LETTER XXVIII.
“And the king said unto Zadok, carry back the ark of God into the city. If I shall find favour in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring me again, and shew we both it and his habitation.”
To —
It is a truth, easily proved, that every believer has more mercies to be thankful for, than he has either sins to regret, or troubles to bear: it is of the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed. This I call to mind, therefore I have hope. They are new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness. That same faithful God which preserved Israel in Egypt, Moses in Midian, David in Gath, the three worthies in the furnace, Daniel in the den, the disciples in Jerusalem, and the church in Babylon, preserved me in this place. I cannot look back upon my many mercies but with gratitude. But where will the growing numbers end? This subject would fill a vast volume; but, in brief, I mention only a few:—the attention and kindness of the governor and officers; and, although every returning Sabbath afflicted my mind severely, the very sound of the church-going bells, brought a thousand pangs to my heart: yet I was relieved by hearing the real gospel preached nearly every Sunday, once a day, by the excellent chaplain, the rev. Mr. Mann. Oh, that every college was as much blessed with such preaching. This was no small mercy. All within the walls were submissive and attentive to me. I had an opportunity of conversing with many on the best of subjects, and was well furnished with ability to alleviate many a distressed mind, and to relieve some hundreds in their temporal calamities; for it is to little purpose talking about religion to worldlings, without acts of benevolence.
Numerous friends daily visited me, and never failed me, during the long period of seven hundred and thirty days. My health was re-established, and I had much time for reading, prayer, self-examination, and study. Here I received many tokens of love from the Lord, bearing witness, with my spirit, that I was interested in his love. Here I wrote a vast many letters to the church and to my friends. I wrote also my “Farewell Sermon;” “Antinomianism Refuted;” “The Voice of Faith,” 2 vols.; “A Treatise on part of the Book of Proverbs,” the greatest part of my own Memoirs, and other subjects, which I hope, one day, to publish.
The dear friends who came to see me, I constantly bore in mind, and thanked them in a few gingling rhymes, as I am destitute of a talent for writing poetry: I hope they will forgive me inserting their names; nor need they fear persecution on this account, because so many individuals are to be found bearing the same name.
I employed as much time as circumstances would admit, in reading to the prisoners the Scriptures, which I at times endeavoured to explain, particularly on Sundays. I read part of the church service, and other good books, especially some tracts by Mr. Smith, of Penzance—his “Bob and James,”—there being many sailors present. In this act I copied the example of Dr. Primrose, in the Vicar of Wakefield, although I had a little better place, company, behaviour, and attention. I must insert a quotation from it. The old gentleman says, after some conversation with his family—
“I left them, and descended to the common prison, where I found the prisoners very merry, expecting my arrival; and each prepared with some gaol trick to play upon the doctor. Thus, as I was going to begin, one turned my wig awry, as if by accident, and then asked my pardon. A second, who stood at a distance, had a knack of spitting through his teeth, which fell in showers upon my book; a third would cry ‘amen,’ in such an affected tone, as gave the others great delight. A fourth had slily picked my pocket of my spectacles: but there was one whose tricks gave more universal pleasure than all the rest; for, observing the manner in which I had disposed my books on the table before me, he very dexterously displaced one of them, and put an obscene jest-book of his own in the place. However, I took no notice of all that this mischievous group of little beings could do, but went on, perfectly sensible that what was ridiculous in my attempt would excite mirth only the first or second time, while what was serious would be permanent. My design succeeded; and, in less than six days, some were penitent, and all attentive.”
Thus my time rolled away, and appeared, as our lives do in the retrospect, but as a tale that is told every moment, and every circumstance being told out in eternity for us.
The period arrived for me to quit my solitary mansion, and make my appearance again in public. This was dreaded by me, on some accounts, but, by others, much desired. Every thing was well arranged, and the morning came; a part of my family and a few friends came to meet me; every thing around appeared at first very strange. When I arrived at my house, I bent my knees in thanksgiving to that gracious God who had restored me.
In the evening I preached to nearly one thousand hearers, who were very quiet, attentive, and gratified. All united, with one heart and voice, in singing
“Crown him Lord of all.”
I preached on, “But God meant it unto good.” The sermon was afterwards printed. I commenced my regular labours the Sunday following, where without cessation, I have continued them six times a week. Curiosity has, doubtless, drawn forth the attention of thousands, since then, to hear and see the strange being: many have heard to profit, and are satisfied. Some said, he is a good man; others, he is a devil. I say he is both, and I can prove it. Some say, he is a guilty man; others, that he is innocent—but I say he is both, and the reader will say the same, if he knows his own heart, and his acceptance in Christ.
Beloved, if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our hearts, and knoweth all things; but, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence towards God.
Yours, J. C.