LETTER III.
“But all things that are reproved, are made manifest by the light: for, whatsoever maketh manifest, is light.”
To —
The New Jerusalem folks leaving the neighbourhood, I was again obliged to return to the church: this seemed heavy and dull to me; and convictions abiding with me of my lost state, I could not satisfy conscience, nor find peace with God, nor victory over my sins, by all my legal performances. I was, at times, truly wretched; yet it appeared right to me, that as I had offended God by sin, I should do some good works [169]—though, alas! I found all my best works stained by falling into sin again; still I strove to watch over my thoughts, words, and actions—yet, often led captive by sin, I was made truly miserable.
About this time I fell in company with several pious persons; amongst them was an aged disciple, a hearer of Mr. Romaine, who advised me, by all means, to go and hear the gospel; but, as it was not preached in any parish church or chapel near me, but one, and I was forbidden to go to a meeting, I knew not what to do; but the above person directed me where I might hear Mr. Romaine, which I promised to do, the first Sunday I could get out: but, alas! before that time came, dear Mr. Romaine was gone to glory. I sought, however, for an opportunity of hearing the gospel, for I was tired with hearing sermons read on mere morality at the church.
It was during the hard and severe winter of 1795, that I first heard the words of this life. I was sent on an errand, one Lord’s-day evening, in the month of March, and passing by Mr. Huntington’s chapel, it being the only chapel in the neighbourhood where the gospel was preached, I heard the congregation singing; and as it was night, I thought I should not be seen by any one who knew me, and I therefore ventured in. The good man arose, and took his text, which was in the 3rd chapter of Zephaniah, 18, 19, 20. The minister began his sermon about light, I suppose, from the context. What he said I know not; but this I know, I felt as though a ray of light entered into my mind, in a most sensible manner. The scales fell off from my eyes, and I was dissolved into tears: although the text, I believe, was not to be fully accomplished in my experience for many years after. I dumbly apprehend this light was the beginning of my spiritual birth; all convictions, before this period, were attended with bondage, and much legal striving, to obtain the favor of God, by working hard for it; ignorance of the way of salvation; and enmity of the heart against the truth and people of God: but, from this period, I am able to date a change—for, instead of the hatred I had, for some years to the Lord’s people, truth, and ways, I lost my prejudice, and was indeed most warmly attached to the few whom I knew professed the gospel. I read the Word, and what evangelical books were lent me, with new eyes; I saw the minister and people, whom I had despised, in a very different light, and would have given ten thousand worlds to be like them; I saw the excellency, suitableness, and beauty of the Saviour; the importance of the knowledge of God, and the value of pardoning mercy so clearly, that I think I could have died a martyr to see my interest in Christ. I was brought on, gradually, to understand the plan of salvation; the doctrines of the gospel began to open to my wondering view; I found the truth in my mind, like the rising of the light of the day, it shone more and more—and, as I saw it, I loved it, prayed to feel its power, and ran to hear it when I could—though this was chiefly by stealth, for fear of persecution: but, although we ought never to court persecution, yet it is folly to run from it.
The change I had experienced in my mind and views, was soon discovered, and no small trouble I gained by it; I was strictly forbidden to hear the Word, and was frequently horsewhipped for going to the meeting, with innumerable jeers and scoffs: this tried me a little; I waxed more bold in the ways of God, and endeavoured to avoid giving any just cause of offence; but I found their carnal hearts, as mine was, at enmity with God; and I must confess, that persecution for the truth sake is often attended with a peace that the world knows nothing of. The Lord carried on his own work, and gave me to see, Christ crucified was the only way to God, to holiness, and heaven. It was not long after I had heard the Word, that I stole away at times to Tottenham-court Chapel, and heard a very solemn sermon, I believe by Mr. Durant, on Isaiah, xxvi. and last verses; also, soon after, by Mr. Groves, on the second coming of the Saviour. These were awful subjects, and were attended with stirring me up, to plead hard that I might see my sins pardoned, and my interest clear in the love of God.
There is one particular circumstance I shall never forget, which I cannot suppress, as it is warm in my mind, being previously tinctured with Swedenbourgian notions—the Lord not only began to open my mind, to receive the truth, but gave me a most affecting sight of the Saviour, in open vision, in suffering circumstances. I had run to the above place of worship, and Mr. Parsons had delivered a very affecting sermon on, “He, bearing his cross, went forth to a place called Golgotha;” but, alas! I was hard as a stone, during the sermon. At the close, this hymn of (Mr. Whitfield’s Collection) was given out—
“When I survey the wond’rous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died”—
That moment I was favoured with a most solemn and affecting vision of the Saviour on the cross, apparently suspended between the roof of the chapel and the gallery opposite to where I stood; his sacred body appeared of a bluish hue, apparently with the bruises he had received; and the blood appeared to be fresh as it was shed from his hands, his head, his feet, and his side. This continued a few moments, clearly presented to me. I put my hat to my face, to conceal my tears from those around me, and returned home, musing on the affecting sight. But this was not attended with any assurance of salvation, nor could I yet see my interest in him, nor call him mine; but it left me more than ever anxious to know the truth clearer, as it is in Jesus. I told an old experimental Christian of it, some time after, and she told me, she had no doubt it was a signal of, my spiritual birth, and that I should one day be called, perhaps, to preach a crucified Saviour to others.
I do not pretend to say this vision was any part of my salvation, but surely it was a token for good; and no heart can conceive the sacred joy I felt some time afterwards, in reading the history of the conversion of Constantine the Great, by a sight of the cross in the air; and the vision of a crucified Saviour, which was given to Colonel Gardiner; Mr. Connick’s and Mr. Hart’s experience; and the affecting views given those good men of the Lord Jesus, in his suffering circumstances. Isaiah saw the same; but Daniel, Ezekiel, and John saw the dear Saviour, as glorified. However, the Spirit leading us into all truth, and glorifying Christ, by shewing us his salvation, is the one thing needful.
Adieu. J. C.
LETTER IV.
“Seek ye me, and ye shall live, saith the Lord.”
To —
Various were my frames, changes, fears, doubts, and hopes, till I could ascertain my “Title clear to mansions in the skies.” Nothing, I thought, could possibly make me sensible of this, and the pardon of my sins, but some powerful voice from heaven, or some wonderful appearance of the Saviour to me, in a visible form. I have sat a long time together, looking up in the air for some glorious visions of Christ; then I thought the Lord would assure me of pardon; then I hoped he would take away the power of sin, and so effectually subdue it, that I should never sin any more. This was my hope and expectation; for this I prayed constantly and fervently—and having read of the various appearances of the Saviour to some good men, and that conversion was a change of nature, I had a pleasing hope that this would one day be my happy lot. When sin overcame me, then I despaired of such a favour, and when could pray well, and walk strictly holy, then my hopes were big:—in this way I went on for many months, even though I sat under the sound of the gospel. But who could have thought this was all delusion: I found it to be so after; and have often wondered I could be so blind, when I had not the least promise of any such revelations, or such a change of nature. Many, who have been deluded with wonderful visions, and others who have boosted of this change of nature, and have got almost perfect, have since turned out perfect devils. My soul was, however, very anxious to be saved; and continuing under the gospel, whenever I could hear it, my judgement got pretty clearly furnished. I was led to see the glorious doctrines of the Trinity; eternal election; the atonement; and imputed righteousness of the Saviour, the necessity of the Spirit’s work, and the doctrine of the final perseverance of the saints.—These precious truths gradually opened to my view; but the power of sin, attended with a sense of guilt; the sense of God’s anger; the fears of death; the solemnities of the last great day; and an awful eternity, often sunk my mind: my heart, at times, meditated terror, and experienced many real and imaginary horrors. When I looked at the holy law, it condemned me; and when it was opened to me, in its spirituality, I found that it reached to the thoughts and intents of the heart; then I died to all hope of salvation by that law; the Lord searched my heart, and shewed me some of the evils that were in it; I saw the justice of God in my condemnation, and was angry with God that I was ever created; and, as many others have, so I envied the pretty birds and the brute creation, because they had no souls, no day of judgment, nor any angry God to meet. If I read the New Testament, I was just as bad off, as that cut me to the heart; for there I read—“He that believeth not shall be damned; he that believeth not is condemned already;” and, as I had made a profession: the following text was dreadful to my mind—“If we sin wilfully, after we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin.” These awful texts were like swords in my heart; and when I reflected that God was immutable, that he could not change, that he is one mind, and I could not turn him by all my prayers, cries, or intreaties; these things, and the power and guilt of sin, I still felt with a deep sense of my own weakness and inability to do any thing that was good. I say this complication of awful convictions fell, at times, very deeply upon my mind. I knew, indeed, that Christ was able to save me, but I had no idea of his willingness: it was not with me now, whether I would be saved or not; but whether Christ would save me? Here was no free-will in the business; I found it was not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, for I did both—but of God, which sheweth mercy. Here, all the wooing and beseeching to close with Christ, which we hear from the pulpit, I found to be folly and madness; as well as the doctrine of universal salvation and redemption; for I could not believe that the Saviour died for me—and yet, amidst all these sensations, I was often encouraged by the Word, and the good conversation of others, especially by such promises as these: “Those that seek me early shall find me;” “Your heart shall live that seek God;” “Seek and ye shall find;” “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.”
I remember once opening upon a hymn, in Mr. Whitfield’s Collection, and found these two lines—
“It was for sinners Jesus died,
Then sure I heard he died for me.”
In a moment I felt a sensible ray of hope spring up in my heart, upon the ground of the atonement, and I think I have never lost that hope to this day: the Lord led me through all this soul travail, to see my need of a Mediator; one to stand in the gap; one that was able to lay his hands on both parties; God with God, and man with man; and I was at times highly favored with very precious views of Christ, in his offices and characters; yet I constantly feared I should die before I could see my interest in him, and before I could believe in him, though I believed in him all the while. Yet I could not see, at that time, the difference between faith and sense, or faith and the end of faith. I did not know there was any difference between faith, the assurance of faith, and the full assurance of faith.
One Sunday morning I heard Mr. Huntington, on Song, iii. 11. Oh, what a sweet morning it was to me! I had such a glorious view of the dear Saviour, that I would have given the universe for ability to call him mine. But this sweet view went off, the veil closed again, and sin was ever before me. At times I could open my mind freely, at the throne of grace; at other times I was so shut up that I thought it of no use; sometimes I was filled with desires, longings, hungerings, and thirstings after Christ; and then I was left in barrenness, carnal ease, and a dead calm, till sin was felt again, and my distress increased. This one thing I found awfully true—
“The more I strove against sin’s power,
I sinned and stumbled yet the more.”
I found my strength perfect weakness; and sin, guilt, and satan, too strong for human ability. I had many temptations to disbelieve the Bible, to doubt the very being of a God, and to entertain very hard thoughts of him. I felt my rebellion rise, and found I was an enemy in my nature and practice. These things troubled my spirit; yet the preaching of the Word, at times, sweetly encouraged me to hope. I endeavoured to subdue sin, by various stratagems, but I found it was all toiling up Labour-in-vain Hill; and being beat out of every refuge, sinking in the miry clay; and finding the horrible pit, in some degree, but not so deep as many have, I longed to be brought to a point about my state; to see my sins pardoned; my interest clear; God reconciled and well pleased with me, in Christ. I was, indeed, come to the birth, but had not yet strength to bring forth. Yet none shall shut their doors, or kindle a fire on God’s altar for nought. Those whom he chastens he will give rest to; and those who seek him shall find him, sooner or later. “For the needy shall not always be forgotten; the expectation of the poor shall not perish for ever.”
Yours, J. C.
These sweet lines were whispered to my soul with joy:—
“The vision is for an appointed time; though it tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not tarry.” For,
“The time of love will come,
When thou shalt clearly see,
Not only that he shed his blood.
But that it flow’d for thee.”“For the children are come to the birth, but they have not strength to bring forth.”
“Shall I cause to travail, and not cause to bring forth? saith thy God.”
I hope you are so well versed in Scripture that you know where these precious texts lay, without my directing you.