I am your ever affectionate, &c.
*I WRITE, my love, to you to thank you for the pleasure you gave me last Thursday, and still to urge you more and more continually to press forwards. Young as you are, you may perhaps be very near the end of your course, and the time given you to work in may, for ought you know, be very nearly elapsed. That form of yours, which now delights the eyes of your friend, and seems to promise a long continuance of health and vigour, may soon perhaps become defaced and loathsome meat for crawlings worms, and that soul, that precious and immortal soul of yours, which is now far from loving its Creator as it ought to do, may soon stand naked in the sight of that God, to whom it has been ungrateful—its day of probation past—and its lot cast for a whole eternity. Oh my friend, my dearest companion in my pilgrimage, I conjure you by all your heart holds dear, that you lose not a moment! Oh may that God, who is love itself, so inflame your soul with a sense of his love, as may consume all its dross, and make it through Christ an acceptable sacrifice to himself! I think the last time I saw you I had the satisfaction of observing less of self-seeking in you, than I ever did before. Sure God will give me greatly to rejoice in you. Farewel. Whenever, my love, I think too well of you, fail not to tell me, and take shame to yourself for deceiving me.
I am your’s, &c.
My dear Friend,
I THANK you for your letters, and rejoice at a great part of the account you give me. You have been very happy indeed; and it seems to me that God gave you this happiness as preparatory to the trials, which were to ensue. And if you should after this goodness of God towards you, grieve his holy Spirit, by suffering your heart to indulge any temper, which you know to be contrary to his will, what words would be strong enough to paint your black ingratitude? I will deal plainly with you. I think you are now in a most dangerous situation. Every thing around you will conspire to tempt you to the sin which most easily besets you, and therefore you must not be one moment off your guard. You must pray without ceasing, even in the fullest sense of the words and constantly strive to have strongly painted in your imagination Jesus Christ, and him crucified. There is nothing I think more tends to humble us, than the consideration of the sufferings of Christ. When you find yourself going to say or do any thing with a view to praise, think, this temper, this vanity of mine added to the weight of my Saviour’s sufferings, and made more bitter his cup of bitterness. Oh, if you had a soul capable of feeling, if you have one spark of gratitude, can you think this, and sin? Was you now standing on Mount Calvary near the cross of the blessed Jesus (suppose the dreadful deed was but now performing) and you saw the Redeemer of the world just nailed to his cross, say, would you help to drive the nails still deeper? Would you press the thorns closer to his sacred temples? Would you help to increase that load, which made him cry out, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Does not your soul shudder at the thought? O my friend would you not rather die, gladly die, for this your suffering Lord? Would you not gladly be cut in ten thousand pieces to save him one pang? I know you would. And will you not strive against that sin, which increased his sufferings? Will you not strive, my love?—Yes, sure you will. Is not every thing we can give up by far too small a return for what the Redeemer has done for us? And shall we not give this little? Above all shall we not give up what most of all separates us from him, our self-love, and self-seeking? Think my friend when any one is hinting to you, how extraordinary you are—“this person is ignorantly driving me from my Saviour.” And if you should, which God forbid, find yourself tempted to indulge a vain complacency in their applause, think immediately how their praise would be turned into contempt, did they know your heart as it really is, and blush for thus deceiving them. Recollect some of the mean motives which perhaps have been the springs of some of your most admired words and actions, and let your soul within you be humbled to the dust. And my dear, I beg you will be careful how you draw praise upon yourself by praising others. This is what I am very apt to fall into; and therefore I am the more sensible of its hurtfulness. And beware how you suffer yourself to attempt explaining nice points of doctrine, unless it is evident there will be good done by it, and then you may hope God will preserve you from the pride, which generally accompanies this display of the capacity. May you constantly walk in the light of God’s countenance, and go on conquering, and to conquer!
I AM glad, my dear friend, that your visit to **** has been of such benefit to you; and I pray God to continue it to your soul, and not to suffer these impressions to wear off. Temptations doubtless will attend every situation we are in; but the soul that rests secure in the love of God will easily conquer them. I wish you may find more and more benefit from the church prayers: they are for human compositions very excellent, and I belief the best form of prayers that ever was put together. I cannot reproach you for that which God has pardoned, but you certainly ought now to be more watchful, that you fall not again; for then great indeed would be your condemnation. The danger which may accrue to you by going to Miss **** will I find be known to you by experience only. She is certainly a good creature herself, and I love her, but there is a spirit [♦]haunts her absolutely contrary to the spirit I am seeking after. She is not capable, my dear, of watching your words with any ill design. Her only view is to find out your errors. And if possible cure you of them. I doubt not but if you could converse with her alone, and keep clear of disputes, she might be of great use to you, and I hope God will bless this and every other means to the good of your soul. The most excellent people in the world will be of little avail, unless his Spirit assists, and with this there is nothing so weak or mean, but what may tend to increase his love in our hearts. *For my own part, silence and solitude seem at present best for me, and I am more hurt by some religious people, whom I converse with, than by the people of the world. Indeed there is scarce any, who does not in some measure hurt me, except Mr. ****. Numberless are the snares that lie in our way to the heavenly kingdom. ’Tis truly a warfare, and a very difficult one, but the crown that awaits us at the end, is well worth the striving for, even unto blood. Besides the encouragements and comforts we find in the way are glorious: sure I am that Alexander never found such joy in all his conquests, as the soul that presses after the footsteps of Christ does in one conquest over self-will. There is more delight in suffering for God, than in reigning with the world. To clasp the cross of Christ close to the heart is more happiness than angels can give; and what inexpressible satisfaction is it to a soul, whose every faculty loves its Redeemer, to cry out,
Give me to feel thine agonies,