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As the congregation was so much increased, from the late rumours, and conclusion of the trial, the place where we had long worshipped, was deemed unsafe to contain so large a body of people; it was therefore proposed to build a more convenient place, near the old spot: but the chief part of the neighbourhood being City ground, we could not obtain any other place than the vacant spot on which the chapel now stands: this was taken of the City, and on Monday the 13th of July, the day twelvemonth the trial was terminated in my favour, I laid the foundation-stone of the new chapel, in presence of many spectators. When I had concluded the service, we assembled the same evening at the old chapel, where I preached on Gen. xxviii. “And this stone which I have set shall be God’s house.” That evening, small as the congregation was, compared with others, we collected fifty pounds. The building was begun, and in ten weeks it was finished; but during that time my faith was continually upon the watch tower. And the hand of God was most evidently in the business; timber was scarcely ever known to be at such a price, yet the Lord sent me money with which to pay the men their wages, and to find many materials beside—this was at the rate of twenty-five pounds a week. Where the money came from I know not, but, to my surprise, it came. The Lord called me to his throne, and in gracious answers the money was sent. On the first Sunday in October, 1813, I took my leave of the old place, where I spent many happy hours; and if David remembered Hermon, and the little hill Mizar, the old Obelisk chapel will be dear to many a soul while life and being last. I preached in the morning on the language of Moses to Jethro—“We are journeying to the place of which the Lord said, I will give it thee, come thou with us, we will surely do thee good.” In the afternoon I endeavoured to remind my hearers of that suitable promise in every case of the Lord’s people—“And behold I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest; and I will not leave thee until I have done all the good which I promised unto thee.” In the evening I again addressed the congregation, from the language of Moses—“Let thy presence go with us.” After the evening sermon, we had the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper. The evening was solemn, and we concluded with thanksgiving for the many happy hours we had spent in the place, and intreated the Lord to go with us the next day, and abide with us all our days. We left the old spot with some reluctance, and the next morning I opened the new meeting. I preached from Exodus xxv. 8—“And let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them:” this sermon is now in print. And in the evening to a very crowded congregation, from John xvii—“And I have declared thy name, and will declare it, that the love wherewith thou hast loved me, may be in them, and thou in them.” The bustle of the day had impaired my mind, but I was helped through it, and the collection amounted to upwards of fifty pounds for that day, which I considered to be very great. Some very excellent singers volunteered their kind services, and at the close of the service favoured us with some very beautiful anthems from Handel. The place was always well attended, but the building of the chapel involved me in several heavy debts, many of which I paid out of the produce of the chapel, and others I borrowed money to pay them with, so that I paid all the tradesmen comfortably to my own mind; but the borrowed money laid as a dead weight on my spirits, and created me many anxieties. This gave fresh exercise to prayer and faith, and an opportunity of watching the hand of God. Soon after the building was completed, my subscriptions stopped, and of course all the heavy debt laid on me. As I was determined no one should be hurt by me, I became responsible for every thing; and having collected by subscription, about seven hundred pounds, I found I was nearly ten hundred pounds in debt—three hundred I paid in about eighteen months, and the rest I paid interest for the use of, till the whole was cleared off. And as I had the money given me, I built the place and paid for it, of course it is my own property; but I have since seen it necessary to choose trustees, by way of executors to my will, that the place should be always appropriated to the preaching of the gospel: this was to secure it from any who should claim it, and in future time convert it into any thing else: as I had known some preachers who had chapels of their own, after they had made a fortune in them, sell them to brokers, and other persons, laying an injunction on them never to let them again have the gospel preached in them. This is most base, and cruel, beyond all expression; and what an awful state must their consciences be in, to act in so base a manner. The Lord was with me, in this place also, till another calamity befel me: but this I know, every occurrence is divinely appointed, by infinite wisdom, and will terminate in the glory of God, and the prosperity of the soul—For he worketh all things after the counsel of his own will.
Yours truly, J. C.
LETTER XX.
“So I spake unto the people in the morning, and at even my wife died.”—Ezek. xxiv. 18.
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Death is solemn at all times, to thinking minds; and though sin has made him an enemy to our natures, grace has made him a friend to our souls: but he has no acquaintances, nor has he respect for any; he comes in without apologies, and cuts down all alike, the man of years, the innocent babe, the crowned head, the mitred prelate, the humble scavenger, and the poorest beggar: nor does he spare the dearest relative, or the most affectionate friend—yet, it is the consolation of the Lord’s people, that though all must bow to his stroke, they are dear to the Saviour, they are precious to him; hence he calls them the precious sons of Zion, and since thou hast been precious in my sight, I have loved thee. God has declared their blood, that it their lives, is precious in his sight.—Psalm lxxii. And in another Psalm (cxvi.) declares their very death is precious. God has declared, he has no pleasure in the death of the wicked, no more than he has in their persons or their lives; yet grace has made a difference between those who love God, and those who do not; and as the Lord Jesus Christ has been to precious to them, in a time state, as an evidence they are precious to him, he has graciously designed death to be only their removal from sin and sorrow, to heaven, happiness, and God. Death is therefore a gift, freely bestowed on the Lord’s people, and in general a welcome friend, whose mission is only to usher the elect, redeemed, regenerated soul into glory; and though many such have been all their life-time in bondage, through the fear of death, yet, that same Almighty power that made them willing to be saved in God’s own way, makes them willing to leave all behind, and to enter into a world of spirits, to be for ever with the Lord; and not only willing, but sometimes longing, to be gone to that rest the Lord has provided for his covenant people. The faith that God has given them is sometimes indulged with sweet views of their inheritance, and they cast many a wishful eye to that land of delights.
Thus faith doth take a pleasing view,
Hope waits, love sits and sings;
Desire, she flutters to be gone,
But patience clips her wings.
What a chequered scene is the present state of God’s dear people, of adversity and prosperity, risings and fallings, darkness and light, losses and gains, crosses and mercies, bondage and liberty, sorrow and joy, life and death.
No sooner had the good hand of God provided us a chapel, and every thing seemed to prosper, but a sad calamity befel me, the worst I ever had, and the most distressing to my feelings—the death of a kind, loving, affectionate, and tender wife. In the sixth Letter of this little work I have given an account of our acquaintance and marriage; it was her mercy she had been taught of God before this period. Like most others, while young, she was cheerful and loved the world, and the things of it, and in the enmity of heart she despised the things of God, even to persecution; but she was the child, doubtless, of many prayers, compelled by an afflicted mother to read the Scriptures to her, which was no small burthen to her more gay and cheerful mind; she came to a very important portion of God’s Word, (Jer. iii.) a thought struck her that she would read that chapter again, when she was alone. She seized the opportunity, and when she came to the 4th verse, the passage was applied with peculiar power to her soul—“Wilt thou not, from this time, cry unto me, My Father, thou art the guide of my youth.” Conviction of her lost state came on, and she soon went to work at the law, attended legal preaching, and strove, in vain, to recommend herself to God, by the work of her hands, her watchings, vows, and resolutions, till the Lord led her under the ministry of more evangelical men, especially the ministry of our mutual favorite preacher, Mr. L. then supplying at Tottenham and Tabernacle: the Lord, having begun his good work, brought her soul into the sweet liberty of the gospel, and in the love and fear of God, she walked many years, living upon his grace, and depending upon his providence. Her faith and hope, though often tried and assaulted, were genuine, and her love to truth was firm; she was a woman of the finest feeling, and quick discernment of characters, many of whom she frequently cautioned me against, and many a sorrow I should have escaped, had I (as most men should) have listened to a wife. We had experienced many changes, and lived very comfortably together about eight years, when, alas! a sore trouble befel her, above which she never soared. A short time after her delivery of her fourth child, she being very weak and low, some incautious person suddenly surprized her with some alarming intelligence, which was found the next day to be false: this chilled her blood; medical aid was afforded, and she gained a little strength, but she felt the direful effects of it till her death, which was not till seven years afterwards. During this period she had but one child more, who grew up to his twelfth year, and then died in the Lord, a little account of which has since, been published in his funeral sermon, entitled “The Glory of Grace.” Increasing weakness, attended with fits, and her mode of living, reduced her system; she was confined to her bed but a short time, the last fortnight she was very composed; sometimes feared the hour of her departure, but the nearer she drew to death the less she feared. I took an affectionate leave of her the night previous to her death: her speech was gone twelve hours before her departure; I, however, endeavored to preach that morning on, “They that trust in the Lord shall be as the mount Zion, which cannot be moved.” This was expressive of her state, experience, and security. As that Lord’s-day closed, so she closed her eyes in death, sleeping in Jesus. I had many sweet portions of scripture, suited, indeed, to her case, brought with power to my soul; and having known her experience with the testimony of God’s truth, I am happy in the full persuasion of her eternal felicity. I preached on the following subject the Sunday after—“Ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom satan has bound these eighteen years, to be loosed on the Sabbath-day?” Her warfare is accomplished. “What shall separate us from the love of Christ; shall things present?” I had many times advanced the doctrine of the final perseverance of believers; but it was truly precious then. As Mr. Huntington sings—