TO THE REV. JOHN ARMSTRONG.
Madeley, Sept. 30, 1816.
My dear Armstrong,
I suppose that you are aware, that, as resident curate, I am entitled to the use of the vicarage-house. During Mrs. Fletcher’s life, I waved my claim in her favour: but after her decease, I applied to the vicar, and now that it has been put into pretty extensive repair, we have taken up our abode in it, and a most holy happy spot we do indeed find it. In the room where I am now writing, some of my older parishioners state, that they have frequently taken their tea with both Mr. and Mrs. F., and well remember the happy seasons they enjoyed. In the room in which we commonly sit, they both of them departed in the Lord. In a third chamber, Mr. F was accustomed to retire for more private and wrestling prayer, and, as we read in his life, the wall of which was stained with his breath while importunately pleading. Another room has the bureau at which he was accustomed to write, and which, with many other things, he left in his will for the use of his successors, that the house might not be the worse for his having had it. In a word, almost every spot and fixture reminds us pleasingly of those exalted characters who have preceded us, and call forth many an earnest prayer, and many a private ejaculation, that those who follow them may drink deeper and deeper into their blessed spirit, and tread more and more closely in their pious and spiritual steps.
Dear Mrs. Fletcher once mentioned to us, that one day, shortly after her coming to Madeley, she remarked to Mr. F., as they were entering upon their premises, that she did not know how it was, but that she always felt a measure of divine influence whenever she entered within the gate. The holy man answered that he was not surprised to hear her say so, for that there was not a single brick or a stone in the whole premises which had not been sanctified by prayer. I feel somewhat in the same way with Mrs. F—, and though I am aware that God is everywhere present, and that all spots may equally share in this his glorious presence, yet I cannot but think that some places are privileged beyond others, and though, perhaps, my Honduras friend may smile at his Madeley enthusiast, yet I must frankly confess to you, that I consider it as no small privilege that I dwell in the house, as well as labour in the parish, of one so peculiarly devoted to God. The days I have already spent here have been, without any exception, the happiest I have spent upon earth. Week after week has rolled round in the peaceful enjoyment of the presence of the blessed God. My most painful and laborious duties have been not only easy, but a source of thankfulness and joy far beyond any of my former experience. In a word, I seem to have known some little, at least, of what is so beautifully described in one of my favourite 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.”
Pray for me, my dear Armstrong, that these feelings may not be transitory, but abiding and ever increasing. I too often rest contented with the mere husks of religion, instead of feeding on the substantial and the nourishing corn. I am too generally satisfied with the outward life of the Christian, the regulation of my conduct, temper, disposition, pursuits, and so on; while that inward life of God within the soul, that communion with the Father of spirits and the Son of his love, is too commonly overlooked. I want a deep work of his grace within my soul, and this I am now endeavouring in my poor feeble way to pray for, if so be that I may eventually obtain; but my unbelieving heart tells me, that I never was cut out for anything like spirituality. One text of Scripture, however, still encourages me, “This is the will of God even your sanctification;” and therefore though faint, I would still be persevering.
To-morrow evening, being the first Tuesday after quarter-day, our church classes hold their quarterly meetings for the second time. The first time of their meeting was a season which will long be remembered by me with gratitude. My heart quite melted to hear so many declare, that, under God, they owned their first religious good to my poor feeble ministrations, and when in the fulness of their hearts they could not refrain from thanking the good Lord who had brought me among them. And I felt the more astonished and thankful inasmuch as I never had a fourth part of the like success in all the former years put together in which I had been labouring elsewhere. Oh, what shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits conferred upon me? I will take the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord—still call upon him for his future help and blessing, for without this I feel I can do nothing. Our little classes, I am thankful to state, are gradually increasing. I think we reckon sixty-seven in all. As to one or two, I feel constrained to stand in doubt, but the rest I trust are sincere souls. But, while I thus number my little flock, I feel that there is necessity to guard against the spirit of David: I endeavour to do this, and to sink down before God under a continual sense of my own nothingness; but pride is a subtle enemy, and, as Dr. Watts so correctly observes,
“We cannot make his glories known,
But self-applause creeps in.”
* * * * * * * *
I remain yours very truly,
G. M.
TO HIS SISTER.
Madeley, May 24, 1817.
My dear Mary,
In the course of Mr. Bailey’s attendance upon Mary, we had frequent opportunities of conversation, and, as I feel desirous of turning the conversation to those points on which persons feel most capable, as well as most desirous of talking, we frequently touched upon medical subjects. One day I told him my fears that both Mary and myself were consumptive, and that we had often talked about the possibility of our being removed in this way. He said, in reply, that Mrs. M— was not a consumptive subject, at least he had discovered nothing as yet which led him to suppose it; and that, with regard to myself, whatever predisposition I might have had towards it in early life, it had since taken another course. I wished to know what he meant by its having gone off in a different channel, even supposing that the predisposition once existed, when he told me the following anecdote:—His father was a medical man and accustomed to speak his mind without reserve. He used to visit the C—s in the place where they then lived, and knowing their constitutions pretty accurately he used to say, the B—s (meaning his own family) will go off into livers, and the C—s into lungs, intimating that these disorders would carry them off. Fanny, however (who was one of the C—s, and similarly deformed with myself), he thought, owing to her form would out-live them all, and escape the family disease. The B—s removed from the place, and Mr. B— having occasion to go there again after about twenty years’ absence, was naturally led to inquire after his old friends, when he found that all of them, excepting Fanny, had been removed by consumption, and that she, feeling her spirits affected by living in the place where all her family had died, had gone either to London, or some such place, for society, but was otherwise quite well. Mr. B— then told me, that he had no doubt that this was the case with myself also, and that very many similar cases had occurred. I had often thought that I could trace much spiritual benefit as resulting from my bodily form; nay, I have even been led to thank God for it, conceiving it very probable that it had been the saving of my soul; but little did I imagine that it conduced in any way to my bodily comfort, and that it has probably been the saving of my life. O my dear sister, how little do we know of the goodness of the Lord towards the children of men; and how little, with our present imperfect powers, shall we ever be able to know in this present world; but what we do know tends to show us in characters written as it were with a sunbeam, “He doeth all things well.”
Extracted from a letter to his sister, dated May 17, 1817:—
“Happy in married life.
“Should your union, my beloved sister, with Mr. H. prove to you what mine has with Mary, you will be disposed to consider with myself that this ordinance is not merely divine, but to be ranked amongst the foremost of God’s gifts to man.”
Extract of a letter, dated June 2, 1817:—
“As to myself, I feel that I have increasing cause for gratitude in all that concerns me. I think I never felt so truly blessed in any former period of my life. I really have no earthly desire unfulfilled; my cup literally runs over. God is also very graciously pleased to prosper me in my ministerial labours. I have the satisfaction of seeing fresh trophies of the Redeemer’s power to save; and my heart is rejoiced in seeing those whom the Lord has gathered around me, walking, in some measure at least, as becometh the Gospel of Christ. To these, indeed, there are, as there is reason to fear there ever will be, some painful exceptions; but, upon the whole, I have abundant cause for thanksgiving and praise. In the midst of all these causes for joy, I have many a memento that the excellence of the power is of God, and not of men; the cracked earthen vessel is but too apparent. For this, however, I hope I feel grateful; for what is so great a blessing to a poor, proud, selfish being, such as I am constrained to acknowledge myself, as occasional humiliations? They are the very medicine of my soul.”
After referring to two cases of affliction in his family, he writes to his friend abroad, dated August 4, 1817:—
“But out of all the Lord has most graciously delivered us; and I can look back upon the whole with real gratitude to God. There was not a stroke or a drop too much; all was merciful in the design, and I hope the benefits still remain. Tribulation working ‘patience,’ a calm waiting upon God. Patience an ‘experience’ of his divine support at the time, and an experience of his eventual deliverance. Experience ‘hope,’ an expectation of future help and future deliverance; and this hope will not make me ashamed. There were times in which I felt this to be a weary land; but still I found the shadow of a great Rock, and this shade was truly refreshing to my soul. Oh, that I could ever there abide!
“I think I mentioned to you that our mutual friend Cox had the living of Bridgenorth presented to him. He has been there now some months, but he labours under very great discouragement, owing to the little effect resulting from his ministrations. A few weeks ago he wished that we should exchange duties, hoping that my Methodistical zeal might arouse them. After an enumeration of the probable consequences to which he must make up his mind, I at length consented, and, as I supposed, the stir has been great; rascal, villain, ranter, field preacher, are the usual epithets attached to my opprobrious name. A petition has been drawn up, with many signatures attached, requesting Cox to forbid me his pulpit; in short, the whole place has been in a hubbub. Inquiry, however, begins to take place, the stagnant waters are moved, and after the working off of the scum and the grosser particles, we may expect to see purer and even living waters. Cox answered their petition with becoming spirit, united with pleasing conciliation. It has, I find, given great offence, notwithstanding all; but we wait for the issue in a spirit of prayer. It is somewhat remarkable that Bridgenorth was the place in which Richard Baxter, author of the “Saint’s Rest,” met with such decided opposition, that as he went out of the town, he shook off the dust of his feet as a testimony against them; and, since that time, no preached gospel has prospered among them. The Dissenters and even the warm-hearted Methodists have hitherto laboured almost in vain. But who knows how soon the curse may be removed? We keep encouraging Cox all that we possibly can, but he seems determined at present to leave. Unite your prayers, my dear friend, with ours, that he may not be permitted to desert this wilderness and solitary place, but that he may patiently wait till he rejoices over it as a peculiarly verdant spot in the garden of our Lord.”