LETTERS TO MISS P LETTER I. August 17, 1776. wards us. If we were blind, and reduced to desire a person to lead us, and should yet pretend to dispute with him, and direct him Ir is indeed natural to us to wish and to at every step, we should probably soon weary plan, and it is merciful in the Lord to disap-him, and provoke him to leave us to find the point our plans, and to cross our wishes. For way by ourselves if we could. But our grawe cannot be safe, much less happy, but in cious Lord is long-suffering and full of comproportion as we are weaned from our own passion: he bears with our frowardness, yet wills, and made simply desirous of being di- he will take methods both to shame and to rected by his guidance. This truth, when humble us, and to bring us to a confession we are enlightened by his word, is sufficiently that he is wiser than we. The great and unfamiliar to the judgment, but we seldom learn | expected benefit he intends us, by all the disto reduce it into practice, without being trained cipline we meet with, is to tread down our a while in the school of disappointment. The wills, and bring them into subjection to his. schemes we form look so plausible and con- So far as we attain to this, we are out of the venient, that when they are broken we are reach of disappointment, for when the will ready to say, What a pity! We try again, of God can please us, we shall be pleased and with no better success; we are grieved, every day, and from morning to night, I and perhaps angry, and plan out another, and mean with respect to his dispensations. O so on at length, in a course of time, ex- the happiness of such a life! I have an idea perience and observation begin to convince of it: I hope I am aiming at it, but surely I us that we are not more able than we are have not attained it. Self is active in my worthy to choose aright for ourselves. Then heart, if it does not absolutely reign there. the Lord's invitation to cast our cares upon I profess to believe that one thing is needful him, and his promise to take care of us, and sufficient, and yet my thoughts are prone appear valuable; and when we have done to wander after a hundred more. If it be planning, his plan in our favour gradually true that the light of his countenance is betopens, and he does more and better for us than ter than life, why am I solicitous about any we could either ask or think. I can hardly thing else? If he be all-sufficient, and gives recollect a single plan of mine of which I have me liberty to call him mine, why do I go not since seen reason to be satisfied, that had a-begging to creatures for help! If he be it taken place in season and circumstance about my path and bed; if the smallest, as just as I proposed, it would, humanly speak-well as the greatest events in which I am ing, have proved my ruin, or at least it would concerned are under his immediate direction; have deprived me of the greater good the if the very hairs of my head are numbered; Lord had designed for me. We judge of then my care (any farther than a care to walk things by their present appearances, but the in the paths of his precepts, and to follow the Lord sees them in their consequences. If openings of his providence) must be useless we could do so likewise, we should be per- and needless, yea indeed sinful and heathenfectly of his mind, but as we cannot, it is an ish, burdensome to myself and dishonourable unspeakable mercy that he will manage for to my profession. Let us cast down the load us, whether we are pleased with his manage- we are unable to carry, and if the Lord be ment or not; and it is spoken of as one of his our shepherd, refer all and trust all to him. heaviest judgments, when he gives any person Let us endeavour to live to him and for him or people up to the way of their own hearts, to-day, and be glad that to-morrow, with all and to walk after their own counsels. that is behind it, is in his hands. Indeed, we may admire his patience to It is storied of Pompey, that when his But while he gazes with surprise, It is a great mercy to be undeceived in time; and though our gay dreams are at an end, and we awake to every thing that is disgustful and dismaying, yet we see a highway through the wilderness, a powerful guard, an infallible guide at hand to conduct us through; and we can discern, beyond the limits of the wilderness, a better land, where we shall be at rest and at home. What will the difficul ties we meet by the way then signify! The remembrance of them will only remain to heighten our sense of the love, care, and power of our Saviour and leader. O how shall we then admire, adore, and praise him, when he shall condescend to unfold to us the beauty, propriety, and harmony of the whole train of his dispensations towards us, and give us a clear retrospect of all the way, and all the turns of our pilgrimage! friends would have dissuaded him from putting to sea in a storm, he answered, It is necessary for me to sail, but it is not necessary for me to live. O pompous speech, in Pompey's sense! He was full of the idea of his own importance, and would rather have died than have taken a step beneath his supposed dignity. But it may be accommodated with propriety to a believer's case. It becomes us to say, it is not necessary for me to be rich, or what the world accounts wise; to be healthy, or admired by my fellow-worms; to pass through life in a state of prosperity and outward comfort;-these things may be, or they may be otherwise, as the Lord in his wisdom shall appoint, but it is necessary for me to be humble and spiritual, to seek communion with God, to adorn my profession of the gospel, and to yield submissively to his disposal, in whatever way, whether of service or suffering, he shall be pleased to call me to glorify him in the world: it is not necessary for me to live long, but highly expedient that whilst I do live I should live to him. Here, then, I would bound my desires, and In the mean while, the best method of here, having his word both for my rule and adorning our profession, and of enjoying my warrant, I am secured from asking amiss. peace in our souls, is simply to trust him, Let me have his presence and his Spirit, and absolutely to commit ourselves and our wisdom to know my calling, and opportuni- all to his management. By casting our burties and faithfulness to improve them; and as dens upon him, our spirits become light and to the rest, Lord, help me to say, What thou cheerful; we are freed from a thousand anxwilt, when thou wilt, and how thou wilt.-Iieties and inquietudes, which are wearisome am, &c. LETTER II. DEAR MADAM,-What a poor, uncertain, dying world is this! What a wilderness in itself! How dark, how desolate, without the light of the gospel and the knowledge of Jesus! It does not appear so to us in a state of nature, because we are then in a state of enchantment, the magical lantern blinding us with a splendid delusion. Thus in the desert's dreary waste, to our minds, and which, with respect to events, are needless for us, yea, useless. But though it may be easy to speak of this trust, and it appears to our judgment perfectly right and reasonable, the actual attainment is a great thing; and especially so to trust the Lord, not by fits and starts, surrendering one day, and retracting the next, but to abide by our surrender, and go habitually trusting through all the changes we meet, knowing that his love, purpose, and promise, are unchangeable. Some little faintings perhaps none are freed from; but I believe a power of trusting the Lord in good measure at all times, and living quietly under the shadow of his wing, is what the promise warrants us to expect, if we seek it by diligent prayer; if not all at once, yet by a gradual increase. May it be your experience and mine.—I am, &c. LETTERS ΤΟ THE REVEREND MR. B LETTER I. January 27, 1778. DEAR AND REVEREND SIR,—I call you Dear because I love you, and I shall continue to style you Reverend as long as you dignify me with that title. It is, indeed, a pretty sounding epithet, and forms a striking contrast in the usual application. The inhabitants of the moon (if there be any) have perhaps no idea how many Reverend, Right Reverend, and Most Reverend, sinners we have in Europe. And yet you are reverend, and I revere you, because I believe the Lord liveth in you, and has chosen you to be a temple of his presence, and an instrument of his grace. I hope the two sermons you preached in London were made useful to others, and the medicines you took there were useful to yourself. I am glad to hear you are safe at home, and something better. Cheerful spring is approaching: then I hope the barometer of your spirits will rise. But the presence of the Lord can bring a pleasanter spring than April, and even in the depth of winter. At present it is January with me, both within and without. The outward sun shines and looks pleasant, but his beams are faint, and too feeble to dissolve the frost. So is it in my heart; I have many bright and pleasant beams of truth in my view, but cold predominates in my frost-bound spirit, and they have but little power to warm me. I could tell a stranger something about Jesus that would perhaps astonish him: such a glorious person! such wonderful love! such humiliation such a death! and then what he is now himself, and what he is to his people! What a sun! what a shield! what a root! what a life! what a friend! My tongue can run on upon these subjects sometimes; and could my heart keep pace with it I should be the happiest fellow in the country. Stupid creature! to know these things so well, and yet be no more affected with them! Indeed, I have reason to be upon ill terms with myself! It is strange that pride should ever find any thing in my experience to feed upon; but this completes my character for folly, vileness, and inconsistence, that I am not only poor, but proud; and though I am convinced I am a very wretch, a nothing before the Lord, I am prone to go forth among my fellow-creatures as though I were wise and good. You wonder what I am doing; and well you may: I am sure you would, if you lived with me. Too much of my time passes in busy idleness, too much in waking dreams. I aim at something; but hinderances from within and without make it difficult for me to accomplish any thing. I dare not say I am absolutely idle, or that I wilfully waste much of my time. I have seldom one hour free from interruption. Letters come that must be answered, visitants that must be received, business that must be attended to. I have a good many sheep and lambs to look after, sick and afflicted souls, dear to the Lord; and, therefore, whatever stands still, these must not be neglected. Amongst these various avocations, night comes before I am ready for noon; and the week closes, when, according to the state of my business, it should not be more than Tuesday. O precious, irrecoverable time! O that I had more wisdom in redeeming and improving thee! Pray for me, that the Lord may teach me to serve him better.-I am, &c. LETTER II. April 28, 1778. DEAR SIR, I was not much disappointed at not meeting you at home; I know how difficult it is to get away from if you are seen in the street after breakfast. The horse-leech has two daughters, saying, Give, | from the brooks, and bushes, and birds, and give: the cry there is, Preach, preach. When green fields, to which you had lately access! you have told them all, you must tell them Of old they used to retire into the deserts for more, or tell it them over again. Whoever mortification. If I was to set myself a mo will find tongue, they will engage to find derate penance, it might be to spend a fortears. Yet I do not blame this importunity, I night in London in the height of summer. wish you were teased more with it in your But I forget myself:-I hope the Lord is own town; for though, undoubtedly, there with you, and then all places are alike. He are too many, both at N- and here, makes the dungeon and the stocks comfortwhose religion lies. too much in hearing, yet able (Acts xvi;) yea, a fiery furnace, or a in many it proceeds from a love to the truth, lion's den. A child of God in London seems and to the ministers who dispense it. And I to be in all these trying situations: but generally observe, that they who are not Jesus can preserve his own. I honour the willing to hear a stranger (if his character is grace of God in those few (comparatively known,) are indifferent enough about hear- few, I fear) who preserve their garments ing their own minister. undefiled in that Sardis. The air is filled with infection, and it is by special power and miraculous preservation they enjoy spiritual health, when so many sicken and fall around them on the right hand and on the left. May the Lord preserve you from the various epidemical soul-diseases which abound where you are, and be your comfort and defence from day to day. I beg you to pray for me. I am a poor creature, full of wants. I seem to need the wisdom of Solomon, the meekness of Moses, and the zeal of Paul, to enable me to make full proof of my ministry. But, alas! you may guess the rest. Send me "The way to Christ." I am willing to be a debtor to the wise and unwise, to doctors and shoemakers, if I can get a hint, or a Nota Bene, from any one, without respect to parties. When a house is on fire, Churchmen, Dissenters, Methodists, Papists, Moravians, and Mystics, are all welcome to bring water. At such times, nobody asks, Pray, friend, whom do you hear? or, What do you think of the five points? &c. &c.-II could trace every feature: as wild and am, &c. LETTER III. July 7, 1778. a Last week we had a lion in town. I went to see him. He was wonderfully tame; as familiar with his keeper, as docile and obedient as a spaniel. Yet the man told me he had his surly fits, when they durst not touch him. No looking-glass could express my face more justly than this lion did my heart. fierce by nature, yea, much more so; but grace has in some measure tamed me. I know and love my Keeper, and sometimes watch his looks that I may learn his will. But, oh! I have my surly fits too: seasons when I relapse into the savage again, as though I had forgotten all.-I am, &c. LETTER IV. July 13, 1778. 'S MY DEAR FRIEND,-As we are so soon to meet, and as I have nothing very important to communicate, and many things occur which might demand my time, I have no other plea to offer, either to you or myself, for writing again, but because I love you. MY DEAR FRIEND,-I know not that I have any thing to say worth postage, though perhaps, had I seen you before you set off, something might have occurred which will not be found in my letter. Yet I write a line, because you bid me, and are now in a far, foreign country. You will find Mr. man to your tooth, but he is in Mr. Wconnexion. So I remember venerable Bede, after giving a high character of some contemporary, kicks his full pail of milk down, and reduces him almost to nothing, by adding, in the close, to this purpose: "but, unhappy man, he did not keep Easter our way. A fig for all connexions, say I, and say you, but that which is formed by the bands, joints, and ligaments the apostle speaks of, Eph. iv. 16, et alibi. Therefore, I venture to repeat it, that Mr. -, though he often sees and hears Mr. W and I believe loves him well, is a good man; and you will see the invisible mark upon his forehead, if you examine him with your spiritual spectacles. Now, methinks I do pity you: I see you melted with heat, stifled with smoke, and stunned with noise. Ah! what a change I pity the unknown considerable minister, with whom you smoked your morning-pipe. But we must take men and things as we find them: and when we fall in company with those from whom we can get little other good, it is likely we shall at least find occasion for the exercise of patience and charity towards them, and of thankfulness to Him who hath made us to differ. And these are good things, though, perhaps, his occasion may not be pleasant. Indeed, a christian, if in a right spirit, is always in his Lord's school, and may learn either a new lesson, or how to practise an old one, by every thing he sees or hears, provided he does not wilfully tread upon forbidden ground. If he were constrained to spend a day with the poor creatures in the common side of Newgate, though he could not talk with them of what God has done for his soul, he might be more sensible of his mercy by the contrast he would observe around him. He might rejoice for himself, and mourn over them, and thus perhaps get as much benefit as from the best sermon he ever heard. We It is necessary, all things taken together, to have connexion more or less with narrow-minded people. If they are, notwithstanding their prejudices, civil to us, they have a right to some civility from us. may love them, though we cannot admire them, and pick something good from them, notwithstanding we see much to blame. It is, perhaps, the highest triumph we can obtain over bigotry, when we are able to bear with bigots themselves. For they are a set of troublesome folks, whom Mr. Self is often very forward to exclude from the comprehensive candour and tenderness which he professes to exercise towards those who differ from him. I am glad your present home (a believer should be always at home) is pleasant; the rooms large and airy; your host and hostess kind and spiritual; and, upon the whole, all things as well as you could expect to find them, considering where you are. I could give you much such an account of my usual head-quarters in the city; but still London is London. I do not wish you to live there, for my own sake as well as yours; but if the Lord should so appoint, I believe he can make you easy there, and enable me to make a tolerable shift without you. Yet I certainly should miss you; for I have no person in this neighbourhood with whom my heart so thoroughly unites in spirituals, though there are many whom I love. conversation with most christians is something like going to court; where, except you are dressed exactly according to a prescribed standard, you will either not be admitted, or must expect to be heartily stared at. But you and I can meet and converse, sans contrainte, in an undress, without fear of offending, or being accounted offenders for a word out of place, and not exactly in the pink of the mode. But I know not how it is: I think my sentiments and experience are as orthodox and Calvinistical as need be; and yet I am a sort of speckled bird among my Calvinist brethren. I am a mighty good Churchman, but pass amongst such as a Dissenter in prunello. On the other hand, the Dissenters (many of them I mean) think me defective, either in understanding or in conscience, for staying where I am. Well, there is a middle party, called Methodists, but neither do my dimensions exactly fit with them. I am somehow disqualified for claiming a full brotherhood with any party. But there are a few among all parties who bear with me and love me, and with this I must be content at present. But so far as they love the Lord Jesus, I desire, and by his grace I determine (with or without their leave) to love them all. Partywalls, though stronger than the walls of Babylon, must come down in the general ruin, when the earth and all its works shall be burnt up, if not sooner.-I am, &c. LETTER V. July -, 1778. MY DEAR SIR, I was glad to hear that you were again within a few miles of me; and I would praise the Lord, who led you out, and brought you home in safety, and preserved all in peace while you were abroad, so that you found nothing very painful to embitter your return. Many go abroad well, but return no more. The affectionate wife, the prattling children, listen for the well-known sound of papa's foot at the door; but they listen in vain: a fall or a fever has intercepted him, and he is gone far, far away. Some leave all well when they go from home; but how changed, how trying the scene when they come back! In their absence, the Lord has taken away the desire of their eyes with a stroke, or perhaps ruffians have plundered and murdered their family in the dead of the night, or the fire devoured their habitation. Ah! how large and various is the list of evils and calamities with which sin has filled the world! You, and I, and ours escape them: we stand, though in a field of battle, where thousands fall around us, because the Lord is pleased to keep us. May he have the praise, and may we only live to love and serve him. Mrs. has been very ill, and my heart often much pained while you have been absent. But the Lord has removed his hand; she is much better, and I hope she will be seen in his house to-morrow. I have few trials in my own person; but when the Lord afflicts her, I feel it. It is a mercy that he has made us one; but it exposes us to many a pain, which we might have missed, if we cared but little for each other. Alas! there is usually an ounce of the golden calf, of idolatry and dependence, in all the warn regard we bear to creatures. Hinc ille lachrymæ! For this reason, our sharpest trials usually spring from our most valued comforts. I cannot come to you: therefore you must |