Pakefield Letters.
“Pakefield, June 20th, 1836.
“My dearest Mother,—Having paid my bills and seen after the schools, I commence my usual Monday’s letter. . . . As for myself, it is needless to give you my history, for you know it already, the life of a country curate not being subject to much external variation. The internal changes, however, are indeed numerous—more frequent and uncertain than those of our most changeable climate. I never had an idea how many ups and downs there are attendant on the ministerial work. At times it is delightful; all seems easy and pleasant, and the only difficulty is to keep within bounds. At others there is a deadness and barrenness which words cannot describe. I speak under a very vivid recollection of this low estate, for I was down at the very bottom yesterday. I fought my way pretty fairly through the morning sermon (on Isa. xxviii. 16), but in the evening I had a real trial of my faith. I had good notes, and had well considered my subject. But as soon as I began it all appeared to leave me. I was much in the position that Robert Hall was when he broke down, and I thought I must have stopped. There were my notes, but they seemed to tell me nothing, and I had the pain of going through my lecture hardly knowing while I was delivering one sentence whether I should ever find another to follow it. You may easily imagine, from such a description of the performer, what was the character of the performance. However, I can look back to it, painful as it was, with great thankfulness: for (1) I know that in weakness He is strong, and the good done may perhaps be greater than that which would have followed a clear and well-delivered lecture; and (2) if it did no one else any good, it was a fine lesson for myself, and one that I wanted. I knew I wanted to be kept down, and had prayed for it. This was the appointed means.”
Writing to his mother at various times upon his work at Pakefield there occur passages such as these:—
“Preaching is becoming more and more a pleasure to me. The great difficulty of addressing people appears to pass away. The knowledge of all the congregation is partly the cause, and also the encouragement derived from visiting.”
“You see there is a good deal doing here, but what is it all if the Spirit of God be absent?—a sounding brass and tinkling cymbal. It is there that the difficulty lies. Nothing is easier than to get through the duties of a parish, and to get through them, as man thinks, well; but to go to your work in the Spirit of Christ, carrying with you the unction from the Holy One, there is the difficulty. May God forgive my great shortcomings! Sometimes I dread Jeremiah xlviii. 10.”
Upon the spiritual life he writes to his sister:—
“The characteristic of the new life is that we have fellowship with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ; it must therefore follow that all interruptions will increase a deadness of faith, and total separation cause death. It is one of the privileges of my office that all my work is for God (though He only knows how little I keep this end in view), and therefore the busier I am the more I am compelled to pray. This, however, is not sufficient, though delightful. We cannot live without that ‘freedom of speech,’ translated ‘boldly’ in Hebrews iv., in which we pour out our heart before Him. When we know that we know in truth that God is a refuge for us, this is the balm of Gilead that can heal every wound, the power that can say to the troubled waters, ‘Peace, be still!’ In order to the attainment of it let us allow nothing to impede our private communion with our God.”
Writing one Sunday evening to his mother he says:—
“I have had somewhat to contend with in myself from very cloudy views of the doctrines I was preaching. At the same time I have found comfort in the recollection that the work is not mine nor dependent upon my own feelings. I began work at a quarter before nine by opening the boys’ school; at ten I was really refreshed and humbled by just dropping into the prayer-meeting; there was a most beautiful spirit amongst them, and they were praying most delightfully for me. I left them deeply impressed with the sense of their far greater fitness to teach me than mine to be their minister.”
In the postscript of a letter dated August 1st, 1836, he writes: “Congratulate Uncle Buxton upon the glorious events of this day.” An entry in his journal dwells joyfully upon it also—and well might his and every Englishman’s heart be stirred by the thought that from that day every slave standing on British soil was free!