OF ACHOR: VOL. 2 [OF 2]***


Transcribed from the 1820 R. Thomas edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org

                   [Picture: Public domain book cover]





                                   THE
                              VOICE OF FAITH
                                  IN THE
                            _Valley of Achor_:


                                 BEING A

                            Series of Letters

                          _TO SEVERAL FRIENDS_,

                          ON RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS.

                                * * * * *

                               By Ruhamah.

                                * * * * *

                                 VOL. II.

                                * * * * *

                                SOUTHWARK;
             Printed by R. THOMAS, Red Lion Street, Borough.

                                  1820.

                                * * * * *




LETTER I.


                                        _Valley of Achor_, _June_ 1, 1819.

Dear Mr. HAIRBY,

I have sent you a little more scribble to read, which will amuse you for
an hour.  Will you be so kind as to send them all to Mrs. HARRIS?  You
need not seal them, though I hope the Lord will seal you; but he has
already, for the spirit in the heart is the king’s seal, saying, _This_
is mine—the Church is a fountain sealed; and every sensible token that
you have had, every smile and ray of spiritual joy, every gracious
promise applied to the heart, and every time love is sensibly felt, this
is the sealing of the Spirit.  Christ was sealed by the Father when he
was chosen in eternity, he was the Son of God; but perhaps he was not
sensibly sealed by the Holy Spirit till his baptism, when, probably, both
the Father and the Holy Spirit spoke, This is my beloved Son, _in_ whom I
am well pleased.  This is my beloved Son, _with_ whom I am well pleased.
So says St. Matthew and St. Mark.  God has chosen us in Christ, this is
the Father’s sealing; but the Holy Spirit in us, is the Spirit’s seal,
and every gracious look, intercourse, and holy frame, is the sealing
work.  This is not faith, but it is the enjoyment of the object we do
believe in.  Faith is a radical principle, and always abides in the
heart: But after ye believed ye were sealed by the Holy Spirit of
Promise.  This sealing is the sensible enjoyment of the promised good.  I
beg dear Mrs. H— to notice this.  A little sacred comfort arising from
believing, hoping, and trusting in the finished work of Christ, is also
the sealing work; and, perhaps, in the closing scene of life, when she
draws near to death, this will be more blessedly enjoyed—For my people
shall be satisfied with my goodness saith the Lord.

                                                                   Your’s,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER II.


                                     _Valley of Achor_, _August_ 10, 1819.

To THE SAME.

MY DEAR SIR,

How gracious is the Lord: when I cannot believe, still _he_ abideth
faithful—Oh! for an heart to love him, and to adore him; but though I
have often rebelled, yet, how gracious and faithful he still continues
towards me—surely faithfulness is the girdle of his reins.  This is the
girdle for faith to lay hold of.  My faith has only to do with his
promises, the _whens_, the _wheres_, and the _hows_; this is the Lord’s
work, and not mine.  I wish above all things for an increase of faith, of
hope, and love; the sweetest is love: but though I have so sweetly felt
this lately, it is now suspended, yet I hope it will return.  I am now in
my old place, a poor, vile, guilty creature, at the feet of Jesus,
pleading his work again; and looking now, _not_ at what I feel, but at
the satisfaction of Christ, with which the Father is everlastingly well
pleased.  Here I rest, till love is felt again; my desire is to him, and
to the remembrance of his name.  Sin works, Satan is busy, but grace
still reigns.  Thus we see that grace has yet the honor of the field.  We
have not run back, though we have often been down, the Lord raises us up
again, and this motto is our privilege, “I shall arise.”  Oh! what a
mercy, greater is he that is in us, than he that is in the world.  I have
cause to be thankful to the Lord that he has thus far led me; but the
Devil, at times, almost drives me distracted with the carking cares of
what will happen to me.  Oh! lay my case before God, that I may have
power to cast this burthen on the Lord.  I wish I could get over it; yet
my fears may be a good sign, better fear than to presume, or grow
careless.

                                             Love to Mrs. H. and Daughter,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER III.


                                        _Valley of Achor_, _Jan._ 10, 1819

To THE SAME.

DEAR SIR,

I hope you are all well in health.  I have been poorly in body and mind,
but have been supported; _his_ left hand I found was under my head, but I
wanted his right hand to embrace me; the one is daily manifested, and the
other is always wanted, though but seldom felt.  Yet he has embraced us,
and Solomon says, there is a time to embrace, and there is a time to
refrain from embracing.  Christ received us to the glory of God in the
eternal covenant.  The Father draws us to Christ, by giving us to feel
our sinful state, our weakness and wants; and then by setting before us
his dear Son in his ability and willingness to save.  In his light we see
him, desire him, move in heart after him, and long for a smile of his
approbation—to feel it, and enjoy it, knowing that eternal life is in it.
These workings of the mind are often attended with fears, bondage,
doubts, and misgivings, and these rise as hope gets down; but as faith
gathers strength, so we rise above these doubts.  This has been my
experience for many years, and I have now a good opportunity of watching
it.  Some, indeed, get to land upon the broad planks of the promises, and
sensible manifestations of divine love; but myself, and many more, will
arrive as safe home, only by getting hold of a few scattered truths,
which we love and embrace.  Receive the truth, and the truth shall make
you free.  And one truth is—I have blotted out as a thick cloud thy
sins.—We are all much tried, but it is our appointed lot—discouraged
because of the way.  And are these the blessings we expect?  Is this the
lot of God’s elect?  Yes; this lot is cast into the lap, but the whole
disposing is of the Lord.—Let this note be read to dear Mrs. H.  Grace be
with you all.

                                                                 So prays,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER IV.


                                        _Valley of Achor_, _May_ 21, 1819.

To THE SAME.

DEAR SIR,

When you have read these letters, be so kind as to send one to the Post
Office, and the other, if you could call on Mrs. L—, she would take it
kind, as she is indisposed.  She was confined many weeks, and no one in
the Church knew it, or else they would have visited her.  I wish I was
able, but even then I should feel no desire, except the Lord gave it me.
When we are in bondage of spirit, the heart is contracted, and we can
feel for no one but ourselves; but when love operates, and keeps the
heart open, we can then sympathize with the Lord’s afflicted ones; our
hearts are enlarged to them, to their Lord, and to the truth as it is in
Jesus.  As these sweet sensations of love are felt, we melt and mourn.
These are the sweetest moments of my life, and many such I have had these
three weeks past.  These cause me songs in the house of my pilgrimage,
yet I cannot sing, I can only look on, and wonder, while the Angel does
marvellously before me.  I am but low in body, and a sweet lowness of
mind, and here I am most safe: I beg for the increase of it, but I am
fearful of losing it, knowing that the Son of Man is at times taken away:
then do we fast in those days.  But we are getting home—happy meeting by
and by—

    There may I meet my sincere friends,
       Amidst the ransom’d throng;
    Where love and friendship have no end,
       And you will join the song.

Love to Mrs. H. and Children—excuse haste.

                                                                   Your’s,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER V.


                                      _Valley of Achor_, _April_ 12, 1819.

To the SAME.

MY DEAR SIR,

I hope your faith is fixed upon, and growing into, a most divine
acquaintance with the _three_ grand Favors the gospel holds out to you;
each adorable Person in the ever adorable Trinity, proclaiming, I am thy
God: and this Favor seen through a fourth, even the human nature of
Christ; while pardon, justification, and the gift of the Holy Spirit,
also shine through the word in your mind: these also producing love,
wonder, and praise; and these opposed by the world, the flesh, and the
devil, often stirring up fear, rebellion, and ingratitude, till we are
favored again with fresh power, fresh views, and fresh strength;
encouraging and confirming faith, hope, and patience, and working in
prayer, hearing, and reading, till we find it sweet to talk, meditate,
and praise.  Soon we shall see three wonders; Christ in person, the
angels in light, and the glorified Church of the redeemed in full dress.
We are in our dishabille at present; the world knoweth us not, because it
doth not yet appear what we shall be; but we shall be like _him_, as sure
as we love him now.  Do tell Mrs. H. this glory is for them that wait for
him, them that trust in him, and them who love his various visits; and I
am sure this will encourage her.  Mark it: _those who hope in his mercy_;
and that mercy is Christ.

                                                            Your’s, truly,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER VI.


                                       _Valley of Achor_, _Dec._ 19, 1817.

Dear Mr. E.

When the dear apostles of old wrote their epistles to the churches, after
having stated the glory and preciousness of Christ, they generally
mentioned some name of the adorable Father, as suited to that Church to
whom they wrote.  When Peter addressed the churches scattered abroad,
during the persecution under the pagan emperors, he mentioned the
glorious character of God, as the God of all grace—_all_ grace which they
could need.—Paul mentions to one church, the God of hope; to another, the
God of patience, and the God of all consolation.  These titles are
exceedingly precious; and as they are suited to the churches of old, they
are handed down to us, as they suit us now; and indeed whatever precious
character the Lord bears, it is in mercy to us—these are not empty
titles, but very important parts of that work, undertaken by the adorable
Trinity ere time began.  It is surprising grace that God should ever go
forth in creature acts of love to us—that he should pass by others—that
he should occupy his thoughts about us, who are but mere worms, clods of
earth.  This is wonderful, that he should love us, though fallen,
polluted, distant, and awfully rebellious—that he should ever visit,
abide, and dwell with us: this is surprising grace, stupendous mercy
indeed, that the Lord should ever send a promise to the heart, and make
that promise good to such unbelieving, unworthy beings.  These things
will, no doubt, astonish the saints of God in glory for ever.  O, that
they had better effect upon our hearts! and the reason why they have not,
is owing to the weakness of our faith; and faith is weakened as the word
of God, the throne of God, and the people of God are neglected.  As sin
is winked at, and lies upon the mind almost unseen, and, of course,
unlamented—this weakens precious faith.  May the Lord keep up those two
useful agents in our souls, _Watchful_ and _All-prayer_.

With respect to myself, I am kept passive in my Lord’s hands.  I sensibly
feel my situation; I am certainly very low, but I have many mercies.  My
faith and confidence increases in the Lord’s designs, at least, in the
_end_ designed; and when I am tried _enough_, I shall come forth as gold.
Jesus is a refiner and purifyer; his dear people are compared to gold and
silver—if they were only wooden vessels, they would be burnt with the
fire of tribulation; but then, though they cannot be consumed, the
apostle intimates their works—some hay, straw, and stubble—must be burnt,
though himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire.

                                                            Your’s, truly,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER VII.


                                          _Achor’s Vale_, _June_ 14, 1819.

Mrs. E.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

I trust you are better in health than you was; I feel very anxious about
you both; I pray God to spare you, to see his good hand of grace toward
me; and that he has heard many prayers on my behalf, although he has not
heard them in the way I requested; but though the Lord often changes his
promise, yet, he never breaks his promise.  He often changes the promise
of a temporal blessing into a spiritual good; but he never changes his
mind nor falsifies his word—he is the only faithful Friend on whom we can
rely; all others are like glasses, they are to be used, but no weight to
be put upon them.  Hence the command, Trust ye not in a friend; lean not
too heavy, nor build upon glass.  This blessing is the gift of God, it is
grace given to the friend; and it is worthy of observation, that a
disposition to act friendly, is from God, and the befriended should look
to Jesus through the friend, as Christ shines through them.  And this is
evidenced by the effects produced, because it draws up the mind to the
Saviour in a way of gratitude and wonder, love and praise.  I will
magnify the Lord with a song.  The shall please the Lord better than a
bullock that hath horns and hoofs.  This is the way the Lord deals, at
times, with me; when particularly sensible of sin, I confess, supplicate,
plead, and submit; if grief overflow, I pray, read much, and think; and
when I am favored with the least glimpse of his face, or a sensation of
his love, or a little life in my spirit, then I praise, love, adore, and
offer up the sacrifice of thanksgiving—this is called the calves of the
lips.

I have not written my thoughts on the subject we last discoursed on, but
shall by and by, God willing.  I have been much grieved lately that Mr. —
has made use of such warm expressions in the pulpit, concerning the
decrees of God.  What he has asserted are undoubted truths, but I object
to the _manner_ in which they are stated.  I have no objection to the
preaching these awful and sublime subjects, but it requires a man of
_some_ wisdom to state them properly, or else the subject may be rendered
disgustful, even to believers themselves.  God has chosen his people in
Christ before the world began: this is a truth worthy of our deepest
regard; that the Lord should cause millions and millions of beings,
angels and men, to rise in his infinite mind, and out of them to select a
people for himself, to the glory of his own name, and, as a Sovereign, to
display upon them the riches of his grace—this was the favour shewed
them, and this favour is called _grace_, electing sovereign grace,
because he passed the rest by, he did not confer on them this favour.  No
reason can be assigned for this, but his own sovereign good-will.  The
rest he passed by; he did not choose them to damn them, nor predestinate
them to be damned, nor make them on purpose to damn them; that was not
the business; he passed them by in reference to his act, but he chose the
rest, both angels and men, in the dear Covenant Head, and fixed them,
standing most secure in Christ, before they fell.  Those whom the Lord
passed by, stood in Adam only; here they sinned, fell, and became guilty:
as they grow up, they evidence God has passed them by, as they live and
die regardless of God, ignorant of the Saviour, and heart enemies to him;
but as God did not choose the elect for any foreseen good in them, or
done by them, so neither did he pass by the rest because they would be so
vile, but he chose the one in the riches of his grace, and passed by the
other in his divine sovereignty.  Mark—he does not damn them because he
is a Sovereign, and has a right to do it; No, he only passed by them as a
Sovereign, and he punishes them because they hate him, and have so
awfully signed against him, so that our God is holy, gracious, sovereign,
and just.

I thought it acceptable to you, to drop you this line, to state the
simple truth as it is in scripture; a subject that puzzled me for many
years, and which has still a mystery in it that we cannot comprehend; yet
there is enough revealed to faith to receive, admire, and adore.  And as
to the damnation of infants, which Mr. — advanced last Sunday, the
scriptures are silent about it; nor do I think it forms any part of the
gospel which Jesus and Paul preached.  We have nothing to do with it.
Where the bible has no mouth, we ought to have no ears.  I am of opinion
that children are saved, but I have no positive scripture for it—as the
glories of heaven are rather described by negatives, what they are not,
so the salvation of children is by a negative also, where they are not;
for in the account of those that are lost, and in hell now, and will be
punished there, we read nothing of children.  Our dear friend Mr. Fosset,
wishes me to write on these subjects, at the next church meeting, to set
this matter at rest a little, by explaining the subject in my simple,
humble manner.  What a mercy the Lord has not passed us by, as he might
have done; and as an evidence he loves us, he has given us some taste of
that love, and created his fear in our hearts.

                                                                    Your’s
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER VIII.


                                      _Valley of Achor_, _Sept._ 15, 1818.

MY DEAR FRIEND, Mr. C.

I thank you kindly for the loan of books.  I return you the Pamphlet
written by Mr. Gadsby.  I quite agree with him in his views of the Moral
Law, which is commonly termed so, but which the Apostle stiles
_spiritual_.  I consider the Gospel of the grace of God, the Father’s
will to us, in Christ Jesus, containing _Promises_, _Declarations of
Mercy_, _Imitations_, _Precepts_, _and Exhortations_, to be the only, and
all-sufficient Rule of a Christian.  These are not in opposition to the
holy Law of God, but they far excel it in glory, and as many as walk
according to this Rule, peace be on them.  Christ is our King and our
Law-giver, he has fulfilled the Law for his Church, brought in an
everlasting righteousness for our justification; he has put away sin by
the sacrifice of himself, and he lives a life of mediation for all who
come to God through him.  The Holy Spirit illuminates the mind; reveals
pardon to the conscience; and sheds abroad the love of God in the heart,
plants his fear in the soul, and enables us to take the will of God for
our Rule, as it is expressed in the Gospel.—This is our rule of walk,
conduct, and conversation—the Lord help us to walk in this light, as God
is in the light.  But I think it is cruel for any Preacher or Author, who
professes to be a leader of God’s people, to send them to the Law, in
_any sense whatever_.  Every worldling and proud Pharisee should be sent
there, till they are taught their need of Christ.  But an humble,
regenerate person, should always be directed to the Lord Jesus, to the
throne of grace, and to the glorious Gospel of grace.  None but worldly
Wisemen will ever direct either a burthened Pilgrim, or a consistent
believer, to the Law.  John Bunyan met with such a director, but what his
feelings were he tells you: First, he forsook the advice: of the Gospel
Minister, _Evangelist_, who gave him this direction, _Look unto Jesus_.
Secondly, He tried to raise a prejudice in his mind against the Ministers
who preach free grace.  Thirdly, He directed him to go by the high hill
that he pointed to.  This is the way that seemeth right to a man, but it
is falling from grace: the spirit of bondage began to work on his mind;
his fears of the curse of this broken Covenant increased; his guilt was
deeper felt, because he was out of the way.  A sense of God’s anger
flashed on his spirit, and the dread of damnation overcame him.  He
quaked for fear.  This is coming to Mount Sinai indeed, and this is all
the Law can do, viz. Convince and condemn—and these feelings, more or
less, attend those who are seeking to the Law for life, hope, peace, and
salvation; or that cleave to it in _any sense whatever_: for what things
soever the law saith, it saith to them that are under it, whether they
are in a profession or out of it; and as many as are of the works of the
law, are under the curse of it—but we are redeemed from that broken
covenant, that we should serve the Lord Jesus in the newness of the
spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter.  But do read what
Evangelist says of such Law Preachers, and Directors, in his conversation
with the Pilgrim, when he met him near Mr. Legality’s House.

May you and I walk in Christ, die to sin, and live more to God.—Kind
respects to Mrs. C. and Brother.

                                                                   Your’s,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER IX.


                                            _Achor’s Vale_, _May_ 6, 1819.

MY DEAR FRIEND, Miss BRAES,

History relates a poor aged man, who had once been serviceable to his
country, and was condemned by a Tyrant to be starved to death in prison.
All were astonished that he did not die, seeing no food was brought to
him; but it was found afterwards that his married daughter visited him
twice a day, and gave him suck from her own breast.  This is an instance
of filial affection.  You have acted almost as kind, in its degree, to
me; and with your dear aunt, you have often soothed my sorrows with the
milk of human kindness.  May my Lord reward it another day.  You have
heard my poor feeble sermons with pleasure, especially when I have been
enabled to point out the beauties, and glories of the _Friend_ of guilty
man.  I hope I am only learning better how to extol and magnify the
grace, the love, the person, and work of _him_, who, to a grace-taught
eye, is fairer than the children of men.  I have, indeed, fell into a
place where two seas meet—the malice of Satan and the power of man; yet,
through grace, and when it is well with me, I have this confidence, _I
shall arise_; but how, and when, I leave it with God.  I am at times
troubled about it, but at other times I can cast that burden on the Lord.
I wish it laid in my power to write something to you of the dear Saviour,
that would lead you to admire and adore him.  I have said a little about
him, but, alas, it was little indeed.  He is the bright Sun in the
firmament of heaven, all the millions of angels and spirits of just men
who are now in glory, look upon him with wonder and delight; and while
they gaze, he fills them with joy, with peace, with love, and with the
most solid satisfaction.  They wondered at his love when on earth, that
he should ever bleed and agonize, sigh and die for them; but, what must
they think now they see him in his full glory?

    And _now_ they range the heavenly plains,
    And sing _his_ love in sweetest strains;
    Or, overwhelm’d with rapture sweet,
    Sink down, adoring at his feet.

Because _he_ is so glorious, so beautiful, so lovely, and so kind.  He
saw what poor guilty creatures we should be, condemned to eternal misery
and woe.  _He_ knew we could not help ourselves out of this state.  _He_
knew God was just in condemning us, and he knew that God, as an
unchangeable Being, could not alter his oath, As I live, the soul that
sinneth shall die!  We had broken his Law; we were born in sin; we went
astray from infancy, and must have strayed into everlasting darkness,
but,

    With pitying eye the Prince of Peace,
    Beheld our helpless grief.

_He_ took our nature, engaged to fulfil the Law we had broken, and pay
the dreadful debt of suffering.  This _he_ did heartily for us, and is
now in glory, pleading the virtue of that work, and receiving all that
come to God by _him_.

Sing, oh ye heavens, Jesus hath done it, and done it, I trust, for my
dear young Friend, to whom I write with pleasure.  Need I say to you that
you stand in need of this Saviour?  I hope you are in a little measure
convinced of it, and at times, when no eye can see you but the Saviour’s,
you send up many an humble wish, fervent desires, and earnest breathings,
that the ever-blessed Spirit would teach you Christ, and shew you that
your sins are pardoned, that your interest is sure, and that the dear
Lord thought upon _you_ when _he_ engaged to die for sinners—that _he_
thought upon you when he entered into the garden of sorrow, and when _he_
said, It is finished!  Do often, secretly lift up your heart to _him_,
saying, Lord shew me that thou lovest me.  This is done by the Spirit and
by the Word.  May _he_ be very precious to you; and do remember _he_ hath
said, They that seek _me_ shall find me.  Blessed is she that believeth,
for there shall be a performance of those things that are told her from
the Lord.

And now do accept my sincerest thanks for your affectionate kindness.

                                                                   Your’s,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER X.


                                        _Valley of Achor_, _May_ 16, 1819.

MY DEAR FRIEND, Mrs. HARRIS,

I am sorry to hear of your indisposition, but hope also to hear soon of
your recovery.  I take this opportunity of acknowledging how much I feel
indebted to you for your long concern for my best interest, and your
grief for my trials; but I think God has given you many tokens of my
future good, by many gracious impressions on your mind in your sleeping
hours, and I trust we shall not be mistaken in them, although we are apt
to construe such impressions to mere temporal advantages, just as the
Apostles did of our dear Lord’s kingdom and government; they all thought
he was come to set up a temporal kingdom, but when they were filled with
the Holy Spirit they understood the subject better.  This world is not
our rest, we are not born merely to pass our lives in this, but to be
looking out for a better and more enduring home: yet, alas, how prone are
we to fix our tents here, in this world of uncertainty and trouble.  I
trust my dear friend has a little hope of a better world.  You have often
heard of an eternal glory, and I am sure it will be a heaven worth dying
for.  Many of the people of the world rush into wars and bloodshed, the
ruins of countries and the distress of nations, merely to get a great
name, and that it might be said they died honorably in the field of
battle.  Poor deluded creatures, this was not worth dying for; honour and
fame is but a noise, a vapour, a puff, and a breath.  But we want to die
to obtain a glorious eternity, to see the dear Saviour, to be with him,
and to be like him; to see him with our enlightened understandings, till
the last trumpet shall sound, and our bodies be raised from the dead,
strong, beautiful, and glorious, and the soul and body meet again with
rapture, to be filled with the joy of the Lord, to hear the welcome
sentence of the dear Redeemer, and see him smile on us, creating our
heaven, and delighting us with his love; opening our minds to receive the
knowledge of God in his glorious persons, the greatness of his grace, the
displays of his wisdom and power—his truth, condescension, faithfulness,
and mercy in our eternal salvation.

I trust my dear kind Friend can say she humbly desires only Christ and an
interest in him, to know that her sins are pardoned by him, and that she
lives in the tenderest affections of his heart.  The scriptures declare
that you do live there, but you want to feel it for yourself; yet, I hope
you can say, from what little you do know, you depend upon Christ as
God-Man and Mediator, upon his most blessed work, as your acceptance with
the Father, only you want the gracious Holy Spirit to shew you so much of
Christ as to cause you to love _him_ above all things, and to give you
the clearest assurance of his love to you.  _Do take notice_.  This
little knowledge you have of _him_, and this desire after _him_, this
humble dependence upon _him_, and renouncing all others, is really
believing in _him_.

May the Lord bless thee and keep thee, be your leader, guide, and
comfort.  Kind love to your Niece, and all enquiring friends and
acquaintance.—I must conclude this letter, with some Remarks I have met
with on the very great difference between an _Acquaintance_ and a
_Friend_.

                                                             Your’s truly,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.



ACQUAINTANCE and FRIENDS
_DISTINCT CHARACTERS_.


    FALLEN man an erring creature is,
    And, bent on erring, errs in this:
    He forms connections without end,
    And calls each _intimate a Friend_.

    But ’twixt the two a difference lies,
    And, oh! how great is our surprize—
    To view the characters more near,
    How vast me difference does appear.

    _Acquaintance_ cries, to ease my woe,
    Be warm’d, be fill’d—and off they go.
    My _Friend_ presents the thing I need,
    The _one’s_ in word, the _other_ deed.

    While pleasing plenty crowns my cup,
    _Acquaintance_ springs like mushrooms up;
    But woeful want creeps forth to light,
    And each betakes himself to flight.

    Yet sometimes one of human kind.
    In this dull day remains behind;
    And ’tis my _Friend_, for only he
    Cares for the child of misery.

    _Acquaintance_ see me go astray:
    But he must look to that they say.
    My _Friend_ seeks out my devious track,
    O’ertakes me, and conducts me back.

    If sick, or into prison thrown,
    My _Friend_ still makes my case his own,
    And in my chamber or my cell
    Esteems it his delight to dwell.

    The utmost my _Acquaintance_ do,
    While these great deeps I’m passing through,
    Is, squeeze this prayer out now and then—
    Heav’n send him safely out again.

    _Acquaintance_ are but sons of earth;
    They relish well the house of mirth,
    But in the mourner’s dwelling place
    ’Tis real pain to shew his face.

    Here mark my _Friend_, he in the hour
    Of keen temptation’s darkness power,
    Stands by me all the season long,
    With a sweet promise on his tongue.

    He bears my company till death,
    Whilst on my very latest breath;
    And in his last kind act of love,
    Points to my Father’s house above.

    Then while I sojourn here below,
    Let _Friend_ include all names I know;
    And be it fellow-creature’s pride
    To know no other name beside.—_Amen_.




LETTER XI.


                                       _Valley of Achor_, _Feb._ 25, 1819.

MY DEAR FRIEND, I. R. ESQ.

I am ashamed I have been so dilatory in answering your kind letter of the
10th instant.  I read it with most exquisite delight.  I intended a very
long epistle for you, but I must still remain that in your debt, which I
will faithfully pay the earliest opportunity.  Yesterday I was just
sitting down to drop you a line, but was suddenly surprized to hear of
your indisposition.  I fear your daily vexations have hurt your nervous
system, and distressed your mind; nor have you much power to bear them—we
all want strength to endure tribulation.  We want power to stand in the
evil day, that we may not fall before it.  I have often been pleased,
edified, and comforted with that very precious Promise, xliii. Isa.
“When thou passest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; when thou
passest through the waters, they shall not overflow thee, for I am with
thee.”  I trust this promise will be fulfilled in our experience _till_
death, and _in_ death.  I feel anxious about your health of body.  I
judge your feelings.  I know your state of mind.  We need Divine keeping
in every thing we do, and in every step we take.  Hence, David prayed:
Preserve me, O God, for in thee do I put my trust.  Leave me not
destitute.  Does not this prayer suit you well? it does me.  Yet I feel
happy the Lord is leading you to see the vanity of all things below the
stars; the emptiness of the creature, the sin of your nature, in hewing
out cisterns, yea, broken cisterns, that can hold, retain, no water.  No
sooner are creature comforts in, but they run out again.  Yet, alas, how
awful for mankind to forsake the living fountain which never will be
exhausted, or run dry!  The adorable Trinity in unity, is that fountain,
each glorious person is so represented, because they are equal in power,
majesty, glory, and goodness.  God is love, and this glorious God-head
includes the three Holy Ones.  What a mercy for us, _they_ divinely
condescended to enter into covenant about us, such hell-deserving sinners
as we are, and in the prospect of our miseries, made ample provision for
us, that we might be infinite gainers by the fall, and God for ever
glorified in that great business of redemption and grace.—In this
glorious covenant our sins were made over to Christ, and his
righteousness made over to us.  This was secured by the promise, and the
oath of God; confirmed by the blood of the dear Saviour; made known in
the Gospel, and brought to the faith of an humble believer.  After the
sense and assurance of this blessing, we being first convinced of sin,
and fearing God’s wrath, the day of death, the last judgment and
eternity, we doubt, fear, pray, hope, aspire, desire, long, and then grow
careless, lukewarm, indifferent, dead, till guilt is felt again, or
trouble arises, or affliction comes on; then we get alarmed, quickened,
and anxious again to read our title clear, to see the interest Christ has
in us, and the interest we have in _him_; to know that our sins are
forgiven us, that God is at peace with us, that the law is magnified, sin
put away, a door open in heaven that no sin in future can shut; death
left stingless, judgment not at all dreaded, because we shall see _him_
whom we _adore_, _admire_, and _love_; we shall be made like _him_, we
shall get rid of sin.

    Sin, our worst enemy before,
    Shall vex our eyes and souls no more;
    But every power find sweet employ
    In Christ’s eternal world of joy.

I beg the Lord, the Holy Spirit, to give you supernatural ideas of
Christ, so as to endear _him_ to your heart, and make you long to tell of
_his name_ and fame; to make you wise; to be as wise as Paul, and as
eloquent as Apollos; that you might point forth the Divine excellencies
of Jesus to poor sinners.  I trust your life will be spared for this
purpose, it is the only thing worth living for.  Christ is the darling of
the Father, and the grand object of the Spirit’s glorification: angels
adore _him_, saints admire _him_, and in our poor feeble way, oh that we
could love _him_ with every power and passion, with every member and
faculty of body, soul and spirit.  May this instrument of ten strings
sweetly sound _his_ dear fame.  The most painful lesson we have to learn,
is the evil of our hearts, the malice of the devil, the weakness of our
own arm, and our utter impossibility to do any one good thing without
Christ: separated from _him_, we can do nothing, no more than a dead
branch can grow, that is cut off and thrown aside.  The nature, extent,
and spirituality of the law, and our condemnation by it, the person, the
glory, and work of Christ, as the head of the church, and the Saviour of
the body.  This is the main subject, and the various displays of the
offices of God, the Holy Spirit, as the glorifier of Christ.  This
subject is the Gospel itself, and the longer I live, the more blessed I
see this truth.  The Son of man is come to save that which was lost.
This is an encouragement to my soul, and the very basis of my hope.  Here
alone is the way of access to God, to the Throne, and to Heaven.  May the
Spirit sanctify, and bless you; bear testimony with your spirit, that you
are a child of God.  This will be spiritual health in bodily sickness;
this will light life in death, and gild the gloomy horrors of the tomb,
as the celebrated Dr. Young says, and with which I conclude my epistle.

    Religion! thou the soul of happiness,
    And, groaning Calvary, of thee: there shine
    The noblest truths: there strongest motives sting:
    There sacred violence assaults the soul;
    There nothing but compulsion is forborne.
    Can love allure us? or can terror awe?
    He weeps!—the falling drop puts out the sun.
    He sigh!—the sigh earth’s deep foundation shakes.
    If in _his_ love so terrible, what then
    _His_ wrath inflam’d?  _His_ tenderness on fire?
    Like soft, smooth oil, out-blazing other fires?

Pray do let me know how you are in health as soon as you can.—Kind love
to Mrs. R. wishing you a healthy body and a prosperous soul.

                                I remain,

                                                              Dear friend,
                                                             Your’s truly,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER XII.


                                      _Valley of Achor_, _March_ 16, 1819.

To I. R. ESQ.

MY DEAR SIR,

I am truly happy to hear that the Lord has restored you again in some
measure to health.  I was much affected at the news of your sudden
indisposition, and knew not what was the will of God concerning you, but
through mercy, I trust your spared life is for the glory of God, and will
be a means of your increasing in knowledge, that your mind may be better
prepared for the special Service of God, and that you may be ready to
take your flight as soon as the _Lord_, the _Master_ cometh and calleth
for you.  Every attack of the constitution is a messenger sent to let us
know our frailty: these tabernacles of flesh are but weak, and hang on a
precarious thread; our bones are the _stakes_, the _cords_ are the
sinews, and the _breath_ is the main pillar.  Great God, on what a
slender thread hangs everlasting things; the eternal state of all the
dead hangs on such feeble strings.

God has laid an everlasting foundation for _his_ dear people in the
everlasting covenant; the effect of _his_ everlasting love, the profound
depth of _his_ infinite wisdom, which has secured an everlasting
salvation, by an everlasting righteousness, which will be to the
everlasting praise of Jehovah, and to the everlasting joy of _his_ dear
church.

    Then at _his_ throne our crowns we’ll cast,
    And shout, I am saved, I am saved at last!

Your indisposition, and indeed every other calamity is as that messenger
of whom the prophet Elisha gave orders to notice, Look, as when the
messenger cometh, hold him fast, and shut to the door, is not the sound
of his master’s feet behind?  So may we detain every message of sorrow.
Ask the question, Why is this sent me? what does he say from his master?
But why ask this? the sound of Christ is heard, Behold, I come quickly.
Our deep concern of soul, and every conviction of sin, every fear of
death, judgment, and eternity should be entertained, thought over, and
made use of, to go to God with, and entreat the manifestation of
pardoning love and mercy.  Hence, _he_ has promised to be found of them
that seek _him_, to be found as a God in Christ, in whom all fulness
dwells, and having all the blessings of an everlasting covenant to bestow
upon the heirs of promise.  _He_ giveth to them just as they need; but
these blessings are only given to the poor and helpless, the lost, the
guilty, and the vile, and till this is the case with us, we can never be
in earnest about Christ, and _his_ Salvation.  Wretches that feel what
help they need, will bless the helping hand; and till the Saviour puts
forth _his_ power, we can do no more than the mariners did with Jonah
aboard; the men rowed hard to bring it to land, but the sea wrought, and
was tempestuous against them.  Christ is the only one who can still the
tempest of a distressed mind, and bring us on our knees, exclaiming, What
manner of _man_ is this, that even the winds and sea obey _him_.  This is
a comfort to me in my most dreary prospects.

                                                           I remain yours,
                                                             With respect,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER XIII.


                                           _London_, _September_ 10, 1820.

MY MUCH BELOVED FRIEND, I. R. ESQ.

Mrs. P. did me the honor to call on me last night with the very painful
news of the departure of your dear John.  A variety of serious ideas
flowed into my mind upon hearing of your affecting and serious loss.  I
knew how much you loved him, how dear he was to you both; I knew how very
engaging he had become; I considered your feelings on the occasion, nor
was I without my fears, lest you should reflect on yourselves in taking
him so long a journey.  I have also pictured to myself your absence from
the little pious society of friends amongst us, your large and venerable
house.  Recent death of an aged parent, with none but strangers around
you, and a variety of circumstances beside; these, yes, these things
dwell on my mind, and have led me to trouble you with a line on the sad
occasion.  I hope an apology for intrusion is needless.  I write not to
_inform_ my beloved friends, but only to _remind_ them, that every event
is absolutely decreed by a God of infinite wisdom; not a stroke of
affliction, nor a shaft of death can possibly touch, but by Divine
appointment.  The _nature_, the _kind_, the _time_, the _age_, the
_place_ were all arranged in the unerring purposes of God.  It was
decreed the dear dear boy should be taken to B. Hall, _there_ the Lord
would send for him.  He has sent for his own: the Lord had the greatest
right to him, he was, indeed, lent to his affectionate parents, but he is
demanded back again; he was the object of his heavenly father’s love, he
was the property of Jesus, and he must be brought home to his house, by
his holy angels.  Death indeed is very terrible to our natures, it takes
away the darlings of our hearts, and the desire of our eyes, but it has
transmitted yours to the enjoyment of God in human nature: this is the
accomplishment of God’s design in this providence, and with holy joy you
will one day say, _He_ has done all things well.  The dear boy, like
Abraham in his conversion, has left his native country, and gone into the
eternal inheritance, which God has prepared for him, and which he never
saw or sought before.  Like Jacob, he at the command of his God, has
returned to his father’s house, and his own spiritual and angelic
kindred: like the Israelites, though his journey was short, God opened a
passage through the garden of death: his little journey is ended, he sets
in peace, _it is well_.  Farewell, my dear-little fellow, I shall kiss
thy little lips or press thy little cheeks no more! no, no, the painful
task is assigned to thy dear parents, to see thee taken from their arms,
and from their house, to the solemn tomb, the silent, the dark, the cold,
the dreary receptacle for suffering mortality.  Happy voyager, how short
thy passage on the sea of this tribulated world; how short thy stay, how
swift thy flight; but what thy surprize to enter into another state of
love, holiness, joy, and glory; every little power expanded, and the soul
plunged in a moment into a sea of bliss: what a glorious transition, what
a surprize, and perhaps the first object it saw, was its little sister at
the portals of bliss, waiting to welcome him home, although unknown
before, yet now known to each other for ever.  Methinks I see them meet
and clasp each other with holy innocent joy, and if a thought could be
indulged, or received about their beloved parents: surely they converse
together about you: but hark, they speak to you! they bid you weep not;
(if ye loved us ye would rejoice we are gone to our Father, and the world
seeth us no more.  Hallelujah.)

I hope dear Mrs. R. will be most divinely supported under this
bereavement.  I trust the dear little one in London will be restored to
be a comfort, but dear John is this moment fresh in my mind.  I judge
your feelings; I am sorry you are so far distant from us.  I have the
departure of my own beloved daughter still in mind, the thought often
occurs: well, let us look up, let us take courage, we shall bless God for
their loss another day; we are left to endure many a conflict, many a
trial, many a grief, but the soft hand of Jesus has wiped off the tears
from his little face: it is ours to suffer toil and grief, till death
transmits us, burdened and tired, grieved, and tried, to that glory which
never fades away; it is well for us that the dear Redeemer has been
through the territories of death and the grave, that he has taken the
sting of the one, and overcome the other for us.  May his love solace
your mind; may his grace reign in your hearts; may his power protect you,
and his very gracious presence cheer your souls; the separation is
painful, but it is short.  Our days fly swiftly away, the night of death
will come on; it may not be very distant, but interested in Jesus,
pardoned and justified, influenced, and led by his spirit, we shall meet
in a brighter, and better abode.

God bless you both together with his supporting hand.  So prays your
sympathizing friend, and best wisher in Christ.

                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER XIV.


                                     _Valley of Achor_, _August_ 13, 1819.

MY DEAR FRIEND, MRS. M.

I trust you are as well in mind and body as you expect to be in a time
state.  I have cause to bless God for all I have experienced, even for
the bitter path of sorrow.  But I have had much of the Lord’s goodness
pass before me, and _he_ has manifested his dear name to me, as the Lord,
the Lord God, gracious and merciful, abundant in goodness, in mercy, and
truth; and though _he_ can by no means (of a sinner’s devising) clear the
guilty, yet _he_ has devised a plan, in infinite wisdom, whereby _he_ can
be just, and yet the justifier of the ungodly.  And it is our mercy that
we are brought from all confidence in the flesh, while a daily
acquaintance with the depravity of our hearts, keeps us from trusting in
self; the troubles of life keep us from making up our happiness in the
world, and the hypocrisy of professors, with the weakness of God’s _own_
children, keeps us from looking to, and idolizing the creature; thus we
tread the same path which the pious prophet Micah did, when he wrote his
seventh chapter, and came to this blessed conclusion, _Therefore_ will I
look to the Lord: this is all that the blessed spirit aims at in bringing
us low in soul, in the church, and in the world.  My time flies fast; I
dread to enter into the field of battle again.  I am weaker in myself
than ever I was, but perhaps the power of Christ will the more sensibly
rest upon me.  I hope to return with the olive branch of peace, while our
adorable Noah opens the window, and puts forth his hand to receive me
into the ark.  I should like to come to the Lord’s family loaded; I know
they are a needy people, and the Lord has provided many things for them:
_he_ keeps a good table, though the family have not always an appetite to
enjoy the rich provisions of his house; but the ever-kind householder has
provisions suited to every one.  I hope, therefore, to bring with me a
little of the sincere milk of the word, for the children, that they may
grow thereby, and some solid meat for those who are strong: the fatted
calf, the roasted paschal lamb, without a bitten herb; an olive berry,
from the uppermost bough; three loaves, also some unleavened bread, and a
cake, baked under the tree.  Some butter and neat honey from the rock,
with the honey comb.  Some broiled fish, also out of the sea of Tiberias;
and as we may want a desert also, I hope to bring some apples, some nuts,
and almonds; a bunch of figs, to take inwardly, or to make a plaister of,
to lay on some sore place.  Some good grapes of Eshcol, and pomegranates,
and mandrakes; also a bottle of new wine, well refined.  Some rock water,
clear as chrystal, from the well of Bethlehem; this will be very cheering
to some of the family.  I hope also to bring some very beautiful flowers;
a lovely _rose_, without a thorn; a remarkable _lily_, in full bloom,
which grows in certain vallies, and many other lovely flowers; some only
in bud, and some in full blossom: but I have not mentioned one-half the
good things in our master’s house.  Let these suffice at present.  I only
want ability to get things ready, and then to call the guests, and to
deliver out the various portions, as they are designed: but what do you
think? though I am such a poor servitor, yet my master takes the trouble
to teach me himself, and I never get scolded, without I act wrong, and am
always forgiven, though I am often shut up in the coal cellar, yet not
half so often as I deserve.  About three years ago I sadly neglected the
kitchen, and the setting out the table: I grew very careless, soiled my
livery, and mingled even with the very enemies of my master; this was
very ungrateful.  I lost my place by it, and have been out of place this
two years, yet my master is very kind to me; _he_ keeps me all the time I
am out of place, often sends to me, and has been several times to see me.
He has forgiven my folly, and I expect to be hired again, about the ninth
hour of the day, and then I shall bring all the things I have mentioned,
and a good many things more.  I expect a double honor upon me, for I hope
to be steward also, as well as cook and butler, for you must know we have
a charming wardrobe, and every one of his Benjamins are to have five
changes of raiment; some are to be worn every day, but others only on
court days, and public days.  The outer one is to be always kept white,
and though bad fellows throw dirt on it, yet we must not do so ourselves.
What they throw on us will not stick, but what we do, is sure to abide;
this is very remarkable.  But I had almost forgot the music, a high
sounding organ, a harp of ten strings, a cymbal, a lute, a violin, a
tabret, and some silver trumpets, as a dance is expected, xxxi. Jeremiah,
ver. 4.—We have also got in my master’s house, some armour shoes, which
look very beautiful, and fit every ones feet in the family, and they are
so strong, that they are like iron and brass; there is a two-edged sword,
a battle-axe, a helmet, a shield, a breast plate, and a bow with many
precious arrows: thus you see how well we are provided, and in order to
pass away our time pleasantly, and for our comfort and instruction, we
have a good collection of books; histories, records, and ancient
settlements, and a will or testament: and will you believe it? I think
_your_ name is in it.  I have not time to tell you about the ornaments,
with the dresses, but there are ear-rings, nose jewels, necklaces,
bracelets, and all powders of the merchant, and as to money, it has all
the king’s stamp upon it.  Some have but little, but others are well
stored with it; and there is but one piece that is ever lost, and when
one of the family has once had it, and lost it, a light is brought, the
house is swept, and no rest felt till it is found again.  May my dear
friends be thus entertained in the banqueting house, while the banner of
love is displayed over their heads.

Grace be with you all.—Kind respects to your family.

                                                                   Your’s,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.

I once read an excellent letter on this subject, in the Gospel Magazine.
I wish you could procure it for me; it was written many years ago.




LETTER XV.


                                         _Valley of Achor_, _May_ 2, 1819.

MY DEAR MRS. F.

My heart feels truly grateful, that you remember me in my low estate.
There are thousands in a profession, who boast much of their morality,
and good works, and who may boast in the last day, that they have done
many wonderful works; but God lays this to their charge, they are not
grieved for the afflictions of Joseph!  Such hypocrites are generally the
most godly, where there are the most lookers on.  My deep tribulations
have tried many, and they have fled in the day of evil.  What would such
persons do, should persecution ever visit our land; and when it becomes a
disgrace to profess religion?  Nothing but the love of Christ in the
heart, and that love kept up, and manifested under the sacred power of
the holy Spirit, can enable a person to go on in the midst of opposition,
or in the summer of prosperity; for it is a well known truth, that trials
have slain their thousands, but prosperity its ten thousands.  I well
know _now_, what these words mean, “It is my happiness below, not to live
without the cross:” this cross galls the old man of sin, but it is the
means of the spiritual growth of the new man.  Hence, the afflicted king
once said, Lord, by these things men live, and in all these things is the
life of my spirit.  Faith, if genuine has something to do in the furnace;
but when all is calm, she is inactive, and dull; hope is languid, and
love is not seen.  I feel assured in my own, my _right_ mind, that this
event _will_ be for the glory of God, and for much good to me, and to
many: but enemies will no doubt, always triumph, and say, Ah! there, so
we would have it! yet their joy is but as the crackling of thorns, under
a pot; it will not last long; only a blaze and a noise, and then it will
evaporate, like smoke.  I hope I shall love God for this rod, as well as
for every other blessing.  I never fully understood the Psalmist till I
came here, when he said, Thy rod, and thy staff, they comfort me.
Solomon explains it thus; To the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet,
because this rod is as much an evidence of our adoption, as any promise
can be.  They shall all pass under the rod, and they will say at last,
our Jesus has done all things well.  Ezekiel and John were to eat a book;
this was sweet in the mouth, but bitter in the belly.  So it is the case
with us; the promise of fatherly correction is sweet to faith, but bitter
to the old man of sin.  Nature flinches, but grace strengthens the mind;
bows the will, and resigns the soul to the will of God.  _His_ will and
our wills are then in sweet unison; we are agreed, and though we sigh,
yet rebellion is kept under, by all conquering grace; as a good woman
once said, Though I groan I do not grumble, yet she was sorely afflicted.

    But, why should I complain, of want, or distress;
    Affliction or pain, _he_ told me no less.

It is our mercy, the Saviour has borne the curse, and of course took it
out of all our sorrows; we have the cup of tribulation, but the curse is
gone; Jesus has taken it away, and neither sin nor Satan, the world, or
man can bring it back.  This was done by the great act of the Saviour’s
sorrows, when _he_ entered the garden of Gethsemane, and agonized there,
when the sorrows of his sacred soul were past all description; and when
he cried out on the cross, It is finished!  Yes, our dear Lord knew then
the work was done, in his putting away sin.  _He_ felt it was done, in
his soul, as _his_ God and Father shone again, as well as the sun did at
three o’clock the afternoon of his death: it was _after_ noon, indeed;
the burning sun of God’s Wrath laid hot upon _him_, till justice was
satisfied, and then the indignation ceased for ever.  This was
_afternoon_.  I drop this hint only, but oh, that our minds were more
affected with his _sorrows than they are_.  _Think of these two lines_:

    Canst thou, ungrateful man, his torments _see_?
    Nor shed one tear for him who shed his blood for _thee_?

I pray God to grant my dear friend very sweet views of her dear Lord, on
the work _he_ has accomplished.  May the holy Spirit visit you, and shine
upon your spirit, and help you to believe in Jesus, and so to find _him_
precious, that you may know your sins are forgiven you.

Very kind respects to mother; to brother James, your companion, and my
friend.

                                                             Your’s truly,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER XVI.


                                      _Valley of Achor_, _March_ 26, 1818.

MY DEAR FRIEND, MISS D.,

What apology shall I make for my long delay, but lowness of mind, and a
tedious winter; and this, _with_ you, I am sure is quite apology enough.
I write you, concerning the once crucified, but now exalted _Jesus_.  As
it is the wish of my soul, to live to fill up the cup of some poor
believer’s consolation, though I am denied that privilege at present, yet
I hope to throw a mite into the Gospel treasury for you, by sending a few
imperfect lines, which I must beg you to accept.  O that I had but _the_
wisdom of Solomon, _the_ piety of a David, _the_ knowledge of a Paul,
_the_ fervour of an Isaiah, _the_ faith of an Abraham, _the_ love of a
John, with _the_ tearful affections of a Mary, that I might speak good of
his name.  _Christ_ is all in all; _he_ is the very glory in the centre
of Heaven, as the sun is in the universe.  _He_ is the joy of Heaven; and
though _he_ is far off us, yet _he_ has promised ever to be with us.
_He_ is exactly suited to us in all our wants, and the love of Jehovah is
in no case so eminently displayed, as in providing such a _Jesus_ for us.
So great, so kind, so glorious, and yet so precious.  We shall soon be
done time, and commence upon an eternal scene; then our knowledge will be
complete, though no doubt, it will be expanding for ever, and the effects
of it, even in Heaven, will be wonder, humility, and love, for the mind
will incessantly be employed in roving over the glories of God; as the
God of all grace, one in three, and three in one; seen, apprehended,
enjoyed, beheld, and loved in _Christ Jesus_.

    And now they range the heavenly plains,
    And sing _his_ love in melting strains;
    Or, overwhelm’d with rapture sweet,
    Sink down, adoring at _his_ feet.

May this be our lot, and in order to that _state_, that _bliss_, that
_joy_, and that sweet _employment_.  May the eternal spirit give us such
views of Christ, as shall cause us to long for the time.

We are poor sinners, guilty, and hell-deserving, condemned by a holy law,
and exposed to a thousand miseries in this world; and in our fallen
nature, to the woe of perdition.  Christ is the Saviour of the lost; _he_
was from all eternity raised up, and voluntarily offered _himself_ to
become the Saviour of _his_ church.  Say ye of _him_, whom the Father
hath sanctified—and for their sakes I sanctify _myself_.  Set apart,
separated, for _his_ peoples’ salvation.  Glory be to _his_ dear name:
_he_ is God and man; had _he_ been only God, we could not have been
saved; had _he_ been man only, _he_ would not have been able to save us;
but _he_ is God and man; this at once secures the honors of _his_ law,
the glory of _his_ perfections, and the salvation of _his_ church.  As
God and man, _he_ is the Lord, our righteousness, and as the atonement,
which alone is efficacious, _he_ is called the Lord and God, who laid
down _his_ life, and purchased the church with _his_ blood.  How most
divinely adapted _he_ was, and _is_, to save us.  What a glorious meeting
of divine excellencies are in _him_.  Hence, the Father calls upon us, to
behold _him_, Behold my servant, whom I uphold.  The Lord Jesus declares,
_he_ will say of _himself_, Behold me, behold me! to a people who had not
known _him_! and the holy Spirit points _him_ out, by John; Behold the
Lamb of God!  I know my dear friend desires to know _him_, that she may
believe in _him_, and love _him_.  This encourages me to go on with my
sweet subject, which I hope will not prove tedious to you.  The person of
Christ is most wonderful, it is greater than _his_ glorious works, and
ought to be for ever the theme of our discourse.  Permit me, then, just
to observe, there meets in Jesus, infinite _highness_, and infinite
_humility_—infinite _glory_, and infinite _condescension_—infinite
_grace_, and infinite _justice_—infinite _majesty_, and transcendent
_meekness_—the deepest _reverence_ of God, and an _equality_ with
God—infinite _worthiness_ of good, and the greatest _patience_ under
evils—wonderful _obedience_, and supreme _dominion_ over heaven and
earth—the most perfect _resignation_, and absolute _sovereignty_—an
entire _trust_ in God, and yet _self sufficiency_ in _himself_.
_Justice_, _mercy_, and _truth_ are sweetly combined in _him_, displayed
through _him_, and shines in all _he_ says, and in all _he_ does; while,
as an high priest, _he_ makes intercession—as God and man, _he_ demands
the very blessings: Father, I will, that those whom thou hast given _me_,
be with _me_.  _He_ is the _lion_ to our foes; the _lamb_ to our faith,
and at times, _he_ appears the _lion_ in providence, while _he_ is the
lamb, in a way of grace, to the soul.  This is your _Christ_.

    All over glorious, is our Lord,
    To be admired, and yet ador’d:
    _His_ worth, if all the nations knew,
    I’m sure the world would love _him_ too.

                                                              And so says,
                                                             Your’s truly,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER XVII.


                                      _Valley of Achor_, _March_ 25, 1818.

MY KIND FRIEND, MRS. O.

Grace and peace be to you.  The wise and good, but solemn providence of
God, having deprived me of the public opportunity of comforting my
afflicted friends, I have no other means of doing it, but by a few lines,
about the best, the most import, and precious objects, which will take
eternity itself, fully to unfold.  You, doubtless, must lament with me,
the narrowness of our minds, in receiving the most blessed things, with
_the_ intrusion of necessary business—_the_ cares of life—_the_ heavy
conflicts we have also to experience, with many painful visits from the
enemy of our souls—_the_ native reluctant of the body, and _the_ pressure
of many trying thoughts.  _These_ hinder our running the heavenly race,
_these_ keep us down, so that we cannot rise in heavenly mindedness; and
a sense of our past sins, makes us ready to halt, so that we cannot walk
comfortably.  But though this is our case, yet blessed be God, we are not
in despair, nor are we out of the promise: They that wait on the Lord,
shall renew their strength; and blessed are all they that wait for me.
This made David deliver this charge: _My soul_, _wait thou only on God_,
_for my expectation is from him_.  What, alas! should we do without the
promises?  Grace made them, but the hand of divine truth is to make them
good.  Our wants, woes, and miseries, were all known and consulted, by
the adorable trinity; and dark as we are about the mystery of God, all is
clear to himself.  But I lament, I feel a proneness to judge of the Lord,
by carnal reason, and this is like judging of an unfinished picture, by
the original.  We must stay till it is finished: or, like judging of a
watch, when it is all in pieces; we may admire it when put together.  I
often catch myself at this work, especially when I am very low, nervous,
and tried in mind, temper, and providence.  This is very carnal.  May the
blessed spirit quicken faith to rise, and wing its way to eternal love,
eternal grace, eternal mercy, and eternal kindness.  This is its proper
element: here we are at home; here is liberty, peace, joy, and
satisfaction.  Here we see infinite wisdom, contriving a _time_ when, a
_place_ where, and a _manner_ how merciful kindness, and melting pity
should be manifested.  Here we see every sweet attribute harmonize, and
every grace displayed, while the cross of your dear lovely, loving
Saviour appears truly glorious.  See the cluster of excellencies around
it, hymning its praises, with harps of love.  _Faith_ begins the song;
_hope_, full of immortality joins; _loves_ notes are clearly heard; _joy_
is sweetly provoked to help repentance with her deep sounding notes.
_Zeal_ most cheerfully moves her fingers on the harp, while _fear_, more
silently, more reverently touches the strings.  _Patience_ most meekly
assists, and _humility_ sounds her simple airs; yet there is not one
discordant string.  Angels listen, and the redeemed above, beckon us home
to the general assembly, that all may bear in the chorus.  And this will
be the burden of the song; worthy is the lamb that was slain: but why the
Lamb? but because, in _him_, and in _his_ love, person and work, all the
glory of the God of grace is most eminently displayed.

    Here we see the Father’s _grace_,
    Beaming in the Saviour’s _face_.

In Christ Jesus the glory of God shines, and God is glorified in _him_;
and God glorified Christ, as man-mediator in himself, when _he_ brought
_him_ from the dead, and set _him_ at _his_ own right hand.  Gave _him_
to be head over all things, and to fill _his_ people with spiritual good.
_He_ was deeply humbled, and sorely tried—_he_ was sharply tempted, and
sadly afflicted, before _his_ exaltation, and we must be conformed to
_his_ image.  Before honor, is humility.  Christ found it so, and all
_his_ followers must.  But when troubles abound, is it not strange? that
though this is the very time the Saviour is most _tender_, most
_careful_, and most _indulgent_ of us, as a parent is of a sick child,
more than the strong and healthy.  Yet these are the very seasons we have
most fears, most cares, and most terrors; when, in reality, we have the
least reason.  How then, is that text?  For my thoughts are not as your
thoughts, nor my ways as your ways, saith the Lord.  And it is very
remarkable, that the greatest part of the precious promises are made to
the tried people of God.  I pray the God of all grace, to strengthen our
faith in _his_ love, in _his_ grace, in _his_ truth, and in _his_ word.
O that when we open the Bible, we could always think we are opening, and
looking into the very heart of God _himself_; as a God of love; but we
are too apt to read for others, and say, O what sweet things are here for
God’s children.  Yes, they are for us, and whatever suits us, that is
ours.  Whatsoever things were written afore time, were written for us,
that _we_ might have strong consolation, who have fled for refuge, and we
have fled; trouble, guilt, sin, fear, Satan, world, and conscience has
pursued; but as faith gathers strength in the person, and work of Christ,
we find they cannot hurt us.  Thy vengeance will not strike us _here_;
nor Satan dares our souls invade.  Frighten us he may, but reign, _he_
never can any more.  No, our hearts are bespoke.  Christ is the lover,
and faith, prayer, desire, and intreaty has said most sincerely, Take my
poor heart!  Set me as a seal upon thine heart.  Lord, take and make me
thine! take me as I am.  Amen.

                                                             Your’s truly,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.




LETTER XVIII.


                                       _Valley of Achor_, _July_ 26, 1819.

MY DEAR FRIEND, MRS. R.

I am exceedingly grieved to hear of your indisposition of body.  This is
the reason, no doubt, why I have not seen you for so long a time: but in
a few months more, I hope to see you at Mount Gilead.

    I soon shall get from Achor’s Vale,
       To Gilead’s Mount remove;
    And ever tell, the untold tale,
       Of everlasting love.

There is balmy consolation in Gilead, amongst the _heap_ of _witnesses_,
and a real physician _there_, to heal every wound that sin has made.  I
long to be at that mount.  But many, alas! surround it, that never feed
on it—many walk about Zion, that never enter into it, and many have the
word, and desire the word, that never did desire, or enjoy the sincere
_milk_ of it.  You and I know that there can be no feeding without life,
and this life is seen by the appetite.  Blessed are they, that hunger and
thirst after righteousness; after an increasing knowledge of _it_, and
after a divine enjoyment of _it_—to be found in _it_, in death, and to be
owned in _it_, in the last great day.  Ah! this is the rich robe.  I pray
my dear friend may be found adorned with it, when the judge shall appear
in awful grandeur; when the elements shall melt with fervent heat; when
the stars shall fall from their sockets, and when sun and moon; when the
grand planetary orbs shall be thrown into promiscuous ruin, and all
creation fly away before the face of _him_, who will ere long swear, that
time shall be no more.  There are two precious promises, confirmed by the
path of a covenant God.  _He_ swore by himself, that in blessing, _he_
would bless _his_ people.  _He_ has sworn _he_ never will be wroth with,
nor rebuke _his_ people.  This is sweet food for precious faith.  O may
you feast on it divinely.  Because _he_ could swear by no greater, _He_
swore by himself, saying, I declare, in blessing you, I will bless you.
Eternal life is in God’s blessing, and this life being in Christ, in
blessing, God blesses us for evermore.—I trust my dear friend’s mind is
often led to the Saviour, and that you prove _his_ preciousness in _his_
sacred person, _his_ covenant love, _his_ meritorious obedience, and
_his_ atoning blood—_his_ prevalent intercession, and _his_ advocacy with
the Father.  This is the glorious object of faith, and round _him_ faith
hovers, till it can gather strength enough to lay hold of _him_—to _him_
it often looks, and always bends; and close to _him_ it cleaves, as the
fond ivy entwines round the oak.  This, you doubtless, see in your lowest
state, even when low in body, weak in nerves, barren in mind, tried in
the world, and grieved in the church; and when nature is reluctant; the
flesh a heavy clog, and the spirits within, seem to sink into earth, as
its centre.  Yet there is a going to our spiritual David, though in as
helpless a state as lame Mephibosheth, or aged Barzillai.  I have had
many strange changes of mind since I last saw you, but I was never more
sensible of the carrying on, and increase of the work of God in my soul,
than I am now.  In my very best state, I can never rise above this motto.
_Full of the deepest need_.  And this line following, expresses the
warmest desires of my heart.  Thou, oh Christ, art all I want.  I am
learning, daily, to know _his_ value.  I feel my need of _him_ increases,
and strange to tell, the lower I sink in this frame, the higher I rise in
confidence—in a confidence that I never did so fully attain before; for
if I had a little of it in times past, company, visiting, the neglect of
prayer, and carelessness of manners, lamed me in both feet.  But I find
it most blessed to be kept near the Saviour.  I have had some blessed
views of _him_, and I am covetous for more.  I want to enjoy _his_ love,
and to walk in _him_—to be adorned with _his_ light—to be crowned with
_his_ loving kindness—to rise superior to the world—to fight the good
fight, and so to lay hold on eternal life—to apprehend, embrace, and
enjoy the everlasting favours of God.

I hope my good friend, Mr. R. is well in health and spirits, as trying
times, and body of sin and death will permit.  I hope he is growing in
knowledge.  This will increase faith, and beget a blessed confidence,
that maketh not ashamed.  The main point with us, is, to beg the Lord,
the holy Spirit, to create a supernatural faculty in our minds, to take
in subjects, truly supernatural, that our affections may be supernatural
also; and where this is the privilege, the mercy and the honor, it is a
most divine evidence, that our persons are in Christ.  The most blessed
subject we can ever apprehend, is the love of God.  O to be led with some
power to this, so as to conceive of it, as set upon us.  What a favour!
We often judge of it by its effects upon us, and by reflecting on what
the holy Spirit has wrought in us.  This is a good plan sometimes; but
are there not periods in your experience, when you doubt of the reality
of the Spirit’s work on your own heart?  I find it the most blessed
method in my very worst, and in my very best frame, to fall low at the
feet of Jesus, and to study the love of God, to guilty man, with the
joint operation of each adorable person in the trinity, on the heart.
The Father convinces, chastens, and teaches us, out of _his_ law, and
testifies of _his_ dear son to us.  _He_ then brings us to Christ; the
son accepts us, pardons, justifies, receives, and owns us as _his_ own,
while the Holy Spirit, acts as a divine comforter, sealer, and witness.
And when this is experienced, we have the witness of the water, the
blood, and the spirit; and these three agree in one, to witness our
adoption, and the love of God to us, in Christ Jesus.  This, and this
only, reconciles the mind to bear the cross, daily, whether it be
reproach or bondage, whether it be weakness of body, or trying
circumstances, or even if they all come together.

    Duties, and trials then appear;
    Easy to do, or light to bear.
    Whether they many be, or few,
    We, through _this_ strength, can all things do.

                                I remain,

                                                             Your’s truly,
                                                                _Ruhamah_.

                                * * * * *




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