When I was about seventeen, the Lord was pleased to shew me, that I was not to build tabernacles here. For none of those ways I had cut out for myself, were such as he had appointed for me. I cannot better describe what I then felt, than by transcribing part of a letter to a friend.
“The Lord has been merciful above all I can ask or think. I found a greater blessing the last time I was in town than ever.”—And within this day or two, I see much more clearly the way in which I ought to walk. The Lord seems to call me to much more activeness, so that I am sometimes ready to cry out, “Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do?” Then I considered, Can I do more for the souls or bodies of those about me? But this does not seem to be the thing. *What I am now led to wish for is, to serve those that are in Christ, both with soul and body. And as soon as the Lord has prepared me for his work, and set me at liberty, my firm resolution is, by the grace of God, to be wholly given up to the church. I plainly see, I have no more to do with the world, than to allow myself the bare necessaries of life. And tho’ it has pleased God, I should not have my living to work for, that is no reason my hands should be idle. I would be as those described by St. Paul, to bring up children, to lodge strangers, to be ready for the meanest offices, to relieve the afflicted, to visit the fatherless and widows, and diligently follow after every good work.”
Epping-Forest, May 23, 1757.
I have ever since found the same impressions on my soul; and when we came to this house, I felt a kind of rest I did not before, as if I was where God would have me to be. But one day reflecting, that we had more room than we wanted, and thinking, whom I should take in to fill it, it was strongly imprest upon my mind, He that believeth shall not make haste. Not long after the thought of bringing up children returned. But I was afraid of making haste; till it appeared from many reasons to be the will of God, that we should take in one that offered. Soon after we were induced to receive another, and presently two more. I now saw our family would be an increasing one; as we could not bring up even these children properly, without a person whose constant business it should be, to teach them during the school-hours. For it was impossible we should do it long, while we were necessarily employed in so many other things. I knew this, and the other expences which must attend the keeping six or seven children, would require an hundred a year more than I had. But I remembered again, The Lord liveth, and truly hitherto he hath helped us.
*Our method of educating our children is this. As our design is to fit them for good servants, we endeavour as early as possible, to inure them to labour, early-rising and cleanliness. We have now eleven. Three of these, (two of whom are eleven years old, the other, between nine and ten) rise at four. One lights the nursery fire, one mine, the other, that below. At five, the rest of the family are called. And when the children are drest and have prayed, they go (in summer) in the garden from six till half an hour after, while the bigger ones make the beds, and clean the rooms. At half hour after six we all join in family prayer: at seven breakfast in the same room; two or three upon herb tea, the rest upon milk-porridge. At eight, the bell rings for school, where they continue till twelve; and then after a few minutes spent in prayer, come to us. In winter, this is their hour for exercise, instead of the morning and evening. In hot weather we read to them something they are pleased with, or converse familiarly, so as (without seeming to aim at it) to instil into them principles of religion, at the same time giving them some kind of employ, which is rather amusement than business: yet it just takes off the appearance of idleness. For, from the very beginning, they have been carefully taught, never to do any thing, but what they could give God a reason for. On this account we never use the term play, nor suffer any to give them those toys or play-things, which children are usually brought up to spend half their time in. And when some of these were privately given, they threw them aside without any bidding. Their recreation consists in diversifying their business, which is varied even during their school-hours. Only the very little ones now and then run in the garden for a quarter of an hour; but still with a degree of seriousness; and they know it is for their health. At one we dine: at two school begins again, except on Saturdays. At five they return to us. About six they sup. At half after six they begin to be washed, and at seven go to bed. Indeed in summer their supper is sooner, so that they have an hour with us in the garden. During this time they are all employed, some in watering, others in fetching the water, the rest in pumping. And work of this kind they are all very fond of.
*But O! what a want of wisdom do I find! I see in them, what I cannot put in practice. I want the children not to be a moment from under the eye and the attention of some judicious person: so that if the eleven children were at work in so many different parts of the garden, one might observe, that each works diligently. For sloth in temporals always produces sloth in spirituals. Yet at the same time their work must not be a task; for then it would not answer the end. Again, their thoughts all the day long will naturally tend to evil. And their words will be trifling. To bid them do otherwise, avails no more, than to bid the blackamoor be white. And to reprove them continually, would be a burden greater than they could bear. But if by little stories and hints, their minds could be insensibly drawn to better subjects, they would be at length brought to remember, that God is present, and is looking upon them every moment. When I consider this, and many more things, which I see afar off, but cannot bring to effect, I am constrained to say, “O Lord! I am not yet throughly furnished to every good work.”
Some may say, “This is worldly wisdom, not gospel simplicity. And after all you cannot change their hearts.” Most certain. But hath not God said, Train up a child in the way it should go? Now I think true simplicity is to obey God, and leave the consequence to him.
And we have already reason to believe, our labour has not been in vain. There are dawnings of grace in most of the children. Some of them God was pleased to bless in a particular manner, on the 7th of last June. In the evening, Betty L——, about ten years old, was much concerned for one of the little ones, who had stole something. When [♦]they went to bed, not knowing they were overheard, thy began to converse freely; and Betty L—— said, “Let us go to prayer for H——’s soul.” She then prayed in a very affecting manner, afterwards one about eight, prayed, pleading much for H——, and added, “Lord, don’t let us so think of her sin, as to forget our own. Lord don’t let us laugh and trifle, and talk of foolish things when we come off our knees, but make us Christians.” One of them then thanked God, for their “good corrections, and teaching,” and said “Lord, if we are not Christians, we shall be more punished than others.” When they had done, Nancy Tripp went in to undress them. She first went to prayer with them as usual, and the spirit of conviction fell on Betty L—— in a very uncommon manner. We came up and found her in an exceeding great agony: she was the very picture of terror. The veins of her neck were as if they would burst. She wrung her hands, and cried with a bitter cry, “O my sins!” I believe more than an hundred times. She then broke out into such a confession of her original sin, and heart sins, as was quite astonishing: adding, “O! I have never done any thing for thee in my whole life. I have broke all thy laws, I have kept the devil’s commandments; I have kept none of thy commandments. May such a wretch come to the Lord? Wilt thou receive me? Wilt thou pardon me? Wilt thou make me a Christian? Tell me, Lord, shall I go to heaven or hell? Shall I go to heaven or hell, Lord? O tell me! Shall I go to heaven or hell? Wilt thou make me a Christian? Wilt thou forgive me?” She then paused a little, and added, “But wilt thou, Lord? Yes, he will, he will. But wilt thou Lord? Yes, thou wilt, thou wilt.” Mr. Dornford then gave out an hymn. She now seemed quite calm: the horror which before appeared in her countenance was gone, and had left a sweet smile. Her attention seemed quite fixt. And after remaining some time with her eyes upward, she said, “Jesus is smiling upon me.” She had at the same time a sight of him as upon the cross, saying, “I have pardoned all your sins; and if you pray, I will give you abundant love.” After she had sat silent a while, she broke out, “O what a sweet Saviour he is! He has forgiven me all my sins—All, all. Lord, thou wilt, thou hast forgiven me.—O let them be perfectly forgiven! But shall I ever sin again, Lord? O don’t let me sin again.” Some time after, she said, “O what a sweet Saviour thou art! What sweet love is thine! O for more such love, more such love as thine! But don’t let me sin again! Fill me with love, that I may never sin again!”
[♦] “thy” replaced with “they” per Errata
This scene was striking: but it was nothing to the change that followed. She was of a far worse natural temper, then any of the children: but now it might indeed be said, “Love made her willing heart in swift obedience move.” So great was the change both in will and understanding, as plainly declared the hand that wrought it.