To —
My dear Friend,—You well remember me, when an attendant on the society in Tottenham-court Chapel. The Lord has called you out at times to be a public witness to his truth in several schools and villages, in the Itinerant Societies. This is an arduous but most delightful work; and if it was the will of God, I would devote myself entirely to that sacred employment—for though you return on Sunday evening with a tired body, yet your mind is happy: not encumbered with the cares of a church, the tempers, whims, and vexations of your hearers, nor the envy of your brethren, which abounds, if you prosper—but every minister will see it needful to abide in that work in which the Lord has called him; and, like the stars, some are fixed, and some constantly moving round the sun—so it is with us; but this pleasing thought cheers us—they that turn many to righteousness, shall shine as the sun and the stars for ever and ever.—Dan. xii. 9. What an honor conferred on such as us, to be instrumental in turning any to the righteousness of Christ, and to walk in his righteous ways! But to return to my tale. I had not the pleasure of going out for the London Itinerant Society many months, or for the Baptist Society—through weakness of body, the journies were too long for me—and being returned to the family of the worthies, for so I must ever denominate the Jacksons, by whom you know I was recommended to the prayer-meeting, and Expounding Society at Tottenham-court Chapel, I attended the early prayer-meeting on Sundays and Fridays. During this time I only travelled occasionally for the Itinerant Society; but being approved of among them, and engaging in prayer with them, I was appointed to expound the Scriptures amongst them, one Thursday evening. As I had never attempted to speak in public before, only in prayer, and some sort of addresses to children in the school, this appointment laid very heavy on my mind; a sense of unfitness, the fears of presumption, the dread of rushing into the work uncalled, and the horrors of falling into sin, and publicly exposing the cause, drove me at times to my wits ends. Yet, a love for souls, a love of truth, and a most inveterate hatred of error; the starving state of many pious souls of villages where I had been, and the shyness of the preachers declaring the great truths of God. These things weighed deeply on my mind, and impelled me to go forward; in the mean time, I was enabled to be looking constantly to the Lord for his approbation, his direction and blessing. The night arrived, the society met; my name was called: I went with trembling knees, and once more offering up a petition to the Lord for help, I opened the Bible, and expounded the 1st chapter of the Revelations. The Lord opened my mouth, and filled my lips with important matter: those who were present were astonished, though some thought the doctrine was too high. This was the first time I ever attempted to speak from the Holy Scriptures: I was requested to speak again and again, but I only expounded the Word, as I felt my mind most at liberty upon that subject. During this time it was also proposed that I should speak from the Word of God, at Tottenham Chapel Society, which I did several times; but there were a few of the leaders of that society who disapproved of it, urging, the manner and spirit of my exhortations were too much like Huntington’s. I accordingly declined speaking, but was requested to continue among them in the prayer-meeting, which I did till I was called elsewhere. I now began to fear I had presumed, in attempting to take an office upon me so high and so holy; begged the Lord to pardon me, and promised to offend no more. I gave up the work for a season. During this time of silence, my mind ran much upon the education of ignorant children; and I well remember, that, on one May-day, I had occasion to call on a friend in Brook-street, New Road: I saw a great crowd of children, of both sexes, around the dancing sweeps; it then occurred to my mind how useful would be a Sunday-school in this neighbourhood: I enquired if such an institution had ever been in that place, or thereabouts, and, to my astonishment, I found none; and even many old professors at Tottenham Chapel did not know what I meant. The first thing necessary was a room, which I soon obtained, at the low rent of 1s. 6d. per week; but, how I was to get even that, and some needful books, I knew not; and, another obstacle was, whether the parents in the low neighbourhood about there, would be willing to let their children attend. I communicated my plan to one or two others, young men who had travelled for the Itinerant Society; some of whom went abroad, and became, I hope, useful missionaries, whom I have heard, are since dead; two brothers, the Gordons, and Mr. Loveless, whose names often occurred in the Evangelical Magazine: these assisted in the work, and one young man, Mr. Dowling, who was the most active of all, and who made it his study, day and night, to be useful to the rising generation—he is now one of the most choice preachers of the age, settled at C. in Essex. We opened the school one Sunday morning, and about seventeen children attended; in the afternoon there came double that number; the following Sunday came many more, so that we were soon obliged to seek a larger place, which was obtained in Tottenham-Court Road, near the chapel: this was also desirable, as it gave the children an opportunity of attending the Word, and making the school known. This last place was also too small. A large building was taken in Cleveland-street, and no school I ever heard of, sprung up so quick, was attended so well, or became so useful; this, by the blessing of God, was owing to the wise plan, and great exertions of Mr. D. It still continues, I hear, in a very flourishing state, and though the name of its founder is buried in oblivion, yet many have cause to be thankful for the hint given me by the Lord, on a May-day. It is now, I believe, called the Fitzroy Sabbath School. [51] The Lord would not, however, let me be hid, and although I ceased expounding Scripture for some time, yet the Lord called me out again elsewhere. I became a subject of some conversation, and began to be known. There was a little society, held at a Mr. Foxwell’s, in the parish of St. Ann’s, Soho, denominated The Westminster Itinerant Society; this was but new, and so little known, that they could scarcely send to but one village. I went one evening, in company with a friend, to this society, and found them much more lively, spiritual, and loving-hearted than any other I had ever been in. Some one in the room hinted to the manager, that I had been used to go out teaching in villages, and he requested I would go out for them, if they were needy, to which I consented, but had no immediate appointment at that time. This was on a Tuesday; on the following Friday, two striking portions of Scripture came into my mind very forcibly, and was opened in their meaning and connexion; nor did I lose them all the day, though I could not tell why they were thus sent. Late at night, before I went to rest, a person (a preacher) called on me, and begged I would go, on the following Sunday, into a village called the Hyde, near Edgeware, to preach, afternoon and evening; this struck me so powerfully, I knew not how to answer him; and before I could begin my long string of objections; these words came with power: “As thy day is, so shall thy strength be.” I did not like to give my consent, in the presence of my wife and her sister, as she was a conscientious, woman, and dreaded my rushing into the ministry, without a Divine call, as much as I did; but, after much conversation, I consented to go. When I arose on (Saturday morning) the words, which came with power, still abode with me, and the two texts, which had dwelt on my mind, still opened to me. On the Lord’s day I went, lifting up my heart to God, that He would be with me. I ascended the desk, and, after reading and prayer, I took one of the two texts, which had been on my mind the two days previous—one of which was, “For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ, in God;” and the other was 1 Peter, i. 3, 7, which I preached on in the evening. I told no one, till the close of the evening service, that it was the first time I ever attempted to preach; and they, with me, gave God the glory, that I had found him true to his word, in giving me light, comfort, utterance and consistency, just as I needed it. It was at this time I became acquainted with our mutual friend, good Mr. Roth and family. This was the beginning of my public ministry. Oh, that I had adorned it better, and brought forth more fruit to the glory of Christ.
Yours truly, in Him, J. C.
Thus far the Lord has led me on,
Thus far his power prolong’d my days,
And every grand display of love
Adds fresh memorials of his grace.
LETTER IX.
“A City, set on a hill, which cannot be hid.”
TO THE SAME.
Dear Brother,—Having begun the solemn, arduous, and important work of proclaiming the name and fame of the dear God-man, I found the truth was blessed to several, and the Lord led me on. I was presently invited to speak before the Westminster Society very often, and to preach at good Mr. Burnham’s, the Baptist Meeting, in Grafton-street, at seven o’clock in the morning; from thence to Edward-street, Soho; and, it was at this time I was providentially brought to Mrs. Bar’s, in Orange street. I had been in the ministry a considerable time before I went there; and the occasion of my going there was simply this: a Mr. Weston, whom I had heard with pleasure, at the Adelphi Chapel, was engaged to preach at Mrs. Bar’s: I ran from my work, with my apron on, to the house, and when I came there, I found Mrs. B. had heard I was coming to hear the Word, and was asking all who came in, if their names were Church, “for” she said, “if he comes, he must speak to night, as Mr. Weston is not able to come.” She, of course, intreated me to give an exhortation; this I did, as the people were destitute that night. I spoke on my favorite subject, the love of Christ, John xi. 36. The congregation being satisfied, I was invited to visit them every fortnight, which I did, being disengaged on Monday evenings. Here I often found it good to be, and the Lord gave frequent testimonies to the Word of his Grace. I preached several times at Dudley-court, for a Mr. Garniss; and soon after I was invited to Paddington, where I preached in a small room, till it was so crowded they thought it necessary to build a meeting, which was soon accomplished, in Bell-street, Edgeware Road, where I continued my labours as often as possible. When I first went to Paddington, there was no gospel preached there, except by the worthy and useful philanthropic Rev. Basil Wood, whose full value will never be known in this lower world. While thus fully employed, I was called, in providence, to Barrett’s-court, to preach in a house, where an elderly gentleman, Mr. Dunhall, had preached for some years. I generally preached on Fridays and Sunday evenings, till the concourse of people became so great, I was sometimes alarmed for the safety of the house; it was at this place good Mr. Baker, the long and invariable friend of Mr. Huntington, heard me, as he said, with sacred pleasure, and informed Mr. H. of it. Shortly after this, the lease being out, the preaching was given up, which I much regretted; as I had enjoyed many blessed seasons there. I continued at my daily employment, thought over my subjects at my shop bench, and preached wherever I was invited; occasionally for the Itinerants, at Ealing, Mill Hill, Hendon, and other places, but particularly at the Hyde. Thus my head, my heart, my tongue, feet, and hands, were perpetually employed; and I think they were the happiest moments of my life, when, like the apostle, I went forth among the Gentiles, “taking nothing of them, for his name sake.”—3 John, 7. Having lost my favorite spot, another door opened to me. (But more of this presently.) I often regretted I could not hear my favorite, Mr. L. at all, as all my time was taken up, as I have just related; and having been in the ministry about two years, I was speaking one morning, at Mr. Burnham’s Meeting, upon Song iii. 4, “Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?” When I had concluded, Mr. Jesson, who is now in heaven, came to me, and observed, I had been speaking much of the love of Christ, but the question was, had I ever kept his commandments; I told him I hoped I had, at least some of them; to which he replied, that there was one he feared I had not kept, and that was the ordinance of Baptism. I told him I was, in a measure, convinced that adult baptism was right, but I wanted a better understanding of it, that I might see it my duty and privilege to attend to it. This ordinance was that day to be administered, and a sermon to be preached previous to it. I attended, and Mr. B. spoke from this text, “We use great plainness of speech.” This was a plain sermon, on some very plain truths, and which plainly proved the doctrine was from heaven: and what was I, that I could resist the truth? I had, before this period, seen the ordinance of believers baptism was scriptural; but I was now fully persuaded it was of Divine appointment—a sacred institution, and ought to be obeyed as a Divine command. I had heard good Mr. Keeble, in Blandford-street, with pleasure and profit. I knew several of the members, who were pious, discreet persons. It was but shortly after I had heard Mr. B. as above, I proposed myself to Mr. K. as a candidate for baptism: I gave in my experience at the church-meeting, and was received without a dissenting voice, but there was a condition to be performed, to which I hastily gave my consent, which was, to decline preaching entirely, as it was not agreeable to the order of the particular Baptists, to baptize any preacher, as a preacher, without first resigning that office, submitting to baptism, and, after a period, to have his gifts tried at the church-meetings, and then, either going forward, or keeping back, as that church directed. At first, this appeared to be right, and to this I agreed, as soon as I had taken leave of my many little congregations, I would then agree to such orders, and to this I most solemnly agreed before the deacons. I went to all my little places, and bid them farewell, and my mind seemed a little at ease. As I had many doubts rising in my mind, about my call to the work, I thought, in the multitude of counsellors, there would be safety if I ever was called out again; but, after a few weeks rolled away, I was deeply convinced the Lord had called me to the work of the ministry. I constantly kept looking up to God for direction, and it came to me with great power: that as the Lord had blessed my labours to many, and as he had called me himself, qualified me, and opened doors for me, I did not think I was acting right to give it up. Besides, the many pressing invitations on every hand, I concluded that my public work was of much greater importance than my act of baptism. I still considered it of importance to be baptized, that it was a Divine command, and ought to be obeyed; but, why one ordinance was to jostle out another, I could not tell. One Sunday morning, my mind was much distressed about it, and this was attended with prayer, and many tears; my wife seeing my uneasiness, reasoned with me, and told me, as God had called me to the ministry, I ought to go on; and if I saw baptism right, I could submit to that also; and, being thus fully persuaded in my own mind, that both were right, I waited on Mr. K. and opened my mind fully to him; but the good man could not alter the plan, and therefore, I gave up every idea of uniting myself to that body of Christians, and went on preaching the gospel, agreeable to the apostle’s advice, “Let every man abide in the place to which God has called him.” I must confess I do not see the exact propriety of this method, adopted by particular Baptists. I beg pardon if I err; but I will suppose a case: that the Lord should call forth a man to preach his word, and that man have scriptural reasons, with the testimony of God in his soul, and proof of his success, but, through some prejudice, the church disapproves of him—is that man to decline the work, because the voice of the church is not unanimous to the call? I leave this subject for wiser heads to determine. The apostle Paul was first converted, then he was baptized, and then he preached the gospel; and, after these things, he assayed to join himself to the church; but, this is no more rule for believers now than the manner of his conversion was for ours. Some are gently led along, others are deeply exercised with the bondage of the law; some have had a drop of the wrath of God, on the spirit, as David, Job, Heman, and, perhaps, Paul; but, others, only have a slight apprehension of it, yet enough to shew them their need of Christ, as a surety, righteousness, atonement, and complete Saviour. This was my case.—Grace be with you.
I remain yours, J. C.
How harsh soe’er the way,
Dear Saviour, still lead on,
Nor leave us till we say,
Father, thy will be done.
Finish, dear Lord, what is begun;
Choose thou the way, and still lead on.