My dear Friend,—Having raised your curiosity, if no more than that, you no doubt feel anxious for the continuance of my tale; which, though not half so interesting as many, yet, the truth being known, will give you some satisfaction. After the affair of the trial I had, and gaining the day, it was not to be supposed my master was very kind, but took every opportunity of mortifying and grieving me. But I bore it with patience till God delivered me from him. In the year 1799 I was led to Tottenham-court Chapel, to hear the Rev. Mr. L. His preaching seemed to strike me so forcibly, that I thought I could have followed him until death—but, oh, I have since seen it is one thing to have the passions moved, and another to experience the power of the Holy Ghost. Having heard him a few times, as soon as he left London, I begged the Lord would grant me the pleasure to hear him often the year following, when he should return to London. God granted this, though by terrible things. At last the news was brought me, this gentleman would preach on such a Lord’s Day on his return to London. I could not keep secret what I had been praying for, and it being whispered in the family, the night previous to my hearing him, the master issued out a decree, that I was not to go out of the house all day on Sunday, except in the afternoon. Although I knew there was nothing to keep me at home, I fretted about this sadly; and when eleven o’clock came on Sunday morning, the house could no longer hold me; and, contrary to all orders, I fled like a lapwing to Tottenham-court Chapel, when with joy I beheld my favorite preacher, and with raptures heard him preach on his favorite theme, Phil. iii. 8. I returned to dinner. The old woman, of whom I have spoken before, observed, she had orders to go out that morning, and I was to stay at home—to which I replied, it was nothing but a plan to mortify me, as she made no preparation for going out, although it was past church-time. She gave me a hint I should be well horse-whipped for it; this made me desperate—and in the afternoon I went out again. In the evening I went to the Tabernacle, Moorfields, and heard a most glorious discourse on the first epistle of Jude, by my favorite preacher. My rapturous joys were so great, I did not care what I suffered. I thought it my duty to go where I did; although forbidden by man, it was better to obey God than man. These were my thoughts at that time; and, as to my joys, I believe they were scarcely any but the raptures of a way-side hearer. However, the Lord had a hand in this affair. Nothing was said to me that evening, and getting a little more native courage than I had before, the foreman of the shop, by my wish, let me practise a little in the business to which I was bound. This gave a fresh offence to my master, who, having got some drink, sought for a quarrel with me. From these two circumstances, I always made it a point to be civil to all, and especially to my superiors; but I had been too easy for many years; I was nearly 20 years of age, had served above nine years of my apprenticeship, and had never been permitted to learn the business to which I was bound, and by which alone I could get my bread. I was for the first time enabled to tell my master these things, in a very polite and becoming way, but he was so much exasperated at the moment, that he took up some heavy wood and beat me in the most cruel manner imaginable, and afterwards threw a large pan at my head, which hurt me, and of which I felt the effects for some time. I was now roused to open my mind freely, and I assured him, that as he had made me his slave for nine years, I should make my complaint to the Committee of the Foundling Hospital, and know why I was not allowed to learn the business to which I was bound. I accordingly left him, but could not have any immediate access to them for a fortnight; during which time the master made application to the sitting magistrate at Bow-street for a hearing; when the magistrate considered it was high time I was taken from such slavery: my indentures were of course given up, and my master and I parted for ever. I was now, once more, cast on the wide world, without a home, without a trade, without a relation, without a friend, and but three bad halfpence in the world. What to do I knew not. Where to go, or how to act, I could not tell—but that Almighty angel who directed Hagar in the wilderness to a well of water, when ready to expire with want, put me in mind of a young man who was in very comfortable circumstances: to him I went, and requested him to take care of my books; for, strange to tell, I really thought more of my books than of a living at that time. The above person not only promised to take care of them, but of me also, till I could get something to do. I gladly accepted this offer, and had an opportunity of hearing my favorite preacher the same evening, and continued hearing him till I was fully engaged in public work myself. But my continuance in this situation was very short, as the person who had been a flaming professor, and just going into the ministry, had taken a singular turn, and joined himself to the petty players at a little theatre. He was constantly rehearsing speeches in plays, nor could I persuade him to attend the gospel any more. He squandered away vast sums of money, and soon became bankrupt. His parents had been pious people, and had lived very near, to save a fortune for this son, who presently sent it to the four winds, which is frequently the case. How foolish and mad are parents to labour; toil, grudge, and half starve themselves, and all about them, to hoard up money for some extravagant son to squander. “He heapeth up riches, and cannot tell who shall gather them.” I wish some parents could read, under the influence of the Spirit of God, the book at Ecclesiastes. I was soon obliged to leave this place; but the hand of the Lord soon appeared again, and raised me up a most invaluable friend, who is now in glory; nor less friendly were her family, who are persons of good repute in the world, and above all, in the church, worthily so. One of them is pastor over a respectable congregation near London. This family, well knowing what usage I had experienced, and being lovers of those who were seeking the Lord, gave me great encouragement, kindly supplied many wants, and at last took me into their business, having had some acquaintance with it, during my apprenticeship. Here I continued, with low wages, a weak body, and hard work, but a contented mind, and an opportunity of hearing my favorite preacher, who was at this time in London, 1799. It was at this period I first had the pleasure of getting acquainted with the daughter of our good old friend, Mr. Elliott, who brought me to visit you; and how strange the dealings of God with you since; but hitherto hath the Lord helped you. My intimacy with this pious young woman was increased, and continued till she became my wife. Her father had been a most respectable opulent man, in Hampshire but, through family afflictions, became reduced; he was a most pious, God-fearing man, called to the knowledge of the truth under the ministry of that apostle of the British empire, George Whitfield, whose memory was so dear to the old gentleman, that nothing could please him better than relating how God had blest his preaching; and, as he lived an humble seeker, so he died in the triumph of precious faith, having been brought into the full liberty of the gospel only a little before his dissolution; and leaving behind him two affectionate daughters, who, with many tears, deposited his remains in the burial-ground of Bunhill Fields, in the full confidence of a joyful immortality and eternal life. You knew him well, and highly esteemed him. About a year after this, his dear daughter and myself were married—I am sure in much love, and in nothing but poverty in prospect; but we always found the Lord a God at hand when we most needed him. This you have been an eye and ear witness of many times; so that I can testify, that he is a prayer-hearing and prayer-answering God. To him he glory.
Yours, truly, J. C.
LETTER VII.
“He that hath mercy on them shall lead them.”
To —
My dear Friend.—Many years have elapsed since you first knew me in the Borough; and it was no doubt the hand of God which brought me there. In my last letter to Mrs. W. I intimated I worked for a very worthy family in Tottenham-court Road, but my frame of body was too weak to endure it. I sought out another situation on the Surrey side of the bridge. Myself and fellow apprentice had lived together amicably for some years, and endured many conflicts daring our captivity. I heard he was in business, and made application to him; he treated me with every mark of civility, and took me into the business with him. This was a great pleasure to me, as it gave me an opportunity of acquiring a greater knowledge of that branch of the business I ought to have learnt before; but, although I had an easier situation, and every kindness which circumstances would admit of, I had another unpleasantly to cope with. I was daily exposed to temptation, had frequent pressing invitations to places of amusement—and, although I resisted them all, through grace, yet I feared daily I should be overcome and led back into the world again. One day I accidentally (as we call it) met with an old acquaintance who had been brought up in the Hospital with me, who recited to me the various changes he had experienced in his different situations; amongst the rest he had lived with Mr. C. a most respectable tallow chandler, in the Borough. He told me he was a most pious man, and a good master, but he had given him some offence, and was justly dismissed. He believed that he was then in want of a person in the shop, and to act as a porter. On this situation I set my mind, and immediately made application for it; in fact, I begged of the Lord to let me have it. I remember one evening I attempted to go and speak to him (Mr. C.) about it, but I was struck almost speechless in the attempt. This I took to be an omen that God did not approve of the place for me. I felt rebellious, and being naturally self-willed, I was determined to persevere. My mind frequently said in prayer, “Lord, if it be thy will.” But my heart wickedly thought and said too, “whether it is or not, I will have it.” O, the hypocrisy of the human heart! How often is the Almighty mocked by thousands who use this expression in prayer, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” and at the same time are daily acting against the revealed will of God. How great is the forbearance of God with guilty man. I was however indulged with this situation, though I was no more fit for it than a child; it was to carry heavy loads chiefly, yet my master was kind and patient with me, he saw my weakness and accommodated me as well as circumstances would admit. It was in this situation you first knew me, 20 years ago. My master, Mr. C. was an excellent one, a godly, conscientious man, and happy should I have been, had I been capacitated to have made myself useful to him. I was much dejected and troubled in mind, low and thoughtful; and, in my business, though all saw I was willing to do what I could, yet I was much confused. Being a pious man, he kept up family prayer in his house, and on several occasions he asked me to go to prayer, perceiving the Lord had blest me with some gifts, and he hoped grace also, and that I acted in all things unblamably. He once mentioned something to me respecting a public ministry. He also employed a fellow-servant, who is a God-fearing man, and who belonged to a prayer-meeting, to know my mind upon the subject. I believe I gave him some distant hint, that my mind led a little that way, but I did not consider that I had any suitable talent, nor had I any connection that could introduce me to any means, nor could I possibly see any opening in Providence; of course I could not see I was called to such a work; for I did not believe any one was called to the public ministry of the gospel, without the Lord had given him talents suited to the work for which he intended him. I am now speaking of his external call: the work of God on his soul, I intend to speak of elsewhere. My master, however, recommended me to the manager of the London Itinerant Society, who, after some conversation with me, requested me to accompany a young man into one of the villages near London, to teach children in a Sunday-school. Not knowing the nature of that work till I had embarked in it, I went for some time to Norwood, and several other places, but I was soon tired of this work. The long journies and weak body, hard labour all the week, and an empty pocket, deprived of seeing my lover for weeks together; these externals soon made me relinquish that work: and above all the loss of that ministry I so much esteemed, and those ordinances I so much enjoyed, made my chariot-wheels drag heavily on a Sunday, so many miles to hear some dull country children say their alphabet. Though this loss and trouble was sometimes made up by the godly converse of the teachers between the several services, and on the road home at night: this was a little reviving in my bondage. After continuing some months with Mr. C. in the Borough, I had still an inclination to return to my own business. Accordingly, I communicated to my invaluable master, that I had a house to work at. We parted, by mutual agreement; he gave me an excellent character, and has ever spoken most respectfully of me, amidst all the clamour, bitterness, lies, malice, and evil-speaking I have met with; and, I believe, would have done me much good in restoring me to repute, and warding off the blow of calumny, had it been possible. However, he spoke of me as he found me, and it would be well if every one did the same. I now returned to my old business of gilding, at a house in the Strand where, after I had been a little while, I was married, at the New Church in the Strand, the 22d of March, 1801, two years after I left my apprenticeship. I had now an opportunity of hearing the Word again, of going into villages when I was able, and of meeting the Itinerant Society, who met on Thursday evenings in Shoe Lane, for mutual improvement, the exercise of gifts, and the arrangements for the Lord’s Day. I did not continue long in the Strand. The worthy family I have spoken of before in Tottenham-court Road, had been misinformed that I was out of a situation; they kindly sent for me, and gave me as good wages as the nature of their business would admit, though they were but low. I went on very comfortably for some years, and as I improved in my business, so I was advanced in wages. My wife also took in work, and did all she could to render me happy; and what was very remarkable, every child which we had, the Lord graciously added some little advance to my wages. This often stopped the mouth of unbelief, and made me contented. Never did, perhaps, a happier pair exist for some years, than we were, till popularity and calumny spoiled all. During my continuance with the above worthy family of the Jacksons, I had three children born. We often had opportunities of watching the hand of God, in his kind providence; we were frequently deeply affected in reading good Mr. H’s. Bank of Faith, and we daily grew acquainted with the Lord’s goodness, which He caused to pass before us. I look back on this time as the happiest of my days; though I had but 16 shillings a week for a time, yet this grew to 25 shillings; and, through industry and regularity, we lived—without much care of the world—much happier than those who are daily burdened with riches, or the toil of great business. But the Lord saw fit to call me out to greater scenes; and, having but little natural wisdom or prudence, depth or foresight, in proportion to my growing popularity, I was made the dupe of intrigue, artifice, hypocrisy, cruelty, and sorrow. Yet the Lord never withheld his mercy and his grace, nor gave me up fully to the wishes of my enemies, but by every thing he has instructed me. For all thy people shall be taught of God.
Yours, in Him, J. C.
What thanks I owe thee, and what love;
A boundless endless store
Shall echo through the world above,
Till time shall be no more.
LETTER VIII.
“What man is he that feareth the Lord? Him shall he teach in the way that he shall choose.”