us?' The old love for perishing
souls woke again directly, and she cried, 'Oh, yes, Lord, I will go
anywhere to help poor struggling people. I would go on an errand to Hell,
if the Lord would promise me that the Devil should not keep me there.'
In one of these last days she sent a dying message to the Officers. 'Tell
them,' she said, 'that the only consolation for a Salvationist on his
death-bed is to have been a soul-winner. After all my labours I feel I
have come far short of the prize of my high calling. Beseech them to
redeem their time, for we can do but little at the best.'
A little maid who was a Candidate came into Mrs. Booth's sick-room once
as she was speaking, and she called her to her bedside, giving her
warning and counsel which every Corps Cadet can take as though spoken to
herself:--
'You will be finished with the dishes soon,' she said, 'and you are going
to be a Cadet. I have been very pleased with you while you have been
here, because you have worked out of sight with a good will, and I think
you will make a brave Officer. You will promise me, will you?' she said,
as she laid her trembling hand on the girl's head. 'Yes,' was the reply,
'I will,' amid stifled sobs.
'Give me a kiss, then,' said Mrs. Booth. 'Promise me that you will never
get spoiled by any unfaithful Officer. If you ever get mixed up with
such, do not hide it from Headquarters, but let them know about it, and
they will soon move the false away from you. I shan't be here; but, Oh!
may God help them to get rid of the wrong. Discernment of spirits! Oh,
why should we not have that gift back? It is very necessary.'
Mrs. Booth's whole heart was wrapped up in the spread of The Army, and
she was never more of a warrior than when fighting its battles. And The
Army needed some one to stand up for it in those days. We who live to-day
can hardly fancy the fierce, bitter persecution the early-day
Salvationists had to fight through.
Now, even those who dislike and despise us are forced to admit that 'The
Army does a great deal of good'; but then it was different, and again and
again, both by speech and writing, Mrs. Booth had to defend and stand up
for our methods.
'I would not,' she says, after she had spoken too plainly for some rich
people who were offended at her words, 'sit down and listen to their
abuse of The Salvation Army for all their money. But I did not say a word
that I would object to have published upon the housetops. Such, however,
is often the spirit of the rich. They think that one must sit and hear
whatever they may choose to say, and hold one's breath, because of their
money! But, no, I will never be dumb before a golden idol!'
She loved the Uniform: she herself planned that worn by Army women, and
always wore her own, rejoicing to be able to give to our people a way of
escape from the fashions and extravagances of the world.
She loved the Flag, and was true to its beautiful meaning. She loved to
present Colours to the newly-opened Corps, or to parties of Officers
going abroad; and when, shortly before she passed away, she changed her
room, she begged that the dear Army Flag might be brought in and hung
above her bed.
'There,' said The General, 'the Colours are over you now, my darling.'
And she clasped them fondly with her left hand, and traced the motto--
'Blood and Fire.'
'Yes,' she said, 'Blood and Fire; that is just what my life has been--a
constant and severe fight.'
'It ought to be "Blood and Fire and Victory,"' said The General.
'I'll fight on till I get it,' she answered. 'I won't give in. Next time
I see them I shall be above the pain and sorrow for ever.'
But, though at the last she longed to be at rest, it was not easy for her
great mother's heart to unloose itself from those she loved, and from the
thousands in all lands who looked to her as to a mother.
If you have learnt to love very deeply you will also have to suffer, and
her very love made the parting so difficult.
'Oh,' she exclaimed, when speaking of leaving The General and her
children, 'mine is such a heart! it seems as if it had got roots all
round the world clutching on to one and another, and that it will not let
them go! And yet You can take care of them, Lord, better than I could. I
do, I do believe! O Eternal Father, Shepherd of the sheep, do Thou look
after my little flock!'
'Amen,' we who read these lines may say; adding to her prayer, 'And give
us that same heart and love which made her life of such mighty power.'
X
THE WARRIOR
'Fighting is hard work, whatever sort of fighting it is. You cannot fight
without wounds of body, heart, or soul.'--MRS. BOOTH.
'Lastly,' said The General in that same beautiful tribute to our Army
Mother that I have already quoted from,' she was a _warrior_. She
liked the fight. She was not one who said to others, "Go," but "Here, let
_me_ go"; and when there was the necessity she said, "I _will_
go!" I never knew her flinch until her poor body compelled her to lie on
one side.'
Our Army Mother was, indeed, before all things a warrior; she fought
bravely and unceasingly her whole life through.
In thought and purpose she was independent, and dared to stand out for
what she felt right. Cowardice, in her opinion, was one of the commonest
and most subtle sins of the day, and she had no patience with those who
dared not say 'No,' and feared to stand alone.
She thought for herself, and though always eager to hear and learn as
much as possible from others, yet she was not carried away by their
opinions, but carefully weighed and considered their arguments, and then
formed her own judgments.
Mrs. Booth strove earnestly for doctrine.
'Let us take care,' she said, in The Army's early days, 'what Gospel we
preach. Let us mind our doctrine.'
And again:--
'We must stick to the form of sound words, for there is more in it than
appears on the surface. "Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and the Holy
Ghost," was the theology of our forefathers, and I am suspicious of all
attempts to mend it.'
And once more:--
'Let us beware of wrong doctrine, come through whomsoever it may. Holy
men make sad mistakes. "Well, but," say some, "is not a person who holds
wrong views with a right heart better than a person with right views and
a wrong heart?" Yes, so far as his personal state before God is
concerned, but not in his influence on man. My charity must extend to
those likely to be deceived or ruined by his doctrines as well as to
him.'
Mrs. Booth's whole life was a continual fight against sin--sin of all
kinds. Whether her Meeting was held for the very lowest and roughest, or
whether rows of clergy and lawyers, and lords and ladies sat to listen,
it made no difference to her. She attacked sin, and went straight at the
very heart-sins of the people in front of her.
'We need great grace,' she says in the midst of her wonderful West-End
campaign, where even princes and princesses came to hear her. 'I think
the Lord never enabled me to be more plain and faithful. As a lady in
high circles said to me, "We never heard this sort of Gospel before." No,
poor things, they are sadly deceived.'
Drink, too, was another evil which Mrs. Booth fought against during the
whole of her life. She began, as you remember, when a girl by being
secretary of the 'Band of Love' of those days.
In the early days of their engagement The General was strongly advised to
take a little wine for the sake of his health. Our Army Mother wrote him
a long letter, showing him how false and foolish such advice was, and
ending with:--
'I have had it recommended to me scores of times, but I am fully and for
ever settled on the physical side of the question. [Footnote: That means
taking it for the sake of health.--ED.]
'It is a subject on which I am most anxious you should be thorough. I
have far more hope for your health _because_ you abstain, than I
should if you took wine. Flee the detestable thing as you would a
serpent; be a teetotaller in principle and practice.'
Though, as we have seen, full of boundless faith and pity for the
drunkard, Mrs. Booth attacked the makers and sellers of drink
unmercifully. She says, on one occasion:--
'By your peace of conscience on a dying bed; by the eternal destinies of
your children, by your care for never-dying souls; by the love you owe
your Saviour, I beseech you _banish the drink_.
'Tell me no more of charity towards brewers, distillers, and publicans.
Your false charity to these has already consigned millions to an untimely
Hell!... Arise, Christians, arise, and fight this foe! You and you alone
are able, for your God will fight for you!'
Another thing for which our Army Mother fought, and which to-day we owe
in great measure to her efforts, is the position to which women have been
lifted as speakers and teachers in God's work. She first, as we have
seen, opened the way herself; and then she left it open, encouraging and
helping tens of thousands of simple, holy women all round the world to
follow in her steps.
She had a tough battle to wage. All classes wrote and spoke against women
being allowed to stand and speak for God in the open air or in public
halls; but, strong in faith and courage, convinced that she had Divine
authority for what she did, our Army Mother fought on, arguing, writing,
preaching on the matter. Now to-day there is scarcely a land where The
Army bonnet is not known and loved, nor where Army women cannot gain a
crowd of respectful listeners.
Now I am going to show you some of the hindrances in spite of which our
Army Mother fought on.
The first of these hindrances was the burden which God allowed Mrs. Booth
to carry all through her life--a weak and suffering body. She said, when
her life was drawing to its close, that suffering seemed to have been her
special lot, and that she could scarcely remember a day in her life when
she had been wholly free from pain.
'I don't care about my body,' she exclaimed when lying in her last
illness. 'It has been a poor old troublesome affair. I shall be glad for
it to be sealed up. It is time it was. Oh, I have dragged it wearily
about.'
Most women suffering as she did, with a weak spine, heart disease, and
over-strained nerves, would have lived the life of an invalid. But the
warrior spirit within forced her body along. Scores of times she has gone
from her bed to the Meeting, and then, exhausted and fainting with the
effort, has had to be almost carried home. But she had done her work, and
sent the arrow of conviction into hundreds of hearts.
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