Sanctified Letter-Writing.
Fletcher’s correspondence was an unusually heavy one; his letters make quite as spiritual reading as his sermons, yet he gave the choicest of reasons for not writing to one man who expected a letter: “Tell Mr. Keen,” he wrote to Whitefield, “I am a letter in his debt, and postpone writing it till I have had such a sight of Christ as to breathe His love through every line.”
Many pearls of thought were contained in these epistles; while the advice in them was quaintly put, it was always helpful, and never hurled at random.
“Your dulness in private prayer,” wrote he to Miss Hatton, “arises from the want of familiar friendship with Jesus To obviate it, go to your closet as if you were going to meet your dearest friend; cast yourself at His feet, bemoan your coldness, extol His love to you, and let your heart break with a desire to love Him Get recollection —a dwelling within ourselves—a being abstracted from the creature and turned towards God For want of such a frame, our times of prayer are frequently dry and useless; imagination prevails, and the heart wanders, whereas we pass easily from recollection to delightful prayer.”
To the same person, however, he recommended the cultivation of a wholesome naturalness in religion which would ensure acknowledgment of its beauty in those around her:—
“There is no sin in looking cheerful. ’Rejoice evermore’; and if it is our duty always to be filled with joy, it is our duty to appear what we are in reality I hope, however, your friends know how to distinguish between cheerfulness and levity.
“Beware of stiff singularity in things barely indifferent: it is self in disguise; and it is so much the more dangerous when it comes recommended by a serious, self-denying, religious appearance.”
It is evident from a glance at his correspondence that Fletcher’s extremely frugal habits and large generosity to others gave not a little anxiety to those who loved him A wealthy merchant of Bristol, named Mr. Ireland, a constant, true, and close friend, sent him a parcel of broadcloth as a gift, beseeching him kindly not to send his coat again to be patched His thanks were thus concluded:—
“Your broadcloth can lap me round two or three times; but the mantle of Divine love, the precious fine robe of Jesus’s righteousness, can cover your soul a thousand times The cloth, fine and good as it is, will not keep out a hard shower; but that garment of salvation will keep out even a shower of brimstone and fire Your cloth will wear out; but that fine linen, the righteousness of saints, will appear with a finer lustre the more it is worn The moth may fret your present, or the tailor may spoil it in cutting it, but the present which Jesus has made you is out of reach of the spoiler, and ready for present wear Let me beseech you, my dear friend, to accept of this heavenly present as I accept of your earthly one I did not send you one farthing to purchase it; it came unsought, unasked, unexpected, as the seed of the woman came. It came just as I was sending a tailor to buy me cloth for a new coat, and I hope when you next see me it will be in your present; now let Jesus see you in His Accept it freely Wear no more the old rusty coat of nature and self-righteousness. Send no more to have it patched Make your boast of an unbought suit, and love to wear the livery of Jesus.”
John Fletcher’s letters all tended to the same point as his sermons—a personal appeal to the soul to whom he addressed himself. To the Rev Joseph Benson he wrote:—