TO THE REV. J. ARMSTRONG.
Madeley, Dec. 27, 1820.
My dear Friend,
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I was very glad to hear, through my sister, of your servant Lucy, who came over for Mrs. A— —, whom she saw at Mrs. W. A.—’s; she spoke of you in the most affectionate terms, and described, in her simple but strong manner, the change which had been effected in the settlement through your ministry among them. “Before massa came, many very bad; now, good, and love great Massa,” and so on. Oh, my dear friend, amidst all the discouraging feelings arising from your not being able to do all you would, you should not forget what has already been done. We are most of us too sanguine in our expectations, not suspecting that what exceeds the cool and sober calculation of tried and well-disciplined faith has too much to do with self, arises from self-confidence, and ends in self-humiliation. We are too apt, in imagination, to seize the magic wand of Harlequin, and suppose that every touch will effect wonders; but, to change the wilderness into the garden of the Lord, requires the enduring spirit of the toilsome labourer, the stones must be cleared, and the soil must again and again be turned: and even when the precious seed is safely deposited, the patience of our hope must succeed to the labour of our love. How long does it usually lie beneath the surface, and when the tender blade appears, how much longer the interval before the perfection of the fruit! so long, that my endeared friend may never live to see it in his own case: though he may sow, yet others may enter into his labours; yet will both he that sows and they that reap, rejoice together in that glorious and eternal harvest.
Since I began my letter, I have had a visit from our mutual friend, Mr. Cox. Since his residence in Shropshire, I have frequently had opportunities of seeing him, and it is with unfeigned pleasure that I have seen him evidently advancing in the best of things. I think, however, that I never saw him to so great advantage as now—the truly Christian minister and the warm and steady friend. He still continues at Bridgenorth, and has apparently lived through all the hostility and prejudice which his preaching and residence among them once excited. He begins also to see some important fruits of his labours. How cheering is all this! Well, my dear friend, let us catch the animating glow, and strive to live more for our loving Saviour and the great glory of his name.
Kind faithfulness towards our friends is a truly Christian grace—this grace the subject of this memoir eminently possessed, of which the following letter is a proof:—