To the Rev. Mr. W****.
December 25, 1754.
Dear Sir,
*MAY this blessed day in which the sun of righteousness first arose on our dark world, bring a new accession of light, and peace, and joy to your precious soul! May the power of God accompany every word you utter, and give you this day to enlarge your conquests over the prince of darkness. Oh, give my full heart leave to expand itself in praying for you, in blessing you, and in thanking you, for your surprizing goodness to me. No, never shall you find me ungrateful; that God in whom alone I trust for strength, will preserve me from falling into this meanest of all crimes.—I shall not, I fear, have the delightful satisfaction of hearing you to-morrow, and therefore could not forbear writing to-day; besides, I am by illness prevented attending the public worship of God, so that I have need of this comfort. Every thing has succeeded here beyond my hopes, your presence has greatly dispelled every cloud of prejudice, and fear of man. In short, when I consider the goodness of God and my own absolute unworthiness, I am lost in astonishment: dear Sir, pray that I may make a proper improvement of all these blessings, and particularly of that exceeding great blessing, your friendship. Oh Sir! may I indeed say your friendship? The Lord Jesus bless and reward you! Expression fails me, when I would thank you as I ought, and tell how much I am,
Your ever obliged and affectionate,
****
Dear Sir,
YOUR answer to my question, on what is the proper foundation of our rejoicing in temporal blessings, is perfectly satisfactory, and I thank you for it. What you say of Mr. P.’s tract is just what I wanted: possibly some fit season may be given me to make a good use of it. One would imagine that if singleness of eye, and sincerity of heart were really found in all those of our ministers, who in a measure preach the gospel, there would scarce be room left even for the shadow of a dispute. But this is only imagination; for I cannot help observing of some, for whose sincerity I would answer with my life, that they are far from being consistent long together. I have lately been attacked with a mighty pretty distinction (and from my ignorance a new one to me) in respect of the doctrine of assurance of forgiveness of sin.—Mr. **** says, it is of the essence of faith; but most of the old Puritans, together with a heap of great names (of which I remember not one) say, it is of the fruits of faith.—A poor weak woman, who has not learnt logic, may be easily puzzled with the nicety of a logical distinction; but still I could plainly see, that let it be essence or fruits, there was a manifest necessity for enforcing the doctrine: because a tree which brings not forth its proper fruits, is a barren tree.—A faith which brings not forth its proper fruits, is a dead faith, and consequently unprofitable.—The answer is, “A tree may be alive, and yet not bring forth fruit immediately.”—Well, but this makes nothing against the necessity there is that it should bring forth fruit, in order to make it a profitable tree.—But then we have a homily to fly to:—“The homily on salvation says ‘nothing of assurance.’”—If the homily contradicts St. Paul, the homily is nothing to me.—“O, you won’t refer it to that, ‘because it makes against you.’”—I do not so much as know what is in it.—“It only ‘says a sure trust and confidence.’”—I think a sure confidence is nearly the same with assurance.—“No, they are very different.”—Now, Sir, you must be so good to furnish me with two or three of your strong arguments, to pull down this Babel tower, which our friends are building. I should also be glad, if you would tell me by what happy art you are always consistent in doctrine, as well as practice: for I can find no one else that is so.—Difference of opinion I regard not; I could enjoy fellowship of spirit with a truly sincere Predestinarian, Papist, or Quaker. Inconsistency is the thing alone which hurts me. When I find this in people whom I know to be in so much higher a state of grace than myself, and whom I love and honour, it disquiets me, I own, by far too much: and my soul, like Noah’s dove, flies solitary about, and finds no place of rest on the face of the whole earth: till at last with one olive-leaf, and only one, she returns joyful to the ark—Give me leave, Sir, to intreat of you (if you should have a little time to spare) that you will just point out to me, First, What are the probable causes of this inconsistency, in those who have truly sincerity of heart, and singleness of eye. Secondly, What is the most probable means of curing this distemper of the mind. And, Thirdly, How I may avoid falling into it myself, and keep my soul from being disquieted, when I find it in those whom I highly esteem.——I hope God continues to preserve to us your precious health, and that your long journies may be a means of strengthening and establishing it.—I doubt not but the work of the Lord prospers in your hands, and that you will have much reason to rejoice in the fruit of your labours. How happy are you to be always thus employed, in such eminent service for your Master? You live almost the life of an unembodied spirit; and I live nearly the life of a plant. But thank God, it is absolutely certain, that this immortal spirit of mine, which is thus pressed in on every side, and weighed down with matter, will some time burst its bonds, and break the bars of its prison; and then, how it will soar! Nothing sure can equal the life, the joy, the glorious liberty, which a spirit must feel, when first delivered from its heavy clog! Farewel! May our dear Redeemer continually watch over you, and bless you in every thought, word, and action!