Letter.
Gravesend,
June 19th, 1869.“My Dear Mr. Wardle.—My long silence has not been because I had forgot you and your kind reception of me; but because secular work has so completely taken up my time of late. I was glad to hear of you . . . . and of the Dark Lane (ragged school) lads. I often wish I could go down with you and see them; I often think of them. I wish I could help them, but it is only by prayer that I can now benefit them. I loved them very much, and look forward to the time when our weary march, dogged by our great foe will be ended; and we meet for ever in our Heavenly home. I remember them all, Jones, Carr, &c., &c., and I often think of their poor young faces which must soon get deepened into wrinkles with sorrow and care. Thank God we go like Israel of old, after a new home; we cannot find our rest here! Day by day we are, little as we may think it, a day’s march nearer, till someday we shall perhaps unexpectedly reach it.”
Good bye, my dear Mr. Wardle,
Yours sincerely,
C. H. Gordon.“Kind regards to my lads.”
Gordon was deeply moved by the sights of poverty and distress around him; this was shown by the dress and appearance of the factory hands. He was especially struck by the clatter of the clogs—the Lancashire cotton operative’s foot gear.
To his Sister he wrote:—
Manchester,
September 21st, 1867.“Your heart would bleed to see the poor people, though they say there is no distress such as there was some time ago; they are indeed like sheep having no shepherd, but, thank God, though they look forlorn, they have a watchful and pitying eye upon them. It does so painfully affect me, and I do trust will make me think less of self, and more of these poor people. Little idea have the rich of other countries of the scenes in these parts. It does so make me long for that great day when He will come and put all things straight.
How long, O Lord, how long!
I have but little time to write by this post, so will say no more about that. I have less confidence in the flesh than ever, thank God, though it is a painful struggle and makes one long for the time when, this our earthly tabernacle, shall be dissolved; but may His will be done. If there is sin and misery, there is One who over-rules all things for good; we must be patient. The poor scuttlers here, male and female, fill me with sorrow. They wear wooden clogs, a sort of sabot, and make such a noise. Good-bye, and may God manifest Himself in all His power to all of you, and make you to rejoice with joy unspeakable. If we think of it, the only thing which makes the religion of our Lord Jesus Christ differ from that of every other religion, or profession, is this very indwelling of God the Holy Ghost in our bodies; we can do nothing good; Christ says, “Without me, ye can do nothing.” You are dead in trespasses and sins, you are corpses, and must have life put in you, and that life is God Himself, who dwells in us, and shows us the things of Christ.”
C. G. Gordon.
Letter. No. 2.
“My Dear Mr. Wardle,—I had a nice letter the other day from one of my lads, Carr, whom I hope you will look after, as well as all the rest. I have often thought of you all. Keep the “Tongue of Fire,” [57] before you, and you will have great joy. I have thought much lately on the subject of God dwelling in us, and speaking through us. We are only witnesses, not judges; the Gospel is:—God loves you: not—Do you love God. The one is a witness, the other an inquiry which is not to be made by man of his fellow man, for it is impossible for man to love God unless he first feels and knows that God loves him. Our fault is, want of Charity one towards another. We do not go down to the poor lost sinner, but ask him to do what of himself he cannot do, viz., come up to us. What ought to be always floating in our proud hearts is:—‘Who made thee to differ.’
Kind regards to all my friends.
Never forgotten, or to be forgotten.
Yours truly,
C. G. Gordon.”
Letter. No. 3.
“My Dear Mr. Wardle, I send you ‘Jukes on Genesis’ and on the ‘Four Gospels.’ I have to send you his work on ‘The Offerings in Leviticus,’ and also Macintosh’s ‘Genesis and Exodus.’ I am sure you will enjoy them. I cut Genesis up so as to lend it about; I hope you won’t mind my having used them, and marked some papers. I hope D.V. to see you Monday evening, and with kind regards.
Believe me yours sincerely in Christ,
C. G. Gordon.”
Gordon was intensely and deeply religious; it was in him certainly “as a well of water springing up into everlasting life.” He could talk of nothing else, in whatever company, it was the same theme—“Christ in you the hope of glory.” A favourite text of his was 1. John,
chap. 4, ver. 15—“Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God dwelleth in him, and he in God.” This he took as a text for a little homily which he printed and circulated by thousands. After the above head-line, in special type, it ran thus:—“Reader! Do you confess that Jesus is the Son of God? Do you believe in your heart that Jesus is the Son of God? If you do then God dwells in you to-day. Whatever you are, whatever you have been, or have done,—and if you ask Him, ‘O Lord, I believe that Jesus is the Son of God; show me, for His sake, that Thou livest in me.’ He will make you feel His presence in your hearts, and will make you feel perfectly happy, which you cannot be in any other way. Many believe sincerely that Jesus is the Son of God, but are not happy, because they do not believe that which God tells them—that He lives in them both in body and soul, transforming the whole man into the likeness of Jesus Christ, if they confess Jesus to be His son. Do you believe this statement? If you do, yet do not feel God’s presence, ask Him to show Himself to you, and He will surely do so.”