Madeley, Jan. 26th, 1816.
My dear Mary,
I have been much struck of late with the forcible manner in which the providence of God has been co-operating with his word in the endeavour to teach me a lesson, which, of all others, I find so exceedingly difficult to learn; I mean that of so numbering my days as to apply my heart unto wisdom. The removal of my dear mother-in-law, the unusual number of deaths among all descriptions of persons in my own immediate neighbourhood, and especially that of Mrs. Fletcher; all these conspiring circumstances loudly enforce the necessity of being sober and watching unto prayer, of having my loins girt and my lamp burning, of being in a prepared posture of expectation, waiting for the coming of my Lord. These effects, I am thankful to state, have in some measure been gratefully traced by me in my recent experience. One thing seems to me more than ever to be truly needful, not indeed the obtaining and the securing of inheritances below, but the getting prepared for my inheritance above—an inheritance to which every day and every hour spent for God is adding some increase of comfort, and which, when once possessed, will be found to be worth the possessing—an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and which fadeth not away. O my dear Mary, how does the grand enemy of our souls destroy by deluding! how does he infatuate the world at large! how gross also the deception which he practises even upon believers themselves, making then live nine-tenths of their time, if not sinfully, at least uselessly for themselves, or for the world, instead of for God and eternity, as a matter of course, instead of with a pure and single aim. But, alas! what is any action when stripped of its proper motive, I mean the glory of God. A man may give liberally to the poor, he may carefully regulate his household, bring up his children decently and even morally, and restrain his domestics from immoralities and inconsistencies. But if our liberality is connected with our own reputation, if our children be merely educated that they may bring credit and comfort to us, or if our dependents are restrained and their good consulted, because it would reflect dishonour upon us to pursue a contrary course; if these be our motives, what are they after all but mere selfishness? There is no reference to God in all these actions, and, of course, no eternal reward can be expected from them. Their reference is to ourselves and that also in our present state, but the future is left entirely out of the question. I grant, indeed, that a present reward is obtained, but this is all, and, in fact, it is all which in most cases is sought for. The benevolent man has the reputation for benevolence, which he seeks; the moral educator of his children has the satisfaction of seeing them orderly and decent, and they bring to him the temporal comfort which he desired; the strict and moral master has in the same way the present fruit of his labours. But if God’s glory, if a sincere desire of pleasing him, has not been combined with the motives of these respective individuals, no eternal fruit will be found from them. They die with this present world. How uselessly, then, if not sinfully, are the generality of persons employed, and what need have we all to strive to live more completely under the influence of unseen celestial realities! I feel these truths while I am writing them, and the earnest prayer of my soul is, that, as a consequence of them, my inheritance may rather be in reserve than in immediate possession.
TO THE REV. JOHN ARMSTRONG.
Madeley, Salop. March 4th, 1816.
My dear Armstrong,
* * * * * * * *
You may perhaps recollect that in one of my former letters I mentioned — as a violent opposer of everything which had the least appearance of real godliness. He also has been called from among us, and that in a manner which of all others seemed most likely to excite attention, and lead to serious inquiry. O, my dear friend, what a mercy is it that our feet have not been treading in the same unhallowed paths! We see in him what we ourselves should have been, had we been left to ourselves. To the grace of God—Arminian as you conceive me to be—I am fully convinced the reason should be ascribed. Dear Mr. — bears the afflictive stroke with a union of acute feelings and perfect resignation, such as is seldom seen. I should have imagined the stroke would have almost overwhelmed him; but what cannot the grace of God enable us to bear?
You imagine that now I am fixed at Madeley, I have become more a Methodist than ever. If by the term you mean an attachment to their peculiar doctrines, I must confess that you are not very far from the mark; for I feel more than ever persuaded that with some slight modification, they are the truth. The more I pray, and study, and experience, and preach, the more do I see of their accordancy with the whole revealed will of God. All seems intelligible, all in unison. But though more decided than ever, I trust that I am no bigot. I exclude, I would deal out contemptuous pity to, no one; and, therefore, God forbid, that I should at any time lay that stress upon disputed points which should lead my dear friend to imagine, that because we do not quite see alike, that, therefore, I feel the least atom of diminution in point of affection. I can from my heart assure him that it is no such thing. Should you, however, fancy that by my coming to Madeley, I am more of a Methodist, because I am less of a Churchman; in this respect, I feel, then, I can altogether clear myself. The fact is, the more I see of Methodism, the less do I admire it. There is that party spirit, that uncommon wish to proselyte, that settled jealousy against those who are more successful in their endeavours—in short, that spirit which, if suffered to proceed, would completely undermine our most excellent Establishment, and erect itself in its stead, that though I cannot but greatly love and admire some of its members, as a body I dare not give them that countenance or support which I should do were their doctrines the only point in consideration. I therefore have adopted all that strikes me as good in their system, but at the same time keep myself and people perfectly distinct. By this means, I have ill-will and opposition to an extent which you would hardly conceive; but I go quietly and lovingly forward, and I thank God my plans have hitherto well succeeded, and I feel quite convinced that all will eventually be well. What provokes most opposition, is my using the same weapons which have so successfully been employed by themselves, and that with the increased advantage of their being combined with all the weight of influence connected with the Establishment. I wish my dear friend would try the same weapons, and he would soon see the most beneficial effects. * * * *
Believe me, with kindest regards to yourself and Mrs. A.,