TO THE REV. JOHN ARMSTRONG.
Wellington, Salop. October 27, 1814.
Ah, my dear friend, what need have we all of being occasionally pulled down, stripped of our fancied excellencies, spoiled of our boasted props, and laid low in self-abasement and humility of soul at the feet of Jesus. And considering this our need, how kind is it in the Lord to take the painful pains with us which he does. He had much rather rejoice over us in unclouded prosperity; but our perverseness will not suffer him, and therefore he forces himself to grieve us. He constrains himself to cut off the dangerous limb—to amputate—when it would be injurious to spare.
We have two classes, after the manner of the Methodists; one consisting of men, and the other of women. The former led by Mr. Eyton, and the latter by myself. Out of the men’s class, Mr. E. has selected six young men, four of whom go out on a Monday evening, in turns, and expound to the poor in four cottages in different parts of the parish; and much good, I trust, has already been seen resulting from the plan. Mr. E. did not think of the classes till about a year and a half ago; but we all feel truly thankful to God that they were begun at last. You would have been struck at the effects which soon began to follow. A standard, if I may so speak, was by this means erected, and many, who in all probability would have remained halting and hesitating till the very end of their days, were induced, one after another, to flock around it, and I have been surprised at the degree of help which they have all received since they were thus united. And, in addition to their own personal benefit, they soon became instrumental of good to others. Our little society became a kind of nursery of expounders, exhorters, and assistants in prayer; and now, instead of a comparatively barren wilderness, we are rejoiced to behold, in many places, an incipient garden of the Lord.
Another benefit I would just beg leave to notice, and that refers to yourself. You will know much more of the state of your people, you will obtain a greater insight into their temptations, difficulties, and trials, and will be led to look around you for the means of obviating, or else helping them to bear them; and thus your manner of preaching will become far more experimental, and, consequently, far more useful. Without some such knowledge of our people as we thus obtain, our discourses, as Mr. Jerram used to say, will be about it, and about it, but seldom actually upon the mark. I have found a very material benefit myself in this way, and I would not have been without it for worlds. Now, my dear friend, what hinders but that you should enter upon such a class meeting? If you have only three or four, begin with them; meet with them weekly; begin with singing and prayer; relate to them the state of your own mind during the week, and then inquire into the state of their’s. Prayer may conclude. Mr. E. began, I think, with only four, and was some weeks before he got above two or three more; but now the men’s class is between thirty and forty, and the women’s not far short. Do not be afraid of the Methodistical appearance of the procedure. It is full of benefits, and I have no question but that if you can prevail upon yourself to adopt it, yourself and thousands more will have eternal reason to bless God for its institution. And, under such circumstances, should a name, or an appearance, cause you a moment’s hesitation? I trust it will not. * * *
I remain,
Your very sincere Friend
And Brother in the Lord,
George Mortimer.
The following letter is a beautiful manifestation of the greatest humility as to his own Christian experience; it was addressed to his sister:—
Wellington, Nov. 17th, 1814.
My dear Mary,
I have to thank my dear mother and yourself for the printed account, and the accompanying letter relative to the Lord’s gracious dealings with our dear departed brother: they have proved highly interesting, and, I trust, truly profitable to us. May our ears ever be disposed to listen to, and our hearts prepared to receive, instruction from all the gracious means which a God of infinite love and mercy is ever taking with us, in order to our good, and when it comes to our turn to drop the garments of mortality may it be with us, as it was with dear James, to be clothed with those of light. A tear may now and then involuntarily escape me when I advert to the difference between his envied situation and my own. He quite safe, I still surrounded with danger; still called to many a conflict with the Christian’s threefold enemy; still smarting from the wounds which my own unfaithfulness and presumption rendered expedient that I should receive. But I comfort myself with the recollection that the time will soon come when I hope to be crowned as victor, and that my continuance here below is with the merciful intention of giving me increased opportunity of getting some fresh jewels to my crown, and of getting those brightened which are already there. May the great Captain of my salvation so stand by me, that all these His gracious purposes may be abundantly answered! I bless God, I do feel an increasing desire to live to Him, and to the glory of his name; and there are times in which I feel that I have an increased power to do so. When I compare the general state of my religious experience with what it formerly was, I find that I am enabled to exercise more uniformly submission to his divine will, and to depend upon him more habitually for the supply of all my wants. I feel in many respects more crucified to the world, and the world seems to have become more so to me; so that I care but little about a variety of things which were at one time accustomed to engross much of my time and affections. In a word, I am led to conclude, that the life which I now live in the flesh is somewhat more a life of faith in the Son of God, a simple dependence and reliance upon Him, as my wisdom, righteousness, strength, and happiness, as my all-sufficient Saviour. But while I feel great cause for thankfulness in these respects, yet how far am I from so walking as to please my God! I was thinking over the state of my mind the other morning, and I felt deeply humbled before the Lord on account of it. My religion strikes me as being more superficial and circumstantial, than deep, inward, and spiritual. I possess a measure of union with God, but very little communion with Him. I am engaged in His works, and doing His will in the main, but I hold slight and frequently interrupted converse with Him. But how can such a walk be pleasing unto God? But, perhaps, you will not be able to enter into my feelings—as connected with this my defect in religious experience—unless I have recourse to some familiar illustration. An individual may be walking by my side, towards the place which I would have him proceed to, and in the way in which I would have him walk; but should he walk for miles and hours together, in total silence, never, during these intervals, drop a word expressive of his views and feelings, never communicate to me the least thing which is passing in his mind; or should he manifest a similar indifference concerning my communications to him, should he never listen to my voice, or suffer himself to be so amused with the surrounding prospect, or the incidents of the journey, as to have no ear for me, what opinion should I form of such an individual? Would he be walking so as to please me? The application is easy—we may be walking in God’s commands towards the place he would have us direct our face, and in those paths which he has been pleased to appoint; but if we do not hold converse with him, if we are backward to tell him what is passing in our minds, or if we have no ear to listen to his kind communications, suffering ourselves to be previously engaged with the things by which we are surrounded, how little can such a walk be gratifying to the blessed God! Now, my dear Mary, here is my defect; I do not cultivate, as I ought, that loving, gracious intercourse with my loving Redeemer which it is my privilege to enjoy: not only many moments, but, sometimes, even hours, pass without anything like direct communion with him. Oh, when shall I be able to adopt the language—the beautiful expressive language—of one of Mr. Wesley’s hymns—
“Far above all earthly things,
While yet my hands are here employed;
Sees my soul the King of kings,
And freely talks with God.”
Let us help one another, my dear sister, in this important matter by our mutual and fervent prayers.
Good Archbishop Leighton, alluding to the effects of intercourse kept up on the part of ministers with the blessed God, has happily expressed himself:—“They that converse most with the King, and are inward with him, know most of the affairs of state, and even the secrets of them, which are hid from others. And, certainly, those of God’s messengers who are oftenest with Himself, cannot but understand their business best, and know most of His meaning, and the affairs of His kingdom.” What a luminous proof did this most excellent man afford in his conduct of the truth of his own assertion, and what need have we, who are the ministers and stewards of the same mysteries, to follow him as he also followed Christ!