January 19, 1756.
Dear Sir,
I AM much obliged to you for your letter, from which I have learnt a very useful lesson, viz. Never to fancy that the particular circumstances of others would be more advantageous to me than my own. You are ready almost to envy me my many hours of retirement; when at the same time, I am continually complaining that I have so few, and often crying out, when shall I have a whole day to myself? And then I frequently think, were I a man and in the ministry, my time would then be all spent for God; but now, what an inundation of trifling flows in upon me, which ’tis impossible for me to avoid, without altogether going out of the world.
I enter upon the subject, on which you bid me write with fear and trembling. My abilities are really far from being equal to it: for although I know many Christians, who would immediately cry out, that it needed not one moment’s consideration, I dare not do so; for I now really feel the weight of it upon my soul. *’Tis a most alarming truth, that a minister may speak with the tongue of men and of angels, and that the power of God may so accompany his words as to make them the means of converting thousands; and yet for want of duly searching into his own heart, he may suffer it to be overgrown with poisonous weeds, with tempers and inclinations, which if unsubdued, will absolutely shut him out from the kingdom of glory, to which he is leading others. How easy for a man who is continually setting forth the glorious truths of the gospel, and inforcing holiness of heart and life, to imagine (for want of constant self-examination) that he himself is what he preaches? This is a most dangerous snare; and therefore how absolutely necessary is that retirement which affords opportunity for a diligent search into the recesses of the heart, and gives the soul leisure to wait in awful silence before God, where, free from every object of sense, and from the workings of imagination, it may with all its faculties prostrate before the eternal Trinity, and feel itself to be nothing, and God to be all in all? But then it may be asked, shall not a man who with singleness of heart, spends and is spent for the service of God, be so kept by divine grace, that his soul shall suffer no loss by the want of retirement? Doubtless. Where sincerity and singleness of heart are preserved, that soul shall be defended as with a shield. But this I take to be the grand temptation of every minister of the gospel; he sets out perhaps (though this is not always the case) with a single view to the glory of God and the salvation of souls. The power of God accompanies his words, the hearts of the people fall under him. His reputation daily increases, till at last he becomes popular. He sees himself surrounded by a croud of people, who for the most part hear him as an angel of God, their thirsty souls gasping after the truths he utters. An innocent and an holy joy fills his heart; “Here are souls that may be won to Christ, and that by me! Lord, what amazing love, that I who am the least of all thy servants should be thus blest!”—So far all is well, all is happy: but the subtil enemy of mankind so strongly impresses this, by me, that a self-complacency, separate from the glory of God, arises in his heart, and this, if not immediately quelled, leads him to the brink of a precipice. God still, for the sake of others, continues his usefulness; but every conversion which he is the means of making, is fresh food for his self-love; and by degrees he becomes so dead to the love of God, that he preaches even the purest doctrines of the gospel, with the same spirit, with which a lawyer pleads at the bar. But on the contrary, that blessed servant of Christ who stedfastly pursues the narrow path, who conquers every rising of self-love in its first appearance, and constantly refers all the good he does or speaks to the author and giver of all good, he shall be kept in all his ways, and blest in all his works. And though his soul may pant for retirement, as thinking he should there enjoy nearer communion with God, and make higher advances in the divine life, this may not perhaps be immediately permitted him: but in order that his future crown may be the brighter, God may make his present usefulness a sure sign to him, that he ought to continue his constant labours for others, though it should be with much temptation, fear, and trembling. However this is very certain, that God to a servant thus sincere, will point out a plain path, either by inward leadings which cannot be mistaken, or outward providences.—Adieu! Pardon the weakness of this; let me see you the first time you have to spare, and believe me
Your ever obliged and affectionate servant,
****
Dear Sir,
WHATEVER the Spirit of God makes useful to my heart, either from scripture or from spiritual authors, I thankfully receive, and give him the glory: but I well know there is but one great touch-stone, by which all doctrines are to be tried; and therefore I hope your kind fears for me, lest I should not enough esteem the written word of God, are needless. I am so far from setting any human writer on a footing with this, that I scarcely read them at all, i. e. in comparison of my bible. I look over some few, but this is very different from the manner of reading you recommend, and which I strive by the grace of God to practise; nay, it would be the greatest slavery to me you can conceive, if I were obliged to read many religious books: however I return you the sincerest thanks for your care, and beg you will in all things watch over me with a “godly jealousy.”—But my dear friend, could you imagine that I enquired after the state of your mind according to the common acceptation of the word? I only desired to know what spiritual blessings you had both from without and within, that I might share them with you. And this I was emboldened to do by the sweet account you had given in your former letter, of the blessings you enjoyed at Bristol. The Lord refresh your soul continually with the rich streams of his redeeming love, and may his everlasting arms be beneath you! I know your present state, of hanging as it were in suspence between the visible and invisible world, is a dispensation big with divine love. And was I to pray for you that prayer which my soul most loves, it would be, “that you should lie in the hand of God as an instrument, without choice, till the will of God was perfected in you.” This would be the prayer of pure love and enlightened faith; but if I descended to the tenderness of friendship, I should ask your speedy recovery. If it should be given me to see you again in this world of vanity and woe, I shall be thankful, and perhaps it may be so: but I know not—something seems to whisper me that the thread both of your life and mine is nearly spun. For my part, I have within these few days had a sweet call to eternity, by a sudden and violent disorder in my stomach and bowels (called according to the fashionable phrase a nervous cholick) which seems to have set me a good way forwards on my journey. Happy pain! Kind messenger! O my friend, I have nothing but mercies to tell you of. So supported! Such wonderous grace! Such boundless love! I all sin and misery: the Saviour all tenderness and mercy: the probable approach of death delightful: no sting remaining. No clog upon my chariot-wheels. Mercies too from without which I had never before experienced in a time of sickness. The Rev. Mr. **** praying and singing by my bed, with such power of faith and love, such unction from above! Does this hurry the spirits? Does this endanger? How far from it? I protest not only my soul rejoiced, but even my body grew better as he prayed. Do not fail to thank God on my behalf, and pray for me that I may not be ungrateful to such amazing mercy. May the Lord Jesus preserve you, sweeten every pain, and make you rejoice continually with joy unspeakable and full of glory.