To Mrs. C——, near Boston.
"MARCH, 1799.
"MY EVER DEAR FRIEND — I have just read your letter, painful to you to write, but to me as the mother's anguish which precedes her joy. The day will soon break, and the shadows flee away; and the dear Saviour whom you seek, will again comfort his returning prodigal.
"I will do what you desire me, and though I have the highest opinion of our young Timothy, J.M., I will pass by him in this case, and lay it before one of the aged Christians, Dr. R——rs or Dr. L——n; at the same time, my friend, I am as sure of their answer as if I were already in possession of it. Who told my friend that she was blind, and miserable, and wretched, and naked? Flesh and blood never yet taught proud man or woman this lesson.
"My dear friend, there is nothing new nor strange in all you have told me: there is scarce a heaven-taught soul, who has made any advances in the spiritual warfare, but could sympathize with you from experience. What have you experienced more than the Scriptures tell us: that 'the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked?' Only the Lord can search it, only he can cleanse it. He takes the prerogative to himself, and he calls it his covenant that he will make with sinners in gospel times. You may strive and fight, and resolve and vow — all will not do: you lie at his mercy for holiness as well as pardon. He is exalted as a Prince to give repentance, and he is the author and finisher of faith. He works all our works in us, and without him we are not equal to one good thought. We are his workmanship, 'created
anew in Christ Jesus,' My dear friend, put the work into his hand, and try to wait on him in hope — hope in every situation; do more, trust.
"You entirely mistake the situation of others; none of us have our heaven here: no, sin dwelleth in us; the very best have their ups and downs. Do you think your friend is always on the mount? very far from it. I am at times so cold, so dead, so stupid, that I can neither pray, read, nor hear. I have begun the same chapter over and over, still trying to fix my thoughts, and as often they wander on every trifle; but my peace lies where you will soon learn to place yours, in the merits of my almighty Saviour. My safety depends not on my frames, but his promise and when tossed and tempted, dead and lifeless, emptied of every good, perhaps buffeted like you with abominable thoughts, the fiery darts of Satan, casting all on Him, I am safe as when basking in the sunshine of his love, and tasting what you have tasted: for you have tasted, and you shall yet taste the joys of his salvation. I too have proved false to his covenant, have gone off with the world, and been intoxicated with its vanities and empty delights, and have laid up for myself seasons of deep remorse; my sins have often separated between my God and me, especially in my younger days; the Lord calls to watchfulness and diligence in the use of means, and he generally honors these means, of his own appointing, with his blessing. When we either trust to these means, and fancy merit in them, or neglect to use them as his appointment, he generally makes us feel our error, but he does not cast us out of his family; he chastens us, and restores us.
"I write hastily, just to say that you have my sympathy and my love; for well I know, the almighty Lord alone can loose your bonds, and give you 'joy and peace in believing.' All my advice may be summed up in this — trust in the Lord with all your heart; at least aim at this; I say, aim at it, for this too must be given you. Roll yourself, your doubts, your fears, your sins, your duties, all on him: say, 'Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief.' He is an almighty Saviour to deliver sinners from sin as well as from punishment. I leave you on the Father of mercies, and will, when the Lord enables, pray for you.
"Yours, etc."
To the same.