Thomas Collins’ father’s journal.
May 6th. Lord, give me a proper text for Sarclet. Give me clear light upon it. Impart to me Thy mind. Join with me Thy power. Draw out my soul to honour Thee. Let every one that hath an ear hear. Convince deeply of sin. Lead safely to the blood. Pardon freely.
Wash thoroughly. Reign triumphantly. All for Thy mercy's sake. Evening. Bless the Lord! He has been true. While visiting among the fishermen. Jesus, who of old took such pains with fishermen, assuredly went with me. I found an old woman, who seemed to be nothing but a few bones held together by skin, smoke-dried till it appeared like shrivelled leather. The good news that Jesus loved her, and cared about her, seemed to strike the poor creature with affectionate amaze. Dry and withered as she looked, we had not been long in prayer before her aged eyes became fountains. When I was leaving, grasp and tears and tongue united to assure me how "muckle glad" she felt at my unexpected visit. Many today, in the huts of Sarclet, At received instruction and encouragement. Not since I left England have I experienced such a melting season as this night while preaching from i Pet. v. 10: "The God of all grace, who hath called us unto His eternal glory by Jesus Christ, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, establish, strengthen, settle you." I was myself almost choked with emotion, and the people were in tears all around me. Three found peace, and have given in their names to be added to those of the little Society.
From ‘The Life of the Rev Thomas Collins’ by Samuel Coley p117.