| "When I was seventeen I preached
my first sermon, or, perhaps I should say, made my first public
effort. It was in an old log church on Little Flint Run, in
Doddridge County. Brother Christopher Davis, a local preacher, was
holding a meeting, and as the close of the morning services announced
that I would preach at night. What a day that was to me! How
I tried to think and pray! When I reached the church I found it
full, with many standing in the aisle about the door. I felt so
unprepared--so utterly helpless--that I immediately retired to a secret
place, where I again besought the Lord for help. Returning, I
started in with the preliminaries, but was badly scared. No man
can describe his feelings under such circumstances. Many a
preacher who scans these pages will appreciate my situation. I
spent a good part of the first fifteen minutes mopping my face. I
seemed to be in a sweat-box; but by the time I reached my sermon, or
whatever it might be called, the embarrassment was all gone. I
still remember the text: "And I will bring you into the land
concerning the which I did swear to give it to Abraham, to Isaac, and to
Jacob; and I will give it to you for an heritage. I am the
Lord." It was immense; but the most of young preachers begin just
that way. At this distance from the occasion, I do not recall
anything I said, and am glad I cannot. However, there was one
redeeming feature about the effort, and that was its brevity. In
twenty minutes I had told all I knew, and perhaps more. I have
never been able to understand why the people listened so
patiently. They really seemed to be interested, but why, or in
what, I have never known. I have never tried that text since, and I do
not think I ever shall."
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