When Isaac, however, knelt down on the sanded floor, and with terrible earnestness, implored God to save the souls of the young men he had been guilty of leading into vice, her amazement turned to cynicism and laughter. Isaac would soon be back to his old ways!

From childhood, however, there had been good influences thrown around Isaac’s life. His had been the good fortune to be born of a pious mother and an industrious father, on June 3, 1807, in Skelmansthorpe, Yorkshire. When his older brother died, Isaac assumed the role of the eldest son of a family of ten. Isaac as a small child was very withdrawn and quiet. He was contented to play within the walls of his own home, with such familiar objects as the bobbins, known to almost every home in South Yorkshire, where looms were heard to be continually clicking as they turned out woolen cloth.

The Wesleyans and Primitives were most active in Southern Yorkshire, but there was as yet no meeting place in the town where the Marsdens lived. Ann Marsden, his mother, often lamented the fact that she could rarely attend services at the neighboring districts because of the demands of her growing family. She therefore started informal gatherings in her own kitchen which resulted in regular class meetings.

A revival came to Skelmansthorpe! Isaac, though young, was moved, and had he confided his inner feelings at this time to an adult, he could have been saved years of wasted and wild living.

The mother received blessings at this time and became a power for good. The father, though outwardly respectable, was irreligious and did not approve of the family’s attendance at services.

William Marsden, the father, was a man of strong discipline and possessed a shrewd head for business. He cared little how wild Isaac’s pranks or how mischievous his deeds, if he would only be diligent in school or work. At considerable self-denial the boy was kept at school until he was twelve or thirteen, but although the lad learned to write and do some sums, he did not take kindly to student practice. Reading was his delight, and he devoured any book or newspaper available. The companionships formed at school, however, were not helpful to industry or upright conduct, and so Mr. Marsden removed his son and sent him to learn weaving at the loom.

The boy had no notion for work so confined and concentrated; he often ruined the cloth, so the father put him to “cropping”, which job he did until he was sixteen or seventeen. Then the expanding business required Isaac as his father’s assistant to deliver cloth and collect bills. He proved to be very assiduous in making up the parcels, visiting the fairs and markets, and acting as general salesman. This occupation suited the young man very well. With an unusually strong physique, he could work hard all day long, and then revel a good share of the night without feeling an inconvenience the next morning.

Ann Marsden scarcely saw her son now, for he rarely spent an evening at home. Instead he frequented the inns of the neighborhood where he had been attending the fairs or markets. As a result of his wide range of reading he possessed a larger store of knowledge than many of his companions who spent the evenings with him in revelry. And so he would keep them amused by impersonating political and religious speakers. His ability to lead the strong and coerce the weak gave him unlimited influence for evil among the youth.

As the mother watched her wayward boy, her almost hourly prayer became: “O God, save my Isaac. He is beyond the reach of every arm but Thine.” Relatives and friends abandoned all hope for him; others predicted the gallows eventually for both him and his companions. The mother continued to cling to God for her boy. One night, the flame of ardent desire within her heart moved her to pray on through the night and into the small hours of the morning. At four o’clock, she was assured, by an inward witness, that her boy would be converted.

Meanwhile, Isaac grew more reckless week by week. His books, written by Paine and Voltaire, were supplemented by everything which he could lay his hands upon of the same infidel nature. But God works by varied means. When the Rev. Robert Aitkin was to preach at Doncaster, the dissolute youth went to hear the notable minister, hoping to discovery some peculiarity of the speaker with which to entertain his circle of friends. The afternoon service pulled hard for the man of God. Someone describing that service said, “The word seemed to rebound back into his own bosom. He shook himself, roared like a lion and said: ‘I have long heard that Doncaster was the capital of the devils’ kingdom, but now I believe it.’”

Returning home after the sermon, Mr. Aitkin gathered the praying folks together to intercede for the evening service. But meantime, Isaac Marsden was smarting under the probing of the Spirit of God. He had never heard a man thunder out the terrors of the law like this one. The speaker seemed to look into his very face as he denounced his identical sins. His refuge of lies, and the protective walls of his well-laid arguments, crumbled under the anointed words. Numbed, he was impelled to remain behind and enter the enquiry room. When questioned by some Christians why he had taken this step, he could give no answer – a paralysis had seized him for he “thought nothing and felt nothing.”

The influence of that sermon was abiding, but although convicted, Isaac did not yet seek earnestly for mercy. In fact, the following week found him on the very back seat at the Love Feast at Skelmansthorpe with paper and pencil in hand, intending to list the names of the speakers and outline the substance of their talks, parodying it at the Inn. The people were having a joyful time, and he was having work to fill in the notes. His own mother arose and related how she had been praying for her wayward son.

Suddenly the Spirit of the Lord again smote the young man with feelings of remorse: “Isaac,” He seemed to say, “you have known these people all your life. In sickness and in health, in prosperity and adversity, they have been true to their principles. Some of them have endured persecution for Christ’s sake and yet they have honorably maintained their profession. You never knew any of them do a mean, shabby, dishonest deed. They have never told you a lie or tried to deceive you. Are they lying now? Or are they speaking the truth? If they are speaking the truth, you are on the wrong side of the hedge.”

Like a flash, his infidel arguments appeared hollow and worthless. He could not resist such outstanding evidence. He folded away his notebook and, springing to his feet, told them that their happiness had convicted him. He stated how he was most unhappy, and how he had resolved that if there was a Heaven, he would gain it; and if there was a Hell, he would shun it. Then with great emphasis, he brought down those unusually long arms of his like a sledge-hammer upon the pew door, saying, “And if ever I do get converted, the devil may look out.”

The communicants did not know how to receive this information. Was it another practical joke? But the stricken young man knew within his own heart that his life was going to be very different. At the Doncaster Love Feast the next week, he made a similar statement of his intentions. In after years, Mr. Marsden spoke of these public utterances as important milestones in his life.

Now at Doncaster, there were four holy men of God of varying ages: young Butler, a tailor, who had been meeting in class-meeting; Rev. William Naylor, a mild and gentle spirit; Friend Unsworth, a pious shoemaker; and Friend Waring, an elderly man noted for piety and wisdom. These four made Isaac their special care, taking him to every meeting, both in the church and in their homes.

The great crisis of the new birth was reached on Sunday morning, October 11, 1834. Isaac had attended the early six o’clock prayer meeting, and there he had requested his friends to pray for him every hour of the day, for he meant to do business with God. He had seen himself the vilest of sinners, not only wasting ten precious years of his own life, but being the ringleader for the devil among young men. God forgave him out of His boundless mercy, and it was alone in his own room that the Spirit witnessed to his acceptance with God.

The first act of his prodigal was to return home and report to his mother all that had happened. Ann Marsden turned pale and almost fainted, but she was a bit skeptical. However, the change in her son’s conduct soon caused her to rejoice, for she observed that he now spent evenings at home when he would retire to his own room alone. With an open Bible on the chair before him he would study the Book with delight, meditating and praying. At times he would go to one of his friends for further instruction, but immediately afterwards he would retire for quiet and further study. He had always been a reader, but now it was one Book that enthralled him.

The story of his conversion spread abroad like wild fire. At fairs and markets it became the latest bit of gossip. Peals of laughter would be occasioned, as some who had known him before, looked forward to his next impersonating performance. His four friends knew, however, that the young man was in earnest, and that the devil would use every known device to lure him back. So they impressed upon the new convert that his safety lay in being out and out for God. He must carry war into the very camp of the devil where before he had aided and abetted evil.

Isaac, taking their advice, after selling his bolts of material, would mount the wagon and use it as a preaching stance. When Feast Day came to his town, he would take up position between two drinking houses, witnessing to the merry-makers. At the Doncaster Race Course, he placarded trees and fences with signs. In the Inns, where he must needs meet his customers and receive payments, the former reveler would ask for a glass of pure water, paying the price that a glass of beer would cost. He would then hold his temperance lecture, and with it intermingle the Gospel.

Meanwhile, Isaac observed that his four godly friends, possessing the blessing of entire sanctification, preached it, lived it and enforced it. They now impressed upon Isaac “that he could never have the power of learning, or culture, or wealth, or social position; but he might have the power of goodness.” They enjoined him to meet with them at every means of grace possible. They pointed out Scripture commands such as “Be ye holy, for I am holy.” They gathered early in the morning before he left for his week’s rounds, and would be present to pray with him upon his return on Saturday. An agreement had been reached between them to pray for one another seven times daily.

Isaac, though endeavoring to subdue his strong passions and tempers by praying without ceasing, still had not attained to this blessing of “Perfect Love” which his four good friends still urged upon him whenever they met.

Sixteen months after his conversion, the seeker found his heart’s cry answered.

“I first dared to give God my whole heart,” he wrote, “and believed that the blood of Jesus Christ cleansed me from all sin. This happened at a place called Langworth, at the Inn where I put up. Before I lay down to rest, I made a practice of reading a portion of Scripture on my knees, and I did the same in the morning. In this way I had read twice and a half through the Bible, and as I got to prayer this passage came into mind: ‘My son, give Me thine heart.’ And I said to God: ‘Here, Lord, Thou shalt have it,’ believing that a God so pure and holy would not keep sin in His hand. And, blessed be God! I still feel that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth me from all sin. O my God, may this ever be my experience!”

Towards the latter end of 1836, Mr. Marsden was called to preach and placed on the Methodist plan. He had already been faithfully witnessing and seeing friends and customers brought to God. But it was with some difficulty that he could adjust to the orthodox behavior demanded in the pulpit. He, in fact, never did fully conform, but often scattered to the winds everything that would restrict his freedom. Sedate Christians had reason to complain of these innovations, but he felt men were perishing from lack of the Gospel, and the sentiments of his heart are expressed in his journal:

“O may the Lord ever be with me and make me in earnest! God is in earnest – Heaven is in earnest - devils are in earnest – Hell is in earnest. And in order to save my soul and them that hear me, I must be in earnest, or be in danger of being damned in the pulpit. Souls are on the verge of Hell. We must be in earnest to pluck them as brands from eternal burnings.”

“May God help me to live this year,” he wrote in 1838, “to His honor and glory as I never did. I feel determined by God’s help to spend and be spent in His service. I feel daily His blood cleanses me from all sin. My evidence is brighter than ever. What thousands there are in the Church that live without his blessing! O my God, arouse the Church to seek after all its privileges. Mr. Harris says: ‘So long have we accustomed ourselves to be content with little things that we have gone far in disqualifying ourselves for the reception of great things.’ O my God open mine eyes to behold all my privileges. Give my soul an impulse and raise me nearer to Thy Throne. I want a spiritual earthquake to take place in my soul every day.

“We are languid in our prayers when we ought to be inspired. What we have expected is only our feebleness. There is too much sameness and oneness amongst us. We go to preach, we go to hear, we go to class-meeting, we go to prayer-meeting, and we expect no good. We go to work like an old man eighty years of age to break stones on a cold winter’s day. Sink me to the lowest depths and raise me up to the highest privileges of religious experience. O for an earnest of the Spirit of power and glory! Revive me every moment. Enable me to live like some immortal being let down from Thy Throne. Make me a stranger to the fear of man, and help me to carry with me an atmosphere of salvation. Lord, Lord, lead Thy ignorant, unworthy creature, every breath, thought, word, feeling, action, day, night, hour, moment; and Thou shalt have the praise.”

As a preacher, Mr. Marsden was mighty. He could not tolerate the stillness of death and formality in his audience. In the middle of some discourse, he would stop and make some pronouncement which would startle his hearers into thoughtfulness. He wanted to make them think. It was little wonder that the more wealthy and respectable should resent his unvarnished plainness. They accused him of being mad, and a lie was circulated to the effect that he had committed suicide. It was believed by many until he turned up to prove it to be a lie.

During seventeen years he preached 3,370 sermons in Yorkshire, Nottinghamshire, Lincolnshire and Lancashire where God signally owned his labors with hundreds of souls being brought into the Kingdom. At Wigan he was particularly assisted and revival ensured. Whenever an enlivened church wished to make attack upon some evil den of iniquity, some public house, some notorious part of town, they called Isaac Marsden to help.

He was exceptionally gifted in personal work, and would often dismount to speak with a stone-breaker, ditch-digger or passerby, often kneeling down and praying for their salvation. When entering upon a series of services in a new district, he would first appeal to leaders and members to fully consecrate themselves to God. Like a soldier, he would reconnoiter before attack. He would stroll through the town, noting its salient points and its weaknesses. Each stranger he met would be accosted, invited to the services and given a tract. On Sunday evening after the service, the public houses and shops that were open would be visited by this ardent fisher of men who would often kneel down to pray, and invite the customers to the services.

“Can you tell me which house the Lord Jesus lives in?” he would ask of a stranger in order to strike up a conversation, and he would leave the people thinking.

If the church in which he spoke had only professed Christians attending, he would proceed very decorously with his sermon, and then suddenly he would close his Bible, and kneel down to pray: “the devil is in the chapel. I can’t preach. Let us pray.” He would then pour out his heart with a torrent of words that revealed his burden for the man that was not there – or was he? The Sabbath-breaker, the profligate, the drunkard, the thief, were interceded for until the congregation would tremble. At the evening service, the place of worship would be well filled with people unaccustomed to regular church-going. The respectable members would not understand his strategem, but his unusual methods attracted sinners into the house of God.

Isaac Marsden possessed, as did many of the early itinerant preachers, a prophetic insight. They exercised gifts of the Spirit for their ministry, when scarcely aware of such possession! This man of God lived so near Heaven in prayer that he often caught the slightest whispers of the Spirit. His warnings to rebellious sinners, frequently uttered before the congregation, were often fulfilled to the letter. In public prayer he would supplicate for the needs of individuals in such a way as to astound the listener who knew that such details could scarcely be known by a stranger save that “the secret of the Lord” was with him and that the Lord revealeth His secrets unto His servants.

The small children were never neglected in his ministrations. He often instituted orange, apple or bun feasts and invited them along to his meetings to sing hallelujah. Many of these grew up to be honored ministers and useful workers who owed their first impressions of the Gospel to his fatherly and loving manner with the little ones. William Booth was only fourteen when he heard this passionate pleader and Isaac Marsden claimed him as one of his lambs. Thereafter the work of the Salvation Army was followed with profound heart interest.

The claims of the churches became oppressive as he became more recognized as a powerful preacher. As a result his business began to suffer. He was faced with the question, “Shall I attend to business and make a fortune, or let business decline and give myself to evangelism?” In a journal entry, May 11, 1846, he notes:

“If the Lord ever puts me in such a position that I can give up business, I promise this day by His help that I will lay down the world, and take up His Gospel, and preach it till death. Lord help me. Thou knowest the weakness of man, and covenants are of no avail without divine aid. Make me faithful to Thy cause in every calling in life.”

All through these years, Isaac Marsden was a devoted son towards his mother, who had delicate health and suffered acutely. Before leaving on a journey, he always entered her sick room and prayed earnestly that she would be sustained during his absence. Upon returning, he would rush into her bedroom and kneeling down, thank God that she was still alive. Here at her side, he would plead with God for hours. Her life ended in peace and triumph in 1847. He insisted upon preaching her funeral sermon as he felt no one else could do justice to her saintly life.

On one of his preaching journeys, he had met the daughter of a respectable farmer and a mutual affection sprang up between them. Because Mr. Marsden still held responsibility as head of his family, and she must consider her father’s welfare, it was not for another seven years that they could consider marriage. Isaac Marsden was now forty-seven years of age.

Mary Barker was in every way suited to be a helpmeet for her husband. Though opposite in so many ways, they supplied to each other the very qualities they needed. She was a class leader and successful worker in the church. Rarely did this devoted couple spend Sundays together from one year’s end to another. And most evenings as well were occupied in taking preaching appointments, but the wife had willingly agreed that their union should in no wise hinder him fulfilling God’s call. His schedule was never altered for loved companionship with the woman of his choice.

Shortly after his marriage, his financial circumstances were such that he could now, by transferring to other members of the family, sever his connection with his father’s business.

As this man of God neared the end of his labors, how did he view the experience he had received in his late twenties?

“I feel a settled conviction of the necessity of a full salvation always, especially for pulpit work and the permanent revival of the churches. The church has for a long time been going down to the world, until the distinction has been nearly lost. The birthday of the church was the day of Pentecost – the festival of the Holy Ghost. It is not the external form and custom, but the Holy Ghost that makes the church really Christian. He is the soul that fills and animates her, and combines all her individual members into the unity of one body. What is to be done to raise Methodism? My answer is: only one thing for the pulpit and the pew, not a splendid ritual, nor splendid chapels, nor splendid sermons, nor splendid concerns, nor splendid lectures, nor bazaars. The Pentecost is that one thing for pulpit and pew. All other things without this are splendid sins, and splendid professions, and splendid shams.”

The long and frequent journeys, occasioning exposure to inclement weather, weakened the robust frame. He began to feel a languor that took his appetite and rest. His wife tenderly nursed him during those long nights of sickness, as he lay like a lamb now, feeling that his tempestuous mission was almost finished. He said one day,

“I don’t feel anything or think anything of Isaac Marsden, it is all Christ…I have been looking back and reviewing seventy years, but I see nothing but the Atonement! The Atonement at every turn!”

On January 17, 1882, at seventy-five years of age, the militant spirit of Isaac Marsden joined the church triumphant. The warrior preacher had utilized every ransomed power for the extension of God’s kingdom.

How did Mr. Marsden maintain the experience through those long years, and keep unabated that zeal and vision for the lost? The secret was to be found in his prayer closet. Seven times a day this man sought the face of the Lord, although his intimates never knew of this practice. “He literally prayed without ceasing,” says his biographer. He hated anything like frivolity or foolish conversation, gossip or slander.

“I have no liking for dinner parties. I can do with a chat at tea, and then be free and easy, but as soon as breakfast is over I long to be off into my room to my books and papers. Life is short, and I feel I have not five minutes to spare.”

As a new convert, Isaac Marsden had set up the chair within the bedroom for Bible study and prayer, and now the aged warrior had not ceased to keep this quiet tryst with Christ although the demands of the church had lain heavily upon him.

Quotations By Isaac Marsden

Shall we then be counted among the dead men? O no; we must be counted among the living – among the higher-life men. A man of real life will look alive and speak a living language. His prayers will have fire enshrined in them, and will have wings of fire, which will rise to Heaven and return with answers before he rises from his knees. But the wings of a dead man’s prayers are of ice, which will freeze him fast under the wings of death. For this the world will call us “mad”. There is not only a “mad zeal” in serving Christ and in carrying men out of themselves, but there is a worse kind of madness – lukewarmness, supineness, and disbelief. Many read that Christ was born in a stable and laid in a manger, but they never go to see Him. If they could read that He was born in a palace, there would be cheap trips to the place, and the rich would go and offer their gifts. But Christianity remains unaltered. It never adapts itself to foolish notions or false theories.

Unbelief is the blue mould that grows on idle and lazy souls. Keep with duty, always working with Christ; and then Jesus will take care that His bride walks with Him “in white”. Never belong to those who say, “I cannot”, “I am unworthy”, “I had rather not”; but up and at it. Let it be always a settled thing in your own mind that you are unworthy, but don’t talk about it. Talking much about it is either canting pride or canting hypocrisy. Be a noble soul. You are unworthy, but your Jesus is worthy – and worthy of you. You are weak, but He is strong. Let Him be your Alpha and Omega – your all in all.