Nor hopes nor fears my bosom move,
For still I cannot, cannot love!”
I could not rest thus, though I concluded, it would always be the case: I expected to be miserable all my life, and to perish at the last: I found it as easy to reach heaven with my hand, as to believe Jesus died for me. I felt, no one can come to Christ, except the Father draw him. Now I knew, it was the work of God, to believe on him whom he hath sent. I prayed he would work faith in me, but seemed as distant from God as hell from heaven: I was cut off from all self-dependence: I was a sinner stript of all.
I was on my knees striving to pray, when I heard inwardly a voice say, “Thy sins are forgiven thee.” I felt the truth of it in my heart, and in a moment prayer was lost in praise. I called upon the angels to join with me, in blessing him who died for me! He caused his goodness to pass before me, and I rejoiced with joy unspeakable.
Yet in a few hours after I began to fear I had deceived myself, and all was delusive. I was much distressed, and had recourse to prayer, and the Lord repeated his mercies, and impressed the same words on my mind, more strongly than before. I was more assured of his forgiving love, and enjoyed much peace in believing. I now thought, I never could sin more. My mind was taken up with God, and I conversed with him as a man would with his friend. My confidence in him was unshaken, and my hope full of immortality.
I wanted others to rejoice with me; but they were strangers to Jesus, and intermeddled not with my joy. I lamented being alone. My nearest friends thought I carried things too far. My mother was more alarmed; for I could not speak but on religious subjects. A neighbouring clergyman advised her to confine me, if I offered to hear the Methodists. This I did at all opportunities, though none was nearer than four miles off. Her tenderness gave me much pain. I was sorry to grieve her in any thing; and yet I did not dare to oblige her, by acting contrary to my conscience. I could not play at cards, nor join in trifling discourse, though my refusal was deemed preciseness.
I was near two years at home after this. Then the Lord fulfilled his promise: He gave me the bread of adversity and the water of affliction; but my eyes did see my teachers. I was now more desirous than ever, to be made conformable to the will of God: but I thought, to believe the doctrine of perfection, was derogating from the priestly office of Christ.
When I first saw you, Sir, at Norwich, notwithstanding my prejudice to your opinions, I found that reverence and esteem for you, which have increased ever since. My understanding was then better informed, and my desires more fervent for all the grace God had in store for me. I trust my soul is still alive to God, and athirst for righteousness. He has borne my manners in the wilderness, and sustains me in my utter helplessness. He continues to multiply his pardons, and heap his benefits upon me. Every trial is sent in mercy; every temptation is permitted for my good; every cross has proved a blessing in disguise. In his light I see this: I believe he is able to keep me from falling, and to make me perfect and entire, lacking nothing. My present situation requires more of every grace, than any I have been in before: but, I trust, he in whom all fulness dwells, will supply my every want.
I would not have troubled you with so long a letter, but indeed “I had not time to make it shorter.” And I am desirous to prove by every means, that I regard your advice, and on all occasions speak with freedom. I am, dear Sir,
Your obliged Servant,