I am unalterably your’s,
****
July 18.
*Dear Sir,
I CAN truly say, that I would with joy devote all I have, and all I am to God, and gladly spend every hour in his service, But the difficulties I find in the way are indeed insuperable to me, though not so I think to every one, at least if I may judge from some few instances I have seen since my acquaintance with you.—You yourself, even outwardly, appear to me to spend every hour to the glory of God; and for this reason I look upon you to be the happiest of mankind. When I see you spent with fatigue, your eyes half closed, and your outward man seeming to hasten to its dissolution, though I would freely give my own life and strength to increase yours, I almost envy you this glorious fatigue, and say to myself, How happy, how blessed is this man, thus to spend and be spent in the service of his Redeemer! Think me not presumptuous when I say, that I place you constantly before my mind, as my living example. Outwardly it certainly is impossible for me to follow you, but inwardly!—Oh, Sir, that I could in every faculty of my soul be a follower of you, even as you are of Christ!—You bid me love enough; and doubtless if I could love enough, I should (as you say) do enough, for perfect love is perfect liberty, liberty to conquer all sin, and attain to all holiness. This is the glorious privilege of the children of God; and this my soul pants after. But though I can sincerely say, that I love God above all things, yet it is very evident that I do not love enough, because the fruits of this perfect love are not produced in my soul. Sometimes my enemies seem intirely conquered, and my mind is smooth and calm, as were the waters after Christ had said to them, Peace, be still. But when I seem thus strong, I am (to my inexpressible shame and confusion) found to be weakness itself: some trifle, which perhaps had appeared too contemptible even to be thought of, will be the means of my inwardly falling. But thanks be to God I have this given me,
“Quick as the apple of an eye,
The slightest touch of sin to feel.”
To feel, and immediately to fly to that blood of sprinkling which alone can cleanse me from this pollution. But indeed, Sir, I find every day more and more the truth of your words, “that I have need to watch always.” I am set as it were in the midst of snares, both friends and enemies conspiring together to keep me from that humility, which is so necessary to one who wishes to be really a Christian. My enemies lead to pride, by railing at me for what is, and ought to be, in one sense, my glory; and my friends, by having too high an opinion of me. I think there is none, except yourself, who does not in some measure hurt me: and therefore, though I dare not call you my friend, as implying any particular attachment on your part, you are in fact, my truest and best friend. Praise I now dread as poison; and yet my temper is such as makes some encouragement necessary. Your behaviour to me is exactly fitted to preserve the balance of my mind even; a smile of approbation from you, is that praise which encourages without endangering. You will pardon my speaking so much of myself: a patient, you know, must fully lay open his case to his physician; and I have been emboldened even by you yourself, to increase the length of my letters. Oh may your blessed Master reward you for all your labours in his service, and for all your goodness to,
Your unworthy, though
ever-grateful and affectionate,