One other letter we give from Framingham, addressed to the same son, in relation to the first experiences and discouragements of the ministry. Its plain good sense may be of use to some other beginners,—confirmed as it is by the fact disclosed in it, that some of the strongest minds and most successful ministers have suffered in the same way.
"Framingham, March 15, 1844.
"My dear John:—
"... I turn now to that for which I most wished to write,—your present anxieties in your professional duties. I cannot indeed, as you say, help you, as he could have done, but O how fully can I sympathize with you! It is to my mind only the reiteration of what I have so often heard from him; even after the ten years' experience which he had had when I first was partaker of his joys and sorrows, he suffered at times as you do now; and the details he has given me of his trials when he was first settled would equal, if not exceed, yours. You may depend upon it, dear John, yours is a common experience of all young ministers who have feeling and sensibility enough to be really good ministers; and you must not be discouraged by thinking your difficulties grow out of peculiar disabilities. I remember hearing a parishioner of Mr. Buckminster say, that he felt so much his incapacity to administer comfort to the sick and afflicted, that it was distressing to see him in a sick-room. I wish you could talk freely with some ministers about it. I have no doubt you would find it more or less so with all, according to their natural temperament. As I have said again and again, it is well to keep one's conscience and sensibilities tender; it is well to realize one's deficiencies to the extent of making us humble and energetic to improve, but not to make us despond or be discouraged; for; 'faint heart never won' the prize of goodness, any more than of the less spiritual objects. I know what it is to feel that more is expected of one than can be accomplished; and it is, I grant, of all things the most distressing. But we must shut our eyes to all such considerations, and go on, looking only to the standard we have in our own minds, striving with all diligence to reach that, and be satisfied with striving, if it be but real, hearty endeavor.... I remember there were some passages in Taylor's 'Holy Living,' which used to be a great help to me in your state of mind. I have not the book by me, and cannot quote the words. Fenelon, too, has much comfort for one thus tried.... We forget, in our familiarity with what seem 'commonplaces,' that they really contain the great, fundamental principles from which all strength, all consolation, is to be derived; and of course, when the vision is quickened by present need, they all seem to be worth more than at any other time. And as to the other point, it is not you that speak,—you are only the medium by which the truths which God spake are conveyed to the outward ear; you are only His instrument, and, while you are to seek to supply yourself with a full portion from the fountain of all truth, you are to be satisfied to present it as His, not your own; sympathizing as a fellow-Christian, not dictating as a leader and guide. I see no other way in which a young, inexperienced minister can have any comfort in that department of his duties. Many reasons come to me which may account for the greater difficulty in cases of sickness, than in bereavement.
"Truly your Mother."
While looking for a place of permanent residence for herself and family, with an opportunity of doing something for their support, Mrs. Ware received an earnest invitation from a gentleman in Milton, to go there and take the instruction of three little children, in connection with her own, for two or three hours a day. On many accounts, she was inclined to accept this offer at once. But she looked well at all sides of it, and especially at its moral aspect and probable influence upon character. One is struck with her plain and practical, yet comprehensive and exalted view of the question, where so many would have looked only at the immediate and tangible advantage. "There are many things to be weighed before so great a step is taken. Expense is of course a great item, but not the greatest. The influences upon my children must be the first, usefulness the second, and the possibility of living without debt a sine qua non anywhere. Now I am not a very romantic person, and am not disposed to live under any less refining influences than I can help. But my children are destined to work for their living, and I wish to have them as happy in doing so as right principles and a healthy tone of mind can make them." The result of full reflection was favorable to the plan; and the wisdom of her decision, while it affected all her remaining days, became more and more manifest to the end. From that moment she had a new object, demanding and creating new energies. "I already see how I shall be a great gainer by this plan, in the strength of the stimulus it will offer to mental effort. In fact, I begin to realize that I am more exhausted mentally than I am physically, by the anxieties of the past, and absolutely need the application of salutary mental medicines, as my body would of physical, if it had suffered in proportion."
Thus another change was to be made,—and the last, in a life of change. It cost an effort. "This first going forth alone, to bear new responsibilities, to make a new experiment, unaided by his strength, unassisted by his wisdom,—this is indeed to realize the loss of his companionship as I have not done before. But that blessed faith! that faith in Him who is 'the strength of the lonely,'—I have a trust that it will be sufficient for me, although I cannot now see how."
A few lines to one of her children, as the last record on that sacred spot, closes the life at Framingham.
"March 26, 1844. I think you will like to have a few words written from this room, consecrated as it is to us, by having been the last earthly home of dear father's spirit. This is the last time I shall sit in this spot; and I feel as if all the memories of the past were concentrated in this moment of time. How much do they tell of the peaceful and holy life which was here closed; how much recall of that triumphant struggle with the weakness of humanity! Dear child, may we never lose the influence of those last days passed in this place; may it strengthen, encourage, quicken us to all diligence in our Christian warfare; knowing that, if we strive as he did, we too may enter into that rest which we doubt not he has attained. This is a holy hour,—this leaving the things that are behind, and stepping forward into a new, untried scene of life's discipline,—alone,—and yet not alone, for the Father is with me."