

Transcribed from the 1823 R. Weston edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org

                   [Picture: Public domain book cover]





                                   THE
                                FOUNDLING;
                                 OR, THE
                           CHILD OF PROVIDENCE.


                              In Two Parts.

                                * * * * *

                           WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

    “He found him in a desert land, and in the waste howling
    wilderness: he led him about; he instructed him; he kept
    him as the apple of his eye.”

                                                 DEUTERONOMY xxxii. v. 10.

                                * * * * *

                                 London:
        PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, AND SOLD AT THE SURREY TABERNACLE.

                                  1823.

                                * * * * *

                 R. WESTON, PRINTER, CROSBY ROW, BOROUGH.

                                * * * * *




INTRODUCTORY DIALOGUE.


                       _Investigator and Friendly_.

INVESTIGATOR.—Good morning, sir.

FRIENDLY.—Good morning.

INVESTIGATOR.—How is your health, and your mind?

FRIENDLY.—Why, sir, much as usual; God has blessed me with tolerable
health and spirits, which I consider great mercies, amidst so many
exercises of body and mind: I am, at times, weak in my nerves, but most
wonderfully upheld, and sometimes dejected in mind, through the variety
of inward and outward conflicts which God has given to me, to be
exercised with beneath the sun: both body and mind are affected with the
fretting leprosy, and though often healed by a look from the Great High
Priest, and by the application of his all-cleansing sacrifice, and the
oil of his comforting and sanctifying spirit; yet the plague frequently
breaks out again, and it will be the case, I suppose, till this leprous
house is pulled down, the stone, the timber and the mortar, and carried
to the grave.—_Leviticus_, xiv.  But may I be permitted to ask the reason
of your calling this morning?

INVESTIGATOR.—Why, sir, I hope I am not intruding on your time, but I
have long desired an interview with you; for having occasion to travel
much, for many years, I have frequently heard your name mentioned, both
in public and private, sometimes with credit, honour, and pleasure with
pity and commiseration.  I have also met with some persons who are, I
believe, very spiritual and consistent, God-fearing persons, who have
heard you preach, both in town and country, and read your publications
with profit and pleasure; but, alas! I have also heard your name treated
with the utmost scorn and contempt, stigmatized as the vilest miscreant,
the most abominable wretch, advancing the most dreadful antinomianism,
living the most dissolute life, and as industriously circulating the most
licentious doctrines, _totally subversive of all morality and common
honesty_.

FRIENDLY.—Well, sir, really these are awful charges, and as they have
been so many years propagating, I almost wonder these calumniators are
not tired of talking about one so unworthy of their notice; but I guess
who that ever-restless agent is, who them, _going about_; (1 _Peter_, v.
8.) this is the roving commission he has received; and he must fulfill
it.

INVESTIGATOR.—But is it not strange, sir, so many pretended advocates for
morality, holiness, and the moral law, should exert all their influence
to suppress the truths you preach; and employ so many hands to write,
print, publish, and circulate your history in the most degrading manner
possible?

FRIENDLY.—It is so, but there is no new thing under the sun; various
indeed, are the motives of such calumniators; some degrade me to cover
their own infamy; some from pharisaic principles; some to exalt
themselves upon my ruin; some to please those above them, and some to
gain money by it, which they have, and to which I have no objection, had
they not filled their pages with so many palpable falsehoods, which have
disgraced the writer, and shewn the malignity of their spirits.  These
infamous squibs have been sent to the four winds of heaven, to Wales,
Ireland, Scotland, America, the East and West Indies, and to almost every
county and village in England, in twopenny, fourpenny, and sixpenny
pamphlets; each containing from one to two hundred well-known falsehoods.

INVESTIGATOR.—Yes, I believe that not less than twenty thousand such
scandalous pamphlets have been published, and circulated.

FRIENDLY.—But can you form any idea who were the ringleaders of so much
infamy?

INVESTIGATOR.—I have heard say they were persons who are perpetually
pleading for the moral law, as the rule of their lives, although that
holy law strictly forbids such conduct, because it is a violation of
these two prohibitions: “Thou shalt do no murder;” “Thou shalt not bear
false witness against thy neighbour;” and its language is, owe no man any
thing, but love for love is the fulfilling of the law.  But I think I
could give you an intimation of some of the persons; one was the Rev. Dr.
Diotrephes. (2 _John_)—another was Alexander, the coppersmith, who is
always currying favour with the above doctor: these, I know, were very
industrious, in writing, publishing, and running about from house to
house, or rather, like hawking pedlars, with their bad ware, which
conduct is strictly forbidden.  _Lev._ xix. 26.

FRIENDLY.—But as it was zeal for holiness, I pardon it; they were
mistaken men, and though they have done me much injury, I believe God has
resented their conduct, by mortifying their pride.  All public characters
that God has blessed, must expect evil surmising, ill-grounded
jealousies, awful insinuations, vile aspersions, whisperings, and
back-bitings; and why should I escape?  In whatever I have offended, I am
willing to acknowledge it: but surely, I have no just right to
acknowledge their lies.

INVESTIGATOR.—My heart has been grieved to read the vile publications
which have been circulated under the title of, the life of J. C.  I have
thought, at times, none could know so much of his history as himself; and
have frequently wished to know something, in reality, of your eventful
story.—In this wish, I believe, many hundreds concur; therefore, to
oblige your friends, and to confound your foes on _that_ subject, it
would be gratifying their desires to make your life public.

FRIENDLY.—Why, it might, in some sense, be so to them; and especially, as
I trust it would be magnifying the grace of that great God, who has done
so much for me, which I hope will be my principal motive; but it will
expose me to the contempt of fools, and perhaps add additional
persecution to my friends.

INVESTIGATOR.—Suppose it does; your enemies cannot say worse of you than
they have said; they have gone to the very utmost in scandal, and no
further than the infamous name given to your Master, who was holy,
harmless, and undefiled.  They said he had a devil; yea, that he was the
prince of devils.  There is another advantage in your compliance with the
request of your friends; it will confute the falsehoods which have been
fabricated about your history, and prevent your enemies from adding sin
to sin, by any further false statements of the matter: therefore, like
the memoirs of most gospel preachers, it must expect all sorts of
mis-statement.  Some will rejoice in what God has done for you; others
will say it is lies; some, more candid, will wish you had omitted many
parts, and others will wish you had not mentioned many circumstances; but
write TRUTH, and leave the consequences.

FRIENDLY.—Well, I promise, through mercy, so to do.  I will write the bad
as well as the good, as far as prudence dictates.

INVESTIGATOR.—The Lord be thy helper, and kind remembrancer, and give his
approbation to the work, by blessing it to his own people.—Farewell.

   And though pretended friends have aim’d to wound thy heart,
   And household friends in that have borne a part;
   Yet, each appointment came to thee for good,
   To make thee joyful in thy Saviour God.

FRIENDLY.—I thank you; I will send a few particulars of my history in
letters to my friends.—

                                                                 FAREWELL.




PART I.


_Juvenile Days_—_Apprenticeship_—_Marriage_—_Engagements_—_Call to the
Ministry_—_Baptism_—_Checquered Scenes_—_Sore
Trials_—_Removals_—_Trial_—_Building_—_Prosperity_—_Fresh
Troubles_—_Imprisonment_—_Enlargements_—_Mercies_.



LETTER I.


    “Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should _not_ have
    compassion on the son of her womb?  Yea, she may forget, yet will not
    I forget thee, saith the Lord.”

To —

YOUR Christian affection and maternal concern for me, so many years,
entitle you to this acknowledgment.  The holy apostle, in his directions
to his son Timothy, advises to entreat the elder brethren in the church
as fathers; the younger men as brethren; the elder women as mothers, and
the younger women as sisters, with all purity.—1st Epist. _Tim._ 1, 2.  I
am most sensibly alive to every feeling of gratitude, for your long and
unwearied kindness—your many prayers for my present and my eternal
good—your tears on account of my troubles, and your best wishes for the
sanctification of them, that I may be delivered from sin, the worst of
evils, from error, as derogatory to the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ,
and from all the traps, snares, and temptations which may be laid for my
feet, and which might bring me into bondage; the Lord reward thy
kindness, and may a full reward be given thee of the Lord God of Israel,
under whose wings thou hast been enabled to trust.  It has been the
desire of many to be acquainted with the earlier part of my life, my
birth, parentage, education, and how the Lord has manifested his good
hand to me in a way of providence, and his Spirit’s operations in away of
grace.

With respect to my birth and parentage, I know nothing; nor did I ever
hear of any _one_ that _ever_ did.  I never could gain the least
information of my parents, from any quarter, nor ever hear of a relative
of any description.  I never knew a mother’s care, nor a father’s
fostering hand.  Many times, when a boy of only eight years of age, have
I reflected my case was hard.  I have sat under the trees at the
Foundling Hospital, and wept that I had no mother; and when the nurses
from the country came to see other boys, and given them little presents,
there was none for me; and when the kiss went round, there was no kiss
for me.  I said nothing; but tears might have told what I felt, and what
they meant.  Sometimes I heard that some boys had found their mothers,
but that was never my lot.  No kind mother owned me.  This would make me
weep again.  Often have I observed, when in the chapel of the hospital,
some persons would sit and look at the children in the gallery with
seeming anxiety; as if they were their own, though they dared not
acknowledge them, and singling out one and another, they used to send
them presents.  Perhaps, thought I, my dear mother may be among them, but
dare not own me.  But who can tell her feelings?  I used often to repeat
the 10th verse of the 27th Psalm, though I knew not its real
excellencies: “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord
will take me up.”  This was true in my case, in more senses than one.  I
have often reflected, and do to this day, how it is possible for a mother
to forsake her child.  Divine truth has declared it possible.  Yea, she
may forget the son of her womb, a sucking child.  One would think it
almost impossible; but, _mothers_, _yes_, _even mothers_, _may monsters
prove_.

I refer you, my dear friend, to a remark of good Mr. Hervey, on the text,
_Isaiah_, xlix. 15, in his Contemplations on the Starry Heavens, towards
the close of the chapter.  Let me beg you to read it.  I must observe to
you, it has been questioned, whether a person, who is left an orphan, can
ever glance a thought, or feel any attachment to his unknown parents?
Perhaps _not_, in general; but mankind differ as widely in their feelings
as in their gestures.  It was not my case, but the contrary; as many
reasons might be assigned for my situation in the Foundling.  Perhaps I
had an affectionate mother, but the cruel hand of death deprived me of
her maternal care; and interest being made for me, I was admitted into
that kind asylum—or, for some unknown cause, she might have been driven
to a foreign clime, no more to return—_or_, I might have been stolen away
from her by some proud being to hide a mother’s disgrace, after falling a
victim to the accursed seducer, I might have been forced from her by some
relentless hand, to obtain property, and placed where she was never to
see me more—or, perhaps, her affectionate husband might have been called
to fight the battles of his country, on sea or land, in the year 1780, in
which I was born.  An affectionate wife, left pregnant, the news of the
death of a husband might have hurried _me_ into the world, and taken
_her_ out.  So that, amidst the many calamities to which the female sex
are liable, it is hard to judge the cause why I was forsaken.  This is
true, that I have two particular marks, with which I was found; _marks_
evidently given with some intention of finding me by, another day—one on
my back, and another apparently made by a red hot wire on the back of my
hand, which is still visible.  This method of marking has frequently been
the case.  Thus I was an orphan—

   Left on the world’s bleak waste, forlorn,
   In sin conceiv’d, to sorrow born;
   No guide, the dreary maze to tread,
   Above, no friendly shelter spread.

   Alone, amidst surrounding strife,
   And naked to the storms of life;
   Despair look’d round with aching eyes,
   And sinking nature groans and sighs.

I must conclude this, by reminding you of that very precious expression
of Jude, the apostle, in his address to the whole church of God,
sanctified by God the Father, and presented in Christ Jesus, and called
the whole election of grace—were chosen in Christ Jesus, by an act of
eternal love; and it is in _Him_ they are preserved, as a jewel in a
rock, till called by grace to the knowledge of God in Christ: and who can
possibly conceive what they are preserved from, till that period arrives?
The dangers, perils, risks, and exposures to death, many are in, yet, O
wonderful Almighty power, that keeps them till the Lord takes possession
of the heart!  Surely, if there should be any recollection of these
things in heaven, we shall be filled with wonder, praise and joy.

Yours, J. C.

   Thy Providence my life sustain’d
      And all my wants redrest;
   When in the silent womb I lay,
      Or hung upon the breast.



LETTER II.


    “For in thee the fatherless findeth mercy.”

                               TO THE SAME.

WITH pleasure I renew the pleasing task of calling my infantine days to
your notice.  I have already observed, I can know but very little of that
subject, and can only go by mere conjecture.  I mean the cause of being
left an orphan.  I know it not, but I must confess, I really believe it
was contrary to the wish of my parent, that I should be separated from
her.  I sometimes think she never knew where I was, or what became of me.
It has been reported that I was found in a church, perhaps St. John’s,
Clerkenwell, or some other church of the name, which is the reason of my
being thus named; as it has often occurred that orphans have been named
from the place where they were found.  While an infant, thus exposed, it
is very evident that I was admitted into that best of institutions, the
Foundling Hospital; from thence I was sent to a village called Hadlow,
near Tunbridge, in Kent: here I was carefully nursed, by a very kind
woman; where I continued till I was five or six years of age.  I do not
recollect any person coming to see me at that period, to shew me any
particular favours.  I was again brought back to the Foundling, though
not without many tears, which the nurse shed at parting with me; she
would fain have kept me as her own, but she was obliged, though with much
reluctance, to give me up.  I continued at the hospital till I was ten
years and a half old, but was never visited by any one.  Yet,
notwithstanding this seeming neglect, I could not divest mind of the idea
that my mother was then alive, and often experienced an aching heart, and
the most anxious solicitude for me.  Perhaps this was not the case; but I
still think that she did intend, at some future period, to search for,
and own me.  This I gather, only from the trivial circumstance of the
marks found on me, which perhaps she put, when she was apprehensive I
should be taken from her.  I cannot pass by one little circumstance,
which I must relate: we well know that the relation of it will be turned
into mere ridicule; I have no objection to that, nor do I wish to impose
upon the weak and credulous.  I will only relate a matter of fact, which
occurred to me some years ago.  I had been to a late lecture, one Monday
night, in the month of February, 1807.  After supper, Mrs. C. being very
busy at the time, and not being tired, I sat down to write to a most
intimate friend, who is now in glory.  Mrs. C. ever anxious for my
comfort, reminded me I had to rise early in the morning, and advised me
to go to rest; I was very cheerful, and we were both lively and chatty.
I mention this that you might not suppose I was dreaming.  I obeyed her,
and sat at the side of the bed, and began to undress myself.  She had
occasion to go to the cupboard for medicine for one of the children,
which was indisposed.  She suddenly turned round, and exclaimed to me,
“my dear, look! who is that?”  I turned to the wall to which she pointed,
and, to my astonishment, saw the figure of a woman against the wall; but
not being so much alarmed as you might suppose, and though chilled at the
sight, I was willing to prevent Mrs. C. from being too much alarmed, and
endeavoured to persuade her it was only the shadow of something which lay
on the table, by the looking glass, which, if removed, it would
disappear.  We removed them, but the figure remained.  We also carried
the candle from one end of the room to the other.  All shadows occasioned
by the candle, would of course remove also, but this appearance still
continued.  Mrs. C. felt extremely agitated, but I bore it with uncommon
fortitude, though I have no native courage.  We both sat down to see the
issue.  I proposed to speak to it, but Mrs. C. begged I would not; I sat
with my head upon my hand, and, in that position, smiling at it.  In a
minute or two after we had sat down, to watch it, it began to disappear:
I observed to Mrs. C. it is going away, it is gone: as soon as I said
this it appeared as visible as ever, just like a candle sinking in the
socket, apparently out, when it blazes up again, till it expires; it then
gradually died away: this was about half-past eleven at night.  The
appearance was the shadow of a woman, about the common height, longish
vissage, and apparently genteel, though in a night dress.  This was not
worked up by conversation about visions; our converse was very different,
nor was it the effect of disordered nerves, as we were both uncommonly
cheerful.  I did not hear of the death of any acquaintance after this, as
I expected I should; so that I was led to conjecture (and it was but
conjecture) that perhaps my dear mother, at that period, breathed her
last, and the Lord might have indulged her with a sight of her long lost
son.  Permit me just to observe, this sight of the appearance was not a
passing shadow, but actually continued for nearly ten minutes.  Judge my
feelings afterwards, if you can. {17}  Here I close my remarks on my
mother.—_Who_ she was, and _why_ we were separated, _the day will declare
it_—when every dark and mysterious providence will be unfolded, and
mortality swallowed up of life.  With respect to my treatment at the
Foundling Hospital—I speak it to the honour of the Governors of that
excellent place,—the treatment of the children is admirable, the food is
good, the master, mistresses, and nurses, are kind—and were I dying, and
leaving orphan children behind me, with the promise they should be nursed
there, I should die happy on that subject.  I will give you a particular
account of the place in as few words as I can comprise it in the compass
of my next letter.  Many mothers are indeed the objects of pity.  Perhaps
allured by promises of marriage, till the villain, her seducer, has
effected his purpose, when she is left an object of sorrow, contempt and
woe.  The seducer is a robber and a murderer; he robs parents of their
daughters, he murders the daughter’s reputation, and perhaps becomes
accessary to the murder of the fruit of his villainy; and when he has
triumphed over the fond maid to whom he has sworn eternal love, and a
speedy marriage.  He leaves the aged father to exclaim, in the words of
the Beggars’s Petition:—

    “My daughter, once the comfort of my age,
       Lur’d by a villain from her native home;
    Is cast, abandon’d on the world’s wide stage,
       And doom’d in scanty poverty to roam.”

Perhaps there is not a greater display of villainy than seduction.
Nothing more common in this country, nor any thing so vile in the sight
of a Holy God.  Next to the contempt of the gospel, many indeed have been
raised up from that fall by the kind hand of God, and have become
excellent characters: and not a few have been called by divine grace to
the knowledge of Christ.  And as a proof the Lord Jesus does not disdain
any one poor sinner, who is by the Spirit turned from the error of his
ways, the Lord has particularly marked down his special love.  This is
evident in the history of Tamar, the daughter of Judah; Rahab, the
harlot; Mary Magdalen; nor can I forget the poor woman taken in adultery.
(_John_, viii.)  It is very remarkable, there was not one word said of
the man who was guilty of the act, (perhaps one of the doctors
themselves) who brought the trembling woman to Christ.  All the sin and
shame is thrown upon the poor woman, while the seducer and more
relentless is passed by; and, perhaps, to the shame of our nature,
applauded.  But not so in the eyes of a sin-avenging God.  Many fallen
women have been restored by grace, while many seducers are plunged into
the howlings of the damned.

               Wishing my Dear Friend the triumph of grace,

                                                    I remain, yours, J. C.

   Though friends or kindred near and dear,
      Leave me to want or die;
   My God has made my life his care,
      And all my needs supply.



LETTER III.


    “When thou wast under the fig tree I saw thee.”

To —

My Dear Friend.—What does this motto remind you of?  I dare say you will
never forget the happy moment in which you enjoyed the love of God to
your soul; while I, the most unworthy, was discoursing on this text; it
is very blessed to look back, at times, at such Bethel visits; thine ears
shall hear a voice behind thee; this voice of past experience must be
attended to; thou shalt remember all the way the Lord thy God has led
thee; and, permit me to assure you, every such gracious visit as you
experienced at that time, is nothing less than a manifestation of
electing, redeeming, and pardoning love; the assurance, yes, the very
full assurance of God’s eternal choice of you in Christ, and the full
forgiveness of all sins; may you be thus often favored, while travelling
through the wilderness; but, how deep have you drunk of the cup of
affliction, since that period? the eating the little book is truly sweet
to the mouth; but there is often bitterness of soul felt after.  I have
been forcibly struck with the above motto, as it related to the truly
excellent apostle of our blessed Lord, Saint Bartholomew, who is called
Nathaniel, in the 1st of _John_; it is supposed his mother hid him under
a tree, when the sanguinary Herod issued out his bloody edict, to murder
all the babes in Bethlehem, in order to massacre the ever-blessed
Redeemer; under this tree the Lord saw him, and in due time brought him
to an intimate acquaintance with himself; no doubt much more is intended
by his being under the fig tree, which I pretend not to treat of now; but
only to remind you, my dear friend, of that gracious hand, that
constantly preserves the objects of his love, through the various dangers
and perils in infancy, and the giddy scenes of youth, till called to the
knowledge of Christ.  This leads me to the continuation of the subject, I
have already begun to our mutual friend, Mrs. R. who, you know, is ever
solicitous for my good.  I promised, in my last, to give her some account
of that, which I have the highest respect for; and never see but with
sacred pleasure—I mean the Foundling Hospital.  I cannot, however,
proceed, till I have quoted a very important text, which is adapted, in
some measure, to my case.  “Let mine outcasts dwell with thee, Moab; be
thou a covert to him from the spoiler:” they are outcasts, but divine Law
claims them as his own: this is the privilege of God’s own people.  This
place has been, perhaps, the asylum of many a chosen vessel: and I can
testify, it is a far better situation than many a boarding school; for
which, parents may pay a considerable sum of money for the care of their
children.  This Hospital was built by Captain THOMAS CORAM, who devoted
his fortune to the purposes of benevolence: a fortune dearly earned, by
many fatigues, and hazardous adventures, at sea: this will be to his
eternal honor, with those who assisted in this laudable work.  I can
scarcely ever think of this amiable man, but the words of an hymn, we
used to sing at the Foundling Hospital, occur to my mind.

    “For those, whose goodness founded this,
       A better house prepare,
    Receive them to thy heavenly bliss,
       And nay we meet them there.”

This gentleman spent seventeen years, in endeavouring to obtain a
charter, for building and establishing the Hospital, which was, at last,
granted, in the year 1762; and in the first fourteen years, 14,400
helpless infants were received: in the year 1756, Parliament voted the
sum of £10,000 for the support of the Charity: the next year £30,000 more
was granted to it; this was encreased to £50,000, in two years more.  On
its first establishment, it admitted all children, without any
restrictions; but this bad plan gave much scope to the vices of the age;
seductions became more prevalent; and numberless infants were torn from
the affectionate embrace of their mothers, by the cruel hand of unnatural
fathers: thus tender mothers were left, like Rachael, “weeping for her
children, and refused to be comforted because they were not.”  Fathers
became the sacrificers of their children.  Worse characters, in a certain
sense, than Herod:—it is an awful thing to charge a father with such
heinous intents; but it is the prevailing opinion, that if there were no
Foundling Hospital in the country, or any similar institution, for the
purpose of receiving the unfortunate offspring of seduction, many wicked
parents would contrive some means or other of getting rid of them.
Doubtless many mothers are culpable; but it is more easy to prove, that
the father is the greater murderer, who first seduced perhaps a lovely
woman, and afterwards most basely, cruelly, and inhumanly deserted both
mother and child.  I think the father will be found the most culpable in
the last great day.  This excellent institution, speaking after the
manner of men, has saved its thousands of lives, and must be reckoned
amongst the rest of those excellent charities, which are the glory of
British humanity, notwithstanding all the depravities of our fallen
nature.  The children are under the care of the Hospital, until 21 years
of age; better treatment the children cannot have; though I have
sometimes thought it rather hard, that the rules of the Charily forbid,
that any mother should have a personal knowledge of her child; but the
governors will, at any time, inform her respecting its life and health,
while under their guardianship.  Every child, I believe, is
re-christened, when taken in, and consequently has a different name to
that of the parents.  All hopes of seeing them again, on the mother’s
part, is effectually prevented; they can never expect it, nor can it be
attained, but by the knowledge and consent of the governors, unless they
have it in their power to provide comfortably for them; on this
condition, I have been informed, they may have them back; or they are
bound apprentices.  I am sorry to say, some mothers have brutality enough
scarcely ever to drop a tear over the little deserted stranger; and but
few, I believe, ever make enquiry after it; but the God of mercy protects
and supplies the helpless and lost,

    “When parents, deaf to nature’s voice,
       Their helpless charge forsakes,
    Then nature’s God, who heard our cries,
       Compassion on us takes.”

Much as I have wished, at times, to have known a mother, strange to tell,
I seldom felt that desire to know my father.  Should both or either be
now alive, I should be glad to have it in my power to relieve or comfort
them, in their declining years, if they need it: but may we meet above;
when I shall be fully satisfied with all the Lord’s dealings with me,
from infancy to death.  I wish it had in my power to send you a longer
and more interesting account of this place; but you may read much more of
it in a little work, entitled, “An Historical Sketch of the Foundling
Hospital; by a Foundling.”  Printed by M. Allen, 15, Paternoster Row.  My
simple history may remind my dear friend of the gracious care of God over
his servant, Moses, after the bloody decree of Pharoah, to destroy all
the male of the Israelites.  Who can tell the feelings of his
affectionate mother, when she laid him in the flags? and, above all, who
can describe her gratitude, when the Lord directed the servant of
Pharoah’s daughter to _her_, as the appointed nurse?  The apostle
declares, his parents hid him by faith, for three months, because they
saw that he was a proper child, and they were not afraid of the king’s
commandment.  Many others of God’s family have been as singularly
preserved: some of whom Scripture gives an account, and others it will be
fully known by the general assembly of God’s saints, when Jesus shall
appear in his glory, to make up his jewels.  I would, above all things,
be ever in mind of that Almighty power, which preserved the human nature
of the Lord Jesus in his infancy, when his parents were warned of God, to
flee into Egypt, till the death of that blood-hound, Herod.  May you be
often enabled to look back on that kind hand, which has thus far led you
on, and has engaged never to forsake you.  To him I commit you, and
remain,

                                                              Yours, J. C.

P.S.  It would swell this letter to a volume, to relate some singular
circumstances of my brother foundlings, which might very much amuse you;
but that would hinder this humble attempt to record the gracious dealings
of God with myself.  One circumstance, I must relate in my next, which
may serve to shew something of maternal affection.

    “Unnumber’d comforts to my soul,
       Thy tender care bestow’d
    Before my infant heart conceived,
       From whom those comforts flow’d.”



LETTER IV.


    “When my father and my mother foresaketh me, the Lord taketh me up.”

                               TO THE SAME.

My Dear Friend,—I know not what were your sentiments, in reading my
simple tale; which, by the bye, you have only to thank yourself for your
trouble, as it is by your’s, and the desires of many, that I thus make
public my origin, as far as I can trace it.  Your care for me, and
anxiety, long manifested for my best interest, I hope I shall never lose
sight of: although I am a stranger to the affection of a mother, I know
not what affection she had for me.  I have heard of some, who have sought
after, and dealt motherly with some of my deserted little fellows; I knew
one of them, who is now living, who had been taken from his mother for
reasons unknown to me; but, I have been informed, she kept her eye upon
him, while an infant at nurse, and during his abode at the hospital; and
when he was apprenticed, she frequently came of errands to the shop, and
dealt with him for years, but did not make herself known to him.  (I
judge how you would have acted; I do not think _you_ would have kept that
secret so long.)  His time was expired, and he was to seek a lodging:
strange to tell, he sought, and found one at the very house his mother
lived in.  After some time she invited a few friends, by the consent of
her husband, to sup with her, and she, of course, invited her son.  After
the supper was over, she related a very affecting story to the company,
concerning her former husband, and the reasons why she was obliged to
part with her child; when, to the astonishment of the young man, she made
herself known to him; and, no doubt she exclaimed to him, calling him by
his name, “I am your mother.”  Judge the feelings of all present.  This
is the story, as related to me.  I remember the young man, when a boy
with me.  This is a privilege I never had; but, blessed be God, my
heavenly father has owned me, and the Church of God has also received me:
she is called the mother, for, “who so doeth the will of my father, the
same is my mother, my sister, and my brother.”

Nothing, of any importance, occurred to me, while in the Foundling; I was
free from care, and a stranger to sorrow.  A good table provided daily; a
kind master, who was a God-fearing man, and studied the welfare of the
children; the schoolmistresses and nurses were all as affectionate as
mothers, and the worthy governors took every care of the comfort of the
Establishment.  Many poor children have their worst times in infancy, and
their juvenile days; but mine were the best: I was particularly marked,
by all, as a favorite, and allowed little privileges, which others had
not; and when the master bought playthings for the boys, he generally
gave me a book, knowing that my heart was set upon that alone; but this
little Paradise must be exchanged for a wilderness of sorrow, sin, and
woe.  It was customary, in those days, that any respectable person might
chose an apprentice out of the hospital, at any age, as no premium was
given with them.  Formerly, I believe, there was a premium, till the days
of the execrable and infamous Mrs. Brownrigge, who was executed for her
cruelty to some poor girls, she had out of this place, and from the
parish.  I suppose the hospital being crowded, the governors were the
more willing to let children go out at a very early period, to persons
who engaged to take care of them.  I was chose out of the rest, as we
stood in a row; the master recommended me for temper and conduct,
believing the person who came to choose an apprentice was very
respectable, and in about three weeks after, my new master came tor me.
I was but ten years and a half old; of course, I was bound an apprentice
for nearly eleven years; this was a long time to look for.  All that knew
me in the hospital, were sorry at my departure.  I trudged through the
streets, and chattered with my new master, till I arrived at his house,
in Great Portland Street, Mary-le-bone.  I know not how to express what a
singular sensation came over me when I entered his house; a dizzines, or
rather a darkness overwhelmed me, that all appeared dark about me; no
doubt, this was but the native weakness of the nerves; or, if it was, as
I am at times induced to think, a supernatural sensation surely it was an
indication of the dark days I should now begin to feel.  Never shall I
forget the grief that overcame me, the few first nights I wept aloud, I
had left all that was dear to me; I was among strangers; I felt, indeed,
like a deserted, a banished child: but the hand of time wiped away my
grief, and a variety of new scenes began to open to my view.  I am sure,
my dear friend will smile, when she can picture to herself how strange
the streets appeared to me, the shops, pictures, books, and names of
persons over the doors; these I used to gaze at, and rehearse when I came
home, which afforded much mirth to the family.  There was one great evil
attended my early departure from the Foundling; I had not attained to the
use of my pen; I could read well, for being only taught my letters, and a
little spelling, I was so extravagantly fond of a book, that I seized
every bit of paper with any printing on it, to read it, that many were
astonished to hear me read, at a very early period, with such propriety.
But, alas! just as I was put to writing, I was chose an apprentice; the
person to whom I was bound, promised faithfully to put me forward in
writing and arithmetic; but he broke his word, and rather objected to my
reading at all, than attempted to improve, or give an opportunity for it;
this has been a great grief to me, and an incalculable loss.  The
business of my master, as a carver and gilder, increased so much that it
was impossible for me to be spared to attend an evening academy; but I
still loved reading, and generally had a book of some kind in my
pocket.—After I had been apprenticed for some time, I went to see my old
friends, at the Foundling, who were all rejoiced to see me; particularly
the master, who bore the same respect for me till his death, which was
recent; but was often sensibly touched at my train of afflictions.  There
was a branch of the business in which I soon became very useful to my
master, though it proved of very little use to me, at the end of my
apprenticeship; and finding this, I was not taught any other branch of
the trade: this was violating his agreement.  I was also the perfect
slave in the house; set to every part of the vilest drudgery, and
debarred that knowledge of the trade, to which I was bound an apprentice.
I believe my master had formerly been a professor; but, as his money
increased, he neither professed, nor followed the religion of the Son of
God; but he joined himself to a sect called the Swedenbourgians, who
talked much of wisdom and charity, as a divine influence; but, this I
know, my master had but little charity for me, his slave.  I often think
of an expression I am told Mr. Whitfield sometimes used—“golden
apprentices, silver journeymen, and iron masters; but he that endureth to
the end, the same shall be saved.”  The Lord led me on from stage to
stage, nor ever left me, till he had given me some blessed acquaintance
with himself.  Hence the promise, “I will give them an heart to know me.”
The Lord bless you.

                                                              Yours, J. C.

   To all my weak complaints and cries,
      Thy mercy lent an ear,
   Before my feeble thoughts had learn’d
      To form themselves in prayer.



LETTER V.


    “Who hath remembered me in my low days, for his mercy endureth for
    ever.”

To —

As you had some knowledge of me, during a part of my juvenile days, and
have been many years an eye and an ear witness of the Lord’s dealings
with me, since that period; I conceive it my duty to give you some little
information of the earlier part of my life, till that time, in which we
became acquainted.  Our most blessed Lord never loses sight of his dear
children, although they are hid in the sand of sin, the world, or
obscurity; nor should I ever have attempted to make this information
public, had not my enemies invented so many awful falsehoods concerning
me, and my friends entreat for my memoirs, for their own information,
that they might glorify God, on my behalf, who remembered me in my low
estate.  I cannot relate any thing marvelous in my case, as many can, who
have been exposed to imminent peril, by sea or land.  I recollect once
being out with a family, on a Sunday party, and having a glass coach for
the day; I was appointed to ride behind it; this was a treat for me,
though conscience, even in my state of ignorance, convinced me it was
wrong, thus to violate the Lord’s day.  I am astonished at the parties of
pleasure that are formed on that sacred day, in this professing country;
nor do the awful judgments that have, and do constantly befal hundreds,
deter from this shameful practice.  I recollect once, hearing a solemn
expression from the pulpit, “O could you listen to the shrieks of the
damned in hell, you would hear their exclaim ‘Sunday visiting, and Sunday
pleasure taking, are my damnation.’”—But to return to the event of our
coming home in the evening, I let go my hold of the coach strings, and
fell backwards on the ground; here I lay for a time, almost insensible,
and had it been dark, and many carriages passing at the time, I must
inevitably have lost my life.  Speaking after the manner of men.  Another
time, I met with an accident, in ascending a ladder, which broke under
me; but, through mercy, I was thrown, I am sure, by an invisible hand, to
a wall, which I was enabled to lay hold of, and was saved from broken
limbs, and perhaps death.  Being employed in melting brimstone, of which
our moulds, in my trade were made, I believe, through carelessness, I let
it boil over, and in endeavouring to save the rest, and prevent the house
from being burnt down, my hands were covered with the burning brimstone,
and no further accident happened.  I might mention a variety of similar
occurrences which plainly shew, to the honor of Almighty grace, that I
was preserved by his hand, through the instrumentality of his holy
angels, till called: “for he shall give his angels charge over thee, to
keep thee in all thy ways.”  What belongs to the covenant head, is most
blessedly fulfilled in the covenant body.  During my apprenticeship, I
waded through many toils, hardships, and much ill usage, the effects of
which, I still feel in my constitution.  Such ill treatment, perhaps, I
might not have received, had I been blest with the fostering hand of a
parent.  Confined, at all times, at home, except when sent on errands, or
to church—debarred from the society of every one, either male or
female—kept to hard labour, seldom allowed a penny, often hungry and
badly clothed—a slave, a drudge, and, worst of all, denied the knowledge
of that business to which I was bound; these things often made me fret,
and shed thousands of tears.  What will some masters have to answer for,
in the day of God?  The latter part of my time, I endeavoured to form an
intimacy with some females; which is very natural; but it being
discovered, I was forbid to speak to them.  One of whom I promised
marriage if providence should permit.  But long before my apprenticeship
expired, she was married to another.  She is still alive, and she has
visited me within these two years.  After I had lost her, another came to
live in the house; but we were forbid all intimacy: and an old woman, a
relation of the master, was appointed to watch us; so that we could not
speak to each other, only when the family was gone to bed; this was
running a risk: and this old plague of a woman (I suppose, having been in
the oven herself) knew _where_, _when_, and _how_ to look after us.  One
trifling circumstance proved this—I am sure you will smile at the
relation, and if it gives offence, I would ask pardon of my reader for
the story.  The family having retired, myself and fellow-apprentice
supposed to be in bed, I slipped down stairs to converse with my darling;
but, alas! I was soon detected, as I heard a footstep on the stairs, when
I was obliged to hide myself in the cupboard.  As soon as the person was
gone, I came out of my secrecy, and we renewed our converse—but we were
presently disturbed by the old woman, who was roving about the house on
pretence of looking for something: hearing this, my companion shut me up
in the coal cellar, but in her haste she unfortunately had not shut the
door close, though she had turned the key, and taken it with her,
intending to return in a few minutes—here the old woman came and found
me, like Guy Fawkes, in a corner of the cellar.  This was the occasion of
a sad uproar.  The young woman left her situation, and was soon
afterwards married; and I was threatened with being sent to sea; the
horrid thoughts of which almost broke my heart. {33}  But amidst all the
hardships I endured, I never lost my bookish fit, although I had scarcely
a moment’s time to read.  Every penny I got, I saved till it amounted to
sixpence or a shilling, when I soon hied to the bookseller.  Many books
were given me by the men who worked for my master; and when I arrived at
the age of eighteen, I had a tolerable library.  It excited the jealousy
of my master, to see that I was the favorite of some people, by whose
means I had gained such a collection of books, and he determined to take
them from me, under the pretence that I had not got them honestly:—he
therefore sent for my old master at the Foundling, who advised him, if he
had any complaints against me, to make them known to the Committee, at
the Hospital; he did so—and I appeared before the gentlemen, to answer
for myself.  This agitated me very much the night previous, but I was
enabled at that time to pour out my soul in prayer, that God would be
with me when I should be brought before the Governors, knowing my natural
timidity.  A person also advised me to set down in writing, as far as I
could remember, who gave me money at various times for the different
errands I had gone upon.  The day arrived, I appeared, and the Lord
opened my mouth boldly to answer all the charges.  The principal were,
that I had changed my religion, and that I was in possession of a great
many books which he could not account for.  To the first I fully
demonstrated that I was most firmly attached to the articles, doctrines,
and prayers of the Church of England, and that I went to that church
where those truths were preached, the nearest of which was St. Giles in
the Fields, on Sunday afternoons, where the pious and faithful Rev. Mr.
Shephard preached.  This admission gave universal satisfaction; and as to
my books, I presented to the Committee a sort of diary, in which I had
minuted the particular persons who had given me a few pence, how I had
saved them, and what books I had bought with them.  They were all
perfectly satisfied with my conduct, and requested my master to restore
them to me, which he did.  The following remark was of course made by all
who knew it, that many had been brought before the Committee for being
too bad, but never till now was any one brought for being too good.  My
master lost the day, as he could lay nothing to my charge; for, indeed,
it was well known I was strictly moral; I scarcely ever took the name of
God in vain, and hated to hear an oath; I detested drink, excepting the
weakest beverage, such as water, milk, or tea.  I never saw a play,
neither in my youth, _nor since_: though some persons have had the
impudence to assert, they have seen me at them.  I was guilty of no
external enormity whatever, nor did I ever play at games, as boys do;
and, sinful as I feel to this day I bless God for his keeping me by his
power in youth—I do consider it a mercy to know the Lord and serve him in
the days of our youth, before the heart gets hardened in folly, or wrapt
up in pharisaic pride: yet I had sin enough within me, as all others
have, to damn a world—which I trust has been pardoned through the
ever-blessed Saviour.  May he be ever dear to your soul.

                                                       Yours, truly, J. C.

   Oh, how shall words with equal warmth,
      The gratitude declare,
   That glows within my grateful heart,
      But thou can’st read it there.



LETTER VI.


    “Let mine outcast dwell with thee, Moab, be thou a covert to him,
    from the face of the spoiler.”

                               TO THE SAME.

My dear Friend,—Having raised your curiosity, if no more than that, you
no doubt feel anxious for the continuance of my tale; which, though not
half so interesting as many, yet, the truth being known, will give you
some satisfaction.  After the affair of the trial I had, and gaining the
day, it was not to be supposed my master was very kind, but took every
opportunity of mortifying and grieving me.  But I bore it with patience
till God delivered me from him.  In the year 1799 I was led to
Tottenham-court Chapel, to hear the Rev. Mr. L.  His preaching seemed to
strike me so forcibly, that I thought I could have followed him until
death—but, oh, I have since seen it is one thing to have the passions
moved, and another to experience the power of the Holy Ghost.  Having
heard him a few times, as soon as he left London, I begged the Lord would
grant me the pleasure to hear him often the year following, when he
should return to London.  God granted this, though by terrible things.
At last the news was brought me, this gentleman would preach on such a
Lord’s Day on his return to London.  I could not keep secret what I had
been praying for, and it being whispered in the family, the night
previous to my hearing him, the master issued out a decree, that I was
not to go out of the house all day on Sunday, except in the afternoon.
Although I knew there was nothing to keep me at home, I fretted about
this sadly; and when eleven o’clock came on Sunday morning, the house
could no longer hold me; and, contrary to all orders, I fled like a
lapwing to Tottenham-court Chapel, when with joy I beheld my favorite
preacher, and with raptures heard him preach on his favorite theme,
_Phil._ iii. 8.  I returned to dinner.  The old woman, of whom I have
spoken before, observed, she had orders to go out that morning, and I was
to stay at home—to which I replied, it was nothing but a plan to mortify
me, as she made no preparation for going out, although it was past
church-time.  She gave me a hint I should be well horse-whipped for it;
this made me desperate—and in the afternoon I went out again.  In the
evening I went to the Tabernacle, Moorfields, and heard a most glorious
discourse on the first epistle of _Jude_, by my favorite preacher.  My
rapturous joys were so great, I did not care what I suffered.  I thought
it my duty to go where I did; although forbidden by man, it was better to
obey God than man.  These were my thoughts at that time; and, as to my
joys, I believe they were scarcely any but the raptures of a way-side
hearer.  However, the Lord had a hand in this affair.  Nothing was said
to me that evening, and getting a little more native courage than I had
before, the foreman of the shop, by my wish, let me practise a little in
the business to which I was bound.  This gave a fresh offence to my
master, who, having got some drink, sought for a quarrel with me.  From
these two circumstances, I always made it a point to be civil to all, and
especially to my superiors; but I had been too easy for many years; I was
nearly 20 years of age, had served above nine years of my apprenticeship,
and had never been permitted to learn the business to which I was bound,
and by which alone I could get my bread.  I was for the first time
enabled to tell my master these things, in a very polite and becoming
way, but he was so much exasperated at the moment, that he took up some
heavy wood and beat me in the most cruel manner imaginable, and
afterwards threw a large pan at my head, which hurt me, and of which I
felt the effects for some time.  I was now roused to open my mind freely,
and I assured him, that as he had made me his slave for nine years, I
should make my complaint to the Committee of the Foundling Hospital, and
know why I was not allowed to learn the business to which I was bound.  I
accordingly left him, but could not have any immediate access to them for
a fortnight; during which time the master made application to the sitting
magistrate at Bow-street for a hearing; when the magistrate considered it
was high time I was taken from such slavery: my indentures were of course
given up, and my master and I parted for ever.  I was now, once more,
cast on the wide world, without a home, without a trade, without a
relation, without a friend, and but three bad halfpence in the world.
What to do I knew not.  Where to go, or how to act, I could not tell—but
that Almighty angel who directed Hagar in the wilderness to a well of
water, when ready to expire with want, put me in mind of a young man who
was in very comfortable circumstances: to him I went, and requested him
to take care of my books; for, strange to tell, I really thought more of
my books than of a living at that time.  The above person not only
promised to take care of them, but of me also, till I could get something
to do.  I gladly accepted this offer, and had an opportunity of hearing
my favorite preacher the same evening, and continued hearing him till I
was fully engaged in public work myself.  But my continuance in this
situation was very short, as the person who had been a flaming professor,
and just going into the ministry, had taken a singular turn, and joined
himself to the petty players at a little theatre.  He was constantly
rehearsing speeches in plays, nor could I persuade him to attend the
gospel any more.  He squandered away vast sums of money, and soon became
bankrupt.  His parents had been pious people, and had lived very near, to
save a fortune for this son, who presently sent it to the four winds,
which is frequently the case.  How foolish and mad are parents to labour;
toil, grudge, and half starve themselves, and all about them, to hoard up
money for some extravagant son to squander.  “He heapeth up riches, and
cannot tell who shall gather them.”  I wish some parents could read,
under the influence of the Spirit of God, the book at _Ecclesiastes_.  I
was soon obliged to leave this place; but the hand of the Lord soon
appeared again, and raised me up a most invaluable friend, who is now in
glory; nor less friendly were her family, who are persons of good repute
in the world, and above all, in the church, worthily so.  One of them is
pastor over a respectable congregation near London.  This family, well
knowing what usage I had experienced, and being lovers of those who were
seeking the Lord, gave me great encouragement, kindly supplied many
wants, and at last took me into their business, having had some
acquaintance with it, during my apprenticeship.  Here I continued, with
low wages, a weak body, and hard work, but a contented mind, and an
opportunity of hearing my favorite preacher, who was at this time in
London, 1799.  It was at this period I first had the pleasure of getting
acquainted with the daughter of our good old friend, Mr. Elliott, who
brought me to visit you; and how strange the dealings of God with you
since; but hitherto hath the Lord helped you.  My intimacy with this
pious young woman was increased, and continued till she became my wife.
Her father had been a most respectable opulent man, in Hampshire but,
through family afflictions, became reduced; he was a most pious,
God-fearing man, called to the knowledge of the truth under the ministry
of that apostle of the British empire, George Whitfield, whose memory was
so dear to the old gentleman, that nothing could please him better than
relating how God had blest his preaching; and, as he lived an humble
seeker, so he died in the triumph of precious faith, having been brought
into the full liberty of the gospel only a little before his dissolution;
and leaving behind him two affectionate daughters, who, with many tears,
deposited his remains in the burial-ground of Bunhill Fields, in the full
confidence of a joyful immortality and eternal life.  You knew him well,
and highly esteemed him.  About a year after this, his dear daughter and
myself were married—I am sure in much love, and in nothing but poverty in
prospect; but we always found the Lord a God at hand when we most needed
him.  This you have been an eye and ear witness of many times; so that I
can testify, that _he_ is a prayer-hearing and prayer-answering God.  To
him he glory.

                                                       Yours, truly, J. C.



LETTER VII.


    “He that hath mercy on them shall lead them.”

To —

My dear Friend.—Many years have elapsed since you first knew me in the
Borough; and it was no doubt the hand of God which brought me there.  In
my last letter to Mrs. W. I intimated I worked for a very worthy family
in Tottenham-court Road, but my frame of body was too weak to endure it.
I sought out another situation on the Surrey side of the bridge.  Myself
and fellow apprentice had lived together amicably for some years, and
endured many conflicts daring our captivity.  I heard he was in business,
and made application to him; he treated me with every mark of civility,
and took me into the business with him.  This was a great pleasure to me,
as it gave me an opportunity of acquiring a greater knowledge of that
branch of the business I ought to have learnt before; but, although I had
an easier situation, and every kindness which circumstances would admit
of, I had another unpleasantly to cope with.  I was daily exposed to
temptation, had frequent pressing invitations to places of amusement—and,
although I resisted them all, through grace, yet I feared daily I should
be overcome and led back into the world again.  One day I accidentally
(as we call it) met with an old acquaintance who had been brought up in
the Hospital with me, who recited to me the various changes he had
experienced in his different situations; amongst the rest he had lived
with Mr. C. a most respectable tallow chandler, in the Borough.  He told
me he was a most pious man, and a good master, but he had given him some
offence, and was justly dismissed.  He believed that he was then in want
of a person in the shop, and to act as a porter.  On this situation I set
my mind, and immediately made application for it; in fact, I begged of
the Lord to let me have it.  I remember one evening I attempted to go and
speak to him (Mr. C.) about it, but I was struck almost speechless in the
attempt.  This I took to be an omen that God did not approve of the place
for me.  I felt rebellious, and being naturally self-willed, I was
determined to persevere.  My mind frequently said in prayer, “Lord, if it
be thy will.”  But my heart wickedly thought and said too, “whether it is
or not, I will have it.”  O, the hypocrisy of the human heart!  How often
is the Almighty mocked by thousands who use this expression in prayer,
“Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” and at the same time are
daily acting against the revealed will of God.  How great is the
forbearance of God with guilty man.  I was however indulged with this
situation, though I was no more fit for it than a child; it was to carry
heavy loads chiefly, yet my master was kind and patient with me, he saw
my weakness and accommodated me as well as circumstances would admit.  It
was in this situation you first knew me, 20 years ago.  My master, Mr. C.
was an excellent one, a godly, conscientious man, and happy should I have
been, had I been capacitated to have made myself useful to him.  I was
much dejected and troubled in mind, low and thoughtful; and, in my
business, though all saw I was willing to do what I could, yet I was much
confused.  Being a pious man, he kept up family prayer in his house, and
on several occasions he asked me to go to prayer, perceiving the Lord had
blest me with some gifts, and he hoped grace also, and that I acted in
all things unblamably.  He once mentioned something to me respecting a
public ministry.  He also employed a fellow-servant, who is a God-fearing
man, and who belonged to a prayer-meeting, to know my mind upon the
subject.  I believe I gave him some distant hint, that my mind led a
little that way, but I did not consider that I had any suitable talent,
nor had I any connection that could introduce me to any means, nor could
I possibly see any opening in Providence; of course I could not see I was
called to such a work; for I did not believe any one was called to the
public ministry of the gospel, without the Lord had given him talents
suited to the work for which he intended him.  I am now speaking of his
external call: the work of God on his soul, I intend to speak of
elsewhere.  My master, however, recommended me to the manager of the
London Itinerant Society, who, after some conversation with me, requested
me to accompany a young man into one of the villages near London, to
teach children in a Sunday-school.  Not knowing the nature of that work
till I had embarked in it, I went for some time to Norwood, and several
other places, but I was soon tired of this work.  The long journies and
weak body, hard labour all the week, and an empty pocket, deprived of
seeing my lover for weeks together; these externals soon made me
relinquish that work: and above all the loss of that ministry I so much
esteemed, and those ordinances I so much enjoyed, made my chariot-wheels
drag heavily on a Sunday, so many miles to hear some dull country
children say their alphabet.  Though this loss and trouble was sometimes
made up by the godly converse of the teachers between the several
services, and on the road home at night: this was a little reviving in my
bondage.  After continuing some months with Mr. C. in the Borough, I had
still an inclination to return to my own business.  Accordingly, I
communicated to my invaluable master, that I had a house to work at.  We
parted, by mutual agreement; he gave me an excellent character, and has
ever spoken most respectfully of me, amidst all the clamour, bitterness,
lies, malice, and evil-speaking I have met with; and, I believe, would
have done me much good in restoring me to repute, and warding off the
blow of calumny, had it been possible.  However, he spoke of me as he
found me, and it would be well if every one did the same.  I now returned
to my old business of gilding, at a house in the Strand where, after I
had been a little while, I was married, at the New Church in the Strand,
the 22d of March, 1801, two years after I left my apprenticeship.  I had
now an opportunity of hearing the Word again, of going into villages when
I was able, and of meeting the Itinerant Society, who met on Thursday
evenings in Shoe Lane, for mutual improvement, the exercise of gifts, and
the arrangements for the Lord’s Day.  I did not continue long in the
Strand.  The worthy family I have spoken of before in Tottenham-court
Road, had been misinformed that I was out of a situation; they kindly
sent for me, and gave me as good wages as the nature of their business
would admit, though they were but low.  I went on very comfortably for
some years, and as I improved in my business, so I was advanced in wages.
My wife also took in work, and did all she could to render me happy; and
what was very remarkable, every child which we had, the Lord graciously
added some little advance to my wages.  This often stopped the mouth of
unbelief, and made me contented.  Never did, perhaps, a happier pair
exist for some years, than we were, till popularity and calumny spoiled
all.  During my continuance with the above worthy family of the Jacksons,
I had three children born.  We often had opportunities of watching the
hand of God, in his kind providence; we were frequently deeply affected
in reading good Mr. H’s. _Bank of Faith_, and we daily grew acquainted
with the Lord’s goodness, which _He_ caused to pass before us.  I look
back on this time as the happiest of my days; though I had but 16
shillings a week for a time, yet this grew to 25 shillings; and, through
industry and regularity, we lived—without much care of the world—much
happier than those who are daily burdened with riches, or the toil of
great business.  But the Lord saw fit to call me out to greater scenes;
and, having but little natural wisdom or prudence, depth or foresight, in
proportion to my growing popularity, I was made the dupe of intrigue,
artifice, hypocrisy, cruelty, and sorrow.  Yet the Lord never withheld
his mercy and his grace, nor gave me up fully to the wishes of my
enemies, but by every thing he has instructed me.  For all thy people
shall be taught of God.

                                                      Yours, in Him, J. C.

   What thanks I owe thee, and what love;
      A boundless endless store
   Shall echo through the world above,
      Till time shall be no more.



LETTER VIII.


    “What man is he that feareth the Lord?  Him shall he teach in the way
    that he shall choose.”

To —

My dear Friend,—You well remember me, when an attendant on the society in
Tottenham-court Chapel.  The Lord has called you out at times to be a
public witness to his truth in several schools and villages, in the
Itinerant Societies.  This is an arduous but most delightful work; and if
it was the will of God, I would devote myself entirely to that sacred
employment—for though you return on Sunday evening with a tired body, yet
your mind is happy: not encumbered with the cares of a church, the
tempers, whims, and vexations of your hearers, nor the envy of your
brethren, which abounds, if you prosper—but every minister will see it
needful to abide in that work in which the Lord has called him; and, like
the stars, some are fixed, and some constantly moving round the sun—so it
is with us; but this pleasing thought cheers us—they that turn many to
righteousness, shall shine as the sun and the stars for ever and
ever.—_Dan._ xii. 9.  What an honor conferred on such as us, to be
instrumental in turning any to the righteousness of Christ, and to walk
in his righteous ways!  But to return to my tale.  I had not the pleasure
of going out for the London Itinerant Society many months, or for the
Baptist Society—through weakness of body, the journies were too long for
me—and being returned to the family of the worthies, for so I must ever
denominate the Jacksons, by whom you know I was recommended to the
prayer-meeting, and Expounding Society at Tottenham-court Chapel, I
attended the early prayer-meeting on Sundays and Fridays.  During this
time I only travelled occasionally for the Itinerant Society; but being
approved of among them, and engaging in prayer with them, I was appointed
to expound the Scriptures amongst them, one Thursday evening.  As I had
never attempted to speak in public before, only in prayer, and some sort
of addresses to children in the school, this appointment laid very heavy
on my mind; a sense of unfitness, the fears of presumption, the dread of
rushing into the work uncalled, and the horrors of falling into sin, and
publicly exposing the cause, drove me at times to my wits ends.  Yet, a
love for souls, a love of truth, and a most inveterate hatred of error;
the starving state of many pious souls of villages where I had been, and
the shyness of the preachers declaring the great truths of God.  These
things weighed deeply on my mind, and impelled me to go forward; in the
mean time, I was enabled to be looking constantly to the Lord for his
approbation, his direction and blessing.  The night arrived, the society
met; my name was called: I went with trembling knees, and once more
offering up a petition to the Lord for help, I opened the Bible, and
expounded the 1st chapter of the _Revelations_.  The Lord opened my
mouth, and filled my lips with important matter: those who were present
were astonished, though some thought the doctrine was too high.  This was
the first time I ever attempted to speak from the Holy Scriptures: I was
requested to speak again and again, but I only expounded the Word, as I
felt my mind most at liberty upon that subject.  During this time it was
also proposed that I should speak from the Word of God, at Tottenham
Chapel Society, which I did several times; but there were a few of the
leaders of that society who disapproved of it, urging, the manner and
spirit of my exhortations were too much like Huntington’s.  I accordingly
declined speaking, but was requested to continue among them in the
prayer-meeting, which I did till I was called elsewhere.  I now began to
fear I had presumed, in attempting to take an office upon me so high and
so holy; begged the Lord to pardon me, and promised to offend no more.  I
gave up the work for a season.  During this time of silence, my mind ran
much upon the education of ignorant children; and I well remember, that,
on one May-day, I had occasion to call on a friend in Brook-street, New
Road: I saw a great crowd of children, of both sexes, around the dancing
sweeps; it then occurred to my mind how useful would be a Sunday-school
in this neighbourhood: I enquired if such an institution had ever been in
that place, or thereabouts, and, to my astonishment, I found none; and
even many old professors at Tottenham Chapel did not know what I meant.
The first thing necessary was a room, which I soon obtained, at the low
rent of 1s. 6d. per week; but, how I was to get even that, and some
needful books, I knew not; and, another obstacle was, whether the parents
in the low neighbourhood about there, would be willing to let their
children attend.  I communicated my plan to one or two others, young men
who had travelled for the Itinerant Society; some of whom went abroad,
and became, I hope, useful missionaries, whom I have heard, are since
dead; two brothers, the Gordons, and Mr. Loveless, whose names often
occurred in the Evangelical Magazine: these assisted in the work, and one
young man, Mr. Dowling, who was the most active of all, and who made it
his study, day and night, to be useful to the rising generation—he is now
one of the most choice preachers of the age, settled at C. in Essex.  We
opened the school one Sunday morning, and about seventeen children
attended; in the afternoon there came double that number; the following
Sunday came many more, so that we were soon obliged to seek a larger
place, which was obtained in Tottenham-Court Road, near the chapel: this
was also desirable, as it gave the children an opportunity of attending
the Word, and making the school known.  This last place was also too
small.  A large building was taken in Cleveland-street, and no school I
ever heard of, sprung up so quick, was attended so well, or became so
useful; this, by the blessing of God, was owing to the wise plan, and
great exertions of Mr. D.  It still continues, I hear, in a very
flourishing state, and though the name of its founder is buried in
oblivion, yet many have cause to be thankful for the hint given me by the
Lord, on a May-day.  It is now, I believe, called the Fitzroy Sabbath
School. {51}  The Lord would not, however, let me be hid, and although I
ceased expounding Scripture for some time, yet the Lord called me out
again elsewhere.  I became a subject of some conversation, and began to
be known.  There was a little society, held at a Mr. Foxwell’s, in the
parish of St. Ann’s, Soho, denominated The Westminster Itinerant Society;
this was but new, and so little known, that they could scarcely send to
but one village.  I went one evening, in company with a friend, to this
society, and found them much more lively, spiritual, and loving-hearted
than any other I had ever been in.  Some one in the room hinted to the
manager, that I had been used to go out teaching in villages, and he
requested I would go out for them, if they were needy, to which I
consented, but had no immediate appointment at that time.  This was on a
Tuesday; on the following Friday, two striking portions of Scripture came
into my mind very forcibly, and was opened in their meaning and
connexion; nor did I lose them all the day, though I could not tell why
they were thus sent.  Late at night, before I went to rest, a person (a
preacher) called on me, and begged I would go, on the following Sunday,
into a village called the Hyde, near Edgeware, to preach, afternoon and
evening; this struck me so powerfully, I knew not how to answer him; and
before I could begin my long string of objections; these words came with
power: “As thy day is, _so_ shall thy strength be.”  I did not like to
give my consent, in the presence of my wife and her sister, as she was a
conscientious, woman, and dreaded my rushing into the ministry, without a
Divine call, as much as I did; but, after much conversation, I consented
to go.  When I arose on (Saturday morning) the words, which came with
power, still abode with me, and the two texts, which had dwelt on my
mind, still opened to me.  On the Lord’s day I went, lifting up my heart
to God, that _He_ would be with me.  I ascended the desk, and, after
reading and prayer, I took one of the two texts, which had been on my
mind the two days previous—one of which was, “For ye are dead, and your
life is hid with Christ, in God;” and the other was 1 _Peter_, i. 3, 7,
which I preached on in the evening.  I told no one, till the close of the
evening service, that it was the first time I ever attempted to preach;
and they, with me, gave God the glory, that I had found him true to his
word, in giving me light, comfort, utterance and consistency, just as I
needed it.  It was at this time I became acquainted with our mutual
friend, good Mr. Roth and family.  This was the beginning of my public
ministry.  Oh, that I had adorned it better, and brought forth more fruit
to the glory of Christ.

                                                Yours truly, in Him, J. C.

   Thus far the Lord has led me on,
   Thus far his power prolong’d my days,
   And every grand display of love
   Adds fresh memorials of his grace.



LETTER IX.


    “A City, set on a hill, which cannot be hid.”

                               TO THE SAME.

Dear Brother,—Having begun the solemn, arduous, and important work of
proclaiming the name and fame of the dear God-man, I found the truth was
blessed to several, and the Lord led me on.  I was presently invited to
speak before the Westminster Society very often, and to preach at good
Mr. Burnham’s, the Baptist Meeting, in Grafton-street, at seven o’clock
in the morning; from thence to Edward-street, Soho; and, it was at this
time I was providentially brought to Mrs. Bar’s, in Orange street.  I had
been in the ministry a considerable time before I went there; and the
occasion of my going there was simply this: a Mr. Weston, whom I had
heard with pleasure, at the Adelphi Chapel, was engaged to preach at Mrs.
Bar’s: I ran from my work, with my apron on, to the house, and when I
came there, I found Mrs. B. had heard I was coming to hear the Word, and
was asking all who came in, if their names were Church, “for” she said,
“if he comes, he must speak to night, as Mr. Weston is not able to come.”
She, of course, intreated me to give an exhortation; this I did, as the
people were destitute that night.  I spoke on my favorite subject, the
love of Christ, _John_ xi. 36.  The congregation being satisfied, I was
invited to visit them every fortnight, which I did, being disengaged on
Monday evenings.  Here I often found it good to be, and the Lord gave
frequent testimonies to the Word of his Grace.  I preached several times
at Dudley-court, for a Mr. Garniss; and soon after I was invited to
Paddington, where I preached in a small room, till it was so crowded they
thought it necessary to build a meeting, which was soon accomplished, in
Bell-street, Edgeware Road, where I continued my labours as often as
possible.  When I first went to Paddington, there was no gospel preached
there, except by the worthy and useful philanthropic Rev. Basil Wood,
whose full value will never be known in this lower world.  While thus
fully employed, I was called, in providence, to Barrett’s-court, to
preach in a house, where an elderly gentleman, Mr. Dunhall, had preached
for some years.  I generally preached on Fridays and Sunday evenings,
till the concourse of people became so great, I was sometimes alarmed for
the safety of the house; it was at this place good Mr. Baker, the long
and invariable friend of Mr. Huntington, heard me, as he said, with
sacred pleasure, and informed Mr. H. of it.  Shortly after this, the
lease being out, the preaching was given up, which I much regretted; as I
had enjoyed many blessed seasons there.  I continued at my daily
employment, thought over my subjects at my shop bench, and preached
wherever I was invited; occasionally for the Itinerants, at Ealing, Mill
Hill, Hendon, and other places, but particularly at the Hyde.  Thus my
head, my heart, my tongue, feet, and hands, were perpetually employed;
and I think they were the happiest moments of my life, when, like the
apostle, I went forth among the Gentiles, “taking nothing of them, for
his name sake.”—3 _John_, 7.  Having lost my favorite spot, another door
opened to me.  (But more of this presently.)  I often regretted I could
not hear my favorite, Mr. L. at all, as all my time was taken up, as I
have just related; and having been in the ministry about two years, I was
speaking one morning, at Mr. Burnham’s Meeting, upon _Song_ iii. 4, “Saw
ye him whom my soul loveth?”  When I had concluded, Mr. Jesson, who is
now in heaven, came to me, and observed, I had been speaking much of the
love of Christ, but the question was, had I ever kept his commandments; I
told him I hoped I had, at least some of them; to which he replied, that
there was one he feared I had not kept, and that was the ordinance of
Baptism.  I told him I was, in a measure, convinced that adult baptism
was right, but I wanted a better understanding of it, that I might see it
my duty and privilege to attend to it.  This ordinance was that day to be
administered, and a sermon to be preached previous to it.  I attended,
and Mr. B. spoke from this text, “We use great plainness of speech.”
This was a plain sermon, on some very plain truths, and which plainly
proved the doctrine was from heaven: and what was I, that I could resist
the truth?  I had, before this period, seen the ordinance of believers
baptism was scriptural; but I was now fully persuaded it was of Divine
appointment—a sacred institution, and ought to be obeyed as a Divine
command.  I had heard good Mr. Keeble, in Blandford-street, with pleasure
and profit.  I knew several of the members, who were pious, discreet
persons.  It was but shortly after I had heard Mr. B. as above, I
proposed myself to Mr. K. as a candidate for baptism: I gave in my
experience at the church-meeting, and was received without a dissenting
voice, but there was a condition to be performed, to which I hastily gave
my consent, which was, to decline preaching entirely, as it was not
agreeable to the order of the particular Baptists, to baptize any
preacher, as a preacher, without first resigning that office, submitting
to baptism, and, after a period, to have his gifts tried at the
church-meetings, and then, either going forward, or keeping back, as that
church directed.  At first, this appeared to be right, and to this I
agreed, as soon as I had taken leave of my many little congregations, I
would then agree to such orders, and to this I most solemnly agreed
before the deacons.  I went to all my little places, and bid them
farewell, and my mind seemed a little at ease.  As I had many doubts
rising in my mind, about my call to the work, I thought, in the multitude
of counsellors, there would be safety if I ever was called out again;
but, after a few weeks rolled away, I was deeply convinced the Lord had
called me to the work of the ministry.  I constantly kept looking up to
God for direction, and it came to me with great power: that as the Lord
had blessed my labours to many, and as he had called me himself,
qualified me, and opened doors for me, I did not think I was acting right
to give it up.  Besides, the many pressing invitations on every hand, I
concluded that my public work was of much greater importance than my act
of baptism.  I still considered it of importance to be baptized, that it
was a Divine command, and ought to be obeyed; but, why one ordinance was
to jostle out another, I could not tell.  One Sunday morning, my mind was
much distressed about it, and this was attended with prayer, and many
tears; my wife seeing my uneasiness, reasoned with me, and told me, as
God had called me to the ministry, I ought to go on; and if I saw baptism
right, I could submit to that also; and, being thus fully persuaded in my
own mind, that both were right, I waited on Mr. K. and opened my mind
fully to him; but the good man could not alter the plan, and therefore, I
gave up every idea of uniting myself to that body of Christians, and went
on preaching the gospel, agreeable to the apostle’s advice, “Let every
man _abide_ in the place to which God has called him.”  I must confess I
do not see the exact propriety of this method, adopted by particular
Baptists.  I beg pardon if I err; but I will suppose a case: that the
Lord should call forth a man to preach his word, and that man have
scriptural reasons, with the testimony of God in his soul, and proof of
his success, but, through some prejudice, the church disapproves of
him—is that man to decline the work, because the voice of the church is
not unanimous to the call?  I leave this subject for wiser heads to
determine.  The apostle Paul was first converted, then he was baptized,
and then he preached the gospel; and, _after_ these things, he assayed to
join himself to the church; but, this is no more rule for believers now
than the manner of his conversion was for ours.  Some are gently led
along, others are deeply exercised with the bondage of the law; some have
had a drop of the wrath of God, on the spirit, as David, Job, Heman, and,
perhaps, Paul; but, others, only have a slight apprehension of it, yet
enough to shew them their need of Christ, as a surety, righteousness,
atonement, and complete Saviour.  This was my case.—Grace be with you.

                                                     I remain yours, J. C.

   How harsh soe’er the way,
      Dear Saviour, still lead on,
   Nor leave us till we say,
      Father, thy will be done.
   Finish, dear Lord, what is begun;
   Choose thou the way, and still lead on.



LETTER X.


    “And the Lord shall go before thee.”

To —

How dear are the saints to their Lord; and they are dear to us.  The
memory of some of them is precious, especially those who have been useful
to our souls.  The remembrance of our late pastor, Mr. Burnham, will ever
be dear to our hearts; it was under his ministry we first met, and with
him we hope to spend a blessed eternity, through the grace of our dear
Lord.  The reasons for my first joining the church, under that good man’s
ministry, were this; Mr. Keeble refused baptism to me, because it was
disorderly to baptize a preacher without first becoming a member of that
church, and being called out by that church; and having occasionally
heard Mr. B. I waited on him, and related the whole business, as in my
last letter.  Mr. B. was as zealous for strict order as Mr. K. but with
this difference, that although I might still exercise in the sacred work
constantly, yet, till I had passed the regular orders, I should not have
the sanction and approbation of the church.  This sanction I doubtless
considered important; and as I was privileged still to go on in the
ministry, my mind was at ease on that subject.  After conversation and
prayer with Mr. B. I was proposed as member to the church.  I attended,
gave an account of the Lord’s dealings with me, was strictly examined by
Mr. B. as to soul matters, my motives and views in joining the church,
and going on in the ministry; and being satisfied himself, and the church
likewise, the day was appointed for the ordinance of Baptism to be
administered, I spoke, as usual, on the same Lord’s-day morning, and
previous to the Baptism, chose that fine passage, 90th _Psalm_, “And let
the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us.”  In the forenoon Mr. B.
preached on, “For by one spirit are we all baptized into one body.”  It
was an excellent sermon.  When I came to the water, I was permitted to
address the audience, in which I gave my views of the ordinance, and my
motives for thus obeying the command.  You remember the time, the place,
and the circumstances.  I was just 28 years of age, and had been above
three years in the public ministry.  The Lord, I hope, was with us.  On
the following Lord’s Day, I was admitted to the Lord’s Supper with the
brethren who were baptized with me—and shortly after this, I had the
painful task to signify to the church my wish to have my talents tried
before them, previous to their sanctioning my going out as a preacher.  I
knew I had the Lord’s approbation; at least, when in a good frame of mind
I both saw it and felt it; but if I had the church’s likewise, I should
of course be well pleased.  Every Tuesday evening was appointed for that
purpose.  The church met, and the first time I was to choose my own
subject, which was _John_, xvi. 14.  This met with general approbation.
The next Tuesday the minister was to appoint the text, which he did,
_Rom._ viii. 16.  This was not so much to his mind, though he approved of
the truths I uttered.  The last time was by the church’s request, _Rom._
viii. 29, 30.  These were all approved of, but none like the first.  It
was then proposed to the church, whether they considered me as called and
qualified for the ministry; which was carried without a dissenting voice.
Our pastor then gave me a most solemn charge on the subject, and I
believe he acted as became a Christian, a gospel minister, and a
circumspect man.  I felt some sacred pleasure in this approbation, and
went forth teaching and preaching.  The Lord was with me most sensibly,
and many souls were edified, comforted, and built up on their most holy
faith.  The Scriptures were opened to them, and God gave them light,
life, love and liberty.  This I have frequently been informed of, from
various quarters.  I was exceedingly partial to village preaching, and
have many times regretted ever leaving it, to be settled over any people;
but the Lord had ordained it otherwise before I had an existence: for
_He_ worketh all things after the counsel of his own will, and you and I
know _He_ is too wise to be mistaken.

God bless and shine upon you; and remember, they that turn many to
Christ, shall shine as the stars in the firmament of heaven for ever.

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER XI.


    “And I will direct their work in truth.”

To —

I think the first time the Lord led you under my poor feeble ministry,
was at Lant-street, Borough.  I think it necessary to inform you of the
leadings of Divine Providence in that business.  While a member of the
church at Grafton-street, under the ministry of Mr. B. yet continually
preaching, I became acquainted with a good man, a minister of the gospel,
who had received an invitation to preach at Lant-street, but being
engaged elsewhere, he requested I would go in his stead, to which I
consented, without asking my pastor’s opinion, or the opinion of any
other discreet man: here began my popularity, and here, alas! began my
misery also.  I went, and soon strutted into the pulpit with long robes,
in which, at first, I felt very awkward, but it exactly met the native
vanity of my heart: the chapel had been sadly deserted before, but I
being a stranger, the place was crowded.  After I had preached a few
times here, I continued morning and evening for some time.  No one in the
Borough knew me, and it was so much the better in one sense, though not
in another; for, preaching the early lecture at Mr. B’s. then coming into
the Borough, preaching again, destitute of a shilling, and acquainted
with no one in the neighbourhood, I was obliged to walk, perhaps in the
afternoon, to Redcross-street, in the City, and back to Lant-street, to
preach my fourth sermon for the day; yet, no one invited me to partake a
dinner with them for some weeks; this made me faint and weary, till my
circumstances were better known, and then I found the people in the
Borough, and St. George’s Fields, the most generous and friendly I ever
met with in my travels; but I must make you smile.  A good man, who is an
excellent preacher now, and who has long known me, one day, about this
time of my preaching at Lant-street, said to me, “C.  I think you play
the hypocrite the best I ever knew one in my life.”  This startled me at
first, till he explained himself thus: “I was hearing you at Lant-street,
last Sunday, and saw you dressed in your full robes, and yet I knew you
had not a shoe to your feet, and in the most indigent circumstances.”  I
only replied, that I thought being poor, and seeming so, was of no use to
me.  Mr. G. returned from his travels, so that my services were then
wanted no more there.  Mr. G. did not know me at that time.  I knew him,
having heard him once only, some years before I was in the ministry; but,
hearing much of me, he sent for me, to preach, one Lord’s-day evening.
The gentleman alluded to in the beginning of this letter, was asked for
some one to go into Oxfordshire; his mind ran directly to me, and he
advised me to go there; and, as usual, I soon gave my consent, and went
down to the place, the day before Christmas Day: the journey was long,
but I arrived safe, was cordially received, and preached there on the
Christmas Day; I was well received, and abode a month; the people and the
managers treated me with every mark of affection, and I returned to
London, loaded with their kindness.  Never having experienced such
treatment before, and meeting with some experimental Christians, and many
who loved the truth, the people became very dear to me; it was shortly
proposed to me to settle with them, and I gave my consent.  Here I acted
just as self willed as I had done before, and advised with no godly
minister, or experienced people upon the subject.  It is the wisdom of
the wise to understand his way, but, alas! I did not; which I see the
folly of now it is too late to mend, but the Lord has borne long with my
manners in the wilderness.

                                                       Yours, truly, J. C.

   And while upon the earth I live,
   I want the Saviour’s love in view,
   And say, my God, my sins forgive,
   And pardon all my virtues too.



LETTER XII.


    “Behold, the day is come,” saith the Lord, “that the ploughman shall
    overtake the reaper.”

To —

It was the sin of Rehoboam, that he regarded the counsel of the young
men, and forsook the advice of the aged; and had I listened to you, I
might have escaped a thousand trials.  I am speaking after the manner of
men.  If we have no native prudence it must be learnt by heavy stripes.
An imprudent man is sure to make crooked paths for his own feet; this,
alas, has been my case.  You, perhaps, will remember the time when you
acted as a mother to me and mine, and gave us advice respecting our
removal to Banbury.  My intentions, I hope, were pure: there was a large
congregation in the town, and many who loved the truth; they were a
destitute people: there were about twenty villages around, where the
truth was wanted.  I longed for an opportunity to give myself to study,
and to be wholly devoted to the ministry: these were certainly important
considerations.  The people chose me without a negative, and promised to
make me comfortable.  The income was small, and having just began to be
popular in London, I had, of course, many little sacrifices to make, to
quit my own business, which, though the profits were small, yet, the
employment was constant; my wife had to give up her’s also, which helped
sometimes to render us comfortable: but money was no idol of mine, had it
been, I should have looked better to my ways, and escaped a few of the
many troubles I have so deeply experienced.  We were obliged to part from
the little furniture we had, and to borrow twenty pounds, in order to
procure what we needed, with some useful books, which I wanted, as I
fully intended to devote myself to intense reading; but, I found the way
of man is not in himself; it is not in man that walketh, to direct his
steps.  Myself and family, five of us, arrived, through mercy, safe, and
I commenced my ministerial career; was well attend at the chapel, and
invited to many villages around, which I constantly visited.  I had been
almost four months before I received one quarter’s salary, so that we
were obliged to go in debt for every article of life; this was most
distressing to us, especially as we did not receive our due, only by
piece-meal; besides, several gentlemen had ordered furniture into the
house, whom I, of course, concluded intended to pay for it, but we were
sadly mistaken.  I laboured in many villages, travelled many tedious
miles, and scarcely any one offered me a shilling, or sent me any
necessary article, although their houses were loaded with bacon, their
gardens with vegetables, and their trees with fruits: the only apology I
can make for them is, that they did not know I wanted it, or else, I
think they would have acted more kindly.  Having continued a while, and
never administered the ordinance of baptism, although many were Baptists
in heart, yet they did not like to take up the cross; and I, being so
self-conceited, supposed, before I came among them, I should soon have
the pleasure of seeing them all Baptists, and form a Baptist church in
that place; but, in this I was mistaken, for God resisteth the proud;
and, although many confessed it was right, there was but two who wished
to obey the command.  Being, however, successful in some other way, in
regard to truth, it was proposed I should be ordained among them; this
was a hasty act of mine, as I was extremely uncomfortable in my
situation, on account of my circumstances, but hoping the next quarter
would be better, the ordination was appointed, the ministers invited;
half of whom were Baptists, and half Independents: the gentlemen who
officiated acted very kindly to me, gave me good private advice, and
conducted the business of the day with good order and solemnity.  I never
so sensibly felt the importance of my call as I did on that day, in the
month of July, 1807; the ministers were the following: Mr. Reid, of
Warwick, Mr. Franklin, of Coventry, Baptists; Mr. Scraggs, of Buckingham,
and Mr. Taylor, of Witney, Independents.  I gave no account of my
principles, and desired to say something about the Lord’s dealings with
me, and my motives for going into the ministry; but, this was objected to
on this occasion.  I think I shall never forget the solemnity of the day,
the account of which was published in the Evangelical Magazine.  Nothing
particular transpired, from the ordination in July to the following
March; only that I found I should never accomplish my wish in settling
the church, so that I was obligated to administer the Lord’s Supper to
Independents, and the very few Baptists that were among them; my
circumstances I found, got rather worse than better; this gave me much
secret distress, and I often begged the Lord to let me return to London,
to my old business, and friends.  I found also, that although I had an
opportunity of close reading, the heart was not given me, and my active
busy mind was always upon the wing, unstable and unsettled.  Constant
exercise in preaching took me from home, and buried reflections.  I
remember a piece of advice that was given me by a good man, whose name I
have already mentioned—“Preach less, and read more.”  A number of
villages welcomed me, and I was kept in perpetual exercise.  The Lord
blessed the word, but I was puffed up with vanity and pride, which would,
no doubt, have been my ruin; but that bladder was soon pricked with
reproach, and some disgrace.  I had some scandal while at Banbury, but
this was chiefly on account of my principles; except in one case, a poor
spiteful Socinian asserted, that I came from the pulpit to the Lord’s
table, and took the cup, and drank a health to the lovely Jesus.  This
report spread far and wide, and many were much hurt about it; but, that
was soon suppressed.  If it had been true, there was no such great crime
in the act, as the ordinance of the Lord’s supper is designed to
commemorate that spiritual and eternal health which the Saviour brought
to us; and believers, drinking the same cup together, is drinking
spiritual health to each other, and prosperity to the Redeemer’s kingdom.
The dear Saviour, having put away sin, and brought health and cure to his
people, came to his disciples, when they were assembled, and the first
kind word he said, was—“All hail!”—that is, all health.  Thus, this holy
Dove appeared, with the olive branch of peace in his mouth, after the
awful flood of vindictive wrath was over; and every believer, either in a
greater or lesser degree, has this testimony in his own soul—that, after
a season of much bondage, hardness, distress of mind, sense of divine
displeasure, fears of death, and an humbling sense of guilt, vileness and
distance from God, the Saviour has graciously appeared, in some way or
other to them, and brought power, health, peace, and joy.  Although this
seldom lasts long, yet such visits are the dealings of the spirit,
demonstrating our interest in his love.  May the dear Redeemer pay you
many such visits.

                                                       Yours, truly, J. C.

   Oh, teach my sinful soul, to soar,
   Confess the Saviour, and his steps adore;
   Devoted let me live, submissive die,
   And hope a glorious Paradise on high.



LETTER XIII.


    “Thence will I command the serpent, and he shall bite them.”

                               TO THE SAME.

I have intimated my partiality to village preaching; I had my heart’s
desire in this instance, but I got leanness in my soul; my home was too
much deserted, and the souls of my new flock neglected; my study
forsaken; my vanity fed; and though poor as a church mouse, I was as
proud as the devil: this did not appear in my general deportment, but
wise men saw it.  A very elegant suit of canonical robes were made a
present to me, and in these, I had the vanity to strut through the town
on Sunday, three times a day, to the chapel, admired by those who were as
vain as myself.  Oh! what folly and vanity I see in these things _now_;
but, I wanted to look as much like the church as I could; and what for,
but merely to escape persecution, and that the offence of the cross might
cease.  Flying from persecution, I met with ten thousand times worse
disgrace, and my case was a little like those persons of whom the Prophet
speaks; _Amos_, iii. 19—“I fled from a lion and a bear met me, I went
into the house, and leaned on the wall, and a serpent bit me.”  About the
month of March, 1808, I thought of the kindness of an old and mutual
friend, Mr. Alexander, who was a deacon of Mr. G’s.; I sent him a letter,
and begged to hear from him; the consequence of this was, a letter came
from Mr. G. in friendly terms, to which I gave as friendly an answer.  A
proposition was soon sent down, to exchange pulpits with Mr. G. for a
month; and, as I longed to get to town, I was glad of the opportunity.
Some of the friends at B— had seen a book of Mr. G’s.; and they, being
much pleased with it, consented to my going to town.  I came, and
preached on Good Friday, and the following Sunday the chapel was
thronged.  I became much known and beloved.  I had many pressing
invitations to stay in town, and have since regretted I did not accept
them; but, my heart felt for the flock left behind me; many letters
passed to and fro between myself and friends, especially those who had
advised me not to have any thing to do with Mr. G. nor to preach for him
in town; I did not know who were his friends or his enemies, till they
came about me like bees, and laid many things to his change.  When I
found this, I felt more anxious to return, and wrote to these very
professed friends accordingly, stating that I was sorry I had not taken
their advice.  These friends, during my absence, had been in company with
Mr. G. and had altered their minds; of course, made Mr. G. acquainted
with the contents of my letters.  Mr. G. let no opportunity slip of
speaking disrespectfully of me.  I however returned, and found, to my
surprise, some of the most respectable of the congregation would not
speak to me; this hurt my feelings not a little, but the poor of the
flock still cleaved to me.  My visit in London did me much good, and the
hand of the Lord was in it.  I felt, however, determined to abide in this
place; till the Lord turned me out; for, I having so little native
wisdom, prudence, or foresight, I knew not what to wish or do for the
best.  I once more visited my villages, Bodicott, Kingham, Hook, Nortan,
Middleton, Cheny, Chalcomb, Sulgrave, and many other places.  In the
month of June, I received a pressing invitation to Birmingham, Warwick,
Bedworth, and Coventry, which I could not accept till my wife, who was
near her time, was delivered; as that was a time I perpetually dreaded,
so I could not, would not leave home.  But, on the 8th of July, 1808, it
being our lecture night, my wife was taken bad, and safely delivered of a
daughter: my mind had been uneasy all the day, nor could I find a text in
the whole Bible, to preach on in the evening; I was obligated to go to
chapel without one, and after prayer could find no other text than this
one word—“Farewell.”  On this I preached for some time.  Many thought,
after my departure, that I never intended to return, from the singularity
of my text; but, I fully intended it, nor had I the least idea of leaving
them, only for a fortnight, to visit the places to which I had been
invited: I proposed returning, but the Lord did not intend I should.  The
next evening I preached at a village, on “These are they that came
through much tribulation.”  I conversed freely, on divine subjects, with
my friends, and was particularly happy in soul, as, in fact, I had been
from the time I left town; yet I never dreamed of the storm at hand; but
this I have known, often before a storm I have found an universal
stillness; and, at times, great spirituality, nearness to God, and a
brightening up of every evidence.  I mention this to the honour of God’s
grace, which has been so often experienced by me.  The next morning I
took leave of my family, to go my journey, and just as I was going out, a
letter was brought to me, from a person, containing some very distressing
charges.  I had not time to stay to clear that matter up, as I had no
means of sending to the places to which I was going, to contradict, or
rather postpone my visit.  I left it in the hands of a person I supposed
my friend, till I returned to the town; but to that town I never did
return.  I went on my journey with a heavy heart, and the most dreadful
and inconceivable anguish of spirit.  The Lord enabled me to preach that
evening at Kineton, and, the next day I walked ten miles further—arrived
at Warwick, and preached there on Friday evening.  Ah! little did the
crowded congregation think what I felt.  The next day I went further, and
preached at Bedworth on Sunday three times; one of which was a charity
sermon for a school.  On Monday I arrived at Coventry; on Tuesday I
travelled on to Birmingham, where I was kindly received; I preached there
on the Tuesday, Thursday, and the following Sunday.  While in the pulpit
I was in some measure happy; but, when in company, I was wretched:
solitude suited my distressed heart.  I was invited to Wolverhampton,
Bilston, and Briarley-hill, and so on.  All these places I visited, and
the word was well received; but, oh, my sorrows!  I cannot paint them.  I
continued at Birmingham a month, or nearly so; the amiable, kind, and
spiritual people I was with, saw my distress, and being invited far into
the country, I felt resolved to go.  But just as I made up my mind for
the journey, I received a pressing invitation to London; a chapel having
been provided for me, if I would come; with which I complied immediately.
During the time I was at Birmingham many letters passed between myself
and the managers at B—.  The deacons intreated my return upon certain
conditions, to which I consented; but the trustees objected to it: it was
amidst this pro and con that I received this letter to come to London.
My most invaluable friend in Birmingham, at whose house I was, appointed
a place to meet my accusers, in company with a godly minister, and some
others.  We met at a place called Chapel-house, near Chipping Norton, in
Oxfordshire, and in some measure gained a satisfaction.  I returned to
Birmingham, preached that night, and on the Sunday following; took my
leave on Tuesday, and proceeded to London on Wednesday.  The meeting in
the Borough was opened for me, and crowds soon attended.  My family came
to town, and all my debts were paid in B— shortly after.  I was much
grieved for the cause in B—, as there are many pious persons there, who
love the truth.  Peace be with them all.  Mr. G. now received an
invitation to the place, but his time was but a few weeks there.  The
Lord often deals in a way of retaliation, even with his own people; but,
I forbear.  I was no sooner settled at Chapel-court, but I had frequent
invitations to other places: the congregation was unsettled at
Grub-street: here I preached several times, for each party.  If persons
fall out it is nothing to me; I have but one subject, Christ; and if that
will not unite parties, nothing will.  The people behaved very kind to
me; and if I could have given them satisfaction, on a certain point, no
doubt I should have settled among them: but I shrunk from investigation,
because I was conscious of having acted imprudently—and, as I knew: I
could not be comfortable among them, nor be much credit to them, I
silently evaded them all, and left my case with the great Head of the
Church, who had pardoned my soul, but told me—from henceforth thou shalt
have wars.—While I thus preached for them, they all acted very kind to
me, especially a Mrs. Mc.  I shall meet some of them in glory, although
prejudice will not let them even speak to me on earth.  This reflection
as pleasant and painful, but I justify them in it.  No man upon earth so
prone as I am to idolize the creature, or to lean on his puny arm; this,
this is the cause of the long contention, and all my disgrace, grief, and
woe.  No one could look upon my trials, but most ask—is there not a
cause?

I continued at Chapel-court for some months, and preached at other
places; also Bunhill-row, Glass-house Yard, and you can well remember the
Lord’s-day at Waltham Abbey.  I preached at Westminster, and near
Leicester-square.  My enemies were busy, but all of no avail: the Lord
still led me on, though not without some trials.  In this year I was
called to endure a new affliction, the loss of a darling daughter, about
five or six years of age: these were feelings the most painful, but can
never be described.  Having no relations in the world, I knew not what it
was to lose them by death, and having so little fortitude, I was almost
inconsolable.  My feelings, when seeing her depart, were such as I had
been a stranger to before then.  I had seen saint and sinner depart, and
had long wept with those that wept, but now it was personal.  I had
preached at a friend’s house, at Camberwell, occasionally; and the
evening before her death, my mind was forcibly struck with, and I
preached from, Psalm cxxvi. last verse.  When I concluded, and on my road
home, it appeared to me as if the text was like leaven working in my
mind; it was applied to me.  The Lord knew what I should feel that night,
and the next day I found my dear girl worse.  The nurse called me about
half-past three; it was not quite light, the eastern sky became
enlightened; a solemn stillness pervaded all nature; I stood by her
bed-side, and saw her breathe her last.  I trust the morning of her
better, her eternal day begun.  Happy Mary, that thy Lord called thee
home so soon! and never, whilst memory holds her seat, shall I forget thy
little voice, the day of thy departure—“Mary will die, and go to see the
Lord.”  But this is my hope; I close these remarks on my dear girl.—

   This lovely bud, so young and fair,
      Call’d hence by early doom;
   Just came to shew how sweet a flower
      In Paradise would bloom.

That same evening I was obliged to preach; and no other text could I get
but this—“He has done all things well.”  May I not say so now?  Another
calamity came soon after: a young woman, who had lived with us at B—, as
a companion to my wife, and who was exceedingly kind to her in my
troubles there, had a desire to see London, and spend some time with us.
We sent for her, and she continued for about two months.  She seemed to
be pious, and to understand the gospel.  She was suddenly taken ill; the
faculty did not exactly understand the nature of her complaint, and
although she was poorly, she expressed a desire to hear me as long as she
could, and to go to the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper.  She came, but
was so ill she could not attend to any thing.  She grew worse, and her
head was dreadfully affected.  She at times became raving mad; but at one
time she was very sensible; and while she slept, as we all thought, my
wife, myself, and some other friends, were talking about the things of
God, she spoke very sensibly and slowly, and suddenly uttered, “O what a
mercy to be beloved of Jesus!”  I was just going to enter into
conversation with her; but she grew worse, and shortly after slept in
Jesus.  Glad would her dear parents have been, had they attended her; but
they were near 100 miles off.  Yet we got her, perhaps, much better
attendance than she could have had at home.  On account of the distance
from the family, with much regret we deposited her remains in the
burial-ground of Tottenham-Court Road, but in hopes of a blissful
resurrection; and this blessing is sure to all who are quickened by the
gracious in-dwelling of the Holy Spirit.  As it is written, _Rom._ viii.
“But if the Spirit of Him who raised up Jesus from the dead, dwell in
you, _He_ that raised up Christ from the dead, shall also quicken your
mortal bodies, by His Spirit, that dwelleth in you.”—Grace and peace be
with you.

                                                    I remain, yours, J. C.

   For love like; this, ye saints arise
   Superior to all earthly ties;
   Proclaim the Saviour’s precious blood,
   And magnify a Tri-une God!



LETTER XIV.


    “Yet thou, O Lord, art in the midst of us.”

To —

I have often admired the gracious conduct of Divine Providence in
bringing me acquainted with your family: I have found you faithful in
gospel bonds, faithful in reproving, admonishing, instructing, and
praying for me.  You was well acquainted with the cause of my leaving
Chapel-court Meeting, as I could not get it as my own.  I prayed to have
a place of my own, if it was an old barn; but, no doubt, this is another
proof of my pride.  I have seen the sorrows of real good men, who have
been turned out of their situations, and reduced to abject poverty,
merely to please some bashaw deacon, or conceited trustee; and as I did
not like to wear a muzzle, I chose to get a humble place of my own.  Your
friendship in exerting yourself for my good, and the accommodation of the
people, well succeeded, and our wishes were accomplished.  A place was to
let, near the obelisk, which would contain 800 people: but, alas! we had
no seats, or pulpit.  I opened it, just as it was, with a temporary
stage, on which I stood.  The place was crowded; I was enabled to preach
in the afternoon on “He brought me to his banqueting house, and his
banner over me was love:” and in the evening, “I beseech thee shew me thy
glory.”  I continued at Chapel-court some parts of the week, and Sundays,
till the Obelisk Chapel was quite ready; when I gave up the former
entirely, and occupied the latter.  Many a blessed season we experienced
there, and the Lord confirmed the Word with signs following.  With
pleasure you saw this, and fondly hoped to have seen a regular church
formed, upon the Baptist order; but, perhaps, I have been culpably
negligent upon that subject.  However, your desire was in a great measure
fulfilled: the presence of the Lord filled the place, the Word ran, and
Christ and free-grace was glorified.  Many remember the spot with
pleasure, and others have gone from thence to glory.  I need not
apologise for reminding you of your remarkable dream on _Ezra_, vii. 27,
28, “Blessed be the Lord God of our fathers, which hath put such a thing
into the king’s heart, to beautify the house of the Lord, which is at
Jerusalem.”  And I was strengthened, as the hand of the Lord was upon me.
The Lord be with you, while I remain,

                                                      Yours, in Him, J. C.

   He never said to Jacob’s seed,
      Seek ye my face in vain;
   No; he delights our souls to feed,
      That we with him may reign.



LETTER XV.


    “Son of Man, shew the house to the house of Israel.”

To —

After I had been with the present congregation for some time, I thought
it expedient to endeavour to bring the church into some form, and gospel
order, upon the Baptist plan; but this I found a very difficult task.
The majority of hearers, were averse to the ordinances of believer’s
baptism, not one of the managers did see into the nature and design of
the ordinance; yet I was enabled to preach frequently on the subject, and
many were soon after convinced it was their duty and privilege to submit
to baptism, as well as attend the Lord’s Supper.  Some, who saw more
clearly into it, waited till they were baptized, before they sat down to
the Supper, knowing this was the most scriptural plan: others, who had
been baptized previous to their hearing with us, desired to unite with
us, but did not choose to do that till the church was more regularly
formed.  And now, having a convenient place for that purpose, many came
forward to be baptized; the day was appointed, and eighteen came, who I
had good reason to believe were called by grace.  I preached my sermon at
Horselydown, from this question of our dear Lord—“_The baptism of John_,
_was it from heaven_, _or of men_?”  I found liberty and freedom in a
scriptural statement of the nature and design of believers’ baptism.  I
had nothing new to advance, but what many men of God had observed on that
subject, and endeavoured to back every argument with scripture proof.
The evening arrived, and the candidates met; I conversed once more with
them all, separately, in the vestry.  A good man preached the sermon, and
fully confirmed what I had previously advanced.  At the close of the
sermon, I gave a short address at the water.  After prayer and singing, I
descended into the baptistry, for the first time, with trembling steps,
yet dependent on the faithfulness of the Great Head of the Church, to his
own promise—“Lo! I am with you _always_.”  I then led each into the
water, myself, and spoke something suited to the case of every one, as we
went into the water together.  I considered it most scriptural to go down
_with_ the candidates, which had a very pleasing effect upon the
spectators, gave great encouragement to the candidate, and diversified
the solemn scene.  This was the plan of the Rev. Mr. Burnham, which I
always adopted.  In two month’s time, about thirty-five more came
forward; and for the first four or five succeeding years, I had the
honour to baptise upwards of fifty persons.  At one time I had
forty-eight, which was very fatiguing to me.  After I had left
Horselydown, we went to baptise at Worship-street.  This only occurred
once, and there were near forty persons at that time.  Soon after the
Lord raised me up a place of my own, and we built an excellent baptistry
there, in which many have been baptised, some of whom are now in glory,
many are growing in grace, and continue amongst us, while others are gone
to other places, that other ministers might fill up their cup of
consolation.  I have heard but of very few that have gone back into the
world, and _they_ are not out of the reach of mercy, unless any of them
have sinned “the sin unto death.”  But, notwithstanding so many were
baptised, I had not power to form the church after the particular Baptist
plan, but was obligated to admit those of God’s dear children, who could
not yet see it right to be baptized.  As these persons gave every
evidence that they belonged to God, I saw no impropriety in sitting down
with such at the Lord’s table.  I am well aware that it was not so in the
apostolic age; _then_, the church was of one heart, and one soul, but it
is not so now, in external matters; and as the Saviour admits them to
communion with himself, I see no reason why we should exclude them,
because they do not see exactly with us into this ordinance: I wish all
the church throughout the world did see it exactly as the scriptures have
laid it down; but that they will not do, till the Holy Spirit is again
poured out in the latter-day glory, of which happy time the apostolic age
was a prelude.  There was a period when I did not see the order of the
church to be of that importance I now do.  My whole attention, out of the
pulpit, was to manage that business as well as I could, assisted by men
of faith, prayer, and wisdom.  We have since formed the church, the
articles of which are printed in the first volume of the “Voice of
Faith.”  The Lord keeps us walking in his own appointed way, adorning the
doctrine of God our Saviour in all things.

                                                              Yours, J. C.

   Make me obsequious to thy will,
   While journeying hence to Zion’s hill;
   Within thine arms, O let me be,
   For ever folded near to thee.



LETTER XVI.


    “Arise and thresh, O daughter of Zion.”

To —

As through grace you have been an eye and ear witness to the Lord’s
dealings with me, and to the testimony which he has borne to the word of
his grace (however weak the instrument) in town, so you have heard of
some success I have had in the country.  Various have been my journies,
and scarcely have I ever heard of one in vain.  Soon alter the death of
my dear girl, I was invited to take a journey to Sheerness.  When I
arrived, some who had heard me preach in town, and others who had beard
of me, came to solicit me to preach in that place.  The minister was
requested the use of his pulpit, but he denied it at first, which threw a
general damp upon them all.  However, I was impressed that the Lord had
intended me to preach there, and when I got alone, I begged of the Lord
to shew me his mind, which he did in his Word, by this text, which I
opened upon—“I will give thee the opening of the mouth unto them.”  When
my friends assembled around me again, each giving their various opinions,
I told them I should surely preach to them.  The next day I wrote a
polite note to the minister myself, and in the evening he as politely
came to invite me.  The Lord opened my mouth, and the dew descended on
the barn floor.  This was an enlivening and a quickening time.  Many, and
especially the Baptists, were stirred up, and shortly built a small place
for themselves, in which I shortly after preached.  I believe a church is
since formed in the place, and godly Baptist ministers supply it.  The
Lord also opened the meeting at Strood, and enabled me to proclaim the
unsearchable riches of Christ to the joy of some good old-established
Christians, who had long sat under the truth, and were blessed with that
charity that rejoiceth not in error, but rejoiceth in the truth.  Many
remember those visits, and although I shall never see them more in this
world, yet I trust that truth that has made us free will bring us home to
the enjoyment of the God of truth.  In the year 1811, I opened a
Monday-evening lecture at Horselydown, and another at the Welsh meeting
at Lambeth, where I continued some years, till Providence altered the
circumstances of these places; also at Little Providence Chapel, in
Holborn, where the Lord met many precious souls, and highly honoured me,
to bring in some of his people: as it is written, _Isaiah_ lxvi.  “And
they shall bring in your brethren for an offering unto the Lord, out of
all nations, upon horses and in chariots, and in litters, and upon mules,
and upon swift beasts, to my holy mountain, saith the Lord.”

                                                              Yours, J. C.

P.S.  I was very partial to travelling from place to place, but the Lord
has cured me of that roving fit, and I have scarcely a desire left me of
ever leaving my own place: for, sometimes it is found true what Solomon
says—“As a bird that leaveth his nest, so is a man that wandereth from
his place.”

   May God the Spirit free impart
   Fresh life and vigour to the heart;
   And with a living coal inflame,
   To speak the honours of his name.



LETTER XVII.


    “The Lord is my helper and my deliverer.”

To —

There are some few periods in our lives when we may be said to sit still
and be at ease; but there are other times we could particularly mention,
when trouble abounds—as Job expresses it, “Thou breakest me with breach
upon breach;” or, as David says, “Deep calleth unto deep, but the Lord
will command his loving kindness in the day-time.”  This was my
experience from the 1st of January, 1813, to the 12th of July.  No sooner
had the year commenced, but having occasion to pass through
Blackfriars-road, I saw in the shop-window of a printer and bookseller,
an infamous and daringly-printed paper, including the fac-simile of a
letter said to have been written by me to an awful character; in which I
had included a guinea, to assist him.  This piece of effrontery hurt my
mind, but I was enabled to bear it, and preached a sermon the same
evening, on “They shall call his name Emanuel, God with us.”  The above
letters were bought by hundreds, friends and foes: I took no notice of
it, and presently came out many editions, with great additions.  Soon
after this every corner of the streets and every lamp-post had a placard
posted, with these elegant words, in capital letters, “JOHN CHURCH,
INCARNATE DEVIL,” and these were interlined with many awful scriptures,
against uncleanness of every description; {86} but this failing of its
intended plan, to rouse public indignation, another method was resorted
to.  Some pretendedly pious young men were employed to read these papers,
with an audible voice, at the Obelisk, on Sunday mornings, as the
Congregation were coming to chapel; this was going out into the highways,
indeed, and gathering as they could, some good and some bad—the effect
was, many disputes amongst them.  The public-houses were filled; and, for
several Lord’s-days a vast mob assembled around the door, but peaceably,
and all was peace within.  I continued my labours’ six times a week; yet
not without much inward grief.  Some warm but indiscreet friends were
determined to apprehend the first that made any disturbance, and no one
seemed very forward to do that, except one young man, who was observed to
frequent the mob: he was taken to the watch-house by order of the
managers of the chapel, who charged him with a breach of the peace, but
when he was brought before a magistrate, who was no friend of mine, he
complained of my conduct to his brother, twelve years before that period.
I was of course sent for, and went without any warrant being issued out
against me.  I made my appearance, and a very worthy magistrate bound it
over for trial, at the Middlesex sessions, alledging it would give
greater public satisfaction.  All things were now peaceable till July 12.
The time came on, and the trial took place, at which I was honourably
acquitted.  The chairman who tried the cause declared he never witnessed
so malignant a prosecution before.  We had peace once more in our
borders, and prosperity in our palaces.  I then explained the former case
mentioned in this letter, concerning the infamous person to whom I had
acted as a benefactor.  The case was this: in the month of September,
1812, a person called on me.  Mrs. C. who was blessed with a astonishing
gift of discernment of character, came to my study, and said a person
below wanted to see me—“but,” she added, “I don’t much admire his looks.”
However, I came down, and she listened at the nearest window, anxious to
know his business.  He accosted me with “Sir, you don’t know me, but I
have been unfortunately in prison a long time.  I was formerly in the
public line, and wish to go in it again.  Many have helped me, and I hope
you will take it into consideration also.”  I told him if he would leave
his address, I would certainly pay some attention to it, but could not
stay then.  In a few days time I went to the house he had directed me,
and found, as far as I could see, every thing respectable; and an old
gentleman assured me that the case was a very distressing one, and that
the poor man was then in the spunging-house, put in that day by his
brewer.  This had all the appearance of truth; I felt for his situation;
and the next day wrote the letter which was afterwards handled against
me.  But I believe it was nothing else but envy on the part of my
opponent, who had borne a name so many years for his alms-giving, as
though nobody could give an alms but himself.  Not all the world can
persuade me that the opposition made to me was from any other motive.
Although zeal for the moral law was the plea, yet, _that_ very person
always acted contrary to the law, in every such act of opposition.  But
to return, the above ungrateful wretch had no sooner received my
donation, than he sent a woman, purporting to be his wife, to solicit
more money.  Mrs. C. gave her an answer, assuring her that I had
contributed generously to his wants, and could do no more for him, or for
any one else, yet:—but the woman, not contented with that answer,
replied, in an insulting manner, “Well, if Mr. C. does not choose to do
it, he shall repent it as long as he lives; for I’ll go to Mr. D—
directly, and tell him what I know will please him, against Mr. C.”  The
Doctor not being returned to town, the woman waited till he did, and then
visited him, well knowing the above gentleman would jump for joy, if he
could find out any thing amiss in my conduct, so as to fix the name of
Antinomian in reality.  Report says, he visited this infamous character
in prison, and gave him two guineas for the letter.  Many others of the
holy contenders for the moral law, paid him a visit, and gave him money
likewise, so that he made his boast he had but one guinea from me, but he
got near forty guineas out of the Doctor and his people.  The letter was
soon engraved, at the Doctor’s expense, and thousands of them printed and
sent into the world.  And what harm did this do me? but send crowds to
hear me preach, who filled the chapel so much, that we were obliged to
look out for a much larger place.  The infamy of this notorious character
being so fully known, his palpable falsehoods respecting my visiting his
infamous house, were discredited by any reasonable being; and as his
testimony would not be taken in a court of justice, there was no reason
why it should be taken in the courts of the Lord’s house.  I relieved him
from the purest motives of benevolence, as I have many hundreds beside,
who are living witnesses of it.  I acknowledge I have not been so
discriminating in my acts of beneficence as I ought to have been: but I
could never bear to send away empty from my door the petitioner for
relief, whether good or bad, if I could relieve them, remembering, the
advice and example of our Divine Lord, _Acts_ xx. 35.  And as to
impositions, those who are kind to the poor must always expect it, both
in the church and in the world.  And if the most _knowing_ of the
benevolent are so often duped, you cannot wonder at my meeting with such
characters; for it is a well-known truth, that if there is a flat in the
world, a sharper will find him out: and, supposing my holy enemies to
have acted from the very best motives, it their searching out my supposed
faults, in doing so have they acted agreeable to the holy law of God, or
to any of the precepts of the New Testament?  I believe not.  If it was
criminal in my relieving a bad character with one guinea, {90} was it not
more criminal in my persecutors to relieve him with forty guineas; or to
put themselves to the vast expense of supplying whole columns of trash,
pregnant with falsehoods, for the “Weekly Dispatch.”  But you know this
sort of conduct is pretended zeal for that very law that curses them for
their hypocrisy.—Farewell.

   From Christ my mercies flow,
      In pearly drops they fall;
   Lord give a thankful bosom to
      The sweetest pearl of all.



LETTER XVIII.


    “He hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.”

To —

It would fill no small volume to relate the particulars of the bustle
which took place in the above affair.  The zeal, vigilance, activity and
expense which so many put themselves to was really laughable.  The above
Doctor and his understrappers were all upon the alert, all the filth,
lies, and rubbish that could be collected together, were brought him;
these he put in order, fled to the printer with, and which were soon
exposed for sale, no doubt for the benefit of the poor (to add to
charity’s fame).  This being calculated to disturb the peace, the printer
was bound to keep the peace, by one of the magistrates, which put an end
to the sale of this rubbish.  But the Doctor had recourse to another
expedient; he crossed the water to an awful enemy to all spiritual
religion, and furnished him with plenty of the same rubbish for a Sunday
Newspaper.  I saw him enter the above shop myself, and I then told many
persons we should have another budget of lies out next Sunday.  Nor was I
mistaken.  This holy advocate for the suppression of vice, and keeping
the Sabbath holy, now gave plenty of matter for the encouragement of
vice, and the profanation of that day.  Public-houses were again well
stored, {91} to read about the infamous J. C.—Jews and Infidels,
professed Christians, and profound Deists.  There were “Parthians, Medes
and Elamites, dwellers in Messopotamia, Egyptians and strangers,” all in
a bustle.  Some running one way, some another; one post ran to meet
another, as if the city had been taken at both ends.  Every one who had a
little hope of interest picked up a stone, wrote a letter to his
Holiness, or ran with some account of some bad action, some love letter I
had written, some bad house I had visited—_though as false as God was
true_.  Yet this was credited, and swallowed down wholesale.  Vast crowds
assembled round the chapel on Sunday nights, so that the congregation had
to pass through them as the Israelites through the Red Sea; but not a dog
moved his tongue at them.  Printing scurrillity was kept on weekly, till
the public got tired of the old story over and over again.  Nor were some
of my well-wishers idle; some, in warmth, retaliated; others, more
prudently, wrote mildly, and remonstrated in a scriptural manner with the
Doctor, by word and writing.  Some exercised their pens in satire and
poetical effusions.  Some of the copies of these I have still by me, and
would present them to you, but they would take up too much room.  And
what good did all this do?  None, but hurt the rising generation, and
exposed the cause of God to ridicule.  On the part of those adversaries
who are zealous for the moral law, as their rule of life, surely they
acted contrary to every law, to the ten commandments, the Judaical law of
Moses, the gospel in every doctrine, and in every precept; the laws of
wisdom, love, and kindness, and the excellent laws of our country.  But I
forgive them; and the only apology I can make for them is, that they did
it with a good intent, and out of love to my soul; _this was equally as
loving to me_, as the Hibernian woman to her husband, who being condemned
to be hung clung round her dearest dear, reminded him how much she loved
him, and said, as a proof of it, she came that morning to hang him
herself, as she might as well have the money for it as any body
else.—This was love indeed.—Farewell.

                                                              Yours, J. C.

   When men of spite against me join,
   They are the sword, the hand is thine.

P.S.  Many wondered that I did not punish the weekly scribblers, but no;
I am forbid I _Corinth_, vi. 1.  And if I had a mind for it, they kept
out of the way, either by the rules of the Fleet or the Bench—and what is
the use of pursuing a flea? as David said to Saul—1 _Sam._ xxiv. 14.



LETTER XIX.


    “We know that all things work together for good, to those that love
    God.”

To —

As the congregation was so much increased, from the late rumours, and
conclusion of the trial, the place where we had long worshipped, was
deemed unsafe to contain so large a body of people; it was therefore
proposed to build a more convenient place, near the old spot: but the
chief part of the neighbourhood being City ground, we could not obtain
any other place than the vacant spot on which the chapel now stands: this
was taken of the City, and on Monday the 13th of July, the day
twelvemonth the trial was terminated in my favour, I laid the
foundation-stone of the new chapel, in presence of many spectators.  When
I had concluded the service, we assembled the same evening at the old
chapel, where I preached on _Gen._ xxviii.  “And this stone which I have
set shall be God’s house.”  That evening, small as the congregation was,
compared with others, we collected fifty pounds.  The building was begun,
and in ten weeks it was finished; but during that time my faith was
continually upon the watch tower.  And the hand of God was most evidently
in the business; timber was scarcely ever known to be at such a price,
yet the Lord sent me money with which to pay the men their wages, and to
find many materials beside—this was at the rate of twenty-five pounds a
week.  Where the money came from I know not, but, to my surprise, it
came.  The Lord called me to his throne, and in gracious answers the
money was sent.  On the first Sunday in October, 1813, I took my leave of
the old place, where I spent many happy hours; and if David remembered
Hermon, and the little hill Mizar, the old Obelisk chapel will be dear to
many a soul while life and being last.  I preached in the morning on the
language of Moses to Jethro—“We are journeying to the place of which the
Lord said, I will give it thee, come thou with us, we will surely do thee
good.”  In the afternoon I endeavoured to remind my hearers of that
suitable promise in every case of the Lord’s people—“And behold I am with
thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest; and I will not
leave thee until I have done all the good which I promised unto thee.”
In the evening I again addressed the congregation, from the language of
Moses—“Let thy presence go with us.”  After the evening sermon, we had
the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper.  The evening was solemn, and we
concluded with thanksgiving for the many happy hours we had spent in the
place, and intreated the Lord to go with us the next day, and abide with
us all our days.  We left the old spot with some reluctance, and the next
morning I opened the new meeting.  I preached from _Exodus_ xxv. 8—“And
let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them:” this sermon
is now in print.  And in the evening to a very crowded congregation, from
_John_ xvii—“And I have declared thy name, and will declare it, that the
love wherewith thou hast loved me, may be in them, and thou in them.”
The bustle of the day had impaired my mind, but I was helped through it,
and the collection amounted to upwards of fifty pounds for that day,
which I considered to be very great.  Some very excellent singers
volunteered their kind services, and at the close of the service favoured
us with some very beautiful anthems from Handel.  The place was always
well attended, but the building of the chapel involved me in several
heavy debts, many of which I paid out of the produce of the chapel, and
others I borrowed money to pay them with, so that I paid all the
tradesmen comfortably to my own mind; but the borrowed money laid as a
dead weight on my spirits, and created me many anxieties.  This gave
fresh exercise to prayer and faith, and an opportunity of watching the
hand of God.  Soon after the building was completed, my subscriptions
stopped, and of course all the heavy debt laid on me.  As I was
determined no one should be hurt by me, I became responsible for every
thing; and having collected by subscription, about seven hundred pounds,
I found I was nearly ten hundred pounds in debt—three hundred I paid in
about eighteen months, and the rest I paid interest for the use of, till
the whole was cleared off.  And as I had the money given me, I built the
place and paid for it, of course it is my own property; but I have since
seen it necessary to choose trustees, by way of executors to my will,
that the place should be always appropriated to the preaching of the
gospel: this was to secure it from any who should claim it, and in future
time convert it into any thing else: as I had known some preachers who
had chapels of their own, after they had made a fortune in them, sell
them to brokers, and other persons, laying an injunction on them never to
let them again have the gospel preached in them.  This is most base, and
cruel, beyond all expression; and what an awful state must their
consciences be in, to act in so base a manner.  The Lord was with me, in
this place also, till another calamity befel me: but this I know, every
occurrence is divinely appointed, by infinite wisdom, and will terminate
in the glory of God, and the prosperity of the soul—For he worketh all
things after the counsel of his own will.

                                                        Yours truly, J. C.



LETTER XX.


    “So I spake unto the people in the morning, and at even my wife
    died.”—_Ezek._ xxiv. 18.

To —

Death is solemn at all times, to thinking minds; and though sin has made
him an enemy to our natures, grace has made him a friend to our souls:
but he has no acquaintances, nor has he respect for any; he comes in
without apologies, and cuts down all alike, the man of years, the
innocent babe, the crowned head, the mitred prelate, the humble
scavenger, and the poorest beggar: nor does he spare the dearest
relative, or the most affectionate friend—yet, it is the consolation of
the Lord’s people, that though all must bow to his stroke, they are dear
to the Saviour, they are precious to him; hence he calls them the
precious sons of Zion, and since thou hast been precious in my sight, I
have loved thee.  God has declared their blood, that it their lives, is
precious in his sight.—_Psalm_ lxxii.  And in another Psalm (cxvi.)
declares their very death is precious.  God has declared, he has no
pleasure in the _death_ of the wicked, no more than he has in their
_persons_ or their _lives_; yet grace has made a difference between those
who love God, and those who do not; and as the Lord Jesus Christ has been
to precious to them, in a time state, as an evidence they are precious to
him, he has graciously designed death to be only their removal from sin
and sorrow, to heaven, happiness, and God.  Death is therefore a gift,
freely bestowed on the Lord’s people, and in general a welcome friend,
whose mission is only to usher the elect, redeemed, regenerated soul into
glory; and though many such have been all their life-time in bondage,
through the fear of death, yet, that same Almighty power that made them
willing to be saved in God’s own way, makes them willing to leave all
behind, and to enter into a world of spirits, to be for ever with the
Lord; and not only willing, but sometimes longing, to be gone to that
rest the Lord has provided for his covenant people.  The faith that God
has given them is sometimes indulged with sweet views of their
inheritance, and they cast many a wishful eye to that land of delights.

   Thus _faith_ doth take a pleasing view,
      _Hope_ waits, _love_ sits and sings;
   _Desire_, she flutters to be gone,
      But _patience_ clips her wings.

What a chequered scene is the present state of God’s dear people, of
adversity and prosperity, risings and fallings, darkness and light,
losses and gains, crosses and mercies, bondage and liberty, sorrow and
joy, life and death.

No sooner had the good hand of God provided us a chapel, and every thing
seemed to prosper, but a sad calamity befel me, the worst I ever had, and
the most distressing to my feelings—the death of a kind, loving,
affectionate, and tender wife.  In the sixth Letter of this little work I
have given an account of our acquaintance and marriage; it was her mercy
she had been taught of God before this period.  Like most others, while
young, she was cheerful and loved the world, and the things of it, and in
the enmity of heart she despised the things of God, even to persecution;
but she was the child, doubtless, of many prayers, compelled by an
afflicted mother to read the Scriptures to her, which was no small
burthen to her more gay and cheerful mind; she came to a very important
portion of God’s Word, (_Jer._ iii.) a thought struck her that she would
read that chapter again, when she was alone.  She seized the opportunity,
and when she came to the 4th verse, the passage was applied with peculiar
power to her soul—“Wilt thou not, from this time, cry unto me, My Father,
thou art the guide of my youth.”  Conviction of her lost state came on,
and she soon went to work at the law, attended legal preaching, and
strove, in vain, to recommend herself to God, by the work of her hands,
her watchings, vows, and resolutions, till the Lord led her under the
ministry of more evangelical men, especially the ministry of our mutual
favorite preacher, Mr. L. then supplying at Tottenham and Tabernacle: the
Lord, having begun his good work, brought her soul into the sweet liberty
of the gospel, and in the love and fear of God, she walked many years,
living upon his grace, and depending upon his providence.  Her faith and
hope, though often tried and assaulted, were genuine, and her love to
truth was firm; she was a woman of the finest feeling, and quick
discernment of characters, many of whom she frequently cautioned me
against, and many a sorrow I should have escaped, had I (as most men
should) have listened to a wife.  We had experienced many changes, and
lived very comfortably together about eight years, when, alas! a sore
trouble befel her, above which she never soared.  A short time after her
delivery of her fourth child, she being very weak and low, some
incautious person suddenly surprized her with some alarming intelligence,
which was found the next day to be false: this chilled her blood; medical
aid was afforded, and she gained a little strength, but she felt the
direful effects of it till her death, which was not till seven years
afterwards.  During this period she had but one child more, who grew up
to his twelfth year, and then died in the Lord, a little account of which
has since, been published in his funeral sermon, entitled “The Glory of
Grace.”  Increasing weakness, attended with fits, and her mode of living,
reduced her system; she was confined to her bed but a short time, the
last fortnight she was very composed; sometimes feared the hour of her
departure, but the nearer she drew to death the less she feared.  I took
an affectionate leave of her the night previous to her death: her speech
was gone twelve hours before her departure; I, however, endeavored to
preach that morning on, “They that trust in the Lord shall be as the
mount Zion, which cannot be moved.”  This was expressive of her _state_,
_experience_, and _security_.  As that Lord’s-day closed, so she closed
her eyes in death, sleeping in Jesus.  I had many sweet portions of
scripture, suited, indeed, to her case, brought with power to my soul;
and having known her experience with the testimony of God’s truth, I am
happy in the full persuasion of her eternal felicity.  I preached on the
following subject the Sunday after—“Ought not this woman, being a
daughter of Abraham, whom satan has bound these eighteen years, to be
loosed on the Sabbath-day?”  Her warfare is accomplished.  “What shall
separate us from the love of Christ; shall things present?”  I had many
times advanced the doctrine of the final perseverance of believers; but
it was truly precious then.  As Mr. Huntington sings—

    “The world may oppose, and fiends may engage,
       And dangers and threat’nings dismay;
    But still they pursue, in defiance of rage,
       For the righteous shall hold on his way.”

                                             Farewell.—Yours, truly, J. C.



LETTER XXI.


    “So I prophesied, as he commanded me, and the breath came into them.”

To —

I had heard and read much about the spread of the gospel in towns and
villages, as well as in foreign climes, and magazines abounding with this
information; but, in my travels, I cannot say I found it true.  It may be
the case, where I have not been.  It is true, indeed, I found preaching
and professing; but duty, faith, moral harangues, and Baxterian
sentiments, were the greatest part of the preaching I could find.  Both
wise and foolish virgins all appeared to me to be asleep, except now and
then a missionary meeting, when there did appear a little shaking amongst
the dry bones; and dry enough they are; simple-hearted souls, resting on
the piety and goodness of their preachers, though their souls were
starving for food; and others resting on their lees, never having been
emptied from vessel to vessel; a wonderful outcry against Antinomianism,
although one professor in thirty thousand can not tell what this
frightful thing can be.  This sad state of professors not a little
affected my heart, and feeling the importance of truth, I desired to go
forth to this host of Midian, and the army of the Moabites, as the Lord
spake by the prophet, 2 _Kings_, iii. “And ye shall smite every fenced
city, and every choice city, and shall fell every good tree, and stop all
wells of water, and mar every good piece of land with stones, and so they
did, only in her Kir-haraseth left they the stones thereof, but the
slingers went about it, and smote it.”  An alarm should be sounded in the
streets of Zion.  We are at present in the Sardian state of the church.
When thousands have a name to live, but they are dead, and many of the
Lord’s spiritual people are sunk in a deep sleep, surely it is high time
to awake out of sleep, to arise from such deadly preaching; and
professing.  It is time to seek the Lord, until he come and rain
righteousness upon you.  I bless God for many visits in the country,
notwithstanding all opposition, and the plans satan laid in every
direction for my overthrow.  A few years ago I was invited to a small
village called Horsell, near Woking: here I preached several times, in a
small hovel, which was the only place they had; and soon afterwards they
built a chapel and founded a church, and are blest with the pure gospel.
At the same time I visited Woking and Chertsey, and found some blessed
souls who were truly spiritual; and some who were the fruits Mr.
Huntington’s ministry, and had been well brought up under the pastoral
care of the truly excellent Mr. Merrit.  Shortly afterwards, I was taken
by a gentleman into Essex, and preached at C—.  After the morning service
I was invited to preach in the afternoon, it being a charity sermon for
the school in that place.  This a little affected me, when the children
stood upon the forms, remembering when I was in like circumstances, while
I pleaded their cause.  Being intreated, I preached again in the evening;
although I found, _afterwards_, it was a little out of order: this I did
not know at the time, as the minister had to preach elsewhere—but it gave
offence to him, which I was very sorry for; as the managers had
unanimously invited me, I concluded it was mutual, and acted accordingly.
I continued to preach, every evening, in the same place, except one, and
the Word was blest to many; but much trouble arose in consequence of it,
and many disputes about myself and my doctrine: but the Lord gave
testimony to the Word of his grace, and those who were spiritual rejoiced
for the consolation.  I was again invited, but when I went down I was of
course denied the use of the chapel.  Guards were set to protect the
place, lest the vast body of hearers should resolutely determine to
enter; and had they been of that mind, they might easily have done it, as
I was then informed that the holy men who employed them, made them _all_
* * * * *, but I had no notion of hostility.  A gentleman opened his
house for me, which was soon crowded.  I advised them to obtain a barn,
or any large place, rather than act in an unchristian-like manner, which
was done immediately.  I opened it on the Lord’s-day, and preached in it
three times to a very large assembly.  I continued there that week, and
shortly after visited it again; the last day of which I laid the
foundation of a new chapel, on St. John’s-green, and preached in the
evening on _Gen._ xxviii. 22—“And this stone, which I have now set, shall
be God’s house; and of all that I receive I will give the tenth unto
thee.”  The people were exceedingly zealous and liberal.  The place went
up rapidly; but before its completion some disputes occurred amongst
those who were engaged in it, which arose from spite on the part of some;
and, to vex the other party, an objection was made to my coming down to
open the chapel.  A great deal of unpleasantry ensued, as a consequence,
which was produced by an artful character, and attended with much grief.
Both in town and country the plot took well, and another went to open it,
who was less credit to them, in the issue, than I was.  I had a most
anxious desire to see the chapel, and to preach in it once, which was
accomplished.  A lady who had invited my daughter to spend a few weeks at
her house in the town, requested I would come to see her; and, upon my
arrival, many friends came to visit me.  I exhorted in the parlour, and
the next day was pressed by the friends to preach in the chapel.  I
accordingly solicited the use of the pulpit, for the evening, which was
granted.  The passage I was enabled to speak from, was—“He careth for
you.”  I felt extremely affected with a variety of ideas which crowded on
my mind; the happy seasons I had experienced among them, the troubles
they had been called to meet with on my account, and the thoughts, the
solemn thoughts, that I should never see them more in this lower world,
deeply impressed my heart.  The next day I left the town, and earnestly
prayed for them.  My poor petitions were granted; the Lord has raised up
a very faithful and deeply-taught preacher among them; a church is formed
on the mixed Baptist plan, and God is with them.  Many are very dear to
my heart, and their kindness will never be forgotten by me,—nor the Lord
neither, particularly the Messrs. A. H. L. and many more.

Some time after this I went to Lincoln, and to several places in
Lincolnshire, where the Word was received; and I have heard from many
what God had done by the preaching of the Word, through my feeble means.
Many other places in the country the Lord has sent me to; also to
Deptford, Greenwich, and some places near London.

The Lord will bless his own truth to his own people, by his own servants,
and giving testimony to the word of his grace by the man, is a proof the
man is a sent servant of God; as, on the contrary, the Lord says of
some—“They ran, but I sent them not: therefore, they shall not profit
this people at all”—where the Word is blest to precious souls it is an
evidence of their being truly sent of God.  “By their fruits ye shall
know them; fruits of their ministry.  Do men gather grapes off thorns, or
figs off thistles?”—Even so every tree is known by its fruit; and this is
a sure evidence to the people.  So saith the Scripture, _Ezek._
xxiv.—“That he that escapeth in that day shall come unto thee, and cause
thee to hear it with thine ears, and thou shalt be a sign unto them, and
they shall know that I am the Lord.”

                                                              Yours, J. C.

    “Each cherub of Jesus who preaches the Word,
       Shews the path-way that leadeth to life;
    The sixty that handle the spiritual sword,
       Attends both the Lamb and his wife.” {106}



LETTER XXII.


    “And the rains descended, and the floods came, and beat upon that
    house, and it fell not.”

To —

From the building of the chapel, for the first two years, all went on
smoothly, all was prosperous and peaceable; we had set sail in the ship
Adramytum, and the South wind blew softly; and having obtained this, we
sailed too close by Crete.  This soft wind and easy sailing is not very
advantageous to spiritual mariners.  Ease, popularity, and prosperity,
will never do long for the believer or the Christian minister.  Prayer,
meditation, and temptation, or trouble, makes a good preacher; and where
the former is neglected, or but slightly attended to, the Lord has always
trouble in store to arouse him again.

   The pilgrim’s seldom long at ease;
   When on fright’s gone another doth him seize.

Hence the following declaration—“If thou shalt not watch, I will come on
thee as a thief, and thou shalt not know in what hour I will come upon
thee.”  This is an address to the angel, the minister, and the church of
Sardis.  And I really think the description of that church exactly
answered to our situation, as a church: I am sorry to odd, like most of
the churches in the present day.  This is too plain to be denied.  Our
summer’s day was soon clouded, an awful storm was foreboded by many,
which at last fell upon us all: for, not long after, sailing by Crete,
there arose a mighty wind, called Euroclydon; and when the ship was
caught, and could not bear up to the wind, we let her drive, and running
under a certain island which is called Clauda, we had much work to come
by the boat, and being exceedingly tossed with a tempest, and neither sun
nor moon, nor stars, appeared for many days, and no small tempest lay out
us, all hope of deliverance being taken away, we cast fair anchor out of
the stern, and wished for the day; but falling into a place where two
seas met, they ran the ship aground, a part which was broken with the
violence of the waves, but some other parts remained immoveable; yet, in
God’s time we escaped to land; for, in the midst of the storm, some of
as, in the confidence of faith, said, “We shall yet praise Him;” and
though deep called unto deep, yet we knew the Lord would command his
loving kindness in the day time: and even in that night his song was at
times with us, and our prayer, unto the God of our lives; yet the sea
wrought, and was tempestuous, till the Lord High Admiral of the Seas
awoke and rebuked the winds and waves, and then there was a calm, for
which we can never be too thankful.  O for a heart to praise him who
reigns over all his and our foes!  In the year 1816 I began a course of
lectures on Paul’s voyage, which required a great deal of attention, and
a little more ingenuity than I ever possessed.  Soon after this, alas! we
were brought experimentally to understand the subject; and though we all
rejoiced in the explanation and mystical sense, as it was explained, yet,
neither myself nor the congregation much liked the experimental part.  It
is very easy to preach and hear of storms, but when we really feel them,
we are ready to exclaim, “I pray thee have me excused.”  Nature ever did,
and ever will, rebel against the cross.  Although faith sees it needful,
for a season, to be under temptations, no trial can come by chance, nor
does affliction spring from the ground, but man is born to trouble, as
the sparks fly upwards; afflictions are of Divine appointment, not to
make an atonement for sin, nor to eradicate sin from the body, but they
are as useful as medicines to the body, and though painful, yet
_afterwards_ they yield the peaceable fruits of righteousness to them
which are exercised thereby, no matter who the instruments are, nor what
they are called, nor what end they have in view.  What God aims at is to
teach us wisdom; to try our faith, and that we may try him and find him
faithful; to wean us from this present evil world; to let us know what is
in our hearts; to display his power, love, wisdom, and faithfulness; and,
at last, to break down this earthly tabernacle, and bring the souls of
his redeemed to their eternal inheritance.  And this is well.  Surely
every Christian must say

   I know in all that has befel,
   My Jesus has done all things well.

I am sometimes grieved that the Lord’s tried people are so much prone to
look at second causes, and rebel against or resent the instruments which
afflict them; it is a mercy to be enabled to forgive, freely, fully, and
sincerely, those who, from _bad motives_, attempt to injure us; for this
conduct we have the very best of examples.  O for grace to imitate them.
I do believe that neither priest nor Levite, neither professor or
profane, had any other motives in opposing me for so many years, but what
have arisen from ignorance, envy, and hatred to truth.  I speak now of
those who have been so long endeavouring to injure me in the estimation
of the public. {110}  I speak not of the excellent laws of the country.
God forbid.  I have always, in public and in private, spoken well of
them; and if I transgressed any one law, I have as much right to suffer
the penalty of that law as any other man, and more so—but I am now
speaking of those gentlemen of the cloth who have endeavoured to degrade
me, both in doctrine and conduct: blessed be God they have failed.
“Behold, they shall surely gather together, but not by me, saith the
Lord.”  I consider all that these have done has been _spite_, and I prove
it thus.  How many erroneous preachers, and abominable in their conduct,
have appeared since I came first into the same neighbourhood?  Why not
oppose them also?  Why not watch their conduct—belabour them in the
pulpit—make them the subject matter of preaching (for want of better
matter)—search out their real or supposed faults—call committees on the
subject—expend large sums of money—publish, print, circulate—run from
county to county—employ the vilest vassals to carry on their nefarious
conspiracies—I say, why not others become the subjects of their spleen?
And even some amongst themselves, great advocates for what they choose to
call practical godliness, who have been drenched in sensuality, some of
whom have been exposed to the public—why not use them as they have me?  I
only appeal to every thinking mind, whether their cruelty could arise
from any thing but _spite_.  It cannot arise from my doctrine itself, but
their wilful ignorance of it, perversion of it, or hatred to it.  What is
my doctrine, but—

  That every believer being delivered from the law, as a covenant of
  works, and having the love of God shed abroad in his heart, loves every
  law of God, with all his _renewed heart_, his mind, and strength.

If this is the doctrine I preach, and I preach no other, can it be justly
condemned as being against the law?  Surely not.  And as I have stated
this as a solemn truth, that I preach no other doctrine, I only ask the
reader, once more, must not my religious enemies be most awful liars, who
have borne such false witness against me, upon this subject?  As to the
general term used—the moral law a rule of life—I do not choose to use the
term, and why?  Because no man in this world can make common sense of it;
it is a common hacknied phrase in the mouth of every pharisaic professor,
but the words will not bear an investigation.  I only ask an explanation
of the term.  Why should I make use of words I do not understand?  From
my enemies I demand an explanation of it.  I have read volumes of the
controversy on both sides, but no one _has_, for no one can, explain the
term.  I know a certain Baptist preacher, who compels all his
newly-received members to declare, they believe the moral law is a rule
of life for believers; and, poor things, they are obligated in their
weakness, to acknowledge this, which neither themselves nor preacher can
understand.  How can it be a rule for a Baptist?  Do the ten commandments
say any thing about Baptism; about the Lord’s Supper; about singing of
psalms, hymns, or spiritual songs; or godly conversation, or forgiveness
of others; or any of their church rules?  Not a word.  How, then, can it
be a rule for a Baptist, who is bound to attend to the rules of his own
society, or even of my principal adversary; does it command him to read
or _chaunt_ prayers?  Has it prescribed gowns or bands, or singers, or
organs?  Does the moral law teach him to belie, ridicule, and use his
utmost to injure his neighbour, or run to consult counsellors, to know
how he can get rid of Mordecai sitting at the king’s gate; or once to be
zealous for truth, and now to wink at error?  I think not.  I leave this
to his conscience.  I demand, if the moral law is a rule of life, why
transgress the fourth commandment, by labour and rest on the first day of
the week, instead of the seventh?  If a rule, why do they not keep it?  I
am only objecting to the term; but, beloved, abide then in Christ and his
Word; and as many as walk according to this rule, peace be on them.



LETTER XXIII.


    “And set up false witnesses, which said, this man ceaseth not to
    speak blasphemous words against this holy place and the law.”

In my last to you I have only objected to the mere obsolete and unmeaning
phrase—the moral law a believer’s rule of life.  I beg you to bear in
mind, I do not say it is not a rule, but I maintain it is an insufficient
rule of conduct for a believer under the gospel dispensation.  If it had
been a sufficient rule, why all the laws of Christ given as set forth in
the preceptive parts of the New Testament?  The doctrine of the gospel
are the rules of our faith, and the precepts delivered to the churches,
the rules of our conduct: this is a truth which cannot be overthrown—for
asserting the above, it is surprising the enmity of the advocates of the
law of Moses, as they call themselves, manifest against those who differ
from them; yea, they would persecute them to bonds and to death.  This is
evident in the life of the late truly experimental, devout, and faithful
Mr. W.  Huntington, a man truly devoted to God; nor could his vigilant
enemies find a single fault in his moral deportment, although they tried
for it all his days; those serpents were disappointed of their food in
this particular; God blessed and kept him—owned his message to thousands;
and, while the Lord has a church upon earth, most of his writings will be
of signal service to God’s own family; yet he was made the butt of spite
and malice, ridicule, and contempt; nor could the rage of an empty
professor be ever so excited, than to hear of persons attending his
ministry; workmen and servants discharged from their situations by great
professors; wives, husbands, neighbours, and relations, persecuting each
other on this account; pastors cutting off members without mercy, when
they had been starved under their ministry, and went in search of food
under the ministry of that man of God.  Preachers, when sadly off for a
subject, had only to introduce the frightful Antinomian, and this filled
up the time.  A very rev. gentleman loaded him with every ill-natured and
low-life name he could; like Esau of old, whose conduct is strongly
reprobated in the book of _Obadiah_, to which I must refer you.  This
elder brother fled from town to town, place to place, and house to house,
to oppose, traduce, misrepresent, and vilify the Lord’s servant; but, as
Mr. H. was a brother in Christ, in the faith of the gospel, and the love
of the Spirit, sad must be the state of that man who manifests such
hatred?  See the epistles of _John_, then draw an inference.  What a
mercy for us, who are dubbed Antinomians, that the civil sword is not in
the hands of these Balaams; {114} you may partly judge how they would
serve such asses as we are.  It is a good remark I have met with—the name
Antinomian, we view as a kind of scare-bird, which the devil hangs up in
the pulpits of hypocrites, on purpose to keep the Lord’s doves from
flying to their windows; and it has happened to this figure, as it often
does to an image set up in a cherry-tree, it will frighten the birds for
a while, but when the little creatures come to discover the cheat, you
will see them sit upon the head of it.  But why all this opposition?
Take it in Mr. H.’s own words, in his “Essay on Divine Law,” p. 275.

    “The good man who has distinguished himself as my godfather, and who
    has palmed the name of Antinomian upon me, and upon all that are in
    connection with me, and who has, without intermission, slandered and
    loaded we with reproach for five and twenty years, is an evangelist
    of the first magnitude; though I never spoke to him but once in my
    life.  He is most exceeding zealous for the law of Moses, and of its
    being the only rule of life for believers.  My not holding this
    assertion has filled him with all this holy indignation against me;
    that, although he often forgets his text, and sometimes loses
    himself, even in the pulpit, yet he never forgets nor loses sight of
    the filthy Antinomian; and he is so violent for his own holiness and
    sanctification, that he would be glad to send me to the devil, in
    defence of it.  And I doubt not but the Lord has set him at this work
    to ripen him, as was the case when he bid Shimei curse David, that
    God might curse him.  And I am as fully persuaded as David was, ‘That
    the Lord will requite me good for his cursing.’  2 _Sam._ xvi. 12.
    He has called me a spiritual monkey, a spiritual blackguard;
    confessing that, if he was to see the devil flying away with me, he
    could not find in his heart to cry, ‘stop thief!’ believing the devil
    had only got his own property.  And he has publicly confessed there
    are three creatures in this world that his pious soul hates; namely,
    the devil, Dr. Priestley, and Huntington; but that he hates
    Huntington the worst of the three.  Part of this is true, and part
    false.  It is true that he hates Huntington; but the other two have
    received no damage by him in any thing.  And I may say of my
    godfather as the prophet says of Jacob’s brother, that, ‘He did
    pursue his brother with the sword, and did cast off all pity, and his
    anger did tear perpetually, and he kept his wrath for ever.’—_Amos_,
    i. 2.  My reader may believe me when I say, that I esteem his
    indignation and his reproach a greater treasure to me than either his
    affections or his prayers; for we are to be hated of all men, and
    especially of all such men, for Christ’s name sake.—_Matt._ x. 22.
    And this is so far from offending me, that I am pleased with it, and
    make myself merry at the reports of his zeal, which hath almost eaten
    him up; and he may go on, for his whole warfare is in defence of his
    own honour; and the more the Lord enlarges me, the more he is
    enlarged also.”

Again, p. 296—

    “I wish these gentlemen would lay by the old thread-bare text, which
    is of their own forging, and give us a few practical discourses upon
    the law, shewing us how to love God, and love to the neighbours
    fulfils it; for, ‘On these two commandments hang all the law and the
    prophets.’—_Matt._ xxii. 40.  And again; ‘Therefore all things,
    whatsoever you would that men should do to you, do you even so to
    them; for this is the law and the prophets.’  This last text would
    try my pious godfather to the quick; for, although he is so very fond
    of calling others blackguards, yet he cannot bear it himself.  If
    others were to pursue him for twenty-five years, as he has chased me,
    and work him out of every pulpit, loading him with charges of error,
    loose living, deceiving sinners, &c. &c. all of which, and in a
    language equal to that of Billingsgate, his pious soul has thought
    fit to heap upon me; I say, were others to treat him so, he would
    weep like a child, fawn like a cat, and run to every counsellor in
    London to plead his cause, and appeal to the world in behalf of his
    innocency and the respectability of his family.  Preachers that have
    nothing to stand upon but the testimony of hypocrites, and the
    applause of fools, can bear but little of this sort of scandal; for
    their sandy foundation soon gives way, and, not being able to face
    either God or conscience in the closet, they are sure to go down;
    and, ‘Woe to him that is alone when he falleth.’  However, if these
    laws of retaliation are not put into practice by my pious godfather
    aforesaid, I have no doubt but the Law giver will put them in full
    force himself, according to his own promise; ‘For with what judgment
    ye judge ye shall be judged; and with what measure ye meet it shall
    be measured to you again.’—_Matt._ vii. 2.  He has not only loaded me
    with reproach and scandal himself; but being a man noted for wisdom,
    experience, and soundness of doctrine, he is much looked up to, and
    therefore others have been emboldened to join him in the same work.”

All this opposition to that late man of God was undeserved; nor should I
have introduced the subject, but only to shew how far the rage of man may
go in his false zeal for the law {117} in these professing times.  As it
respects myself, I would to God I had been like Mr. H. in almost every
branch of my conduct; it would have saved me many a painful and
distressing hour.  However, it is evident the hand of God brought me into
this neighbourhood, and has kept me many years amidst so many storms; my
enemies themselves being judges.  Our music and dancing has indeed
offended our elder brethren, _Luke_ xv. who boast they never transgressed
the commandment at any time; yet their pride of heart is not a little
mortified in beholding the hand of God towards me.  God declared to the
pharisaic Jews—“By a foolish nation will I anger you.”  This is the case
now; what I have erred in at any time is matter of the deepest grief to
my heart, and I will most readily confess it before God, and if there
were any necessity for it, I would to the church of God, in this little
work; but there is no occasion for that, as every believer feels the sin
of his _own_ heart to be a plague and a sore—yet prudence dictates to him
_not to acknowledge it_.  Nevertheless I have no authority to confess or
acknowledge what I never did—what I never was guilty of.  _Reader_,
_would you_?  With all the faults with which the believer is guilty, as a
sinner in Adam, he never does, he never can sin, that grace may abound.
He cannot sin as a believer; when he sins at all, it is not upon the
free-grace principles of the gospel.  God forbid; these teach him to deny
_all_ ungodliness, but to his grief he carries about with him a body of
sin; and the scriptures declare there is not a just man upon the earth,
that doeth good, and sinneth not.  In many things, said the holy _James_,
we all offend, and the venerable, aged, and holy _John_, says the
same—“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is
not in us.”  If the saints of old were free from sin and sinning, what
can all their confessions, groans, tears, and sighs mean?  And if my
opponents, who have represented me so bad so many years, are themselves
quite innocent, quite holy, or pure—how can they daily read the church
service, in her general confession, litany, collects, communion service,
and, indeed, throughout the whole.  I say not this to encourage sin—to
charge me with this, is to charge the whole Word of God with it.  Foolish
worldlings, who can be no judges of what either constitutes or
characterises a Christian, vainly suppose that to be a Christian is in
every respect to be a spotless person: and surely this is the wish of a
Christian; this is the desire of his heart—but who upon earth ever
attained it—none but the Divine Saviour.  The Lord grant us increasing
conformity to his own image.  Amen.  I have sometimes reflected upon the
various enemies I have had, and am surrounded with now, who are every day
waiting, watching, and longing for my halting, as in _Jeremiah_, xx. 10th
verse.—“For I heard the defaming of many, fear on every side.—Report, say
they, and we shall report it; all my enemies watched for my halting,
saying, peradventure, he will be enticed, and we will prevail against
him.”  But who are they?  Perhaps _some_ pious, mistaken, good-meaning
people, to whom I have been misrepresented—_some_ envious, pharisaic
preachers and professors, who in heart hate the truth, as it is in Jesus,
and long for an opportunity to degrade it, by the bad conduct of some who
profess it.  _Some_, hypocrites, who are secretly living in diabolical
sins; these are anxious to catch hold of some fault, on purpose to harden
their own hearts in sin, and ripen themselves for hell.—_Some_,
worldlings, either to furnish themselves with matter for ridicule against
religion—or to gain something by it, as many have gained many pounds by
coming forth to curse Israel.  But enough of this.  A little more than
four years rolled away, while the enemy took breath.  We were so quiet,
that my name did not, for a long time, occur in the daily papers; yea,
they had forgotten me in the “Sunday News.”  I was as a dead man, almost
out of mind: but this did not last long.  As God had new mercies in store
for me, so he had also new trials and new deliverances.

                                                              Yours, J. C.

   Of his deliverance I will boast,
      Till all who are distrest,
   From my example comfort take,
      And charm their griefs to rest.



LETTER XXIV.


    “He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night?  The
    morning cometh, and also the night.”

To —

I think there are very few serious troubles befal us, but God is pleased
to give us some intimation of their approach; so I have frequently found
it, either by uncommon joys or remarkable impressions, and very often by
dreams, and these repeatedly.  I know this last idea will expose me again
to the contempt of heedless characters; but it is written—“God speaketh
once, yea twice, though man perceiveth it not.”  However, many have found
it too true.  God spoke so to Joseph, to the butler, and baker, in
prison; to Pharaoh, and to many others of old, and I am fully persuaded
he speaks to us.  Not that dreams have any thing to do with salvation
business; although I am fully persuaded that the Lord has often first
imprest many of his people with awful dreams, which have led them to a
serious concern about their souls; and no doubt given them warning of
approaching troubles: so I found it.  I dreamed, one night, that a vast
number of young scorpions, or small serpents, were crawling about the
floor of the chapel; this at first alarmed me, but by my feet I crushed
all but two, which fled to the very seat which was occupied by *******
and another.  These I could not destroy, which left a painful sensation
on my mind.  When I awoke, I knew, at least I judged, some calamity was
approaching; nor was I deceived.  A gentlewoman soon after called upon
me—she appeared very dejected; I enquired the cause, when she informed me
she was sure some direful trial would shortly befal me.  I asked why she
thought so?  Only from the repetition of her dream—which was, that she
saw a cat, while I was in the pulpit, clasp me round the neck, and salute
me; but, as she departed, she tore my neck and throat in so awful a
manner that all were frightened who saw it.  I told her it was but a
dream; but she said she was sure it was of God, as the sad event proved.
Shortly after this, I was invited to sleep at a friend’s house, which I
did; but the second night, being indisposed, and having to meet the
committee after service, the hour being late, I was advised and pressed
not to go there; yet I knew I was expected, and being entreated, I
complied.  On my road a most unaccountable sensation seized me, and, as
though a hand touched me, a voice, at the same time, seemed to say, “Do
not go to-night.”  I made an apology to the party I was with, by saying I
would see them to the door, and then return home; but nothing would
avail.  O that I had followed the impressions.  Shortly after this night,
I heard a strange rumour, which produced a great deal of uneasiness.
Evil reports were circulating; but, as if some strange infatuation had
seized me, I took little notice of it, yet I thought it strange.  These
words came to me: “Agree with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in
the way with him, lest at any time he deliver thee to the judge, and the
judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison.”  Yet I
was conscious I had done nothing worthy of death or of bonds, so that I
was still inflexible.  Many gossips, through the rumour, continually
plagued the party, which did me infinite injury.  Several gentlemen from
the chapel waited on him, to whom he read a deposition, which contained
nothing criminal in my conduct; and, having gained this satisfaction, the
matter rested where it was for nine or ten weeks.  The gloomy month of
November arrived, which brought my old adversary to town; and soon after
a friend called on me, and gave me the painful information that he had
seen the above party, with my accuser, at the Public Hall, and being
informed it was concerning me, he thought it right to apprize me of it.

This was the severest blow I ever felt in my life.  I immediately
procured counsel; and, without being seat for, appeared.  The statement
was made, an assault was declared, bail was put in, and it was bound over
to quarter sessions.  This was soon spread.  Now a shower of papers,
placards, and pamphlets came pouring over me; the congregation thrown
into trouble; my family in the deepest distress of mind, and my feelings
racked beyond description—while thousands rejoiced in the day of our
calamity.  But it is written—“He that is glad at calamity shall smart for
it.”  Mark this.  I must remind you also of the lamentation of the
church.—1 _Lament._ 21: “They have heard that I sigh, all mine enemies
have heard of my trouble, they are glad that thou hast done it; thou wilt
bring the day that thou hast called, and they shall be like unto me.”
How did the Phillistines now rejoice, supposing that the ark was taken,
but the joy of the hypocrite is but for a moment.  Great troubles were in
the church, and “for the division of Reuben there were great searchings
of heart,” but those who were at ease in Zion were not grieved for the
afflictions of Joseph.”—_Amos_, vii.  Many paltry scribblers issued forth
their rubbish like insects from the mud of Nile; and I was the song of
the drunkards.

But I cannot here forget the goodness of God, who helped me in the day of
trouble.  I constantly preached and administered the ordinances.  The
Lord kept all peaceable without and within; thousands looked on and
wondered, as they do to this day.  To add to my calamity, I entrusted my
affairs to a very injudicious old lawyer, who, to answer his sordid
purposes, advised me to carry this cause to a higher court: this was only
adding affliction to my bonds.  I knew but little about courts of law, so
that I was led, hoodwinked, into this business.

One year and three months rolled away in this trouble.  During this time
I wrote a letter to a friend, who carried it to my opposers, and although
couched in the most friendly terms respecting themselves, yet they had
the cruelty to bring forth that letter to my hurt, another day.  This was
devilish, indeed: the learned judge mistaking the religious sense of the
letter, supposed that I meant it as a contempt of the just laws of the
country—God forbid.  No, no; it was a private letter to a friend, in
which I meant, that any injury done to a child of God, maliciously, {124}
would one day be resented.  But this was not treating the laws of the
country with contempt.  I ever maintained, that if the holiest Christian
upon earth has violated the laws of his land, he has a just right to
endure the penalty.—Never, surely, did a poor creature suffer so much in
mind, with any outward calamity, as I did.  And what for?  Some cried one
thing, some another.  About this time I changed my situation: many
advised me to leave the country; and, as I was placed in circumstances, I
could have paid my bail, and lived comfortably in another land.  But why
should I flee?  In this circumstance I asked advice of the Lord, who
graciously answered me—“Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou
dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.”  On God’s Word I
relied, and found him faithful.

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER XXV.


    “Their adversaries said, we offend not, because they have sinned
    against the Lord.”—_Jer._ l. 7.

To —

No doubt the steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and he worketh
all things after the counsel of his own will.  If so, we hardly know how
to blame the apostle Paul in his conduct, as recorded in _Acts_,
xxv.—When brought before Festus, he appealed to a higher court—“I appeal
unto Cæsar;” then said Festus, “Hast thou appealed unto Cæsar? to Cæsar
thou shalt go.”  Here the apostle had two years’ imprisonment, and at
last suffered martyrdom; although, in the lower court, he might have been
set at liberty.

It is the privilege of Englishmen that they may carry their causes to
higher courts; although it was not attend with much good to me, it was
granted and the best of counsel retained.  While this was pending many
and great were the anxieties of thousands respecting my future destiny;
nor could I be happy.  This procrastination of the trial, and sentence of
decision, was in much mercy, as the mind was borne down with trouble,
company was a burden, and I longed to retire from observation and all
society.  This prepared my mind, gradually, for the event; but it was a
suitable season for observation.  I watched the motions of many, and
while upon the watch-tower, these words came into my mind—“That the
thoughts of many hearts may be revealed:” and so it was.  While many of
the Lord’s people were deeply affected, every sensible and pious
character felt exceedingly for the afflicted church, and daily prayed for
us, especially some ministers of respectability: while the meaner sort of
preachers not only rejoiced, but used their exertions to injure me, some
of whom I formerly had it in my power to punish, but I never did; I
fully, freely forgave them.  From March to July I resided a little way
from town, and passed as pleasant a time as circumstances would permit;
only my old plague of a lawyer was continually hunting me for money,
under some pretence or another.  I beg leave here to advise all persons
labouring under any sore calamity, to employ a respectable attorney at
once, it will be less expence at the end; and generally the most safe
way.

Every thing was against me, the floods lifted up their voice, the floods
lifted up their waves; and, if the Lord had not supported my mind, at
times, I must have been quite overwhelmed.

Assize time came, and now all was bustle; had an emperor been going to be
tried for his life, surely there could not have been much more confusion,
disputes, meetings, opinions, hopes, fears, and griefs, sincerity and
hypocrisy; but I, partly knowing the mind of God, was prepared for the
event.  The committee who had met and consulted so many times before
against me, and whose names, or rather characters, were old Uzzah,
Hananiah, Coriah, Jannes, and Jambres, Phygelles, Hermogenes, Hymenius,
and Alexander the coppersmith; Demetrius the silversmith; Sceva,
Sanballat, and Tobiah, Geshem, and Doeg the Edomite; Shethar, Boznai,
Rabshakeh, Nergal, Shrezar, Samgar, Nebo, Rab Saris, and Rab Mag, {127}
and Haman; a noble company truly! assembled in a certain street, at the
Dung Gate, _Nehemiah_, iii. 14; or rather the religious manufactory.
These rulers of Babylon, being men of power, might, and influence, now
exerted themselves, and although some are so miserable as to grudge
themselves and families the common necessaries of life, yet they freely
parted from their money on this very _important_ occasion.  I have heard,
and believe, they used their personal influence with *****, and others,
others the most respectable amongst them, wrote to the learned
Artaxerxes, as in days of old—see _Ezra_, iv. 6 to 16; mark—the persons
who wrote the letter, thy servants on this side the _river Thames_—verse
11.  On Friday I delivered my address to the people, from _Psalm_ cxxx.
1.  Saturday, during the trial, I shut up myself from all society, and
gave myself up to the will of God; and, by prayer and supplication,
sought his supporting hand.  The trial ended as was generally supposed it
would.  How could it be otherwise?  The lie that was told—the mistake of
the design of the letter—the country at large could not avoid prejudice,
as the nation was inundated with a strong tide of pamphlets and
newspapers, for weeks together; my witnesses were nothing—_one_ had
forgot, and the _other_ could not remember; {128} my old lawyer had not
prepared half the defence to offer to counsel, although he had been so
well paid for it; the trial closed, and I lost the day: and, how great
was the joy of thousands that I had never injured; but they all had an
end to answer.  The grief of my best wishers was great, and surely we all
felt the blow most keenly.  This gave full scope for opposition,—now,
once more, the tide of scribbling rose, the sound of horns rushing
through every street, Sunday-morning papers were eagerly embraced, posts
running to and fro, hundreds running to stages with papers for country
friends; but, amidst all, I felt the supporting presence of God, which, I
am confident, my triumphant foes did not, nor his approbation neither.
My public labours were now nearly laid aside.  I met the congregation in
private, and delivered many addresses to them.  I resided at this time a
little way from town, and here the few that knew me treated me with
civility: but, one evening, we were thrown into confusion by a vast mob
assembling before the house, with rough music, an infamous placard, and a
frightful figure, intended as an effigy of me; a large fire was soon
kindled, and it was burnt before the door.  After a few shouts were
raised, they departed.  Application was made to a magistrate for redress,
but in vain.  Some, for less crimes, would have taken away the licence of
the house they met at; but I say no more.  This was attended with some
good to me.  It opened another door in providence, in which I was enabled
to see my friends.  The above circumstance hurt my mind a little; but, in
answer to prayer, these words came into my mind—“Fear not, no man shall
set on thee to hurt thee, for I am with thee.”

As to burning my effigy, I found they had done that to some good men,
whose shoe latchets I am not worthy to loose.  Mr. Huntington relates, in
his “Naked Bow of God,” page 280—“However, our adversaries meeting with
more encouragement than us, we were attended home by them, with their
hats adorned with ribbons; and, on their arrival, the whole parish
appeared in triumph: the bells were immediately rung, and my little
cottage was beset on all sides.  My effigy then was made and burnt, a
blasphemous harangue delivered, as a funeral sermon, over this figure of
straw and rags, and abominable impudence was sung in imitation of a
funeral anthem.  Upon this one and all cried out, they were for the High
Church; and, indeed, none could properly doubt of that, who saw the
height of their wickedness; for, had they been Turks, or Pagans, they
would have been ashamed of such conduct.”

I acknowledge this treatment was for preaching the gospel; and I beg
leave also to remark, that had I not preached the gospel, there would
never have been so much opposition to me.  But some of my holy
adversaries in the religious world justify such unscriptural means; and,
in order to put a gloss on their cruelty, will tell you it is done for
the lord’s honor.

The excellent laws of the country have a just right to punish offenders;
but it is our mercy the sword is not in the hands of certain reverends,
or else woe be to those whom their reverences choose to denominate
Antinomians.  Such priests and levites not only pass by a poor man that
has fallen amongst thieves, but they cruelly cast heavy stones at him,
and employ others to do the same.  I beg leave here to present you with
an account of the same persecuting spirit that actuated a mob at
Richmond, in the year 1774.  Take the circumstance as related in the
“Gospel Magazine,” page 214, vol. I.—

    “Monday evening last, a most numerous mob assembled, each with a
    bludgeon in his hand, and Mr. B— at their head, to the no small
    terror of our friends, some of whom B— abused very much, and even
    declared he would shortly hang their very persons up before their own
    doors.  They went in procession through the town, with one C—, in
    heavy fetters, whom they named rev. R. H.  They proceeded to a mock
    trial of him for defrauding a linen-draper of £200.  After they had
    condemned him to be hanged on the Wednesday following, they ordered
    him to be chained down, &c.  They went to several houses, where they
    had beer and money given them.  I believe they did not go to the
    honorable magistrate’s house, nor will I dare to say that his clerk
    gave them any money, yet he has been very busy in those affairs at
    times.  On Wednesday evening they assembled again, with the culprit
    in the cart, in the exact posture of an actual criminal going to be
    hanged; a book in his left hand, his eyes lifted up to heaven, and
    saying a blasphemous prayer as he went along.  They proceeded to the
    meeting-house, opposite to which a gallows was erected in the
    morning, where, after singing a hymn, and offering up a blasphemous
    prayer, the culprit was turned off, with the rope about his arms,
    though some will have it that the effigy only was hung up, yet I
    think I can believe my eyes beyond what they say.  They swore that if
    any of the Methodists came there they would have their blood.  We
    hope that some effectual methods will be taken against them; for I do
    assure you, Sir, till something be done, we are not safe in our beds;
    our houses are often attacked in the night, and we are not safe as we
    go to business, in open day, by reason of large stones being thrown
    at us, as we walk the streets.  I believe, if we were rebels, or had
    betrayed our country we should be more valued here than we are now;
    and that only because we would meet to worship our God, honour our
    king, pray for him and his, and wish peace and prosperity to our
    country, &c.”

But God meant that unto good; for, a little while after, in the same
magazine, we read, page 311—

    “Sunday last, the young man who was desperately wounded, in
    protecting some of the audience from the insults of the rabble, at
    Richmond, publicly renounced the errors of the Church of Rome, at the
    Methodist meeting-house in that town, and embraced the Protestant
    Faith, as held by the Established Church of England.”

What a mercy to be protected in our civil and religious privileges!  God
be praised for a Protestant king and parliament, and for the excellent
laws of our land.  Amen and amen,

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER XXVI.


    “And thou shalt go even to Babylon, and there shalt thou be
    delivered.”—_Micah_, iii. 9 to close.

To —

The painful business was now to be brought to a final issue.  I judged,
before-hand, how it would terminate—as these words followed me wherever I
went—“And Paul dwelt two whole years in his own hired house, and received
all that came to him.”  The decision was appointed for the 6th of
November; but, in consequence of the death of the much-lamented Princess
Charlotte, it was postponed.  A more gloomy month, I think, I never knew,
especially the 18th when the solemn church bells minutely tolled for that
amiable character’s funeral.

On Sunday morning, the 23rd, I preached my farewell sermon, on _Micah_,
vii.—“Rejoice not against me, Oh, mine enemy; though I fall, I shall
rise; though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light unto me.”  I
bade an affectionate farewell to my friends, nor did I prove a false
prophet, as thousands have witnessed.  Samson’s locks have grown again,
and John the Baptist has risen from the dead.

The next day, in God’s strength, I went to Westminster-hall, and received
my sentence.  I had provided many things to address the court with, and
could have put in fifteen affidavits, but I was advised by counsel not to
speak a word, but quietly submit to the sentence, which I did; and, as
soon as it was passed, my heart was at liberty, which it had not
experienced for one year and three months before.—Newspapers and
scribblers have asserted, it was pronounced to the great joy of the
court, and gave great satisfaction;—but, if a rude rabble can be called a
court, I am mistaken.  And, alas! what is noisy breath! the applause of
such mortals! when only about three weeks after, the same rabble had the
daring impudence to hiss the very judge, on the same spot, in the matter
of Hone!  As in days of old, when the public cried “Hosanna!” one day,
and in four days more, “Crucify him, crucify him!”  So much for public
applause or resentment.

In some cases we may truly say—

   Careless, myself, a dying man,
      Of dying man’s esteem;
   Happy, O God, if thou approve,
      Though all the world condemn.

I arrived safe at Achor Vale, and glad enough I was to rest from the long
strife.  I was delivered from the noise of the archers, the sounding of
the mountains, and the horns of rams blown by goats, the braying of
asses, and the grumbling of bears.

A variety of select portions of scripture, which had been applied to me
some time before, came seasonably into my mind, and I found the Lord
faithful to his word.

The idea of a prison had often struck me with horror; but I have always
found, through many changes, we want a mind to our situation—as we shall
never get a situation fully to our minds till we get to heaven.  When I
arrived, every fear respecting my treatment was banished; gloomy as it
had appeared, all was to the contrary.  I was received with the greatest
civility by the unhappy company I met with there.  A young man who had
been an officer’s servant, proffered his services to wait on me, and
rendered me very comfortable.  The kind governor gave me one of the best
rooms, and permitted me to have every convenience for sleeping I could
desire, and all the books I chose to send for.—This alleviated my mind;
and, altogether, at times I was nearly distracted with grief, the Lord
held me up, kept me in my senses, and blest me in my soul.

I cannot help here remarking, that, many months previous to this, I had
dreamed of the very room I was put into, with the kind attention of my
wife, who had not long been dead at the time I had the dream, and which
was, I believe, two years before the trouble took place.  But this was
allotted to another, who was very kind and attentive on that painful
occasion.  A variety of most distressing thoughts, at times, overwhelmed
me.  A separation from the house of God, the perplexities of the church,
the hypocrisy of some of the preachers, the grief of my family, the loss
of liberty, the company around me, the joy of my foes, and fearing the
truth should suffer by my supposed and reported faults, with the length
of time appointed me—these things, it was natural to suppose, must have
created the most poignant distress.  The many months before me seemed so
many years; but this led me to reflect on an eternity of joy or woe, the
final doom of the righteous and the wicked.  _Eternity_!  _Eternity_!—a
pleasing and dreadful thought.  This brought to my mind the solemn
description of eternity, us written by the excellent Ralph Erskine, in
his “Description of the Misery of the Wicked.”  “Gospel Sonnets,” p. 62.—

    “Ah I must I live in torturing despair,
    As many years as atoms in the air;
    When these are spent, as many thousands more,
    As grains of sand which crowd the ebbing shore;
    When these are done, as many yet behind,
    As leaves of forest, shaken with the wind;
    When these are done, as many to ensue,
    As stems of grass on hills and dales that grew;
    When these run out, as many on the march,
    As starry lamps that gild the spangled arch;
    When these expire, as many millions more,
    As moments in the million, past before;
    When all these doleful years are spent in pain,
    And multiplied by myriads again?—
    ’Tis numbers drown the thought.  Could I suppose,
    That then my wretched years were at a close,
    This would afford some ease; but, ah!  I shiver,
    To think upon the dreadful sound—_for ever_.”

But, as interested in the love of God, pardoned by the great atonement,
and justified by the meritorious obedience of the adorable God-man
Mediator; called out of darkness, and divinely influenced and kept by the
power of God, the holy making Spirit, we shall enjoy a long, a blest
eternity of joy, at the right hand of God.  The thought is delightful.
What will the joy be?—_Hold out faith and patience_.

                                                       Yours, truly, J. C.



LETTER XXVII.


    “Like these good figs, will I acknowledge them that are carried away
    captive of Judah, whom I have sent out of this place into the land of
    the Chaldeans, for their good.”

To —

The eventful history of the church of Israel is very striking and
important.  _Loved_, _chosen in Egypt_, _delivered_, brought into a
desert wilderness; yet maintained miraculously, screened, preserved,
brought through the Jordan of trouble into the promised land; enemies
falling before them; privileged with the symbols of the Divine presence,
and kept by Divine power.

How very important is the language of Moses on this subject.  He found
him in a desert land, and in a waste howling wilderness; he led him
about; he instructed him; he kept him as the apple of his eye; but, alas!
what a rebellious, unbelieving, perverse, fretful, and ungrateful people,
prone to idolatry, negligent, and disobedient: such, alas! am I.

Reader, what say you of your own heart?  Is it not too much your case?
After all that God hath done for you, have you not cause, as well as me,
to take shame and confusion of face to yourself?  On this account God
resented the idolatry of that people.  Invaded by the Assyrians, and at
last led away captive to Babylon.  This last was an awful blow to them:
yet they were commanded to submit to the stroke; and those who did not,
were to perish in some awful way, which they did, as related in the
prophecy of _Jeremiah_.  But those that escaped the sword were ordered to
go and submit to God’s sentence, by bowing to the king of Babylon’s yoke.
The Lord promised to be a little sanctuary to them, even in their
captivity; and hence, although they suffered such privations, the Lord
was with them; supported, kept, preserved, and blest them _there_.
Surely I discover the analogy; I have been dealt with in a similar way.
I mention it to my own shame and the glory of Divine goodness, which I
have experienced all my days; and especially in my captivity.  Although
my troubles were small, considering my situation, yet my mind was very
frequently racked with my affairs without.  Some only came to visit me
out of mere curiosity; others to mortify my feelings; quite forgetting
the Divine prohibition—“Oppress not the poor, nor the afflicted in the
gate.”

Some of the preachers who occupied the pulpit were very treacherous; and
one poor creature had the daring impudence to declare the Lord had often
told him, that I should never return to preach in that pulpit again—but
it is evident he was a lying prophet, as I have preached in that pulpit
and place above 1200 times in less than four years since.  We had many
such prophets and prophetesses, but, as they ran without being sent, they
soon ran themselves out of breath.

Fearing I should die, I set my house in the best order I could.  To those
of whom I was obliged to borrow money in trouble, I sent or willed an
equivalent, which eased my mind, and gave them satisfaction.  My family
was also disposed of; my eldest daughter was with her mother-in-law,
assisting her, and receiving education and domestic improvement.  My
youngest was in the care of the very dear and kind friends, who had
brought her up free of expence to me; which is friendship indeed—the most
pure and disinterested, perhaps, to be found in this lower world.  My
eldest son was at boarding-school, comfortably maintained; and my dear
afflicted boy, well known to you, and beloved by all that knew him was
principally in the care of our old and faithful servant, at home.

I remember reading of good Mr. Bunyan, while in prison; how his poor mind
was at times troubled about his family, especially his dear blind
daughter; but the Lord supported them all, till his deliverance.  Thus
the Lord dealt kindly with me, in this instance, although I shed
thousands of tears about them.

Some severe trials came on me shortly after my incarceration in this
valley of Achor.  The recognizances had not been withdrawn from the
court; and, as I was paying the debt of the law, no acquaintance of mine
knew any thing about such an affair—and as my solicitor, I should
suppose, must have known the rules of the Court of King’s Bench, I was
grieved he did not attend to this essential point, as I gave him ten
pounds, only two days before my confinement, to settle all matters in the
court, which he neglected to do; the consequence was, the gentlemen who
were bail for me, were troubled for the money: this really hurt my
feelings worse than all the troubles I had met with—but an able attorney
made application to the court, and settled it with very little expence.
I judge it expedient that I should mention this, to give information to
any that may fall into like circumstances; for I really knew no more of
law than the servant of the prophet knew of botany, when he gathered his
lap full of wild gourds, and had nearly poisoned the whole school.  2
_Kings_, iv. 39.  Soon after this, another trouble arose amongst the
congregation, about the place of worship; and here were many contentions.
My sincere friends, fearing some persons were laying plans to get it out
of my hands, and, for want of understanding each other, a great deal of
warmth was manifested on both sides.  These things being daily brought to
me, exceedingly troubled my spirit; but, after praying, these words came
with power to my soul—“They shall not build, and another inhabit.”  And,
as the subject was much on my mind in the day, it was not to be wondered
at that it should affect me in the night; as I one night dreamed of a
chariot, which I had often dreamt of before—as it passed by me, I saw, on
the back of it, in very large letters, “Immanuel!  God with us!”  When I
awoke, I felt a holy confidence all would be well upon that business, and
so if proved the night before, but I knew it not till next day at noon.
What a mercy to be enabled to call on the Lord in every time of trouble,
and to watch his good hand.  But I was no sooner released from this
anxiety, than a fresh trouble arose.  A gentleman who had been, till this
time, almost a stranger to myself and the church, was raised up of God,
in this hour of need, to look after my outward affairs, and this he did
freely and kindly; he was truly assiduous, nor did he spare any pains,
time, trouble, or money to do me good; and, though God had been pleased
to remove others, on whom I depended, he mercifully raised up one to act
as a friend, whom I hardly knew.  Like Nicodemus, who could not, or dare
not, scarcely own the Saviour in his life, yet paid him honours at his
death.

“A friend in need is a friend indeed.”  This old, but just adage, reminds
me of what school-boys are taught—

    “Tell me, ye knowing and discerning few,
    Where I may find the friend that’s firm and true;
    Who dare stand by me, when in deep distress,
    And then his love and friendship most express.”

This friend, in the height of his praise-worthy conduct, was very
shamefully imposed upon by an artful villain, who professed to have great
influence with the higher powers—and by this means he, at different
times, obtained a large sum of money of him, under the specious pretext
of obtaining my liberation.  This was carried on for some months, till
Mr. D. began to suspect there was some villainy in it; and, upon enquiry
at the Secretary of State’s Office, found it as he feared.  The base
character was apprehended, and justly imprisoned for it.  This was
another severe blow to me, taking all the circumstances into the account;
yet the pleasing hopes of liberty wore away many tedious months, till
patience received strength.

I was, at times, amazed at the health of body the Lord favoured me with;
but the winter came on, at first, very severe, though it did not last
long.—This was to me very dreadful; it was the gloomy month of November.
Another trial came.  A person, in real kindness, at my request, brought
me a very small portion of liquor, on one of those days in which we may
truly say we have pleasure—foggy, cold, damp, and miserable.  I knew,
indeed, it was contrary to the laws of the place, but urgent necessity
compelled me to send for it.  This being discovered, my poor friend was
brought into trouble, and a heavy fine was levied.  You may be sure this
made a fresh stir in the public papers, with many additions, though not
one true statement of the fact was made; but that passed away like a
cloud.  That which most distressed me was the solemn and awful times of
execution; but those, however, were very few, two of which I have given
an account of in the 1st volume of “The Voice of Faith.”

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER XXVIII.


    “And the king said unto Zadok, carry back the ark of God into the
    city.  If I shall find favour in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring
    me again, and shew we both it and his habitation.”

To —

It is a truth, easily proved, that every believer has more mercies to be
thankful for, than he has either sins to regret, or troubles to bear: it
is of the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed.  This I call to mind,
therefore I have hope.  They are new every morning.  Great is thy
faithfulness.  That same faithful God which preserved Israel in Egypt,
Moses in Midian, David in Gath, the three worthies in the furnace, Daniel
in the den, the disciples in Jerusalem, and the church in Babylon,
preserved me in this place.  I cannot look back upon my many mercies but
with gratitude.  But where will the growing numbers end?  This subject
would fill a vast volume; but, in brief, I mention only a few:—the
attention and kindness of the governor and officers; and, although every
returning Sabbath afflicted my mind severely, the very sound of the
church-going bells, brought a thousand pangs to my heart: yet I was
relieved by hearing the real gospel preached nearly every Sunday, once a
day, by the excellent chaplain, the rev. Mr. Mann.  Oh, that every
college was as much blessed with such preaching.  This was no small
mercy.  All within the walls were submissive and attentive to me.  I had
an opportunity of conversing with many on the best of subjects, and was
well furnished with ability to alleviate many a distressed mind, and to
relieve some hundreds in their temporal calamities; for it is to little
purpose talking about religion to worldlings, without acts of
benevolence.

Numerous friends daily visited me, and never failed me, during the long
period of seven hundred and thirty days.  My health was re-established,
and I had much time for reading, prayer, self-examination, and study.
Here I received many tokens of love from the Lord, bearing witness, with
my spirit, that I was interested in his love.  Here I wrote a vast many
letters to the church and to my friends.  I wrote also my “Farewell
Sermon;” “Antinomianism Refuted;” “The Voice of Faith,” 2 vols.; “A
Treatise on part of the Book of Proverbs,” the greatest part of my own
Memoirs, and other subjects, which I hope, one day, to publish.

The dear friends who came to see me, I constantly bore in mind, and
thanked them in a few gingling rhymes, as I am destitute of a talent for
writing poetry: I hope they will forgive me inserting their names; nor
need they fear persecution on this account, because so many individuals
are to be found bearing the same name.

I employed as much time as circumstances would admit, in reading to the
prisoners the Scriptures, which I at times endeavoured to explain,
particularly on Sundays.  I read part of the church service, and other
good books, especially some tracts by Mr. Smith, of Penzance—his “Bob and
James,”—there being many sailors present.  In this act I copied the
example of Dr. Primrose, in the Vicar of Wakefield, although I had a
little better place, company, behaviour, and attention.  I must insert a
quotation from it.  The old gentleman says, after some conversation with
his family—

    “I left them, and descended to the common prison, where I found the
    prisoners very merry, expecting my arrival; and each prepared with
    some gaol trick to play upon the doctor.  Thus, as I was going to
    begin, one turned my wig awry, as if by accident, and then asked my
    pardon.  A second, who stood at a distance, had a knack of spitting
    through his teeth, which fell in showers upon my book; a third would
    cry ‘amen,’ in such an affected tone, as gave the others great
    delight.  A fourth had slily picked my pocket of my spectacles: but
    there was one whose tricks gave more universal pleasure than all the
    rest; for, observing the manner in which I had disposed my books on
    the table before me, he very dexterously displaced one of them, and
    put an obscene jest-book of his own in the place.  However, I took no
    notice of all that this mischievous group of little beings could do,
    but went on, perfectly sensible that what was ridiculous in my
    attempt would excite mirth only the first or second time, while what
    was serious would be permanent.  My design succeeded; and, in less
    than six days, some were penitent, and all attentive.”

Thus my time rolled away, and appeared, as our lives do in the
retrospect, but as a tale that is told every moment, and every
circumstance being told out in eternity for us.

The period arrived for me to quit my solitary mansion, and make my
appearance again in public.  This was dreaded by me, on some accounts,
but, by others, much desired.  Every thing was well arranged, and the
morning came; a part of my family and a few friends came to meet me;
every thing around appeared at first very strange.  When I arrived at my
house, I bent my knees in thanksgiving to that gracious God who had
restored me.

In the evening I preached to nearly one thousand hearers, who were very
quiet, attentive, and gratified.  All united, with one heart and voice,
in singing

                           “Crown him Lord of all.”

I preached on, “But God meant it unto good.”  The sermon was afterwards
printed.  I commenced my regular labours the Sunday following, where
without cessation, I have continued them six times a week.  Curiosity
has, doubtless, drawn forth the attention of thousands, since then, to
hear and see the strange being: many have heard to profit, and are
satisfied.  Some said, he is a good man; others, he is a devil.  I say he
is both, and I can prove it.  Some say, he is a guilty man; others, that
he is innocent—but I say he is both, and the reader will say the same, if
he knows his own heart, and his acceptance in Christ.

Beloved, if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our hearts, and
knoweth all things; but, if our heart condemn us not, then have we
confidence towards God.

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER XXIX.


“For better is a neighbour that is near, than a brother that is far off.”

To —

It is a good remark I have somewhere met with—that friendship is a plant
of too delicate a nature to grow with any great degree of luxuriancy and
fruitfulness in the soil of the human heart; but I ever wish to prize its
buds, its blossoms, its fruit, its very leaves; but, above all, its
divine root.  We may find many profess much kindness in the warmth of
prosperity; but these summer insects, like butterflies, disappear when
the cold blasts of adversity and reproach strike off a few of our outward
comforts.  But while this is to be lamented, yet God has often raised up
those who have been sincere in their professions of attachment to his
people, in all ages, and who have firmly stood by them, and gave them all
the assistance they were able, in the depth of their afflictions; nor
have they been unrewarded, at least, many of them, even in this world—nor
shall they be forgotten of the Lord in the last day.—_Matt._ xxv. and
close.

Abraham had three faithful friends, Aner, Eschol, and Mamre.  The Lord
raised up a friend for Joseph in trouble, and for David in his deep
affliction, and for the great apostle for whom he prays—that he,
Onesiphorus, may find mercy in that day, for he hath oft refreshed me,
and was not ashamed of my chain.  Such friends are the gift of the Friend
of Sinners, and such friendship is a part of conformity to his image;
praying for one another in secret; reproving with meekness, but fidelity,
when permitted to err; speaking well of each other, when absent, and
helping each other in trouble, are the genuine fruits of divine love in
the heart; and such I have found many: and, although opposed for their
candour, affection, and liberality; yet, considering they had a just
right to form an opinion of their own, so they had as much right to
maintain the same.  Narrow minds who form opinions by bare report, are
easily biassed, and generally bigotted; of course, such mean souls must
persecute all who differ from them.  This is the case in the professing
world, at present; and it is much to be lamented.  However, I have made
free to inform you of some of those who have acted in a Christ-like
manner to me in trouble, and have too much good sense to view me either
as a perfect angel, or an incarnate devil; and to you I send these
gingling rhymes:—


REAL FRIENDSHIP.
_From Achor Vale_.—1818.


   ON the subject of friendship I beg leave to write,
   ’Tis the joy of my heart, and my daily delight;
   Though but little is found, that is true and sincere,
   I think, in my case, an exception is clear.
   The God of all grace, on whom I depend,
   Has blessed his servant, with many a friend,
   Who have not been afraid, or ever asham’d,
   To esteem and to own him in sorrow and pain.
   One half of the faithful and firm I’ve forgot,
   And many besides, whose names I know not;
   Yet _those_ who occur this moment to mind,
   My God will reward in their being so kind;
   And more so they’d be, if it laid in their pow’r,
   To soften my woes in this trying hour.
   May the love of the Lord, which _he_ bears to _his_ saints,
   Encourage their hearts, when ready to faint
   With the cares, and the burdens, and griefs of the way,
   And acknowledge them all in the last trying day.
   See this promise so sweetly and clearly reveal’d
   By the Head of the Church, in the great gospel field;
   Particularly in _Matthew_, the Saviour rehearses
   In 25th chapter, and some excellent verses.
   I must tell you of _Hairbys_, and _Elbro’s_ and _Park_,
   With a _Knawler_, a _Duke_, a _Smith_, and a _Clarke_;
   A _Fossett_, a _Grumuat_, and a kind-hearted _Trail_,
   Whose care and concern, like the Lord’s, never fail.
   Nor can I forget my friend, Mr. _Denny_,
   Who stood up for my good as undaunted as any.
   Our worthy clerk, _Shelton_, has oft stood the fire,
   When many in envy and rage did conspire.
   I feel much indebted to dear brother _Gray_,
   And all those beside, who preach and who pray;
   And fill up my place, that there might be no lack
   Of the gospel of grace, till God brings me back.
   With all those dear friends, who supply all my needs,
   Kind _Miller_, her mother, and two worthy _Meads_;
   An _Osborne_, a _Davis_, a _Harris_ and _Gower_,
   Who on me and on mine their gifts often pour;
   A _Harbro_, a _Sweetland_, and _Allen_, and _King_,
   Who sometimes send favours, and sometimes they bring;
   And many also, who have well stood the brunt,
   A _Pattison_, _Puddicombe_, _Hutchins_, and _Hunt_;
   Nor do I forget our friend _Hutchinson_,
   As well as kind _Kings_, some old and some young;
   And _Westbrook_, and _Knapp_, who have oft took my part,
   And _Williams_, a _Farley_, and _London_, and _Smart_;
   A _Boro_, a _Blake_, and dear father _Bevan_,
   With their partners in life, who are going to heaven;
   And _Goodmans_, and _Roberts_, some _Hills_, and a _Bell_,
   And _Thornton_, and _Mansion_, and _Edwards_, and _Dale_.
   I remember, likewise, a _Houghton_, and _Field_,
   With a firm _friend_ of their’s, who never would yield
   To the fabulous stuff, and ridiculous story,
   But remained as firm as the faithful _M. Morey_.
   The names of a _Jones_, and a _Chadsby_ are dear,
   And _Salter_, and _Lewis_, and _Frimbley_ sincere;
   A _Brook_, and a _Bradley_, a _Buhle_, and a _Wise_,
   A much-esteem’d _Farmer_, who ne’er has despis’d;
   A _Hedgecock_, and _Lamb_, who are both very kind,
   As such permanent friendship we seldom can find;
   And dear father _Elstub_, and _Shires_, and _Booth_,
   Who often endeavour my sorrows to soothe.
   I must mention some more, as they are so good,
   A _Ward_, and a _Whitear_, who undaunted have stood;
   A _Paynter_, a _Waters_, and _Carpenter_ too,
   With his _Brother_, and _Fuller_, and _Jennison_ true;
   More _Watkins_, and _Smiths_, who have well stood the fires,
   And old daddy _Foyer_, and two good _Marias_;
   A _Parnicutt_, and _Archer_, who have stood many rubbings,
   And _Barrett_, and _Steggall_, and _Shephard_, and _Stubbings_
   An _Atkins_, a _Pollet_, and _Farrers_, and _Thorn_,
   And as faithful a _Watts_ as ever was born;
   A _Bayles_, _a Dennage_ a _Bates_, and a _Brown_,
   Who are grieved to see my sad casting down;
   A _Paton_, a _Chambers_, a _Juden_, and _Pytches_,
   An _Orchard_, and _Hunter_, who are seeking true riches;
   A _Joseph_, a _Jolliffe_, a _Druce_, and a _Manger_,
   A very kind _Mackie_, and _Perrins_, and _Granger_;
   And _Wilkins_, and _Eaton_, and _Faro_, and _North_,
   Who are lov’d by the Lord, and redeemed from wrath;
   With _Millingtons_, _Boltons_, and dear Mrs. _Round_,
   And the much belov’d _Hans_, whose care still abounds;
   The exercis’d _Robinson_, _Ward_, _Nelson_, and _Ford_,
   And _Marshal_ and _Lucas_, who’re trusting the Lord;
   With poor _Jenny Powell_, and _Martin_, and _Fishers_,
   And _Darby_, and _Wilson_, my very good wishers;
   And _Foster_, and _Court_, and _Davies_, and _Dee_,
   And _Mary_, her friend, and kind _Barbary_;
   And _Chapman_, and _Calow_, and _Davies_, and _Reeds_,
   And some very good _Lawsons_, who supply many needs;
   A dear friendly _Groom_, and _Napier_, and _Swindle_,
   A _Tomlins_, and _Marshal_, whose care does not dwindle;
   A much-esteem’d _Walton_, and _neice_, so sincere,
   And many besides, to my mind who are dear;
   A _Wright_, and a _Pearson_, and _Hepworth_, and _Mott_,
   Thus you see, my dear friends, I am not quite forgot;
   And _Leonard_, and _Wallace_, and _Masland_, and Pain,
   Who are praying, and waiting to hear me again;
   With _Freeman_, and _Wilkins_, and _Cornish_, and _Sherman_,
   Who love much to hear a real gospel sermon;
   And _Dibley_, and _Dudley_, and _Tungate_, and _Fleet_,
   And _Candler_, and _Knox_, whom I long much to meet;
   The very dear friends, whose names are call’d _Cross_,
   Whom God has sustained in every loss;
   And _Williams_, and _Eves_, whose hearts are kept single,
   And _Upstill_, and _Miles_, a _Cook_, and an _Ingle_;
   With a _March_, and a _Beat_, and exercis’d _Green_,
   Who often in sorrow and grief have me seen;
   And good Mrs. _Butcher_, and _Baker_, beside.
   Who have firmly stood for me, whatever betide;
   And _Fairfleet_, and _Tye_, and _Woodhouse_, and _Long_,
   And _Goodly_, his _brother_, and kind _Esther Young_;
   And _Claytons_, and _Jackson_, and _Lewis_, and _Rose_,
   And _Thornton_, and _Miland_, a _Burnham_, and _Hose_;
   And _Drewet_, and _Mars_, and _Reardon_, and _Aikin_,
   Who have seen me cast down, but never forsaken;
   And _Woodward_, and _Youngs_, and _Venning_, and _Horner_,
   Another friend _Brown_, and the tried Mrs. _Warner_;
   A _Winch_, and a _Hone_, a _Turner_, and _Pool_,
   The tried _Underdown_, who is in the same school;
   The sincere Mrs. _Grant_, and _Missen_, and _Leigman_,
   The Paddington _Friends_, and old mammy _Bridgman_;
   Good old Mrs. _Clark_, and _Thompson_, and _Cowen_,
   A very kind _Johnson_, and _Whitehead_, and _Owen_;
   The kind Mr. _Wilson_, and firm Mrs. _Baily_,
   And _Poulter_, and _Barns_, who esteem’d me sincerely;
   But ’tis time I conclude this gingling writing,
   Not forgetting dad _Round_, and the sweet-temper’d _Whiting_;
   With a hundred besides, whose names I’ve forgot,
   But in the last day will stand in their lot.

Do not you think, in a few years time, I shall be as apt a poet, as good
old Bunyan?

Please to regularly regulate these irregular irregularities.

I cannot conclude this letter without reminding you of the apostolic
exhortation—“As we have opportunity, let us do good unto all men, but
especially to the household of faith;” and if to this household we sow
sparingly, we shall reap sparingly; and if we sow bountifully, we shall
reap bountifully; and on this subject of kindness to God’s children, _as
such_, our dear Lord declares—“He that receiveth a prophet, in the name
of a prophet, shall receive a prophet’s reward; and he that receiveth a
righteous man, in the name of a righteous man, shall receive a righteous
man’s reward; and whosoever shall give unto one of these little ones a
cup of cold water only, in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you,
he shall, in no wise, lose his reward.”—_Matthew_, x. 41, 42.  And, very
frequently, such are rewarded in this world, in temporal mercies, for the
kindness they have shewn to the members of Christ.  The widow of Sarepta,
nourished the Prophet Elijah in her house, during the whole time of
famine; and how did the Lord abundantly recompence her, by daily
increasing her oil and meal, whereby her family was preserved; by
restoring her son to life again, after his soul was departed; and by
causing the prophet to continue with her many months, to feed her soul
with spiritual, as she had his body with temporal food?  How abundantly
did the Lord recompence the Shunamite’s kindness to Elisha, by the gift
of a child, after long barrenness; by restoring her son to life again; by
forewarning her of approaching famine; and by restoring all she had lost
by her long absence—her house and lands?  God had blest Job with a
merciful heart; and he relates what the Lord had enabled him to do—chap.
xxix. and xxxi.  And, although afterwards he was stripped of all he
possessed, to answer the wise and gracious ends of God towards him; yet,
we read, chap. xlii. that the Lord turned the captivity of Job, and gave
him twice as much as he had before, and blessed his latter end more than
his beginning.  In the history of the apostle, Paul, we read of one
Publius, _Acts_, xxviii. the chief man of the island of Malta, (where the
apostle and many others were cast by shipwreck;) this kind man received
Paul and his companions, and lodged them courteously.  We read, soon
afterwards, how the father of Publius, laying desperately sick of a fever
and bloody flux, was recovered by St. Paul, and restored to his former
health.  So, likewise, the kindness which the barbarous people of that
island shewed unto Paul and his fellow travellers, was recompensed with
the cure of many of their sick bodies.

A thousand other instances might be produced, of ancient and of modern
date.  And, supposing no reward is experienced in this world, the God of
truth has declared—“Thou shalt be recompensed in the resurrection of the
just.”  This is evident in the close of _Matthew_, xxv.—“Inasmuch as ye
did it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye did it unto me.”—No doubt
the cruel tongue of fallen man may criticise and censure such conduct,
but, acting from a motive of Bible love, such persons will meet with
their reward: envy, detraction and cruelty is in the heart and conduct of
thousands, but woe unto him by whom the offence, _the slander_, cometh—it
had been better for him if he had never been born.  But what are those
whose tongues are worlds of iniquity, and whose teeth are swords and
spears?  As saith the Poet—

                            —“No, ’tis slander;
    Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue
    Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
    Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie
    All corners of the world: kings, _queens_, and states,
    Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
    This viperous slander enters.”

But the Redeemer saith—“And blessed is he that is not offended in me.”

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER XXX.


    “And thou shalt remember all the way the Lord thy God hath led thee
    in the wilderness, these forty years, to prove thee and to humble
    thee.”

To —

Having complied with your request, in stating the brief account of
myself, in infancy, youth, and manhood, a few of the _ups_ and _downs_,
_ins_ and _outs_, _turnings_ and _windings_, in a way of providence.—I
can but look back with gratitude to that Divine hand that has led me, and
kept, supported, upheld, and blest me.  Having obtained needed but
undeserved help, I continue to this day.  For all my errors in life I
take shame and confusion of face; and for all the mercies I have
experienced, which I am sensible of, and the unnumbered mercies which I
never apprehended; I bow my knees to the God of all grace, and say, “Not
unto me, not unto me, but to thy name be all the glory.”  And what can I
say more?  It well becometh the just to be thankful.  Gratitude,
blessing, and praise is the sacrifice of the heart and lips, which is due
to God.  The Lord be pleased to maintain this spirit in our minds.
Gratitude is sometimes excited and led out by the retrospect we take of
the Lord’s dealings with us, and discerning his love and wisdom in all
his dispensations, however gloomy for the time; yet we can see it was
right, uniform, though various.  The blessed design towards us is to
humble, try, and prove us, that we may know what is in our hearts; both
to lament and to be thankful for, and that we may know the love of God’s
heart towards us.

I have stated but a few of the many great things the Lord hath done for
me; and no doubt many friends wish I had omitted some things which I have
related, and had been a little more explicit on others.  I may also see
these improprieties myself, and correct them in my next edition.

I now proceed to give a short account of my spiritual experience, which I
trust, will be a little more edifying than the former part of this little
work.  May the great Head of the Church make it so to his own children;
and, if they reap the least benefit by reading, God shall have the
praise.  While I remain,

                                                              Yours, J. C.

                                * * * * *

                              END OF PART I.

                                * * * * *




PART II.


_Convictions_—_Strivings_—_Bondage_—_Liberty_—_Promises_—
_Encouragements_—_Success in
Ministry_—_Temptations_—_Deliverances_—_Answers to Prayer_—_Present
Situation and Experience_.



LETTER I.


    “And all thy children shall be taught of God.”

To —

As God is determined to bring all his dear people home to glory, as the
objects of his everlasting love, the subjects of his eternal choice, as
the predestinated to the adoption of sons, as the purchase of his blood,
and as the preserved in Christ Jesus, so, the means for their preparation
for that glory is clearly specified in the Word—“Without holiness no man
shall see the Lord;”—and this holiness is the Lord Jesus, as the elect
Head of the Church.  The wisdom, righteousness, and sanctification of
them; but there can be no supernatural knowledge or enjoyment of the
adorable Saviour, in this or in a coming world, till we are born again by
the Spirit.  It is the high privilege of God’s elect to be saved in the
Lord with an everlasting salvation; but they must be born again to _know_
it.  The elect people of God stand complete in Christ, before the Father;
they are one in him, and with him; they are eternally pardoned and
justified in Christ, and by Christ; but they must be born again to
apprehend, lay hold, and be spiritually acquainted with those things; for
Divine Truth has asserted—“Verily, I say unto you, except a man be born
again, he cannot see [enjoy] the kingdom of heaven.”  Men may profess
much, talk well, write well, and preach well; but they are still in
nature’s darkness, except this change has passed on them.  This is called
a new birth, a new creature, the good work, a translation, a calling, a
transforming, a renewing: but, let this work go by what name it may, it
is simply a change of _state_, and a change of _principles_, which
produces a change of _conduct_.  It is not a change of nature, but of
state.  Our sinful nature experiences no change; it is bridled,
restrained, ruled, and kept in, but it is nature still.  Neither is it
any change on the body; only the members, through grace, are used in the
service of God.  I once thought this divine change was a change of
nature.  I once thought the body was the old man of sin; and no heart can
conceive the labour, toil, tears, fastings, fears, horrors, and pains I
have experienced, in consequence of these mistakes, which is nothing but
labour in vain; for this Ethiopian cannot change his skin, nor this
leopard his spots.  That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and will
remain so.

The dear people of God are viewed complete in Christ, and their salvation
is the joint work of the Most Holy Trinity: man has no hand in the
business.  We had no hand in the first creation, and we have none in the
second.  O, that I had known this at first; what bondage and distress it
would have saved me from!  It is also a glorious truth, that Christ has
finished the work of salvation; that he has stood in our law-place; that
he has fulfilled the law, and that we have nothing to do with it as a
covenant of works.  The Lord Jesus, as the surety of his church, has put
away sin by the sacrifice of himself, and is gone to heaven to plead our
cause before the Father.  Had I known the everlasting virtue of his
blood, or the glory of his obedience, O, what soul distresses should I
have escaped! but when just wrought upon by the Spirit, sitting under a
blind ministry, and reading legal blind authors, it is not to be wondered
at that a soul should beheld in bondage.  It was my case for some time;
and even after I had heard, and, in a measure, received the truth, still
the devil was permitted to deceive me with a sad snare, till the Lord led
me to see the difference between the work of the Spirit and the moving of
the natural passions; the difference between the love of God and those
inordinate affections which led me into error.  I would to God I
possessed ability to point out to you these things clearly, that you and
all God’s dear people might see the snare, and be delivered from it: for,
truly in vain is the snare laid in the sight of any bird.

The want of the knowledge of the glorious plan of the gospel was the
occasion of much distress to my soul; and a want of the knowledge of the
devices of the devil, held me long in bondage and sorrow.  Oh, what a
mercy to be made wise unto present and eternal salvation.  But I beg
leave here to observe, the Holy Spirit is a sovereign in all his
dispensations of grace in the hearts of his dear people.  He hath said,
“I will dwell in thee, and all thy children shall be taught of God;” but
there are very few, I humbly conceive, can possibly tell the precise time
when the Spirit enters the soul; this is known but by few, except in very
singular cases, such as Manasseh, Mary Magdalen, the converted thief, the
apostle Paul, the Philippian Jailor, and such persons whose conversion is
very conspicuous and remarkable.  But, in general, the Lord, the holy and
condescending Spirit, seems (if I may be allowed the expression) to hover
over those he intends effectually to call out of darkness into marvellous
light, till that time is come, that his in-dwelling takes place, and the
work is manifest to the soul, and to others around.  Many are impressed
in infancy; some by dreams; others by deep afflictions; and some have
actually received the Spirit of God in the womb, as Jeremiah and John the
Baptist.

The greatest part of God’s children in the church can, perhaps, remember
some very early impressions although they have not had the real work made
clear to them for many years afterwards.  Hence the work on the heart is
called a birth—the soul is united to Christ in an everlasting covenant;
the seed is the word, the quickening is the life put forth; and there is
a longing to bring forth—that is, to see our interest in Christ—to see
our sins pardoned—to feel peace with God, and to be blest with the clear
witness of the Spirit, that we belong to God.  Some labour long, some are
more quick and easy; some souls have had bad attendants, ministers,
books, and friends, who, as Job says, knew not the way to the
vineyard;—and Solomon says, “They know not the way to the city.”  But the
Lord takes this work in his own hand, and he will perfect that which
concerneth us; he will not forsake this work of his own hands.

I beg you to observe, the soul is the seat of the new man; it is not the
creation of a new soul, but it is a divine in-dwelling of the Spirit; a
partaking of a divine nature.  This is the new bottle which the Saviour
alludes to, which alone can hold the gracious manifestations of divine
love, and all the truth, as it is in Jesus.  This is the new heart, and
the right spirit, and it consists in these five things—

1st.—Divine light in the understanding; this is secret and gradual.

2nd.—Divine life in the will; a quickening, powerful influence, which
begets holy desires that nothing can satisfy, but a covenant God in
Christ.—_Isaiah_, lxvi.

3rd.—Divine love, or holy affection for the Saviour, his person, work,
ways, word, and people.

4th.—A quickened conscience, made sensible of pardon, and favoured with
holy peace with God, through the atonement and righteousness of the
Mediator.

5th.—The witness of the Spirit, by the Word, to the heart, proving the
work on the soul to be genuine.

I do not say this witness of the Spirit is essential to_ constitute_ the
new man; but it is essential to the _knowledge_ of this blessed work on
the soul.  These five capital blessings are the evidences of our union to
Christ, as the Head of the Church, and the Saviour of the body: and, as
God the Holy Spirit shall condescend to bring things to my remembrance,
and shed a radiance on the heavenly path, so I will relate it in as few
words as I can.

May he bless you with all that is implied in that sweet promise, and
thine age shall be clearer than the noon day; thou shalt shine forth;
thou shalt be as the morning.

                                                       Yours, truly, J. C.



LETTER II.


    “Thou leddest thy people like a flock of sheep, by the hands of Moses
    and Aaron.”

To —

From a very early period the Lord began to work on my mind.  I was bred
up to the Church of England, to which I was so superstitiously attached,
that I held the two clergymen who officiated in that place in their
sacerdotals, as angels; and I do think, had they spoken to me, when I was
a boy, in their full robes, I should almost have swooned.  But, alas! I
have since seen they were neither angels of God nor of the churches; for,
perhaps, there could not be two darker guides in the church than they
were.

I was, at times, most seriously imprest with thoughts of God, heaven, and
hell; and was, in some measure, convinced of the evil of external sin.
As long as I can remember, I punctually attended to the prayers of the
church, and read them with much seeming devotion, not only at church, but
at other times.  As I grew up, I got more hardened in sin and folly, yet
natural conscience never let me alone; I was, at times, closely followed
up by legal convictions, which drove me to say many prayers, while the
thoughts of God’s anger, the hour of death, the day of judgment, the
horrors of hell, and the views of eternity, quite sunk my spirits.  Nor
could I shake these thoughts of eternity off, which I often tried to do,
by youthful pastimes.  Gloomy fears would often seize my mind, till I
dreaded to be alone; night was often a terror; but I endeavoured to patch
up a peace with God, by vows to be better, by dragging through duties,
such as reading prayers, saying the Belief, and keeping the Prayer Book
in my pocket by day, and under my pillow by night.

When I was about 14 years of age, there was to be a confirmation by the
bishop, at St. George’s church, Hanover-square: I was advised to go, and
was endeavouring to prepare myself for this solemn act—but having a
perpetual sense of some sins upon my mind, I could not, in conscience,
go.  I attempted to satisfy conscience, and to please God by my constant
attendance on the church, and by my prayers and reading; but, alas! it
was all in vain.  I found these insufficient.  I bought the “Whole Duty
of Man,” {164} and sometimes laboured hard with that; the “Christian
Monitor,” and several other such wretched books; Allen and Baxter’s
“Alarm to the Unconverted;” which left me just as I was, as they have
thousands of the unconverted beside.  But, as to the gospel plan of
salvation, I knew no more about it than the poor heathen in foreign
climes.

The family in which I lived were inimical to the gospel; they hated and
persecuted all that dissented from the church, or professed religion.  I
had often heard them jeer the Methodists, for so religious people are
called, whether Churchmen or Dissenters, and represent them as enemies to
the church, to which I was so warmly attached.  I also enquired what
these people believed, and gained a most frightful description of them:
as first, they prayed and preached without a book, except the Bible; that
the preachers were only common ignorant mechanics; that they believed God
had made some men to be saved, do what they would, and others to be
damned, if they were ever so good; that they believed in three Gods; and
that a man could not be saved, if he repented and did a thousand good
works; and, in short, that they were all hypocrites together.

These lies and misrepresentations were instilled into my mind, against
the true followers of Christ.  For some years I felt my enmity in my
heart against them, and would have had them all banished the country, if
I could.  I have stood at the door of the house, and been grieved to see
the people go to the meeting.  My hatred rose against them in an awful
manner; nor would I, for all the world, go into any chapel belonging to
them; for I was told, if a person went in, they would catch their
infection directly.

Alas! how awfully blind is man, by nature! an enemy in his mind, by
wicked works.  This is the true state of the case; and, a person dying in
this state, cannot see the face of God.  However, the Lord had mercy on
me, and brought me acquainted with the _truths_ which I once hated; the
_God_ I had sinned against; and to love and esteem the _people_ I had
despised.  This is, indeed, bringing a man out of darkness into
marvellous light; and it well may be called _marvellous_, _astonishing_,
_rich_, and _free_.  And sure I am, that every man destitute of the
converting grace of God, is in just the same state which I was.  Although
they know it not, a mere profession of the gospel does not alter the
secret enmity to God and his people.  It is an awful thing to have such
enmity, but it is a special mercy to see it; and, above all, to feel it,
removed by the power of truth, and the sovereign love of God, in Christ
Jesus, to us:—this was my sad case.  A slave to sin, an enemy to God,
plunged in darkness, no acquaintance with the gospel, and kept from
hearing it, by pride, prejudice, and carnal enmity.  Yet I passed as a
very serous and devout youth, among many: it is true, I did not run into
particular excesses, but no thanks to me for neither my situation nor my
pocket would let me; yet my youthful follies and enmity would have damned
me, if I had died in that state: but the family in which I lived were at
this time taken up with the lying system of Swedenbourg, called the New
Jerusalem.  I begged leave, one evening, to go to their chapel; this
pleased me highly, as there were written prayers and sermons, with good
music, and pretty singing.  I read some of their books, and soon imbibed
their notions of the Trinity, which were as far from truth as heaven is
from hell.  They denied the personality of the Father, and the adorable
Spirit, and Christ crucified, as the object of religious worship, only
Christ as glorified; alledging that Christ is the only divine person in
the Trinity, and that he is the Trinity itself.  Hence their form of
baptism reads thus:—

    “I baptize thee in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ; who is at once
    both Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.”

This is holding a lie; and those who go down to the grave with this
falsehood, where God is they never can come.  The Father teaches us out
of his law, clothes us with the righteousness of his dear Son, and draws
us to Christ, while the Holy Spirit shews us the excellency, glory, and
suitableness of Christ, and, in due time, bears his witness to our
consciences, that we are born of God; and those who are thus taught,
learn the doctrine of the Trinity experimentally.  “For there are three
that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Spirit,
and these three are one.”  The Lord graciously communicates the
three-fold witness to the souls of his own dear people; the Spirit, the
water of eternal love, and the precious work of Christ, as the atonement,
and righteousness of the church.—And that believer who is thus favoured,
has the mark of heaven upon him, he is renewed into the image of Christ,
and will be owned by him in the last day.

What shall I render to the Lord for this teaching?  A thousand notions of
the doctrine of the Trinity, however clear they may be, will never bring
a man to heaven; he must have the love of the Father in his heart, and
the blood of atonement in his conscience, by the operation of the Eternal
Spirit.  This, and this only, is real heart-felt religion, which will
stand the test in life, death, judgment, and eternity.

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER III.


    “But all things that are reproved, are made manifest by the light:
    for, whatsoever maketh manifest, is light.”

To —

The New Jerusalem folks leaving the neighbourhood, I was again obliged to
return to the church: this seemed heavy and dull to me; and convictions
abiding with me of my lost state, I could not satisfy conscience, nor
find peace with God, nor victory over my sins, by all my legal
performances.  I was, at times, truly wretched; yet it appeared right to
me, that as I had offended God by sin, I should do some good works
{169}—though, alas! I found all my best works stained by falling into sin
again; still I strove to watch over my thoughts, words, and actions—yet,
often led captive by sin, I was made truly miserable.

About this time I fell in company with several pious persons; amongst
them was an aged disciple, a hearer of Mr. Romaine, who advised me, by
all means, to go and hear the gospel; but, as it was not preached in any
parish church or _chapel_ near me, but one, and I was forbidden to go to
a meeting, I knew not what to do; but the above person directed me where
I might hear Mr. Romaine, which I promised to do, the first Sunday I
could get out: but, alas! before that time came, dear Mr. Romaine was
gone to glory.  I sought, however, for an opportunity of hearing the
gospel, for I was tired with hearing sermons read on mere morality at the
church.

It was during the hard and severe winter of 1795, that I first heard the
words of this life.  I was sent on an errand, one Lord’s-day evening, in
the month of March, and passing by Mr. Huntington’s chapel, it being the
only chapel in the neighbourhood where the gospel was preached, I heard
the congregation singing; and as it was night, I thought I should not be
seen by any one who knew me, and I therefore ventured in.  The good man
arose, and took his text, which was in the 3rd chapter of _Zephaniah_,
18, 19, 20.  The minister began his sermon about light, I suppose, from
the context.  What he said I know not; but this I know, I felt as though
a ray of light entered into my mind, in a most sensible manner.  The
scales fell off from my eyes, and I was dissolved into tears: although
the text, I believe, was not to be fully accomplished in my experience
for many years after.  I dumbly apprehend this light was the beginning of
my spiritual birth; all convictions, before this period, were attended
with bondage, and much legal striving, to obtain the favor of God, by
working hard for it; ignorance of the way of salvation; and enmity of the
heart against the truth and people of God: but, from this period, I am
able to date a change—for, instead of the hatred I had, for some years to
the Lord’s people, truth, and ways, I lost my prejudice, and was indeed
most warmly attached to the few whom I knew professed the gospel.  I read
the Word, and what evangelical books were lent me, with new eyes; I saw
the minister and people, whom I had despised, in a very different light,
and would have given ten thousand worlds to be like them; I saw the
excellency, suitableness, and beauty of the Saviour; the importance of
the knowledge of God, and the value of pardoning mercy so clearly, that I
think I could have died a martyr to see my interest in Christ.  I was
brought on, gradually, to understand the plan of salvation; the doctrines
of the gospel began to open to my wondering view; I found the truth in my
mind, like the rising of the light of the day, it shone more and
more—and, as I saw it, I loved it, prayed to feel its power, and ran to
hear it when I could—though this was chiefly by stealth, for fear of
persecution: but, although we ought never to court persecution, yet it is
folly to run from it.

The change I had experienced in my mind and views, was soon discovered,
and no small trouble I gained by it; I was strictly forbidden to hear the
Word, and was frequently horsewhipped for going to the meeting, with
innumerable jeers and scoffs: this tried me a little; I waxed more bold
in the ways of God, and endeavoured to avoid giving any just cause of
offence; but I found their carnal hearts, as mine was, at enmity with
God; and I must confess, that persecution for the truth sake is often
attended with a peace that the world knows nothing of.  The Lord carried
on his own work, and gave me to see, Christ crucified was the only way to
God, to holiness, and heaven.  It was not long after I had heard the
Word, that I stole away at times to Tottenham-court Chapel, and heard a
very solemn sermon, I believe by Mr. Durant, on _Isaiah_, xxvi. and last
verses; also, soon after, by Mr. Groves, on the second coming of the
Saviour.  These were awful subjects, and were attended with stirring me
up, to plead hard that I might see my sins pardoned, and my interest
clear in the love of God.

There is one particular circumstance I shall never forget, which I cannot
suppress, as it is warm in my mind, being previously tinctured with
Swedenbourgian notions—the Lord not only began to open my mind, to
receive the truth, but gave me a most affecting sight of the Saviour, in
open vision, in suffering circumstances.  I had run to the above place of
worship, and Mr. Parsons had delivered a very affecting sermon on, “He,
bearing his cross, went forth to a place called Golgotha;” but, alas! I
was hard as a stone, during the sermon.  At the close, this hymn of (Mr.
Whitfield’s Collection) was given out—

    “When I survey the wond’rous cross
    On which the Prince of Glory died”—

That moment I was favoured with a most solemn and affecting vision of the
Saviour on the cross, apparently suspended between the roof of the chapel
and the gallery opposite to where I stood; his sacred body appeared of a
bluish hue, apparently with the bruises he had received; and the blood
appeared to be fresh as it was shed from his hands, his head, his feet,
and his side.  This continued a few moments, clearly presented to me.  I
put my hat to my face, to conceal my tears from those around me, and
returned home, musing on the affecting sight.  But this was not attended
with any assurance of salvation, nor could I yet see my interest in
_him_, nor call _him_ mine; but it left me more than ever anxious to know
the truth clearer, as it is in Jesus.  I told an old experimental
Christian of it, some time after, and she told me, she had no doubt it
was a signal of, my spiritual birth, and that I should one day be called,
perhaps, to preach a crucified Saviour to others.

I do not pretend to say this vision was any part of my salvation, but
surely it was a token for good; and no heart can conceive the sacred joy
I felt some time afterwards, in reading the history of the conversion of
Constantine the Great, by a sight of the cross in the air; and the vision
of a crucified Saviour, which was given to Colonel Gardiner; Mr.
Connick’s and Mr. Hart’s experience; and the affecting views given those
good men of the Lord Jesus, in his suffering circumstances.  Isaiah saw
the same; but Daniel, Ezekiel, and John saw the dear Saviour, as
glorified.  However, the Spirit leading us into all truth, and glorifying
Christ, by shewing us his salvation, is the one thing needful.

                                                             Adieu.  J. C.



LETTER IV.


    “Seek ye me, and ye shall live, saith the Lord.”

To —

Various were my frames, changes, fears, doubts, and hopes, till I could
ascertain my “Title clear to mansions in the skies.”  Nothing, I thought,
could possibly make me sensible of this, and the pardon of my sins, but
some powerful voice from heaven, or some wonderful appearance of the
Saviour to me, in a visible form.  I have sat a long time together,
looking up in the air for some glorious visions of Christ; then I thought
the Lord would assure me of pardon; then I hoped he would take away the
power of sin, and so effectually subdue it, that I should never sin any
more.  This was my hope and expectation; for this I prayed constantly and
fervently—and having read of the various appearances of the Saviour to
some good men, and that conversion was a change of nature, I had a
pleasing hope that this would one day be my happy lot.  When sin overcame
me, then I despaired of such a favour, and when could pray well, and walk
strictly holy, then my hopes were big:—in this way I went on for many
months, even though I sat under the sound of the gospel.  But who could
have thought this was all delusion: I found it to be so after; and have
often wondered I could be so blind, when I had not the least promise of
any such revelations, or such a change of nature.  Many, who have been
deluded with wonderful visions, and others who have boosted of this
change of nature, and have got almost perfect, have since turned out
perfect devils.  My soul was, however, very anxious to be saved; and
continuing under the gospel, whenever I could hear it, my judgement got
pretty clearly furnished.  I was led to see the glorious doctrines of the
Trinity; eternal election; the atonement; and imputed righteousness of
the Saviour, the necessity of the Spirit’s work, and the doctrine of the
final perseverance of the saints.—These precious truths gradually opened
to my view; _but_ the power of sin, attended with a sense of guilt; the
sense of God’s anger; the fears of death; the solemnities of the last
great day; and an awful eternity, often sunk my mind: my heart, at times,
meditated terror, and experienced many real and imaginary horrors.  When
I looked at the holy law, it condemned me; and when it was opened to me,
in its spirituality, I found that it reached to the thoughts and intents
of the heart; then I died to all hope of salvation by that law; the Lord
searched my heart, and shewed me some of the evils that were in it; I saw
the justice of God in my condemnation, and was angry with God that I was
ever created; and, as many others have, so I envied the _pretty_ birds
and the _brute_ creation, because they had no souls, no day of judgment,
nor any angry God to meet.  If I read the New Testament, I was just as
bad off, as that cut me to the heart; for there I read—“He that believeth
not shall be damned; he that believeth not is condemned already;” and, as
I had made a profession: the following text was dreadful to my mind—“If
we sin wilfully, after we have received the knowledge of the truth, there
remaineth no more sacrifice for sin.”  These awful texts were like swords
in my heart; and when I reflected that God was immutable, that he could
not change, that he is one mind, and I could not turn him by all my
prayers, cries, or intreaties; these things, and the power and guilt of
sin, I still felt with a deep sense of my own weakness and inability to
do any thing that was good.  I say this complication of awful convictions
fell, at times, very deeply upon my mind.  I knew, indeed, that Christ
was able to save me, but I had no idea of his willingness: it was not
with me now, whether I _would_ be saved or not; but whether Christ
_would_ save me?  Here was no free-will in the business; I found it was
not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, for I did both—but of
God, which sheweth mercy.  Here, all the wooing and beseeching to close
with Christ, which we hear from the pulpit, I found to be folly and
madness; as well as the doctrine of universal salvation and redemption;
for I could not believe that the Saviour died for me—and yet, amidst all
these sensations, I was often encouraged by the Word, and the good
conversation of others, especially by such promises as these: “Those that
seek me early shall find me;” “Your heart shall live that seek God;”
“Seek and ye shall find;” “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast
out.”

I remember once opening upon a hymn, in Mr. Whitfield’s Collection, and
found these two lines—

    “It was for _sinners_ Jesus died,
    Then sure I heard he died for me.”

In a moment I felt a sensible ray of hope spring up in my heart, upon the
ground of the atonement, and I think I have never lost that hope to this
day: the Lord led me through all this soul travail, to see my need of a
Mediator; one to stand in the gap; one that was able to lay his hands on
both parties; God with God, and man with man; and I was at times highly
favored with very precious views of Christ, in his offices and
characters; yet I constantly feared I should die before I could see my
interest in him, and before I could believe in him, though I believed in
him all the while.  Yet I could not see, at that time, the difference
between _faith_ and _sense_, or _faith_ and the _end_ of faith.  I did
not know there was any difference between _faith_, the _assurance_ of
faith, and the _full assurance_ of faith.

One Sunday morning I heard Mr. Huntington, on _Song_, iii. 11.  Oh, what
a sweet morning it was to me!  I had such a glorious view of the dear
Saviour, that I would have given the universe for ability to call him
mine.  But this sweet view went off, the veil closed again, and sin was
ever before me.  At times I could open my mind freely, at the throne of
grace; at other times I was so shut up that I thought it of no use;
sometimes I was filled with desires, longings, hungerings, and thirstings
after Christ; and then I was left in barrenness, carnal ease, and a dead
calm, till sin was felt again, and my distress increased.  This one thing
I found awfully true—

    “The more I strove against sin’s power,
    I sinned and stumbled yet the more.”

I found my strength perfect weakness; and sin, guilt, and satan, too
strong for human ability.  I had many temptations to disbelieve the
Bible, to doubt the very being of a God, and to entertain very hard
thoughts of him.  I felt my rebellion rise, and found I was an enemy in
my nature and practice.  These things troubled my spirit; yet the
preaching of the Word, at times, sweetly encouraged me to hope.  I
endeavoured to subdue sin, by various stratagems, but I found it was all
toiling up Labour-in-vain Hill; and being beat out of every refuge,
sinking in the miry clay; and finding the horrible pit, in some degree,
but not so deep as many have, I longed to be brought to a point about my
state; to see my sins pardoned; my interest clear; God reconciled and
well pleased with me, in Christ.  I was, indeed, come to the birth, but
had not yet strength to bring forth.  Yet none shall shut their doors, or
kindle a fire on God’s altar for nought.  Those whom he chastens he will
give rest to; and those who seek him shall find him, sooner or later.
“For the needy shall not always be forgotten; the expectation of the poor
shall not perish for ever.”

                                                              Yours, J. C.

These sweet lines were whispered to my soul with joy:—

    “The vision is for an appointed time; though _it_ tarry, wait for
    _it_; _it_ will surely come, _it_ will not tarry.”  For,

    “The time of love will come,
       When _thou_ shalt clearly see,
    Not only that he shed his blood.
       But that it flow’d for _thee_.”

    “For the children are come to the birth, but they have not strength
    to bring forth.”

    “Shall I cause to travail, and not cause to bring forth? saith thy
    God.”

I hope you are so well versed in Scripture that you know where these
precious texts lay, without my directing you.



LETTER V.


    “Thou hast manifested thy name to the men thou gavest me out of the
    world.”

To —

What the Holy Spirit has declared in his Word, all the Lord’s children
find most blessed; the Lord is good to them that wait for him; to the
soul that seeketh him.  I have often found it very blessed to wait _for_
the Lord; in waiting on him.  And this verse of Good Mr. Toplady’s was
sweet to my soul:—

    “But, Lord, if thou ne’er hast design’d
       No covenant blessing for me;
    Then tell me how it is I find
       Such a sweetness in waiting for thee?”

The Lord will arise, in his own time, and have mercy upon Zion, when the
set time to favour her is come.  And so I found it; for, one Friday
morning, while working at my business, as well as I can remember, I was
exceedingly low in mind, ruminating over my uncomfortable mind and
feelings, I could truly say I was brought very low—when, suddenly, these
words were darted into my mind—“The Son of man is come to save _that_
which was lost.”  This was attended with such light and power as to
astonish me.  I instantly felt sweet liberty of mind; I was deeply
affected, sweetly melted, and at the same time filled with gratitude,
peace, and joy.  I saw the wonderous love of God, in sending his dear
Son, and the vast infinite grace, mercy, and condescension of the dear
Saviour, in the errand on which he came.  I was overwhelmed with holy
surprise, while the words in their power and sweetness continued with me,
and made it personal, in the term _that_ which was lost.  I knew God had
shewn me, in some measure, that I was a poor lost sinner, guilty and
hell-deserving; that I had no might or power to subdue one sin, although
I had made a thousand vows and resolutions; but every thing I could say,
every argument I could use against myself, was of no use.  The heavenly
sensation was so powerful, that it bore down all before it, and continued
with me all that day, and the day following, although not with equal
power.  I was now brought to a point about my state; I knew, without a
doubt, the Saviour loved, came, lived, and died for me.  I could truly
say I loved him, and could rejoice in his salvation; his kind heart was
open to me, and I held a sweet and rapturous communion with him.  On the
Monday following I felt this in a measure abated, and went to Providence
Chanel; but, as soon as the text was named, I felt determined to leave
the place: it was—“Cast out the bond woman and her son.”  I had heard the
text taken by the good man once before, and I thought we were going to
have another controversial sermon on the moral law—bring tired of that
subject, I was fearful I should lose my comfortable frame; but I was
happily disappointed, for the minister opened the subject in such a clear
and glorious manner, by describing the liberty of the children of God,
that I was fully confirmed in the work of God on my soul; the remembrance
of this is still sweet and precious.  My joy was full, and at the close
of the sermon I fled from every one, lest I should see any one I knew; I
wanted to speak to no living creature, but to enjoy fellowship with the
Saviour.  I have often thought how much I should like to have gone home
to glory at that time; but, alas! many sorrows of body, soul, and
circumstances, were my destined lot; which has often made me ask, in fits
of rebellion—

    “Are these the blessings we expect,
    Is this the lot of thine elect?”

This heavenly frame subsided, but it left a sweet confidence behind,
which I have never fully lost, as my faith and confidence was often fed
by the Word of God; and, indeed, faith can feast upon nothing else.

I now began to read and hear, as it were, with new eyes and ears.  The
doctrines of the gospel were now precious to my soul.  I admired them
before, but I ate them now: as Jeremiah words it—“Thy words were found,
and I did eat them, and they were the rejoicing of my heart.”  And I must
speak it to the honour of God, that, although he has favored me with many
blessed tokens of his love, many precious promises, enlargements, and
views, but none so powerful as the first; yet there was enough power in
them to bring me to the Saviour, and to prove the reality of the work of
God on my soul.  My grand business was now to gain all the spiritual
knowledge I could; and the Lord soon after this led me into my public
work, which I thought would be attended with a great increase of holiness
of nature and life, of devotedness to God, and of an opportunity of
studying his word; but I found, instead of an increase of holiness of
nature an increase of sin.  Not that I was more sinful, but had greater
discoveries of it; and, instead of getting stronger in the service of
God, I felt my strength perfect weakness.  Popularity, noise, company,
and bustle, stripped me of all my savouriness, and I was long left to
struggle with my old sin again.  Yet the Lord gave testimony to the word
of his grace, and gave me liberty of speech, to the wonder of many, who
knew my origin, and the scantiness of my education.  The Lord never left
me a moment, in my public work, to confusion, but was with me in some way
or other, every time I stood up; and when I have gone to my work in the
pulpit, frequently in bondage, darkness, and sorrow, my nervous system
weak, and satan permitted to harrass me sorely, to the giving out my
text; even then I have had the most blessed seasons, and at the close of
my sermons could only fall on my knees, adoring and praising a
long-suffering and a faithful God.  On this subject I need not enlarge,
as those who are in the work of the ministry well know what it is to pass
through many painful seasons, and how graciously the Lord appears for
them.  Sometimes the work of God has been so very low in my mind, that I
could scarcely trace a vestige of it; this has sunk my heart, till the
Lord has appeared again, and renewed the work, led my mind out again to
the Saviour, melted me with his love, and favored me with his more
sensible presence.  Hence the prophet prayed—“Oh, Lord, revive thy work
in the midst of the years.”  Pious Ezra calls it “a little reviving in
our bondage;” and David prays, “Wilt thou not revive us again?”  This is
what the apostle calls the renewing of the Holy Ghost.  The work is
perfect in all its parts, when first began, but it must be brought forth
into act and exercise; it must be seen and known, God the Holy Spirit
must maintain it, and keep it up; and this is done by his secret
influence.  “I will water them every moment, and keep them night and
day.”  How this is done I know not; but it is our mercy it is so, and
will be perfected, while a dear Redeemer pleads in heaven.—“I have prayed
for thee, that thy faith fail not.”

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER VI.


    “The righteous shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands
    shall wax stronger and stronger.”

To —

It is our mercy, the Holy Spirit, in the hearts of God’s children, is
given to them to _abide_ with them.  Never will _he_ leave his own to the
power of sin or to satan.  The Psalmist was blest with this confidence
when he said—“The Lord will perfect that which concerned me; forsake not
the work of thy hands; thy mercy, O Lord, endureth for ever.”  This is
explained by the apostle being confident of this very thing, that _he_
who hath begun the good work will perform it, until the day of Jesus
Christ; and hence Solomon says—“I know that what God doeth is for ever,
nothing shall be taken from it, or added to it; and he doeth it that men
should fear before him.”  This work, in the first operation, is
_regeneration_, and its continuance is _sanctification_; its effect is
_conversion_, and its renewing, after dead and dark seasons, is a
_revival_.  Many such I have experienced; which, to relate, would swell
this memoir to a vast volume.  There is one particular circumstance,
among many, which I must here relate, although you are already in
possession of the account in my little work, “The Voice of Faith in the
Valley of Achor:”—

    “After I had been in this furnace some weeks, in which I felt as
    others do in similar cases, much grief, anger, rebellion, and
    discontent, but not quite without a spirit of prayer that I might be
    favored with the very gracious visits of the Saviour, and a sense of
    God’s approbation in my own soul, though despised by others, I
    entreated the Lord to shew me the exceeding sinfulness of sin, as
    well as I could bear it; for I am convinced no man could ever behold
    sin in all its malignity—none but the God-Man could bear that—yet I
    desired to see sin as most abominable in God’s sight.  These
    petitions were in time answered; the Lord led me to reflect deeply,
    in my retired moments, on the nature of sin, original and
    actual.—This knowledge of it increased, till one evening, being
    alone, I was most completely overpowered with a solemn stillness of
    spirit, a view of sin, my own sins of heart, lip, and life; these
    crowded into my mind.  I felt guilty.  I stood condemned.  I had a
    fearful apprehension of God’s just displeasure; all was dark within,
    except sin and the anger of God—these were clear enough; horror
    overwhelmed me, and I sunk low at the footstool of divine mercy; I
    feared, I trembled, I was brought low, I was troubled.  I saw nothing
    of a Saviour, though I had so often preached about him.  Head notions
    were nothing now—past experience was hid, and every gracious promise
    of the Bible was closed up for a time.  What a state to be in!  But I
    believe this was drinking of the bitter cup our Saviour drank so
    deeply; this was, in one sense, being crucified with Christ, and
    having fellowship with him in his sufferings.  These feelings will
    give a man a real understanding of all those texts which refer to
    soul trouble, in the book of Job, the Psalms of David, feelings of
    Jeremiah, and, perhaps, what Paul felt during the three days he was
    without sight, and did neither eat nor drink.  These feelings will
    make me sympathise with the soul that is afflicted, and experiences
    the terrors of the Almighty.

    But I do esteem it among my many special favors, this did not
    continue but part of a night.  I sunk down in shame and distress,
    condemning myself, and acknowledging the justice of God in my
    condemnation.  But while in this state, thus broken, contrite, and
    filled with holy awe, I was kept pleading for mercy—present mercy as
    well as future.  While on my knees prostrate, as Elijah on another
    occasion, or, as Jeremiah words it—putting my mouth in the dust;—and
    although I really was filled with fear lest I should be cut off, yet
    at this very time the Lord gently led my mind, or rather brought the
    following words very softly to my heart: they were at first seemingly
    at a distance, but drew nearer as I listened and observed them.  The
    words were, ‘I have caused thine iniquities to pass from thee, and
    have clothed thee with change of raiment.’  I observed my mind could
    not gladly receive this sentence, fearing presumption—but they still
    followed me, and abode with me, till the horror, terror, fears, and
    darkness gradually dispersed, and my mind was enabled so far to
    receive them as to cause a present ease, which continued with me a
    few days longer.  I found the peace they brought with them continue,
    and I was in a small degree helped to believe they were from God to
    me, and as much mine as they were Joshua’s, to whom they were spoken;
    but though my thoughts were in a measure fixed upon them, yet I was
    not without being assaulted with some misgivings of heart.  I
    concluded it best to entreat the Lord to shew me this more
    powerfully, and not only to put the words in my mind, but to write
    them so effectually that I might know, without the shadow of a doubt,
    I was actually interested in the capital blessings the words
    contained.  This was most divinely manifested in a few days
    afterwards, as I was in the act of reading some remarks of the truly
    excellent Mr. Toplady, on Justification by the imputed Righteousness
    of the adorable God-Man.  I was actually overcome with a sweet
    surprise of the love of God to me in Christ Jesus, making his dear
    Son a sin offering, and his people righteousness in him.  I was
    enabled to feel such solid peace, holy joy, and sacred pleasure in my
    soul as can never be described by tongue or pen.  I was melted by the
    power of his love, and indulged with such access to God, that every
    doubt, fear, and misgiving of heart, was removed.  I saw, I knew, I
    felt that I was reconciled to God, and that God was my Father, my
    Saviour, my Comforter.—Oh, that I had then sunk into the arms of
    death!  O that I had been permitted to take my flight!  At that time
    the Saviour had engaged my heart, nor could I then have sinned
    against him for the world.  I want many such sweet manifestations of
    his sensible presence; and I can assure you, painful as my situation
    is, I would gladly endure it again for such enjoyments.  But I must
    observe, these blessed seasons are unknown to carnal professors, and
    never enjoyed, even by the favorites of heaven, while in a light,
    careless, carnal frame of soul; no—the promise runs thus, ‘To this
    man will I look, (and surely it was a look of love which I
    experienced) and with him will I dwell, who is poor and of a contrite
    heart, and that trembles at my word.’”

After this most blessed manifestation, the Lord gradually opened my mind,
gave me a discerning eye to discover and receive the Bible testimony of
the Lord Jesus, accompanied with a fixation of soul and a stayedness upon
him.  I now no longer depend upon past experience, but am pressing
forward to know the person and glory of Christ, as the expression of the
Father’s love; the covenant transactions of the adorable Trinity; the
union subsisting between Christ and my soul, founded on his union with my
nature, and his union with the Father; the great act of his incarnation;
the holiness of his nature, and his wonderful life, as the obedience and
righteousness of his church; the putting away sin by the sacrifice of
himself, and the virtue, glory, and dignity of that precious work; his
triumphant resurrection, for his dear people, and glorious ascension; his
life of intercession in heaven, and his carrying on the work of salvation
as an advocate with the Father; this is the grand object I am aiming to
grow into the knowledge of, that I may live a life of faith upon him,
enjoy communion with him, and live to his glory; that I may make manifest
the savour of his name in _every_ place, not only in the pulpit, but in
every other place and company where I can.  Knowing the evil of sin, the
weakness of the creature, and the value of Christ, I want daily to die to
self, and live to him; to go out of self, as sinful, moral, or gracious,
and by looking to Jesus in the Word, I may enjoy peace in believing; thus
to live to his honour, and to be useful to his people, to die in his
smiles, and to be with him for ever; to behold his glory, being found in
him, having no other robe but that which he has wrought out, nor any
other increased glory, but the work of his own spirit.  This is all my
salvation, and all my desire for my own soul, and for the whole of God’s
family the Lord calls me to labour among.

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER VII.


    “In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

To —

The excellent Dr. Hawker remarks, in his “Gleaner,” “It would be well if
every child of God would form one memorandum, at least, in his mind,
which no passing event could obliterate; namely, that the Lord’s eye is
over the righteous, and his ears are open to their prayers.”  The Lord
revealed himself to the patriarch, Jacob, as the God of his Fathers, in
an everlasting covenant, and with this precious addition—“And behold, I
am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and
will bring thee again to this land; for I will not leave thee until I
have done that which I have spoken to thee of.”—_Gen._ xxviii. to the
end.

The reader of Jacob’s history, in the Bible, will know, that many a dark
providence beset Jacob after this, and numberless sharp exercises, but
the promise never failed.  It has been, and still is, the Lord’s delight
to manifest his care for his this people in a way of providence, before
and after their conversion; a being enabled to trace some of those
gracious manifestations, and to be assured that the chequered inditings
of providence are written with the finger of love, will most blessedly
bow our necks to the yoke, and produce our resignation to his sovereign
will.—The whole Bible is an exhibition of what the Lord is to his people,
and what he has done for them in grace and providence; and what is
providence, but the hand of Divine Faithfulness, making good his precious
promises?  The word providence is never but once used in the Bible, that
I remember, and that is in the flattering speech of Tertullus, _Acts_,
xxiv, 2.  And what is providence, but the Creator of all things, making
provision for all his creatures?  As the God of providence, he is the
Saviour of all men—the preserver—but especially of them which believe;
this was an article in Abraham’s faith—he called the name of that place
Jehovah, Jireh, God will provide.  It is our mercy to be enabled to watch
his hand in our personal concerns—and those who regard not the work of
the Lord, he will destroy them.

The proud hearts of the carnal wicked world, in general, ascribe their
mercies to fortune, luck, and chance—the trinity of fools; and such pour
sovereign contempt on that Providence which ordereth all things in heaven
and on earth; but whoso is wise will observe these things, and he shall
understand the kindness of the Lord.  Hence the saying of the wise—“Whoso
eyeth the providence of the Lord shall never want a providence to watch.”
This has been true in the experience, more or less, of all the Lord’s
tried people, who have waded through much tribulation, and arrived safe
at home: and this is the present experience of the Lord’s people upon
earth; it is a part of their life of faith, and often produces prayer and
praise, watchfulness, and gratitude—so I have found it, almost through
the whole course of my life.  Amongst thousands of circumstances I have
read of the Lord’s gracious dealings with his people, in providence, I
remember one, in particular, in the case of Mr. Fox, who wrote the Book
of Martyrs, in the close of the reign of Henry the Eighth;—that he went
to London, where the want of employment soon reduced his pocket to
emptiness, and every source of maintenance failed: in this situation, as
he sat one day in St. Paul’s church, spent with long fasting, his
countenance thin, his eyes hollow, and with the ghostly appearance of a
dying man, every one seemed to shun him with horror; there came one to
him whom he had never seen before, and thrust into his hand an untold sum
of money, bidding him to be of good cheer, and accept that small gift in
good part; adding, that in a few days new hopes were at hand, and a more
certain condition of livelihood; and sure enough it came to pass—for,
within three days after, the Duchess of Richmond sent for him, to live in
her house, and to become the tutor of the Earl of Surrey’s children, then
under her care.  Thus, as the German proverb says,—“When the bricks are
doubled, then comes Moses;”—that is, man’s greatest extremity is God’s
opportunity.

The best treatise I ever read on Divine Providence is the excellent
Flavell’s “Mystery of the Divine Conduct:” and the most remarkable
accounts of the appearance of Providence, next to the Bible, is in
Professor Frank’s account of the building of the orphan-house at Glauca,
which astonished the King of Prussia, so that he desired the whole
account of it.  I wish every Christian was in possession of it.—The
account of the life of Mr. Barry, as re-published by Mr. Huntington, is
very interesting; so also is that gentleman’s “Bank of Faith:” it has
encouraged many of the Lord’s people to trust in the Saviour; and they
have proved him to be “The faithful God.”  Infidels who are white-washed
with a profession of religion, have made that book the subject of their
sport, banter, and ridicule; but it is a simple correct statement of
facts; and my readers, if taught of God, can probably give their
testimony, likewise, to similar facts—“For the hand of the Lord shall be
known towards his servant.”  Foote, in his play of “The Minor,” ridiculed
this subject of Providence in a most scurrilous manner, wherein that
revered character, the rev. George Whitfield, under the assumed name of
Dr. Squintum, is made to pervert and abuse Divine Providence, in the
following doggerel lines:—

    “Near the mad mansion of Moorfields I bawl,
    Friends, fathers, mothers, sisters, one and all,
    _Shut up your shops_, and listen to my call;
    With labour, toil, all _second means dispense_;
    And live a rent charge upon _Providence_:
    Prick up your ears, a story I will tell,
    Which once a widow and her child befel;
    I knew the daughter and her mother well.
    Poor, it is true, they were, but never wanted,
    For, whatsoe’er they asked, it was granted;
    One fatal day, the matron’s faith was tried,
    She wanted meat and drink, and fairly cried.
    ‘Mother! you cry;’ ‘Oh! child, I’ve got no bread;’
    ‘What matters that?—Why, Providence arn’t dead!’
    With reason good this truth the child might say,
    For there came in at noon, that very day,
    Bread, greens, potatoes, and a leg of mutton,
    A better, sure, a table ne’er was put on.”

                                                  _Gospel Mag. Feb._ 1824.

This is a base attack upon Divine Providence, as though persons who
believe in it, and have so much experience of it, gave themselves up to
indolence, neglecting the use of means to support themselves and
families.  It is to be lamented that there are some in all churches and
chapels, who are mumping about in idleness, and talking about religion,
to deceive the simple and unwary, and from such I have suffered a little
in pocket and character.  But the apostle, by virtue of his high
commission, has said—“For this we commanded you, that if any _will not_
work, neither shall he eat.”  A neglect of the means is most daring
presumption; and none but a hypocrite could act so: but the sincere
Christian, who, in the use of means, is watching the hand of God, will be
often honoured with the gracious appearances of God in his divine
providences; for that God who fed the Israelites forty years in the
wilderness, conducted Abraham from Ur of the Chaldees, increased the
widow’s oil and meal, sent out his apostles with a staff only, will
supply the _needs_, not the _wants_ of his people.  Surely I can set to
my seal.  This is true.

The good hand of God appeared in answering my poor breathings, at an
early period.  I was about 18 years of age when I particularly began to
watch the hand of God in a providential way.  I was involved in a
difficulty, although not of my own seeking; yet I had to bear the
trouble.  I was exceedingly distressed for a few shillings, and it came
into my mind to call on the Lord to send it me, by some means, as I had
not a friend in the world, to whom I could apply for it.  I traversed the
garden of the house where I lived, and made my case known to the Lord,
urging his care of me, and the early tokens he had given me of his love.
The next morning I had occasion to go out on an errand, and, in a very
conspicuous place, I saw a one-pound note lay on the ground; and,
although it was very windy weather, being in the month of March, yet the
note lay still.  I could see no one near, to whom it belonged, nor did I
ever hear of any one who had lost it.  This delivered me entirely from
that trouble: I bought a Bible and another good book with the change—this
taught me the blessedness of carrying my temporal affairs to the Lord,
who has the concerns of all his dear people in his hands, and is the
appointed heir of all things to his church.

Soon after this I had a very severe trial to undergo.  My arbitrary
master had endeavoured to prejudice the Governors of the Foundling
Hospital against me, entirely on account of religion; I had to make my
appearance before them, to answer for my conduct.  I laid this case
before the Lord, and begged his Divine Majesty to fulfil his gracious
promise, in my experience, as he did for his dear servants, the
apostles.—“I will give you a mouth and wisdom.”  This promise I turned
into constant prayer, and the Lord answered me, to the joy of my heart.
My adversary was conquered, and I was commended.

When I left my apprenticeship, being separated from my master by a
magistrate, after serving him duty and truly for nine years; yet, having
two years more of my time to serve, I was left destitute of a
home:—relations I never knew, and where to lay my head I know not.  I had
but three bad half-peace in the world.  I well remember leaning against a
post, in Moor-street, Seven Dials, and, while my heart was ready to
break, I begged of the Lord to direct me which way to go; but, while
looking up for direction, it was brought to my mind where to go, and what
to do, and there the Lord opened a door in providence.  When I had left
my situation in the Borough, a person had previously promised me work;
but when I went to him, he pretended to have forgot such a promise, and I
was again left destitute.  I knew not what to do, but the Lord led out my
mind in prayer, that he would appear for me; and, in less than ten
minutes, I again found an answer to prayer, by a door being opened for
me.  I found the Lord appear again in a few months after this, in a most
remarkable manner: and thus the Lord continually followed me, wherever I
went, and manifested his providential care towards me.  I was, at one
time, brought very low, and all things seemed to fail, to that I was
reduced to a sad extremity; when, passing by St. Clement’s church, by the
light of a window, I saw some halfpence lay on the ground, which I
greedily picked up, and went on blessing God who had appeared for me, at
that time.  And, as I found the good hand of God in my low situation, I
was destined to see more of his good hand in a more eminent manner; and
it would, indeed, fill a volume to rehearse the many conspicuous
providences that I experienced in my family.  When we have been reduced
to the greatest necessity, the Lord has sent relief in the very moment of
extremity.  Having married, as related before, I was completely destitute
of furniture; I acknowledge this was imprudent, but my concern was
getting my bird before I had a cage to put it in: yet the Lord, in due
time, sent us first one article, and then another, in a most surprising
manner.  A gentleman also sent me a good suit of clothes, with a charge
frequently to read the 12th chapter of Luke.

When I first began to preach, it was in  cloaths; but a friend
soon after sent me a suit of black.  When my wife was taken in labour,
with one of her children, we had but two-pence in the world, which
distressed her feelings; but, looking to the Lord, without naming our
circumstances to any, abundance of mercies flowed in a whole month—and,
as my family increased, so the Lord increased my income.  When leaving
the country, I was sixty pounds in debt; but, in a few weeks, the Lord
raised me up friends to pay that: and, how often, when we have been
destitute of money, of food, and of clothes, has his good hand appeared!
Frequently when others have been distressed, I have relieved them, to my
own injury, for the time; but the Lord has always amply repaid me.
Amongst many instances I will only relate this:—a poor, but good man, was
in prison for debt: he sent to me for thirty or forty shillings; I had
just thirty, and sent it to him.  On the preaching-night satan harassed
my mind sorely in the pulpit, on account of my folly; but, as soon as I
had concluded my sermon, a lady came into the vestry, and put two pounds
in my hand—thus I was paid well.  And so I have found it true, that he
that hath pity on the poor lendeth to the Lord; and that which he layeth
out he will pay him again.

All my days I have been a pensioner on the Divine Providence for every
shilling—for food and raiment.  Many a one has relieved my wants, when
they had not the least idea I was at that moment in extremity.  I can
only look back with wonder and gratitude at forty years’ experience of
superabounding grace; at thousands of displays of a kind providence; and
the amazing manifestations of divine care and faithfulness; and, at
times, overwhelmed with a sense of covenant goodness, can only say, with
David, “Who am I, O Lord God, that thou hast brought me hitherto; and is
this the manner of men, O Lord God?”—Oh, for a grateful heart.

                                                              Yours, J. C.

I must observe, here, that it is the business of faith not only to be
looking to Jesus for salvation, but to be eyeing God, in Christ, as a
covenant God, in temporal mercies; and to be perpetually pleading what
God is, and what he has promised in the covenant: it is a mercy to see
him, as the Father, the begetter of mercies, and to be looking to his
care for us.  “He careth for you.”  His wisdom in managing; his
condescension; his free grace; his divine sovereignty; the gracious ends
he has in view; the channel of atoning blood, through which all our
temporal mercies flow; and the amazing goodness of God in all, both in
what is _denied_ us, and what is _given_ us!

    “Good when he gives, supremely good,
       Nor less, when he denies;
    E’en crosses, from his sovereign hand,
       Are blessings in disguise.”

And “All things whatsoever ye shall ask, in my name, I will do it.”  This
may be ridiculed by fools; but many such have been forced, in extremity,
to call upon God to appear in that very providence they have ridiculed;
some in storms at sea, and some in trouble on land; the confession of a
God of providence has been extorted from the lips of those who have
denied him.  A great writer remarks, concerning the Persian army, when
discomfited by the Grecians—“being hotly pursued, we must needs venture
over the great water, Strymon, then frozen, but beginning to thaw—when, a
hundred to one but we had all died for it.  With mine eyes I then saw so
many of these gallants, whom I had heard so boldly maintain _there was no
God_, every one upon their knees, with eyes and hands lifted up, begging
hard for help and mercy, and entreating that the ice might hold till they
get over;” and sure I am, that the character that lives and dies without
pleading for mercy, in this world, will beg in vain _for a drop of water
in hell_.

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER IX. {200}


    “There hath no temptation happened unto you, but what is common to
    man.”

To —

The grand adversary of God and man is compared both to a lion and a
serpent: under the former character he has raged and roared against the
church, in every age, and after every called and quickened believer; but,
in the latter character, he has acted his worst part.  In this form he
assaulted Eve, and in the same he has carried on his works of darkness in
this world; and, as he began by deceiving, so he will complete his work
by the same.—_Rev._ xx.

Soon after the Lord had begun his work in my heart, persecution began,
hell raged, satan roared; but, through mercy, the ass did not regard the
crying of that driver, but was kept in search after life and
truth.—_Job_, xxxix. 5, 6, 7, 8.  This having no effect to deter, satan
resorted to another method.  This was about the time that the wretched
Tom Paine published his book against the Bible; I never bought it, though
thousands did; but, one day, at a friend’s house, I saw it lay, and when
I was left alone I read a part of it—this produced no bad effect on my
mind at that time; but, shortly afterwards, the infamous passage I had
read was hurled into my mind with strange powers.  It came like a dart, a
fiery dart, nor could I get rid of it for some time; it came very often,
and sorely distressed me.  I begged of the Lord to remove it, which he
did; this cured me for ever of meddling with edged tools.  The Lord gave
me secret power to rise superior to it; established me more than ever in
the truth, and created in my mind an everlasting hatred to erroneous
books.  I was often entreated to read such books; but no—“A burnt child
dreads the fire:” and I am always sorry to see professors so eager to
read deistical publications, with a view to see the objections made to
Holy Writ.  “Let him that _thinketh_ he standeth, take heed, lest he
fall.”  This temptation was, of course, soon followed up with another,
such as this—“How do you know the Bible is true?”  This came from the
devil, and is in the mouth of his own children to this day; and to such I
seldom give an answer, except in few words.  This reminds me of an
infidel in a stage coach, who was letting his tongue run against God and
truth, bidding defiance to any man to prove the Bible to be the Word of
God: an aged plain country woman replied, “Why, I thinks as how it is the
Word of God, because it says, that ‘in the last days there shall come
mockers,’ and I am sure thou beest one of them.”

Many great and learned men took up their pens in defence of truth, and
very ably answered the wretched scribbling Deist.  I never read them, but
begged of the Lord to shew me the subject himself; which he did, by
leading me more clearly to understand the truth, and to see the harmony
of every part of it, its doctrines and its precepts, by giving me power
to feel and enjoy its consolations, and by leading me to see the reason
why such characters oppose it: because it is written, “The wicked shall
be turned into hell;” and “He that believeth not is condemned already,
and the wrath of God abideth on him.”  And, as these are awful truths,
can we wonder at the opposition the Word of God meets with, from men of
corrupt minds?  They tell us, indeed, it is a cunningly-devised fable, a
system of mere priestcraft.  If a fable, who wrote it—good men, or
angels?  Bad men, or devils?  Good men or angels could not be guilty of
falsehood, in saying repeatedly, “Thus saith the Lord.”  Bad men or
devils would never write a book to describe their own character, reproach
their own conduct, and condemn themselves to everlasting punishment.

The Lord delivered my soul from this snare, by the power of truth, and
has made me a living witness, by his grace, of the authenticity of his
own Word; so that I may sing—

    “Precious Bible, what a treasure
       Does the Word of God afford!
    All I want, for life and pleasure,
       Shield, or medicine, or sword.”

The best piece I have seen written on this subject, of a modern date, is
by the rev. I. Irons, entitled, “The Cloud of Witnesses,” intended as an
antidote to infidelity.  I beg leave to recommend it to all I know,
especially to believers, who are situated amongst the ungodly.

The next attack the enemy made on my mind, was respecting the Sacred
Trinity.  This temptation, more or less, assaulted me for years;
sometimes in such an awful manner, that I never can describe; but I have
generally noticed, that diabolical temptations hurled into the mind, have
been generally levelled against one or other of the Sacred Persons in the
Trinity.  These temptations do not arise from the common corruptions of
the human heart, although satan does, at times, stir them up; but they
are, in general, sent or shot by the devil into the mind.—Such
temptations are not the believer’s sin, but satan’s; although he often
lays these brats at our doors.

There is a difference to be observed between our sinful nature and such
temptations; the former is always with us, but the others are only
visitors, and unwelcome ones, indeed—yet they have an awful tendency to
distress the soul; and, perhaps, in such an intricate manner, as is
impossible to relate.  Hence the old question, invented by the devil, and
started by men of infidel principles—“How can three be one, or one
three?”  Why, as it respects things in common, it is impossible—but, as
it respects the adorable Trinity, I am taught to believe that there are
three divine persons in one divine essence.  How this can be, neither
angers nor men can define; but that it is so, the Scriptures are clear.
I am bound to believe it, because God hath said it, and it is at man’s
peril to refuse him that speaketh from heaven.  The way this temptation
sometimes operated, was this:—satan made up, or drew three figures of
persons on my imagination, and then asked me how these three could be
one?  Impossible.  And so say I.  Such figures, images, dolls, idols,
drawn by that artful limner, cannot be one, nor one three.  This
temptation was aided and assisted by the popish pictures of the Trinity,
an engraving of which is put as a frontispiece to Dr. Samuel Clarke’s
Bible, and which I consider to be the most abominable blasphemy; one of
the characters is represented as a very aged man, with a long beard;
another, rather younger, receiving a sceptre; and a third, the figure of
a dove: and these are called the persons in the Trinity.  This is truly
awful; satan himself is the author of it, and man the dupe of his satanic
deceptions.

I believe but very few of God’s children escape temptation upon this
subject; and I make no apology in saying, that pictures drawn by man, or
painted upon our imaginations of either of the persons in the sacred
Trinity, is blasphemy.  The Lord delivered me again and again from this
temptation, by leading my mind to what God has said of himself, who
certainly is the best judge of himself.  Hence the question—“To whom,
then, will ye liken God, or shall I be equal, saith the Lord?  To whom,
then, will ye liken God, or what likeness will ye compare unto him?”

The Bible sets forth God under the emblems of fire, water, wind, or air.
And what picture can ever be drawn of these, as persons?  “God is a
_Spirit_.”—“God is _light_.”—“God is _love_.”—And what are all his
glorious perfections, but himself manifested in such characters?
Holiness, Truth, Wisdom, Justice, Grace, Mercy, Goodness, Majesty,
Eternity, Almighty, Omnipotent, Omnipresent, Omniscient.  And what
figures can be drawn of this Sacred, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty?
I trust this remark will be blest to some characters who have suffered
under the same temptation.  But, although it has pleased the God of Grace
to reveal himself in the _Oneness_ of the Divine Unity; so it is our
mercy, yea, our salvation, that he has been pleased also to reveal
himself, in his Trinity of persons, under the gracious names, and
relative terms in the grand economy of our salvation.

“There are three which bear record in heaven”—the Father; the Word, (as
Son of God;) and the Holy Spirit; and these _three_ are _one_—not merely
one person, bearing three _names_, but three persons—nor yet three gods,
but only one in essence—_three_ in persons, distinct in personality,
names, and office—This Sacred Three bear record to the Sonship, Godhead,
Divinity, and Dignity of Christ.  So they also bear record to the
consciences of God’s dear people—that they are the Lord’s.  The record of
the Father is, “Yea, I have loved thee;”—the record of the Son is, “I
have redeemed thee;”—and the record of the Spirit is, “I have called
thee.”  It is necessary this grand point should be well understood by the
Lord’s people, that they may enjoy distinct holy communion with, and give
equal glory to, the adorable Author of Salvation.

It was my lot to fall in with, and to be often situated with characters
who were inimical to this grand fundamental truth.  Swedenborg denied the
existence of the Father and the Holy Spirit.  Socinians, Arians, and
Sabellians, either in one form or another, deny the Godhead of Christ,
and the personality of the Holy Spirit.  Thus, amongst this motley group,
they leave us no God at all.  Many have been my conflicts with such; but
the Word is so plain upon the subject, that it needs no comment, only by
comparing a very few out of the many scriptures of truth, and drawing a
very reasonable inference from the plainest testimony.  This has been
done by an excellent author, the rev. W. Jones; and the great Mr.
Macgowan, in his “Twenty Letters to J. Priestly, D.D.”

I will only compare a few texts together, and you will see the beauty of
truth.  As:—

_Isaiah_, vi. 5.—“Mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts.”

_John_, xii. 41.—“These things said Esias, when he saw his (Christ’s)
glory, and spake of him.”

“Therefore Jesus is the Lord of Hosts.”—_Isaiah_, xliii. 11.

                                * * * * *

_Isaiah_, xliii. 11.—“I, even I, am the Lord, and besides me there is no
Saviour.”

2 _Peter_, iii. 18.—“Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.”

_Then Jesus Christ is Jehovah_, _the Saviour_.

                                * * * * *

_Rev._ xxii. 6.—“The Lord God of the Holy Prophets sent his angel to shew
unto his servants things which must shortly be done.”

_Rev._ v. 16.—“I, Jesus, have sent mine angel to testify these things
unto the churches.”

Therefore Jesus is the Lord God of the Prophets.

                                * * * * *

_Isaiah_, xliv. 6.—“Thus saith the Lord, the King of Israel, and his
Redeemer, the Lord of Hosts, I am the first, and I am the last, and
besides me there is no God.”

_Rev._ xxii. 13.—“I (Jesus) am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the
end, the first and the last.”

This is too plain to be denied.  Christ is the King of Israel, the
Redeemer, the Lord of Hosts, the first and the last.

                                * * * * *

_Psalm_ lxxviii. 56.—“They tempted and provoked the Most High God.”

1 Cor. x. 9.—“Neither let us tempt Christ, as some of them also tempted.”

Christ must be, therefore, the Most High God.

                                * * * * *

_Isaiah_, xxxvii. 5.—“For thy Maker is thy husband, the Lord of Hosts is
his name.”

_John_, iii. 29.—“He that hath the bride is the bridegroom.”

_Psalm_ xxiii.—“The Lord Jehovah, is my shepherd.”

_John_, x. 16.—“There shall be one fold and one shepherd.”

Christ must be the Lord of Hosts.

                                * * * * *

_Psalm_ c. 3.—“Know ye that the Lord he is God, we are his people, and
the sheep of his pasture.”

_John_, x. 3.—“He calleth his own sheep.”

Therefore, Christ he is the Lord God and shepherd.

                                * * * * *

_John_, xx. 28.—“And Thomas answered and said, my Lord and my God.”

_Romans_, ix. 5.—“Of whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ came; who is
over all, God, blessed for ever.”

Christ is, therefore, Lord and God.

                                * * * * *

_Isaiah_, ix. 6.—“And his name shall be called, The Mighty God.”

_Rev._ i. 8.—“I am the Almighty.”

                                * * * * *

I might here fill a volume of immense size, to prove the same fact; but
when God gives a man up to satanic delusion, he generally mounts the
scorner’s chair; sets his tongue against the heavens, and endeavours to
bring down the Almighty to his proud carnal reasonings.

              “Thus fools rush in, where angels fear to tread.”

But, whilst so many are endeavouring to dethrone the glorious persons in
the Trinity, or to degrade them, other fools have set up _many_; one in
particular, whom I once wrote against, in “Zion’s Controversy:” this poor
creature insists upon it that every separate perfection in Jehovah is a
god.  There was also a sect of people in the beginning of the sixteenth
century, called Familists, who held the notion that every believer was an
_Emanuel_—was really God; that Christians, were _Christed_ into _Christ_,
and _Godded_ into _God_.  Such stupid ideas have neither scripture reason
nor common sense in them; but I suppose by the bye, this doctrine was
advanced to degrade the essential and eternal Godhead of Christ, as
modern Sabellians do, though very high Calvinists in some other
points—yet maintain the idea that the Father communicates his Godhead to
Christ; and why not to his people?  Why not, indeed?  Both are
Christ-degrading errors.  May the Lord deliver his people from them;
while conceited, empty-talking, _all-knowing_ professors fall into those
ditches, out of which nothing short of superabounding mercy, in a
miraculous way, can deliver them.  “Fear, and the pit, and the snare are
upon thee, O inhabitant of the earth; and it shalt come to pass, that he
who flieth from the noise of the fear shall fall into the pit; and whoso
cometh up out of the pit shall fall into the snare; for the windows from
on high are opened, and the foundations of the earth do shake.”—_Isaiah_
xxiii.

Being delivered from this awful snare, satan harrassed my mind,
concerning the personality and Godhead of the ever-blessed Holy Spirit.
Here I was much troubled, but the Lord has promised to be the profitable
teacher of his people.—“I am the Lord thy God, which teacheth thee to
profit, and leadeth thee in the way thou shouldest go.”  I bless his name
for all his teachings, although it has been under some very painful
experiences; above all, that he has led me to the acknowledgement (_not
comprehension_) of the mystery of God—the Holy Ghost—and of the Father,
and of Christ.—_Colossians_ ii.

That the Holy Spirit is God, one of the Divine _Three_ in the unity of
the Godhead, is evident, by comparing Scripture with Scripture.  I am
very sensible that his work upon the heart is infinitely of greater
importance than a thousand bare notions of the subject, however clear;
but it is a mercy to have our loins girt with truth, the armour of
righteousness on the right hand, and on the left; and while the enemies
of God are attempting to degrade his Sacred Majesty, his Adorable Person,
and some weak Christians stagger at the subject, it is our duty (being
delivered from such God-dishonouring conduct), to contend earnestly for
the faith, once delivered to the saints.

I am not writing a body of divinity.  I have not abilities for that; but
only stating those truths which are dear to my heart, and producing a few
out of the many Scriptures, to prove the Godhead of the Saviour and the
ever-blessed Holy Spirit.  A few must suffice here.

_John_, iii. 6.—“That which is born of the Spirit.”

1 _John_, v. 4.—“Whatsoever is born of God.”

Here the spiritual birth is attributed to the _Spirit_—to _God_.

Therefore the Holy Spirit is God.

                                * * * * *

_Acts_, xiii. 2.—“The Holy Ghost said,—separate _me_ Barnabas and Saul,
for the work whereunto _I_ have called them.”

_Heb._ v. 4.—“No man taketh this honour to himself, but he that is called
of _God_.”

Therefore the Spirit is God.

                                * * * * *

_Matt._ ix. 38.—“Pray ye, therefore, the Lord of the harvest, that _he_
will send forth labourers into _his_ harvest.”

_Acts_, xiii. 4.—“So they being sent forth by the Holy Ghost.”

This proves the Holy Ghost is the Lord of his harvest.

                                * * * * *

_Luke_, ii. 16.—“And it was revealed unto him by the Holy Ghost, that he
should not see death before he had seen the Lord Christ.”

Verse 28.—“And he blessed God, and said, Lord, now lettest thou thy
servant depart in peace, according to _thy Word_.”

This Word was the Word of the Holy Ghost, and is _God_ and _Lord_, to be
blessed and praised.

                                * * * * *

_John_, xiv. 17.—“_He_, the Spirit of Truth, dwelleth in you, and shall
be in you.”

1 _Cor._ xiv. 25.—“_God_ is in you, of a truth.”

2 _Tim._ iii. 14.—“All Scripture is given by inspiration of God.”

2 _Peter_, xxi.—“Holy men of old spake as they were moved by the Holy
Ghost.”

_John_, iv. 41.—“It is written in the prophets, And they shall be all
taught of _God_.”

1 _Cor._ ii. 13.—“Not in the word, which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which
the Holy Ghost teacheth.”

_Acts_, v. 3.—“Why hath satan filled thine heart to lie to the Holy
Ghost?”

Verse 4.—“Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto _God_.”

1 _Cor._ iii. 16.—“The temple of _God_ is holy, which temple are ye.”

1 _Cor._ vi. 19.—“Know ye not that your bodies are the temples of the
Holy Ghost?”

_Deut._ vi. 14.—“Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.”

_Acts_, v. 9.—“How is it, that ye have agreed to tempt the spirit of the
Lord?”

_Matt._ xix. 17.—“There is none good but one, that is God.”

_Psalm_ clxxiii. 10.—“Thy Spirit is good; lead me.”

                                * * * * *

I might mention many more, with a vast many proofs of this sublime
doctrine, but I trust you will be led to read them in the Scriptures,
with a grace-taught eye, and rejoice in the truth, as you discover and
feel it.  I must close this long letter with this verse—

    “God is a name my soul adores,
       Th’ Almighty Three, th’ Eternal One:
    Nature and grace, with all their powers,
       Confess the Infinite Unknown.”

I wish you were in possession of the excellent Jones on the “Catholic
Doctrine of the Trinity.”

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER X.


    “The remnant of Israel shall not do iniquity, nor speak lies.”

    “Love the truth and peace.”

To—

What a mercy for us that all divine teaching is the gracious work of God
the Holy Spirit; and when we view, in his own light, what _He_ is, as
_He_ has condescended to set himself forth in his own word, we are amazed
at his condescension.  _He_ is called the Eternal Spirit; _He_ is
Omnipresent, Omniscient, Omnipotent; _He_ is a person—and what is a
person but a living, thinking, acting, intelligent agent?  And what we
have professed at church, when, perhaps, we did not understand what we
said, is a most noble and glorious testimony—“I believe in God, the Holy
Ghost, the Lord and giver of life, who proceedeth from the Father and the
Son; and who, with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and
glorified, who spake by the prophets”—this gracious, divine, and glorious
person has engaged to lead all his people into all _necessary_ truth, and
_He_ will be faithful to his covenant promises; nor do I esteem it a
small mercy to be established in the glorious doctrine of the Trinity, as
it is set forth in God’s Word, after my mind had been so perplexed with
errors and temptations.

But now another very keen temptation beset me, respecting the doctrine of
eternal _election_, and its attendant _reprobation_.  This was painted to
me, in the most horrible terms, as the most cruel and unjust act, such as
could never be attributed to a merciful God.  Erroneous books, preachers,
professors, carnal reason, and the devil, all combined to oppose it.  A
very plain reason that _the doctrine is of God_—or else such would never
oppose it; if the doctrine was of the world, the world would love its
own—but, because it is of God, therefore they hate it.  Thousands of
tongues and pens have been raised up against it, but these two mountains
of brass still stand as firm as ever.  The manner in which the wicked
would, though varnished with seeming piety, represent the doctrine, is
thus:—that to hold the doctrine of election is saying, that the elect
will be saved, do whatever they may—and the reprobate will be damned, let
them do all the good they can.  This is the manner in which they
_carnally_ state the matter; and, as they are but carnal, and the carnal
mind is enmity with God, what can we expect from such thorns and
thistles, surely _not_ the figs and grapes of truth?  Others admit that
election may be true, but then we are elected upon condition of our good
behaviour; and others profess to believe that election is certainly a
truth, but then all others may be saved, if they will, as they have a
good chance for it, being in a salveable state (and so they wrap it up).
Amidst this _pro_ and _con._ my mind was not a little distressed, till
the Lord led me into the truth, as it is in Jesus, and gave me to see he
had blest me with the Bible evidences of my eternal election of God.  I
saw from the Word that election was a _sovereign_, _holy_, _wise_,
_gracious_ act of Jehovah, before all worlds; that Christ’s election was
first, as head, and the church was chosen in him, that the head and the
body were alike chosen, loved, and viewed as one—and this choice was for
the glory of God, for the glory of Christ, and for the holiness and
eternal happiness of the church.  God chose his people that they _might_
be holy, not because they were so, but that they might be so; and he
predestinated the same people to enjoy his presence, love, and glory, to
all eternity.  They are set apart _for himself_, predestinated _to
himself_.  “This people have I _formed for myself_.”  And must not that
man be a fool and a madman that does not _desire_ to know that he was
chosen to _be_ holy, and predestinated to the enjoyment of God for ever?
Let such oppose this precious doctrine: but—

    “O, may this Bible truth inspire
       My soul with sacred bliss;
    And lane me safe in mansions where
       My chosen Saviour is.”

                                                         _Lyndal’s Hymns_.

Would not professors be better employed in attending to God’s Word, which
so dearly states this matter, and praying for the enjoyment of the
evidences of it in their own souls, than cavilling against it, seeing
they never can overthrow this ancient mountain, this eternal hill?  The
Lord not only opened my eyes to see it, humbled my heart to receive it,
but gave my soul the Bible evidences of it.  For—

    “Though God’s election is a truth,
       Small comfort there I see;
    Till I’m assur’d, by God’s own mouth,
       That he has chosen me.”

And every chosen vessel has the _witness_, the _evidences_ of his
election in his own heart, when truly converted to God.  And these are
clearly laid down in God’s Word.  There it is said that “Mary hath chosen
that good part which should never be taken from her.”  But then that good
part must first have chosen her.  Ye have not chosen me, but I have
chosen you, and ordained you.  The blessed effect, the _evidence_ of this
choice made known, is a being made willing to be saved in _God’s own
way_—in the day of God’s own power.  This choice, or willingness, is
God’s work on the souls of his _own_ people—for them, and these only, are
thus made willing to be saved by grace alone.  The power of the Word in
the heart is an evidence of our election.  “Knowing, brethren, beloved of
God, your election for our gospel, came not to you in word only, but in
power, in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance.”  These were persons who
had received the Word with power, which evidenced their election of God,
and which evidences ours also.  The effectual working of truth upon the
mind, producing light, life, love, power, contrition, turning to God,
humility, joy, liberty.  _These_, any of these blessed effects of the
Word in the heart, is an evidence of our election.

Faith is said to be the “faith of God’s elect.”  Therefore, faith wrought
in the heart is an evidence of election.  A seeing _that_ in Christ which
exactly suits our state and condition, attended with a renouncing all in
ourselves, and a coming to him for all we need.  Trusting in him, hoping
in him, delighting in him—these are precious evidences of our eternal
election of God.  Prayer is an evidence also.  Shall not God avenge _his
own elect_, which cry day and night to him?  The soul-breathing,
desiring, thirsting after the favor and friendship of God.  These desires
going up to Him, as created by the Holy Spirit, in the day of prosperity
or the night of adversity, are the precious evidences of electing love.
Holiness is another evidence.  We were chosen to be holy, and that we
should walk in good works.  In _whose_ good works am I to walk, but in
the whole glorious work of salvation effected by the adorable Trinity,
producing in us the love of God?  This is divine charity, that rejoiceth
not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth.  And, to walk in Christ, to
walk in good works, to walk in wisdom, peace, truth, and holiness, is to
walk in love to God, to truth, to saints.  This love will produce all its
happy consequences in the road to heaven.  Christ is the way, holiness is
the walk, and walking in this most excellent way is an evidence of
election.  For we are chosen to this holiness on earth and in heaven; and
without _his_ holiness, “no man shall see the Lord.”  Hence the
exhortation, “Follow peace with all men, and holiness; do not boast ye
have it, _but_ follow after it, and your labour of love will not be in
vain in the Lord.”

Having these evidences in my mind of my election, and viewing it as an
immutable truth, my spirit rejoices not merely in what success I have had
in the ministry, but that my name is written in heaven;—but while I have
thus, at times, been rejoicing in it, a dark season has succeeded, and
satan and his emissaries have troubled my mind about the doctrine of
reprobation.

I beg leave to send you a few remarks on this subject, which, I trust,
will relieve your mind, as they have mine.  The term _reprobation_, or
_reprobated_, is no where to be found in the Bible.  The word _reprobate_
occurs once in the Old Testament, and six times in the New, and not once
in reference to pre-damnation.  But, though the term does not, yet the
thing itself is clearly revealled.  The awful characters of God, as a
sovereign and a judge, is set almost entirely out of the view of man, by
preachers and writers; and when they occur to the mind, it stirs up all
the hatred and infernal enmity of the human heart.  Here the most meek,
innocent, and holy people (in their own estimation) boil with fury and
rage; yet it is a truth, that God, as a sovereign, having no other
counsellor but his most holy will, has chosen some, and left others.  If
he found them holy, he left them so; if he found them sinful, he left
them so; he did them no injury, it was an act of his own will, who has a
right to do what he pleases, and it is impious to ask _why_; for so it
seemed good in his sight.  But the damnation of sinners is in consequence
of sin, and, as a righteous judge, he decreed to punish sin; nor _does_
he, nor _will_ he, nor _can_ he damn or consign any one to hell, but the
violators of his own laws.  Is not this just?  His decree to punish sin
does not force men to sin, they sin naturally, and freely, and wilfully;
and living and dying, enemies to God, they receive the reward of their
crimes.  You may ask, cannot God save them?  He can; but that he _does_
not, is evident—and that he _will_ not, is equally as clear.  For he that
made them will _not_ have mercy upon them, and he that formed them will
shew them _no_ favor.  Here I must refer you to Sacred Scripture; to
Huntington’s “Free Thoughts in Captivity;” Dr. Gill, on “Election and
Reprobation;” Toplady’s “Letter to John Wesley;” Coles, on “God’s
Sovereignty;” and a little pamphlet lately published, by Mr. Hargreaves,
Baptist Minister of Little Wild-street, London, on “Reprobation.”  The
subject itself is a profound depth.

But here let us bow to his sovereign will, and rejoice that he has given
us any evidence that he has chosen us in Christ Jesus.

    “For, O, my soul, if truth so bright
    Should dazzle and confound my sight,
    Yet still his written Word obey,
    And wait the great decisive day.”

This is true humility.

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER XI.


    “Blessed is the man that maketh the Lord his trust, and respecteth
    not the proud, nor such as turn aside to lies.”

To —

It was about the year 1791, that Mr. John Wesley died.  I was about 11
years of age; much talk was about him at that time, which often arrested
my attention—but, as I had never heard the gospel preached, of course I
could know nothing of doctrines; but after I had been led into truth, in
some degree, some men that worked for my master, where I was an
apprentice, lent me some of his books, but finding them so remarkably
dull and dry, there was neither pleasure nor profit to me in reading
them.—Hearing much also from the same persons, of the controversy between
Arminians and Calvinists, I was certainly anxious to understand the great
difference between them.  Reading what each advanced, I knew _both_ could
not be right.  Warmly attached to the doctrines and doctrinal articles of
the Church of England, I soon discovered that the system of Arminianism
was in direct opposition to those doctrines.  This led on to enquiry and
diligent search.  Acquaintances lent me books of the controversy that had
been carried on by the Wesleys, Fletchers, and others, and the answers
that had been given by the magnanimous Toplady, Dr. Gill, Mason, and the
(at that time) faithful and bold _Hills_.  Mr. Fletcher’s works have been
since re-published, but our dastardly cowardly Calvinists do not
re-publish what was then so ably written in defence of truth; shame to
them, to let truth lie bleeding in the streets, and very few dare to
plead her cause.  The old Gospel Magazine, like the present one, was the
excellent means of spreading and maintaining truth, and which I believe
is the only one of all our periodical publications, that dare advance the
_whole_ truth.—These books came into my hands, with some of Sir Richard
Hill’s works, which I now bless God for, as they have been of especial
service to me, in establishing my mind in the truth, as it is in Jesus.

Since I have been in the ministry, the question has been frequently asked
me—“What is your opinion of Mr. John Wesley?”  I do not like such
questions.—He has been many years in the presence of his Judge, and
whether saved or lost, is not for man to decide: but, by an attention to
works, some of them which I shall quote in this letter to you, and the
opinions which good men had of them.  I leave you to draw an inference.
You and I well know, from the Word of God, and the teaching of the
Eternal Spirit, that the Sacred Scriptures are the Word of God; and that,
adding to, or diminishing from, or perverting it, is threatened with
damnation.—_Rev._ xxi.  I do not say that the rev. John Wesley has done
either, _wilfully_, but I beg you to read for yourself, some of his notes
on the New Testament, and if you never did before, I think you will blush
at some parts of his _explanations_, as they are called.  I would quote
some of them, but it would fill this letter, in which I want to point out
some of the many errors which he held, and which is still maintained by
his followers, quite forgetting that “he who loveth and maketh a lie,
dying so, shall have his part in the lake which burneth with fire and
brimstone”.—_Rev._ xxi.

One of the principal doctrines of the glorious gospel of the blessed God,
on which the salvation of the church rests, and which can only entitle us
to, and prepare us for death, judgment, and eternity, is the meritorious
obedience of Christ to the holy law of God.  This, by an act of grace, is
_imputed_ and placed to the account of the elect church of God, by the
adorable Father, and received into the enlightened minds, affections, and
consciences of those who are taught by the Holy Spirit.  This, and this
only, justifies us before God.  On this holy thirty-three years’
obedience of Christ, to the law is the sole matter of our justification
in the sight of a holy God.  And can you believe it?  But I beg you will
read Mr. Hervey’s “Eleven Letters to J. Wesley,” wherein you will find
that the latter has ridiculed this glorious foundation of the church as
_imputed nonsense_.  Is not this an awful proof that himself, and all
such, must be totally destitute of this righteousness.

I will, however, give you a quotation from a pamphlet written many years
ago, by the rev. R. H. entitled “Calumny Refuted, and the Dead
Vindicated,” p. 9.  The rev. writer remarks:—

    “Once upon a time we find him, J. Wesley, sitting in the Norwich
    stage-coach, wrapped in a most profound meditation; the first thing
    that occurred to his consideration was, whether a person might not be
    a sincere Christian, and deny the _phrase_—imputed
    righteousness?—This he did not doubt.  He then advances farther (as
    the wheels roll on) and asks—if a man may not be a Christian, and
    deny the _thing_?  He directly determines that a person _certainly_
    may.  Thus, at two strides, he completely gets rid of the
    righteousness of Christ.”

The following horrid propositions, which are here transcribed, verbatim,
from Mr. Wesley’s “Minutes of the Year 1770,” fully and incontestibly
demonstrate the more than popish pelagianism of the man.  He says—

    “Every believer, till he comes to glory, works _for_, as well as
    _from_ life.  We have received it as a maxim, that a man is to do
    nothing in order to justification.  Nothing can be more false.  As to
    _merit_ itself, of which we have been so dreadfully afraid, we are
    rewarded according to our works, _i.e._ as our works deserve.  All
    that are convinced of sin _under-value_ themselves in every respect.
    We are every hour and every moment pleasing or displeasing to God,
    according to our works, according to the whole of our inward tempers
    and outward behaviour.”

If this is not high popery, what is?  Mr. John was a professed churchman;
but how the above doctrine stands, with what the doctrinal articles of
that church maintains, I leave you to judge.  As they declare, that he
must believe that _no good_ works _can_ be done, in order to
justification, but that we are accounted righteous only for the sake of
our Lord Jesus Christ.

I could quote more from the above pamphlet, but this is a sufficient
specimen of the foundation hope, as expressed by Mr. Wesley, and adhered
to by thousands of his professed followers.  What a mercy there are
others who are building on a firmer basis.  I bless God that he was
pleased to open my mind to receive the complete perfect work of the dear
Redeemer; that he shewed me it was neither my works nor my faith, (as a
grace, nor as an act) that could justify me before God.  I must have a
perfect law-fulfilling righteousness, wrought out by the holy nature and
holy life of the Lord Jesus Christ, as the surety of his church—as
God-man Mediator—to build on any thing_ less_, is building on the sand,
and the dreadful consequences must be—the curse, wrath, and eternal
death.  Faith is the eye that sees the sufficiency of his
righteousness—faith is the hand that receives; the vessel, or mind, which
contains it when the Holy Spirit brings it near: but surely there is a
difference between the eye and the object it discovers; between the hand
of the beggar and the alms you put in it; or my coat and the hand that
puts it on me.  The Lord brought my soul into liberty on this point, but
I had another struggle in my mind.  Soon after this subject had been
clearly and sweetly settled, or rather my soul in the perception of it,
some of the same party harrassed my mind about persevering in holiness,
till I had gained a perfect sinless nature: this was the very thing I
wanted; to get rid of sin, to have it totally eradicated, that I should
never be overcome by sin, in thought, word, or deed.  Oh happy state,
this side heaven!—how I did long for it; sin was, and is, my principal
trouble.

    “Long time I fought, with groans and tears,
       To drive this rebel from my home.”

I was told this was to be obtained; I was informed of many who really had
obtained it, and was already perfect; why not I, _if_ I did but
persevere.  To work I went, and strove hard for it; not to gain the favor
of God, I was better taught than that; but, that sin might trouble me no
more, and that I might no more offend God by so much as a sinful glance
of the eye.  To this rubbing off the spot of the leopard; to this washing
the black Moor white, I was encouraged by the above accounts of some _who
had obtained_ perfection.

Mr. Wesley, and some of his preachers and hearers could _prove_ that they
had known some who were perfect.  I could not suppose these _holy_
creatures would tell lies.  But then I wanted to know how far they might
be perfect, and how far not; and to satisfy my mind, I obtained Mr. J.
Wesley’s tract on Christian Perfection, a paragraph of which I will
quote:—

    “And where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty; such liberty,
    from the law of sin and death, as the children of this world will not
    believe, though a man declare it unto them.  The son hath made them
    free who are thus born of God, from that great root of sin and
    bitterness, pride.  They feel that all their sufficiency is of God;
    that it is he alone who is in all their thoughts, and worketh in them
    both to will and to do of his good pleasure.  They feel that it is
    not they that speak, but the Spirit of their Father who speaketh in
    them, and that whatsoever is done by their hands, the Father who is
    in them, he doeth the works.  So that God is to them all in all, and
    they are nothing in his sight.  They are freed from self-will, as
    desiring nothing but the holy and perfect will of God: _Not_ supplies
    in want, _not_ ease in pain, _nor_ life, or death, or any creature,
    but continually crying in their inmost soul, ‘Father, thy will be
    done.’  They are freed from evil thoughts, so that they cannot enter
    into them; no not for a moment.  A foretime, when an evil thought
    came in, they looked up, and it vanished away.  But now it does not
    come in, there being no room for this, in a soul which is full of
    God.  They are free from wanderings in prayer.  Whensoever they pour
    out their hearts in a more immediate manner before God, they have no
    thought of any thing past, or absent, or to come, but of God alone.
    In times past they had wandering thoughts darted in, which yet fled
    away like smoke: but now that smoke does not rise at all.  They have
    no fear or doubt, either as to their state in general, or as to any
    particular action.  The unction from the Holy One teacheth them every
    hour, what they shall do, and what they shall speak.  Nor therefore
    have they any need to reason concerning it.  They are, in one sense,
    freed from temptations: for though numberless temptations fly about
    them, yet they trouble them not.  At all times their souls are even
    and calm, their hearts are steadfast and unmoveable: their peace,
    flowing as a river, passeth all understanding, and they rejoice with
    joy unspeakable and full of glory.  For they are sealed by the Spirit
    unto the day of redemption, having the witness in themselves, that
    there is laid up for them a crown of righteousness, which the Lord
    will give them in that day—”  What a collection of lies!

The above pamphlet is full of such daring impudence; and in one of his
sublime hymns he thus sings—

    “My cup it runs o’er, I have comfort and power,
       I have pardon, and what can a sinner want more;
    He can have a new heart, so as never to start
       From thy ways, he may be in the world as _thou_ art;

    He may be without sin, _all_ holy and clean;
       He may be as his master, all glorious within,
    Without blemish or blot, without wrinkle or spot,
       _Without power_ to offend thee, in deed, word, or thought.”

This is the sublime poetry of Wesley, who has been classed with Dr. Watts
as a poet; yea, almost with the psalmist, David, in a recent publication
called “The Conference; or, Sketches of Wesleyan Methodism.”  The author
of which very far exceeds the Wesleys, either John or Charles.  But I beg
leave to say, the writers of the Evangelical Magazine, very highly
applaud the work.  I think the following lines on Mr. Wesley, in the
above work, fulsome:—

    “Thou, too, art gone, _sweet_ leader of the choir,
    Thou soul of music with a seraph’s lyre;
    When Royal David made his final will,
    Sweet fancy added this last codicil—
    I give to Solomon my crown and throne,
    This sacred harp shall Watts and _Wesley_ own;
    And _thou_ hast touch’d the strings with so much skill,
    The Hebrew melodist enchant us still.”

The propriety of this classification I leave to your judgment, and
conclude with one remark more.  Finding by all my strivings, _that_ that
which is born of the spirit is spirit, and can never alter; and that
which is born of the flesh is flesh, and can never become any thing else.
Reading the word of God it shewed me that _the cause_ of all the groans,
tears, complaints, sighs, distresses and afflictions, of all the old and
new testament saints was, _in-dwelling sin_; and by tracing the lives of
those eminent characters, I found they were sinners saved by grace
alone—sinners to the last moment, as it respects their sinful nature: but
_as_ they, and all the church of God, stand accepted in Christ, they are
perfect before God; and to that perfection they will arrive at the
glorious resurrection, and not before.  Seeing this was the case, I gave
up all hopes of being perfect in the fleshly nature, and was enabled to
rejoice in my perfection in the love of God’s heart towards me; _in_ my
oneness in Christ, _in_ my complete justification _in_ his obedience, and
_in_ my perfect pardon, and cleansing from all sin in the sight of God,
as revealed in the law by the great atonement of the God-man Christ
Jesus.  Herein is the perfection of the Christian, and it is the gracious
work of the Holy Spirit, to lead up the minds of his own people to know
and to enjoy these great privileges, and not to set them an utterly
impossible task, of gaining fleshly perfection, which is a _mere delusion
of the devil_.  A great writer {229} observed to Mr. Wesley, on
Perfection—“You formed a scheme of collecting as many perfect ones as you
could, to live together in one house: a number of these flowers were
accordingly transplanted from some of your nursery beds to the hot-house,
and an hot-house it soon proved; for, would we believe it, the _sinless_
people quarrelled in a short time, at so violent a rate, that you found
yourself forced to disband this select regiment: had you kept them
together much longer, that line would have been literally verified in the
squabbling members of your church militant.”

    “The males pulled noses, and the females caps.”

A very small house, I am persuaded, would hold the really perfect upon
earth; you might drive them all into a nut-shell.  _Perfection_ and
_sincerity_, as mentioned in Scripture, are synonimous terms, and being
made sincere, may you go on to this perfection.

                                                       Yours, truly, J. C.



LETTER XXII.


    “And they shall teach my people the difference between the holy and
    the profane, and cause them to discern between the clean and the
    unclean; and in controversy they shall stand in judgment.”

To —

Amongst the many painful lessons which the Lord teaches his children,
perhaps there is none much more humiliating than the carnal enmity of the
human heart; all sin in men, or devils, has an enmity in it to God; every
man is by nature an enemy to God, to his holy law, to his holy gospel,
and to his holy ways and people; and, dying in that state, it is
impossible for him to be saved; for, “without holiness no man can see the
Lord; but, blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” the
great atonement brought nigh to us in the gospel, _applied_, _revealed_
and _manifested_ to the conscience, purifies the conscience; the love of
God, shed abroad, purifies the affections; but the truth, as it is in
Christ, purges the understanding and the judgment from _error_, which is
spiritual uncleanness, and without being purged away, by the light of
truth in the soul, a person is not fit for the kingdom of light, because
he is not yet translated out of darkness; but, being in the dark about
the way of salvation, he is also in a state of _enmity_.  Many such are
to be found in the church of God, whose proud hearts have never been
humbled to submit to God’s truth; and being men of talent, have
perverted, carnalized, and scoffed at the great leading doctrines of the
gospel; yet mighty sticklers for holiness, love, charity and good works
(falsely so called;) their conceptions of God are all carnal, dictated by
the flesh, and are opposite to the revealed character of God.  Hence the
awful charge brought against them.—“Thou thoughtest that I was altogether
such an one as thyself, but I will reprove thee.”  I was very much
astonished, in my younger days, at many persons, into whose company I
fell, as they passed for very _holy good_ people, when some of the
fundamental truths of God were spoken of, to see their very countenances
redden, and their rage and enmity boil at the very mention of some of the
most sweet and awful doctrines of the cross.  With all their pretended,
delusive, supposed _meekness_, they hissed like serpents, particularly at
the very mention of the glorious doctrine of eternal election, and divine
predestination to eternal life.  Here they lost all patience, like their
fathers of old, who listened, and wondered at the general discourse of
our Lord; but when he began to talk about God’s sovereignty, they hurried
him to the brow of the hill, with an intent to break his neck.  _Luke_ 4.
And so it is now.  I observed one thing, namely, that I could see no
difference between these great professors, who boasted they were
convinced here, converted there, justified here, and sanctified there.  I
say I could see not the least difference between them, as it respects
their religious sentiments or views of God’s word, than the most profane,
wicked, worldling, or dead formalist.  _This_ then, is an awful proof of
their blindness and enmity.  Situated as I was in the world, I had often
opportunities of hearing carnal, wicked, worldlings talk about religion;
and generally observed, that they _brought_ up, _censured_ and
_ridiculed_ eternal election, and represented it as a most dreadful and
arbitrary act; adding, that those who held this sentiment, also believed
that God had, from eternity, reprobated and consigned over to hell, the
greatest part of mankind; yea, infants who had never sinned, which (they
argued) made out God to be a very unjust, and tyrannically wicked; being,
yea, worse than Molech.  All these sentiments and ideas we expect from an
ungodly world; they know no better.  God declares that they are blind,
and enemies; yea, _enmity_ itself.  Such we can pity.  _But_, _judge my
surprize_, when one of Mr. Wesley’s followers put a book into my hand,
entitled “Hymns on God’s Everlasting Love:” finding it contained the very
language that these profane and wicked worldlings had been constantly
using; where then, exclaimed I, is the difference between the author, the
admirers of this work, and the bitterest enemies of God: why, alas! in
point of truth, or light, or love, _none at all_; they are all upon a
footing; for, though they may differ in some things of an external
nature, I found they all agreed to ridicule the truth of God’s most holy
word.  Here the _Heathen_, the _Papist_, the _Quaker_, the _Arminian_ and
the most _profane_, as well as the most _precise_ and _moral_ professor,
all unite.  The above hymns, as they are called, are full of the most
deadly poison, and the most awful _misrepresentations_; and though but
consisting of little better than eighty pages, contain more than two
hundred palpable falsehoods: no Christian, as taught of God, can read
them without shuddering at the base, lying, wicked _declarations_,
_insinuations_, and wilful _misrepresentations_; and, while the author
professes so much seeming meekness and pity for the wicked world, and is
ridiculing the awful doctrine of reprobation, he himself has the daring
impudence to _reprobate_ all the real ministers of the gospel in the
following lines:—

    “Hear the _old hellish murderers_ roar
       For you Christ died, and not one more;
    His _children_ listen to his call,
       And shout Christ did not die for all.”

You will surely be surprised when I tell you that this was written by
_that_ candid, meek, _holy_ creature, against those who differ from him
in doctrine.  The Calvinist preachers, and their hearers, surely owe Mr.
Wesley little thanks for his politeness and candour, as he has styled
them all hellish _murderers_, _monsters_, and the people in general who
receive the truth, the _children_ of such _monsters_ and _murderers_.
This is the man who is reprobating reprobation; and, at the same time, is
reprobating all who differ from him, as _reprobates_.  I found, through
all his book, his awful enmity to the doctrines of the gospel.—Eternal
election, and scriptural reprobation he first scandalously misrepresents,
and then holds both up to ridicule, while he asserts God’s holy and awful
decrees to be horrible; and that if election and reprobation are true,
God is worse than Molech, if he has chosen some, and left others, _in_
the solemn display of his severity.  Hear the language of Mr. Wesley.

    “Oh, horrible decree! worthy of whence it _came_.  Forgive their
    _hellish blasphemy_, who charge it on the Lamb.”

    “I could the _devil’s_ law receive,
       Unless restrain’d by thee;
    I could, good God, I could believe
       The _horrible_ decree.
    I could believe that God is hate,
       The God of love and grace,
    Did damn, pass by, and reprobate
       The most of human race.
    Farther than this I cannot go,
       Till Tophet takes me in;
    But oh, forbid that I should know
       _This_ mystery of sin.”

And did these holy men, John and Charles, thus talk?—Yes; such were their
hearts, and out of that wicked abundance they thus spoke and wrote; and,
in these awful delusions, and dreadful enmity to truth, I suppose they
lived and died, for we never hear that either of them ever recanted or
repented of their awful errors; and I am informed that many Calvinist
preachers hung their pulpits in black when the above gentlemen died.—I
ask was it for _sorrow_, or to shew the _colour_ of their errors?  The
man that dies in his errors _unrepented_ of, must be damned if God be
true; and he that errs from the truth must be converted from the errors
of his way, before his soul can be saved from death, or the multitude of
his sins be covered.  I am thankful, however, it was my mercy to be
favoured with the sound of the pure gospel, and at times furnished with
some excellent books written in answer, and forming a complete refutation
of the system of Arminianism.  Dr. Gill, Mr. Toplady and others very
masterly answered Wesley and his colleagues; and Sir Richard Hill and
others, refuted Fletcher; although the Wesleyan Methodists boldly assert
that Fletcher is invulnerable, and has never been answered or refuted.
This could easily be proved, if Sir Richard’s works were again revived.
Gurney likewise wrote many excellent pieces; especially the “Nature and
Fitness of Things,” and “The Perfection of God, a Standing Rule to try
all Doctrines and Experiences by;” in which the author says, upon a
review of the “Hymns (blasphemously so called) on God’s Everlasting
Love.”

    “Blush, Wesley blush, be fill’d with shame,
    Doom thy vile poem to the flame:
    What tongue thy horrid crime can tell;
    Put saints to sing the song of hell!”

Many, indeed, humbly hope that Mr. John and Charles are now in heaven,
singing the song of the Lamb, with all the blood-bought throng.  I hope
they are; but they must both alter their singing there, to that strange
song they sung upon _earth_.  In the hymns we have just noticed, no man
can learn _that_ song which the redeemed sing there; but the redeemed
themselves; and if not redeemed, they cannot sing; if they are the
redeemed they will sing of it.  But millions dying in awful enmity to God
is no proof they were redeemed from hell; and all that are in heaven, or
ever will be, are redeemed _from among_ men.  This is the world which he
died for.  As God took a _nation_ from the midst of another nation, so he
takes a world _from the midst_ of the world.  These are the _every men_
he died for; not devils, serpents, vipers, dogs and goats; “But ye my
flock are _men_, and the sheep of my pasture are _ye_, oh house of
Israel;” the price of their redemption is paid—God hath accepted it, and
the Holy Spirit has engaged to make it known to all who are interested in
it sooner or later; and, having began this work, he will never leave it
till it terminates in the glorification of the bodies and souls of all
his elect redeemed.

    “For how would the power of darkness boast,
    If but one praying soul was lost.”

But that cannot be, while Jesus lives to plead their cause; he _must_
deliver up his kingdom in the final consummation.  For this is the
Father’s will, that of _all_ he hath given me I should lose _nothing_,
but shall raise it up again at the last day.  This opposition to truth
was raised originally by Pelaquis, revived in Holland by Van Harmin,
Arminius, and brought over to this country in the sixteenth century;
propagated by the Wesley’s, and received by so many thousands, because it
is suited to the carnal world, the pride of the heart, and opposition to
God’s divine sovereignty and justice.  This subject, I say, not only drew
forth the pens of great men in its defence, but also some sarcastic
writings, treating it with the contempt it deserves.  Amongst many other
pieces, there was one which appeared in the Old Gospel Magazine, supposed
to be written by The Rev. R. H—, or Mr. M’Gowan, and signed
“Auscultator,” which, as it is printed, I here present it.


_The Serpent and the Fox_; _or an Interview between Old Nick and Old
John_.


   There’s a Fox, who resideth hard by,
   The most perfect, and holy, and sly.
   That e’er turn’d a coat, or could pilfer or lye.

   As this Reverend Reynard one day,
   Sat thinking what game next to play;
   Old Nick came a seas’nable visit to pay.

   “O your servant, my friend,” quoth the priest;
   “Tho’ you carry the mark of the beast,
   I never shook paws with a welcomer guest.”

   “Many thanks, holy man,” cry’d the fiend,
   “’Twas because you’re my very good friend,
   That I dropt in with you a few moments to spend.”

                                    JOHN.

   Your kindness requited shall be;
   There’s the Calvinist-Methodists, see,
   Who’re eternally troublous to you and to me.

   Now I’ll stir up the hounds of the _whore_
   That’s called _scarlet_, to worry them sore;
   And then roast ’em in Smithfield, like BONNER of yore.

                                    NICK.

   O a meal of the Calvinist brood
   Will do my old stomach more good,
   Than a sheep to a wolf that is starving for food.

                                    JOHN.

   When America’s conquer’d, you know
   (’Til then we must leave them to crow),
   I’ll work up our rulers to strike an home blow.

                                    NICK.

   An excellent plan, could you do it;
   But if all the internals too knew it,
   They’d be puzzled, like me, to tell how you’ll go through it.

                                    JOHN.

   When they speak against vice in the great;
   I’ll cry out that they aim’d at the _State_;
   And the Ministry, King, and the Parliament hate.

   Thus I’ll still act the part of a lyar;
   Persecution’s blest spirit inspire;
   And then “_Calmly Address_” ’em with <DW19> and fire.

                                    NICK.

   Ay, that’s the right way, I know well:
   But how _lyes_ with _perfection_ can dwell,
   Is a riddle, dear John, that would puzzle all hell.

                                    JOHN.

   Pish, you talk like a doating old elf:
   Can’t you see now it brings in the pelf?
   And all things are lawful that serve a man’s self.

   As serpents we ought to be wise:
   Is not self-preservation a prize?
   For this did not _Abram_ the righteous tell lyes?

                                    NICK.

   I perceive you are subtle, tho’ small:
   You have reason, and scripture, and all;
   So stilted, you never can _finally fall_.

                                    JOHN.

   From the drift of your latter reflection,
   I fear you maintain some connection
   With the crocodile crew that believe in Election.

                                    NICK.

   By my troth, I abhor the whole troop;
   With those heroes I never could cope:
   I should chuckle to see them all swing in a rope.

                                    JOHN.

   Ah, could we but set the land free
   From those bawlers about the _Decree_,
   Who’re such torments to you, to my brother, and me!

   As for _Whitefield_, I know it right well,
   He has sent down his thousands to hell;
   And, for aught that I know, he’s gone with ’em to dwell.

                                    NICK.

   I grant, my friend John, for ’tis true,
   That he was not so _perfect_ as YOU:
   Yet (confound him) I lost him, for all I could do.

                                    JOHN.

   Take comfort! he’s not gone to glory;
   Or, at most, not above the _first_ story.
   For none but the _perfect_ escape purgatory.

   At best he’s in _limbo_, I am sure;
   And must still a long purging endure,
   Ere like _me_, he’s made sinless, quite holy, and pure.

                                    NICK.

   Such purging my Johnny needs none.
   By your own mighty works it is done,
   And the kingdom of glory your _merit_ has won.

   Thus wrapt in your self-righteous plod,
   And self-raised when you throw off this clod,
   You shall mount, and demand your own seat like a god:

   You shall not in Paradise wait,
   But climb the _third_ story with state;
   While your _Whitefields_ and _Hills_ are turn’d back from the gate.

   Old John never dreamt that he jeer’d:
   So Nick turn’d himself round, and he sneer’d;
   And then shrugg’d up his shoulders, and straight disappear’d.

   The priest, with a simpering face,
   Shook his hair-locks and paused for a space:
   Then sat down to forge lyes, with his usual grimace.

                                                       “ASCULTATOR.” {239}

I have no doubt I shall get but little thanks for the revival of this old
controversy, nor should I have mentioned it, but—1st, To inform you how
my mind was harrassed at times between Calvinism and Arminianism, and how
I was delivered from that shackling system into electing and
_constraining_ love.—2.  To caution others against such a sandy
foundation.—3.  To shew you the state of the professing church at this
day.  How once _they_ tried those who said they were apostles and were
not, but were found liars, and who very industriously carried their
system, as they now do, to almost every quarter of the globe: but, alas!
this first love is left, and a system of moderation is adopted to please
the pharisaic part of the world, by those who _know_ better; this is
giving their colours to the enemy indeed.  We see this in some old
ministers who were once zealous for truth; but now, alas! occupy the very
pulpits, and wink at those very errors they once opposed.  How is the
gold become dim, and the most fine gold changed.  Instead of the Lord’s
controversy—a statement and defence of truth in its purity—many of our
Dissenting, Independent, and Baptist congregations, are entertained with
a dish or two of Fuller’s earth and Baxteriansand; their sermons in
general being eked out with a stir about the Antinomians, merely to help
out at a dead lift when they have nothing else to say.  I speak this of
our modern Calvinists; but blessed be God we have still a few names in
our sardis that have not defiled their garments, and who are bold
champions for _all_ the truth, as it is in Christ; the Lord increase
their number in the churches of every denomination.—Amen.

Whatever were the objections I could possibly raise against the doctrine
of God’s sovereignty, I found in the Sacred Scriptures the line of
distinction drawn by the pen of eternal truth, between the two
heads—Christ and Adam; and between the two seeds—elect and non-elect; nor
could I, nor dare I contradict it,—the subject was plainly set before my
eyes, and all the carnal logic that men are masters of, can never blot
this fact from the word of God, let them turn and twist it how they
may—namely, that there is a people whom the Lord _never_ loved nor _ever_
will save.  I will now remind you of this in a few Scriptures, and leave
them in the solemn and awful manner in which God has stated them.

    “The Lord hath _made_ all things for himself, even the wicked _for_
    the day of evil; and they shall call them the border of wickedness,
    the _people_ against whom the Lord hath indignation for _ever_.—But
    Esau have I hated; the _abhorred_ of the Lord shall fall into it;
    their souls abhorred me and my soul also _abhorred_ them.—Reprobate
    silver shall men call them, because the Lord hath _rejected_ them.—I
    will profess unto you I _never_ knew you.—A stone of stumbling, a
    rock of offence to both the houses of Israel for a gin and a snare,
    and many among them _shall_ stumble and fall and be _broken_, and
    _snared_ and _taken_.—Behold this child is set _for_ the fall of many
    in Israel.—I thank thee, oh Father, that thou hast _hid_ these things
    _from_ the wise and prudent.—Not _many_ rich are _called_.—But the
    wicked _shall_ do wickedly, and _shall not_ understand.—To the one we
    are a savour of death unto death.—Whosoever hath not, from him shall
    be _taken_ that which he seemeth to have.—But ye believe not because
    ye are _not_ of my sheep.—To them it is _not_ given, the world
    _cannot_ receive, the natural man _cannot_ discern.—_No_ man _can_
    come to me to me except the Father draw him.—For when he would have
    inherited the blessing he was rejected.—For there are certain men
    crept in unawares who were before of old _ordained_ to this
    condemnation.—_I_ also will choose their delusions—And many false
    prophets _shall_ arise and deceive many.—For it is a people of no
    understanding; therefore he that made them will _not_ have mercy upon
    them, and he that formed them will shew them _no_ favour.—They which
    are the children of the flesh are _not_ the children of God.—But
    because ye are not of the _world_, therefore the _world_ hateth you.
    Behold ye despisers, and wonder and perish.  I will work a work in
    which you _shall in no wise believe_.—You shall _not_ believe, ye
    shall seek me and shall _not_ find me.—And if the prophet be
    deceived, I the Lord have deceived that prophet, and I will destroy
    him.—So then it is not of him that _willeth_, nor of him that
    _runneth_.—For judgment I am come into this world that those which
    see _might_ be made blind.—_Make_ the heart of this people gross, and
    _make_ their ears heavy lest they see, hear, understand, convert and
    be healed.—And for this cause _God shall_ send them strong delusions
    that they _should_ believe a lie, that they _all may_ be damned who
    believe not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness.—Evil men
    and seducers _shall_ wax worse and worse.—It shall be a bridle in the
    jaws of the people, _causing_ them to err.—They perish for ever,
    without _any_ regarding it.—Ye shall seek me, and _shall_ die in your
    sins.—Many are called, but _few_ chosen.—He that is unjust, _let_ him
    be unjust still; and he that is filthy, _let_ him be filthy
    still.—But the miry places shall be _given_ to salt.—But these, as
    natural brute beasts, _made_ to be taken and destroyed, and _shall_
    utterly perish in their own corruptions.—This is the portion of a
    wicked man from God, and the heritage _appointed_ unto him by God.—He
    shall divide the _sheep_ from the goats—Whom he will he
    _hardeneth_.—The Lord _bid_ Shimei to curse David, _moved_ David to
    number the people, _stirred_ up Joseph’s brethren to sell him into
    Egypt, _hardened_ the heart of Pharaoh, _sent_ a lying spirit to
    deceive Ahab, _mingled_ a perverse spirit in the midst of Egypt.—I
    make peace and _create_ evil.—If our gospel be hid, it is hid to them
    that are lost, whose names are _not_ written in the book of life;
    therefore will he give them up.—And Eli’s sons hearkened not unto the
    Lord, because he _would_ destroy them.—It had been better for that
    man if he had never been born.—One shall be taken and another left.”

These are a few of those Scriptures which are so highly offensive to the
Arminian pride of the human heart: I find them very offensive to my proud
heart.  But the Lord is in his holy temple.  Let the earth keep _silence_
before him, and do you give all diligence to make your calling and
election, sure.—Get some solid evidence of your predestination to eternal
life, so as to render it unquestionable, and your labour shall not be in
vain in the Lord.  I cannot conclude this letter without sending you part
of a remarkable speech, delivered in parliament, Jan. 26, 1628, by
Francis Rouse, esq. a member of the House of Commons.

    “We have of late entered into consideration of the petition of right,
    and the violation of it, and upon good reasons; for it concerns our
    goods, liberties and lives.  But there is a right of an higher
    nature—a right of religion, derived to us from the King of Kings,
    confirmed to us by the kings of this kingdom, and enacted by laws in
    this place: streaming down to us in the blood of the martyrs, and
    witnessed from Heaven by miracles, even miraculous deliverances.—And
    this right, in the name of this nation, I this day claim; and desire
    that there may be a deep and serious consideration of the violations
    of it.

    “I desire, first, it may be considered what new paintings are laid on
    the old face of the whore of Babylon, to make her more lovely, and to
    draw more suiters to her.

    “I desire that it may be considered, how the See of Rome doth eat
    into our religion, and fret into the banks and walls of it; by which
    banks and walls I mean the laws and statutes of this realm.

    “I desire that we may consider the increase of Arminianism: an error
    that maketh the grace of God lacquey it after the will of man; that
    maketh the sheep to keep the shepherd; and makes mortal seed of the
    immortal God.  I desire that we may look into the very belly and
    bowels of the Trojan horse, to see if there be not in it men ready to
    open the gates to Romish tyranny and Spanish monarchy.  For an
    Arminian is the spawn of a <DW7>; and if there come the warmth of
    court favour upon him, you shall see him turned into one of those
    frogs that arise out of the bottomless pit.

    “If ye mark it well, you shall see an Arminian reaching out his hand
    to a <DW7>; a <DW7> to a Jesuit; a Jesuit gives one hand to the
    Pope, and the other hand to the king of Spain.  And these men (that
    is the Arminians, then newly sprung up) having kindled fire in our
    neighbour’s country, (that is in the Dutch provinces) have now
    brought over some of it hither, to set on flame this kingdom also.”

   Heu, pietes!  Heu, prisca fides!
   Alas, Religion!  Alas antient faith!

I must also recommend to your diligent attention “Dr. Owen, on
Arminianism,”—“Dr. Gill’s cause of God and Truth,”—“Huntington’s Arminian
Skeleton, and Funeral of Arminianism,” with Mr. Toplady’s “More Work for
John Wesley.”  Praying for a spirit of judgment (_Isaiah_ iv.) and
burning, that the filth, (_the Arminianism_) of the daughters of Zion may
be purged, according to his very precious promise.  Many shall be
purified and made white, and tried: not forgetting the exhortation that
speaketh to you as to children.  “Let thy garments be always white, and
thine head lack no ointment: let thy fountain be always blessed, and
rejoice with the _wife_ of thy youth (the _truth_ as it is in Christ);
let her be as the loving hind and the pleasant roe; let her breasts (of
consolation) satisfy thee at all times, and be thou always ravished with
her love; and why wilt thou my son be ravished with a strange woman,
(error) and embrace the bosom of a stranger, for the ways of man are
before the Lord, and he pondereth his _goings_.”—_Proverbs_ v.  But the
Lord is faithful, which will establish you and keep you from evil.

                                                       Yours, truly, J. C.



LETTER XXIII.


    “Howbeit when _He_, the Spirit of Truth, is come, He will guide you
    into all truth.”

To —

We have a just right to record the deliverances which the Most High God
has wrought out for us.  I have, in my humble degree, done so; and
although it may incur the displeasure of many, I could not avoid it.  I
consider such acknowledgments a part of the glory due to God.  Hence the
promise “I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.”  And I must
also acquaint you with a few more of these great deliverances which I
have experienced by his grace, in leading me from the paths of death to
the fountain of life.  I can never be sufficiently thankful that he has
opened to me the law of the wise, that I might escape from the _snares_
of death, which I consider consist in opposition to God’s revealed
truths.  In my last I informed you of deliverance from the shackles of
Arminianism; and in a former letter, from the dreadful heresy of denying
the godhead and personality both of the dear Redeemer and the Holy
Spirit.  But though delivered, I was, and am frequently beset by the
enemies of the doctrine of the adorable Trinity in Unity.  This has often
grieved me sorely, especially in seasons of weakness, when satan,
unbelief and carnal reason seemed to triumph in my mind.  The glorious,
holy and sublime doctrine of the Trinity, in the essential Unity, is
clearly revealed in the word of God, and without attempting to
comprehend, it is enough for us to believe.  After I had been much
perplexed in my mind, I bless God that he ever condescended to open the
subject satisfactorily, and as he was pleased to use means for this
purpose: the best I have ever seen, and the most conclusive, is the book
I have already mentioned, the excellent “Jones, on the Catholic Doctrine
of the Trinity,” and by his masterly comparisons of one Scripture with
another, he has clearly proved that point, by shewing that the Unity of
the Sacred Three is maintained in the sacred _names_, _attributes_ and
_acts_ of the Sacred Three.

_Isaiah_, xliv. 24.  “I am the Lord that maketh all things, that
stretcheth forth the heavens _alone_, that spreadeth abroad the earth by
myself.”

_Psalm_, xxxiii. 6.  “By the word of the Lord were the heavens made, and
all the host of them by the _breath_ of his mouth—the _spirit_ of his
mouth.”

Therefore the Father, with the word and spirit, are the _alone_, Lord and
Creator of all things.

It has been proved, again and again, that the word _Lord_, when printed
in capital letters, always signifies Jehovah.

_Deut._ vi. 4.  “The Lord our God is one Jehovah.”

_Jeremiah_, xxiii, 6.  “This is the name whereby he shall be called,
Jehovah our righteousness; so is the Spirit also.”

_Ezekiel_, viii. 1, 3.  “The Lord Jehovah put forth the form of an hand,
and took me up, and the Spirit lifted me up.”

Therefore the Father, Son and Spirit are the one Jehovah; they are
_three_ persons, yet have but _one name_ and _nature_.

_Matthew_, xv. 31.  “The multitude glorified the God of Israel.”

_Luke_, xvi. 17.  “The children of Israel shall return to the Lord their
God, and he shall go before them.”

2 _Samuel_, xxiii. 23.  “The Spirit of the Lord spake by me, and the Rock
of Israel said unto me.”

Therefore the Trinity in Unity is the God of Israel.

_Deut._ vi. 16.  “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.”

1 _Cor._ x. 9.  “Neither let us tempt Christ.”

_Acts_, v. 9.  “How is it that ye have agreed to tempt the Spirit of the
Lord?”

Here the whole Trinity is represented as tempted and visited.

The mind and will of God is the mind and will of a Trinity in Unity.

1 _Cor._ ii. 14.  “Who hath known the _mind_ of God.”

_Ibid._  “We have the _mind_ of Christ.”

_Rom._ xxvii.  “He that searcheth the hearty knoweth what is the _mind_
of the Spirit.”

1 _Thes._ iv. 3.  “This is the will of God.”

_Acts_, xxii. 14.  “The God of our fathers hath chosen thee, that thou
shouldest know his will.”

This is meant of Christ and of his will.  _Acts_, ix. 15, 16.

2 _Peter_, xxi.  “Prophecy came not in old times by the will of men, but
holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.”

The power of God is the power of the Trinity in Unity.

_Eph._ iii. 7.  “The grace of God given unto me by the effectual working
of his power.”

2 _Cor._ xii. 9.  “That the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

_Rom._ xv. 19.  “Signs and wonders by the power of the Spirit of God.”


TRUE.


“He that sent me is true.”

“These things saith he that is holy, he that is true.”

“It is the spirit that beareth witness, because the spirit is truth.”


HOLY.


“For thou only art holy.”

“But ye denied the Holy One.”

“Ye have an unction from the Holy one, the anointing.”


OMNIPRESENT.


“Do I not fill heaven and earth, saith the Lord.”

“The fulness of him (Christ) that filleth all in all.”

“Whither shall I go from thy Spirit; if to heaven, thou art there, or
hell, thou art there also.”


LIFE.


“Love the Lord thy God, for he is thy life.”

“When Christ, who is our life, shall appear.”

“The spirit is life.”

“The Trinity in Unity, made all mankind.”

“The Lord he is God, he it is that hath made us.”

“By him (Christ) were all things made.”

“The Spirit of God hath made me.”


RESURRECTION OF CHRIST.


“God hath raised up the Lord, and shall raise us up by his _own power_.”

“Destroy this temple, and in three days _I will raise it up_.”

“Being put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit.”


LEADING.


“I am the Lord thy God, which _leadeth_ thee by the way.”

“He (Christ) calleth his own by name and _leadeth_ them out.”

“As many as are _led_ by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.”


SANCTIFICATION.


“Sanctified by God the Father.”

“He that sanctifieth, and they who are sanctified, are all of one.”

“Being sanctified by the Holy Ghost.”

I might quote many more Scriptures to prove this very interesting
subject, and produce a thousand arguments, but if they hear not Moses and
the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the
dead: it is no small mercy to believe, and receive the truth in the love
of it, and to be fully persuaded in our own minds, of the truth, as it is
in Jesus.  On the word of God’s truth I rest, without asking a thousand
carnal questions, remembering Him that hath said, “What is that to thee,
follow thou me.”  The above Scriptures, thus arranged, with many more by
the above author, and Mr. Huntington’s book, “Contemplations on the God
of Israel,” which, in my humble opinion, exceeds all that that good man
wrote.  These were the means of establishing my mind on this great
subject, and delivering my soul from a thousand perplexities, for which I
can never be too thankful.

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER XXIV.


    ‘“But watch thou in all things.”

To —

I have often intimated to you the necessity of keeping a sort of diary,
and minuting down some of the Lord’s dealings with you: this has a
tendency to excite watchfulness, prayer, and gratitude.  I do not mean
that you should minute down all, as that might appear ostentatious; and
forgetting all, as a mark of ingratitude.  However, for those that have
time and ability for such a work, it must greatly add to their joy and
improvement in the divine life, and at the close of the year, to retrace
written memorandums of the Lord’s dealings, would greatly felicitate the
mind, and strike the soul with wonder.  “Who is wise will observe these
things, and he shall understand the loving kindness of the Lord.”  I will
transcribe the short memorandums of a few days, to stir you up to adopt
the same method, as it will reward you in the end.

Saturday.—Awoke this morning, dull, dejected, and unfit for study; very
little life in prayer, and even a degree of reluctance to pray.  What a
mercy necessity compelled me to arise and go unto my Father! and after
some time sitting before the Lord, I felt a degree of spirituality.  Some
precious subjects opened to my view, which I put into the hands of the
ever blessed Spirit, to bring to my mind when I should stand in need of
them.  Closed the day in spiritual conversation and prayer with our
friends Mr. and Mrs. —.

Sunday.—Early this morning visited with these sweet words; “Oh, go your
way into his courts with thankfulness, and into his gates with praise; be
thankful to him, and speak good of his name.”  Predicted I should have a
good day, and so it proved; but surely satan envied it, for at night my
feet had well nigh slipped.  Closed the day very dejectedly.  Alas! what
poor returns of love hath my Creator found, what cause of shame and
confusion for such ingratitude; oh, for more conformity to his blessed
image.

Monday.—Weak in body, low in mind, sadly harrassed.  Many useless
visitors upon mere trivial affairs, with the wretched reflection upon a
debt owing to —.  Could find no text to preach upon in the evening.
Fretful, peevish, and in much bondage.  Yet oh! the patience and
forbearance of God!  How sweetly supported, supplied and melted in the
house of God, in preaching on _John_ xvi. 27.  Received the same evening
a present from a lady, which relieved my anxious mind and confounded my
unbelief.  Closed the day in holy wonder and admiration at the grace and
providence of God.

Tuesday.—I almost grieve I let sleep close my eyes last night; my frame
is changed again; corruption sin and folly has interrupted me, disturbed
my mind, prevented communion with God in meditation, prayer and reading;
irregular passion let loose to vex me.  Oh, that I could fly from myself!
In vain I wish a solitary life, a cave, or the place of the way-faring
man; I should carry the same nature with me there: I sink in despondency
about the renovation of this sinful nature; but, blessed be God for Jesus
Christ, in whom his people stand complete.  A clear spiritual
apprehension of this warms my heart, and again carries me above all my
horrid feelings.

   Beset with snares on every hand,
   In life’s uncertain path I stand.

Wednesday.—Blest with a spirit of prayer, diligence in reading, and clear
light in the Word.  Read a little of “Dr. Owen, on Communion with God,”
“Dr. Goodwin, on the Condition of the Creatures,” “Gospel Magazine,”
“Huntington’s Moral Law not Injured by the Everlasting Gospel.” &c.

    “My willing soul would stay
    In such a frame as this.”

No exstacies or ravishing joys, but a solid satisfaction of soul, by the
knowledge and reception of truth.  Very happy in preaching this evening,
on “Is thine heart right.”

Thursday.—Lost much time to day in needless visits and trifling company,
disputed with a Swedenborgian for three hours, about some of the grand
truths of the Word, but I saw no good effects in my opponent.  I am
thankful I was kept cool and deliberate all the time.  I dislike
disputes, and always very reluctantly enter the lists, but when compelled
I never keep back; the religion that is not worth contending _for_, is
not worth having.  A good man once observed, _that_ was always a lost day
wherein he neither _got_ any good, nor _did_ any good; such days are
painful to reflect upon.  I gained one thing to day—a grateful heart for
the knowledge of the truth.

Friday.—Received a gracious answer to prayer in the opening of a very
great subject in the Word of God; also an answer to prayer in a
providential way.  Some time previous, a sweet portion was sent to my
soul; but the fulfilment of the promise evidences it to be of God’s
sending: thousands boast of promises applied, but it is the
_accomplishment_ proves them to be of God.  He that hath received his
testimony, hath set to his seal that God is true.  Comfortable in
preaching in the evening.

Sunday.—A good day to my soul.  Felt much light and liberty in all my
subjects; the Lord gave me power of utterance.  Preached in the morning
on that ambiguous portion, “Behold the man is become one of us.”  Opposed
a prevailing error, concerning the oneness of absolute Deity and a
sinner.  Shewed Adam was a type of Christ, in about twenty-four
particulars: applied the text to Christ as God-man; 2, to Adam, as
restored to God’s image; 3, to every believer as converted to God:
noticed the last part.  Gave the opinion of commentators, and then what
views I had of it.

Afternoon.—The opening of the passion week.  The eventful circumstances
of the last week of our Lord’s humiliation is always very affecting to my
mind.  Preached on his riding to Jerusalem.  In the evening, his weeping
over Jerusalem, entering into the temple, and return to Bethany.  A
solemn day throughout.

Monday.—Met with many things to grieve me, but several peculiar
providences cheered my heart.  Preached in the evening on the Saviour’s
cursing the fig-tree.  Oh! what a mercy to be in Christ, and grafted into
the true tree of life, that we may bring forth fruit unto God.

Tuesday.—Visited several sick beds, and dear families who had been
visited by death, prayed with some, but sorely shut up with others; this
was painful indeed.  Preached same evening on the poor widow and her two
mites; and what have I to cast into the fulness of Christ, but my soul
and my body; not to enrich, but to be enriched.

Wednesday.—Read Ambrose Christopher Vess, and other good writers.
Preached in the evening on the Saviour washing the disciples’ feet.
Alas! our daily errors and infirmities need washing away in the blood of
the Lamb, by the word of God, and the influence of the Spirit.

Thursday.—A particular solemn day.  Viewed with sacred delight, the
thirty-three years of our Lord’s obedience to the law, for the
justification of his Church, and now I behold him hastening to the awful
entrance upon his direful sufferings and death, to put away sin.
Preached in the evening on “They shall shew you a large upper room,
furnished, there make ready.”  Gave the sacrament between eight and nine
o’clock, to about 300 persons; all was solemn and impressive; I was
sweetly supported and a little melted.  Oh, that it had been more so.

    For canst thou, ungrateful man, his sorrows see,
    Nor drop one tear for him who shed his blood for thee.

Good Friday.—Preached in the morning on _Ephesians_, i.  I felt the power
of the subject, and nearly at times overwhelmed, but kept up under the
description of the Saviour’s sorrows; blessed also with a lively hope; he
died for me.  Preached in the evening upon his burial, and predicted
resurrection, 41st _Psalm_.  A solemn and blessed day.

Saturday.—Led to some precious portions of God’s word, though rather dead
in mind and tired in body.  Same day buried a dear friend, conversed and
prayed with the family in the evening.

Easter Sunday morning.—Blessed with spirituality, though a little
indisposed in body.  Preached on the Seven Resurrections, but enlarged on
our resurrection state in Christ, from _Romans_ vi.

Afternoon.—Preached on _Habakuk_, iii. 2.  “Wilt thou not revive us
again.”  In the evening, a funeral sermon for a beloved friend, whose
life was spiritual, and whose death was blessed; the text _John_ xi.  “I
am the resurrection,” &c.  But alas! how flat and insipid I felt, yet God
blessed the word.

I look back with gratitude on what the Lord has done for me, and rejoice
that amidst the many changes I experience in body, soul and
circumstances, in the Church and in the world, he is the same yesterday,
to day and for ever; in his love, in his purposes, in his covenant, in
his word, and in his faithfulness.  Oh, could I know and love him more.

    “For Lord I would be thine alone,
       And wholly live in thee;
    Take all that I possess below,
       And give thyself to me.”

I only send you this as a short specimen of a few memorandums I wish you
to make and keep by you; you will often find the benefit of reviewing
them.—Hence the order, “Set thee up way-marks, make thee high heaps.”
These memorandums are as Gilead, an heap of witnesses, and ye are my
witnesses saith the Lord.

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER XXV.


    “Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith.”

To —

The work of God, Father, Son, and Spirit, was ever opposed by satan and
his emissaries _in_ all the grand displays of his favour to his dear
people, _in_ the open manifestation of his love, _in_ the accomplishment
of our redemption, _in_ the proclamation of pardon and mercy in the
gospel, and _in_ the operations of the ever-blessed Spirit on the hearts
of his chosen.  It is the last point I now beg you to notice; there are
greater and more mischievous foes to this work than to any other, because
this opposition generally comes from a quarter where one would hardly
expect it; _some_ profest Christians deny it entirely; _others_ admit it
in part only, as an assistant to the creature.  The apostle has addressed
such characters in this pointed speech.  “Beware, lest that come on you
which was spoken by the prophet, ‘Behold ye despisers and wonder, and
perish, for I work a work in your days; a work in which you shall in no
wise believe, though a man declare it unto you.’”  You may talk to many
about the works of creation and redemption, and they may give credit to
it; but if you talk to them about the work of God the Holy Spirit on the
heart, they will hiss like a serpent, and soon manifest their enmity to
you and the work itself.  But, my dear friend, although God has been
pleased to begin, and is actually carrying on this work in our hearts,
have we not more formidable foes within: are not our inward enemies worse
than every outward foe?  Let me appeal to your conscience.  Do you not at
times give way to doubting, and God-dishonouring unbelief?  Do you not
lie against your right, and offend the Lord in a fit of ingratitude, and
too often indulge your suspicions and your complaints?  Is not this
giving place to satan, to harrass your mind, and keep up the distance
between God, and your soul; setting you at questioning the reality of a
work of grace in the heart, and begetting a fear in your soul that you
are nothing but an hypocrite?  The world, perhaps, joins in it and says
the same: oh, you are nothing but an hypocrite.  Perhaps providence seems
contrary, troubles befal you, the members of the same church are
permitted to suspect your religion, and condemn you only as an hypocrite.
Under this opposition I have sighed and wept.  Yet will you believe it,
even this has done me much good: the fears of being an hypocrite, and
being found so in death and judgment, have driven me to pray that God
would _make_ me sincere and without offence.  By persevering in prayer I
have obtained fresh light; the Lord has cast a ray on the track he has
led me; and by reading the word I have been enabled to compare my past
and present case with the word of God: this has often afforded me joy and
peace in believing: not that I make my experience a foundation of hope,
but I look upon some Bible parts of experience to be tokens for good,
way-marks, evidences, and infallible signs and proofs of the electing
love of God and of redemption from woe.  The method I have found good to
adopt has been the following:—

First, I have considered the characters specified in the Bible, to whom
the promises and invitations belong: these persons are described clearly
by such terms, and couched in such words as the very weakest believer may
comprehend, sometimes as expressive of his feelings, and the views which
he has of himself, in himself; so that when faith is too weak to
apprehend what we are in Christ, it is busied about what we are in
ourselves, as described in the word, and as we are led to _feel_, _see_,
_lament_ and _acknowledge_ the same before God and man.  For instance,
the word of God has set forth our state as dead, blind, captive,
alienated from God, filled with enmity, rebellion, pride and unbelief.
An acquaintance with these things as inherent in our nature is peculiar
only to God’s people: all men are by nature in this state, but the
children of God are the only persons who see it, feel it and lament it,
and prize the remedy God has provided.  When I have heard or read sermons
and authors speak of the dignity and excellency of human nature, I have
felt disgusted, because I know, first, what the Bible has declared of
human nature, and secondly, I have had the painful feelings of these
things; I have felt my deadness, I have seen my blindness, I have felt my
bondage, and saw, with horror, my distance and want of conformity to God.
I have been brought into such circumstances as to feel my rebellion
against a holy and a just God, his law, his gospel, his people and his
sovereign dispensations: the Lord has shown me my pride of heart, and I
have felt shut up in unbelief; I have seen my weakness, and been led
captive by sin, satan and the world; and to this day feel the tyranny of
sin; though, blessed be God, sin is not my sovereign, it _rages_, but it
does not _reign_.  A view, a deep heart-felt acquaintance with these
things is feeling the plague of the heart; and deep as our knowledge may
be of this desperate sore, not one half can ever be known by us.  It was
a good saying of Mr. Whitfield’s, “There are two mysteries we can never
comprehend, the mystery of Godliness, as set forth in the gospel, and the
mystery of iniquity which works in the heart.”  No one can possibly prize
the holy person and precious work of Christ, but those who are led by the
Spirit into an acquaintance with their own hearts.  This knowledge of the
human heart distinguishes a believer from an hypocrite, and a mere carnal
professor; it is the most painful part of our experience, but it is very
useful.  The full loatheth an honeycomb, but to the hungry soul every
bitter thing is sweet; and as the ever blessed Spirit leads us on to know
our desperate vileness, so we see the justice of God in our condemnation,
by the holy law which we have violated; we see the sin of Adam in a most
awful light, and view it imputed to us, and condemning us.  These things
are better understood than it is possible to write them.  I beg leave to
observe once more, this knowledge of the human heart is gradual; we saw a
little of it at our first setting out, but what do we see now.  Hence the
command to _Ezekiel_, “Turn again, son of man, thou shalt yet see greater
abominations than these.”  Oh! the patience and forbearance of God with
such hell-deserving sinners.  Oh! the love of his heart, and the
greatness, freeness, and power of his grace, give, oh, give him the glory
for ever.

                                                              Yours, J. C.



LETTER XXVI.


    “For the Spirit itself, _Himself_ beareth witness with our Spirits,
    that we are the children of God, and if children, then heirs.”

To —

One of the very great errors of the present day in which we live amongst
our professing churches, is not giving to God the Holy Ghost, the glory
of his distinct personality in the Godhead, in perfect equality with the
Father and the Son, adoring and worshiping him as a person in God, and
making him the object of our faith, hope and love.  We confess that he is
equally interested in our salvation, but do we give him equal praise?  I
fear not.  It is a mercy to be divinely led to understand the
personality, divinity, covenant offices and work of God the Holy Spirit;
the different characters he bears to his people, and in which he is
presented to our view in his own word as an advocate, reprover,
comforter, sanctifier, teacher, leader, sealer, glorifier and _witness_
of Jesus in his word, and to the hearts of his own dear people, for which
he is well qualified as the spirit of knowledge, a spirit of judgment,
and a spirit of truth; and he that believeth on the Son of God hath the
witness in himself, because the Spirit has taken the great things of
Christ, and shewn them to his soul; for all the spiritual knowledge we
have of Christ is by his teaching, and in no other way: the Holy Spirit
has borne his witness of Christ as God in the language of _Isaiah_, “His
name shall be called the mighty God and of his Sonship, and I saw and
bare record that this is the Son of God, and of the person, work and
offices of the Redeemer.  He shall testify of me.”  This he has
graciously done in the word, and to the souls of all his elect redeemed
ones in all ages.  He also is a witness with, or to the hearts of his
people.  Hence the apostle asserts that the Lord’s people are heirs of
God, and joint-heirs with Christ; being interested in God as the covenant
God of his people _in_ Christ, and _with_ Christ, as the head of the
Church, and heir of all things, and although they are put into the
possession of _some_ of the _all_ things to which they are heirs,—and
their spirits, or consciences, can witness the fact—yet there are sad
seasons, when we are permitted to doubt it ourselves, and in which this
may be disputed by Satan.  We have indeed much to accuse ourselves of.
Sin has a voice against us—natural conscience has a voice, and is always
finding fault, and the devil is sure to accuse us right or wrong; and
declare we have no part in David, nor no inheritance in the Son of Jesse.
Till these accusers are borne down by better witnesses, and where the one
fails the other is sure to prove victorious.  The first witness is our
spirit, an enlightened conscience—and the second is the holy
condescending spirit of truth, the infallible witness.—Good men have
called this twofold witness, the common and the uncommon, or the ordinary
and extraordinary witness.  The former is at all times in the believer’s
heart, and by a ray of divine light, it is given him to discover it.
Conscience can bear witness of the work of God upon the soul, and draw
its inference upon a review of the Lord’s dealings with it, as Manoah’s
wife did.  If the Lord had been pleased to have destroyed us, he would
not have done this, nor would he have told us such things as he has.
Conscience bears its testimony to the work of God on the soul _within_,
by comparing it with the word of God _without_, and this is done by
proving that our minds have been opened to receive God’s testimony of
Christ; what he is, and what he has done; and this not in a bare rational
way, however clear, but that we have so received him, as to believe in
him, desire him, call upon him, prize him, trust him, hold communion with
him, and most earnestly desire to live to his glory; and as we have
received him, so to walk in him, be conformed to his image, and spend a
blest eternity with him, to love all that he loves, and to hate all that
he hates.  Conscience bears witness of our sincerity in these things.
This is the witness of conscience, and it is a mercy to hear it speak
amidst the host of witnesses against us.  Satan’s accusation, as in the
case of Job before God, accusing him of hypocrisy, although God had
declared he was the most sincere character in the world—and in the
business of Joshua, the high priest, satan stood at his right hand to
resist him, as it had long before been predicted of Judas.  “Set thou a
wicked man over him, and let satan stand at his right hand.”  The world
is also waiting to accuse, longing for every opportunity to ridicule the
religion of the Son of God.  Mere professors are all upon the watch, and
even preachers, who are inimical to truth.  “My mother’s children were
angry with me—_not_ my father’s, but my mother’s, children—all my
familiars watched for my halting, they said peradventure he will be
enticed, and we shall prevail against him.  The watchmen found me, they
smote me, they wounded me, they took away my veil from me.”  Natural
conscience legally biassed, and external appearances in the dispensations
of Providence leads us on till we exclaim in the passionate language of
Jacob, “All these things are against me.”  Falling amongst thieves, we
are stripped and wounded, and left half dead; or to keep up the metaphor,
these witnesses would swear us out of our eternal life.  But blessed be
God, conscience can witness to the sincerity of our souls, the reality of
our faith _that_ it is unfeigned, the goodness of our hope _that_ it is
founded upon the person and work of Christ; _that_ our love to God, and
all that is dear to him is without dissimulation, and _the_ desires of
our souls are to Christ and the glory of his name.  Yet, alas! what sad
seasons of darkness, doubts and fears come on till these clouds which
come betwixt, are dispersed by some precious manifestation of love; the
holy spirit creating in the mind some very precious exalted views of
Christ, clear apprehensions of the love of God, his secret purposes, and
decrees the glorious covenant of redemption, the gracious transactions of
each adorable person in the Trinity, respecting the salvation of the
church; the truth as it is in Christ producing holy meltings of soul, and
filling it with all joy and peace in believing; sometimes cloathing the
word with such power as fills the mind with extacy; suddenly visiting the
soul with light, life and love, and indulging us with sweet sensible
communion with Father, Son and Spirit: this is an infallible witness.
These things form no part of the salvation which is in Christ; yet they
are very valuable tokens of God’s high approbation of us in Christ: these
should be coveted by us—prayed for, that our joy might be full.  This is
a spiritual baptism indeed, of which water baptism is an outward and
visible sign; this is being immersed in the spirit, and filled with the
spirit; and those who have not yet attained should tarry in Jerusalem
till they be endued with this power from on high.  Peter calls it
rejoicing with joy unspeakable, and full of glory; and although many of
the Old Testament saints had glorious manifestations, yet this spiritual
baptism is more clearly revealed, and is peculiar to the New Testament
dispensation.  If my reader complains he has not yet arrived at these
things, nor been thus favoured with such extraordinary witness of the
spirit, it is still our mercy to rejoice the holy spirit has began the
good work in our hearts, and as that is made manifest, it is the witness
of the spirit _to_ us that we belong to God; and while his gracious power
is afforded to conscience, it is the Spirit _with_ our spirit, bearing
testimony that we are his people, heirs of God, and joint heirs with
Christ; for as many as are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of
God.  The Lord be pleased to bless the reading of this simple statement
of this important work to your heart, that you may rejoice in Christ,
worship God the Spirit, be favoured with clearer views of the Father’s
love, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.  This witness of the
spirit is the Lord’s secret with the righteous; it is the deep mystery of
faith, it is a path that no foot knoweth, and that the vulture’s eye hath
not seen; it is one of the mysteries the Saviour gives his disciples to
know, and which is hidden from the wise and prudent (in their own
esteem).  This work is a mystery at times, even to the real possessor; in
fact, all he is, all he knows, all he feels, and all he meets with is
very mysterious to him; he is a complete paradox to himself and all
others—he is a riddle.  This reminds me of what the excellent Erskine
says in his “Gospel Sonnets,” to which I must refer you, but cannot pass
by a few verses without transcribing them from his riddle.

   To works, but not to working dead,
   From sin, but not from sinning freed;
   I clear myself from no offence,
   Yet wash my hands in innocence;
   I’m still at ease, and still opprest,
   Have constant troubles, constant rest,
   Both clear and cloudy, free and bound,
   Both dead and living, lost and found.
   My inward foes, that me alarm,
   Breed me much hurt, yet little harm;
   I get no good by them, yet see,
   To my chief good they make me flee;
   I’m innocent, yet guilty still,
   I sin against, and with my will.
   Though fain I’d be the greatest saint,
   To be the least I’d be content;
   Down like a stone I sink and dive,
   Yet daily upward soar and thrive;
   To heaven I fly, to earth I tend,
   Still better grow, yet never mend;
   Mine enemies that seek my hurt,
   Of all their bad designs come short;
   They serve me duly to my mind,
   With favours that they ne’er design’d:
   The fury of my foes makes me,
   Fast to my peaceful refuge flee,
   And every persecuting elf,
   Does make me understand myself;
   Their slanders cannot work my shame,
   Their vile reproaches raise my name:
   In peace with heaven, my soul can dwell,
   E’en when they damn me down to hell.

I could quote a great deal more, but must request you to read the work
itself and you will find a scriptural description of the mystery of the
saint’s life, warfare and state; and while you are at times perplexed
about yourself, may you be led to enjoy the clear witness of the Holy
Spirit in your soul, this will comfort you in life, cheer you in death,
and let this be our daily prayer.

   Witness _in_ us, _by_ us, _for_ us,
      With thine agency divine,
   Nor in that great day deny us,
      When the saints in glory shine;
   Then bear witness
      Of our souls, that they are thine.—Amen.

                                                              Yours, J. C.

                                * * * * *

Thus I have compiled with the request of those who so earnestly solicited
a brief account of my life to the fortieth year.  In a second edition I
shall see great reasons for omitting some things which I have inserted,
and introducing others of greater importance; also of correcting the
errors of this little work, in the hasty printing of it. {270}  I have
been obliged to be thus brief, owing to a variety of circumstances.  If I
am spared I shall add a third part to this work: at present, reader,
whether friend or foe, I bid you farewell, praying that we may experience
more grace in the heart, more knowledge in the understanding, and more
love to the Friend of sinners; that we may live more devotedly to his
glory; being redeemed from the hands of them which hate us, we may serve
him in holiness and righteousness all the days of our lives.—Amen.

                                * * * * *

                         END OF THE SECOND PART.

                                * * * * *

R. Weston, Printer, Crosby Row, Southwark.

                                * * * * *




FOOTNOTES.


{17}  I beg leave to remark, the appearance of spirits in this lower
world has been the subject of much controversy.  Some believe it, others
do not.  Some ask the question, how can a spirit be seen?  I ask another
question, how were angels seen by the people of God in old times?—Read
_Job_, iv. 12 to 18, and doubt the subject if you can.  I refer you to
Dr. Watts on Separate Spirits, and the great Ambrose on the Ministration
of Angels.

{33}  I should not have related this simple tale, but for a reason which
you will find in the Second Part of my History, of the dealings of God
with my soul in spiritual experience.

{51}  An account of the present state of this school will be given in a
subsequent number.

{86}  Of an external nature, but the blind pharisees who wrote them
forget their own hearts; I beg such to read _Matthew_ xv. from 1st to
20th verse.

{90}  Not sacrament money, as hundreds know I have nothing to do with
that; though my accuser has, as I am informed.

{91}  With a motley group of —.

{106}  See Poem on Spiritual Birth, by Mr. Huntington.

{110}  In the printed book this page is numbered 112, but is on the back
of page 109, so the page number has been corrected in this
transcription.—DP.

{114}  _Numbers_, xxii, 29.

{117}  Of Moses—_Acts_, xxi 20, to the end.

{124}  And, of course, illegally.

{127}  History of Little Faith.

{128}  This reminds as of “_Non mi ricordo_!”

{164}  I am well pleased to see an exposure of some of the errors in the
“Whole Duty of Man,” inserted in the “Gospel Magazine,” vol. 8, new
series; a book, the writer remarks, that has gone through more
impressions than any other work, the Bible and Common Prayer excepted—The
“Whole Duty of Man,” “New Week’s Preparation,” “Companion to the Altar,”
&c. are books forming no part of my small library: for of such books and
their admirers, it may be truly said—“They are blind leaders of the
blind, both shall fall into the ditch.”  For, as Mr. Huntington solemnly
remarks—“If he is cursed of God, that causeth the blind to wander out of
the way, to what a curse must that man be entitled, that gives him his
hand to lead him into the ditch.”  The author of that miserable
performance says, of parents’ duty to children “a duty that belongs to
their souls, is their bringing them to the sacrament of _baptism_,
whereby to procure them early right to all those precious advantages
which that sacrament _conveys_ to them.”  This is a duty the parents
ought not to delay, it being most reasonable that they who have been
instruments to convey the stain and pollution of sin to the poor infant,
should be very earnest and industrious to have it _washed off as soon as
may be_.  Yea, Mr. John Wesley says—“that he lost all the grace that was
given to him in his _baptism_, by then he was ten years old.”  And who
can doubt it?  On the Lord’s Supper, the above author says—“When thou art
about to receive the _consecrated_ bread and wine, remember that God now
offers to seal to thee that new covenant made with mankind, in his Son;
but then remember that this is all upon _condition_ that thou performest
_thy part_ of the new covenant.”  On alms-giving it is stated, “that the
_motive_ is to be the hope of that eternal _reward_ promised to this
performance—to gain a _title_ to endless felicities, and to be sure to
make this our _sole aim_.”  On the mercy of the gift of Christ to man, we
have a curious account.  Speaking of the Son of God, “who came to make
known to us the whole _will_ of the Father, in the performance of which
we shall be sure to be _accepted_ and _rewarded_ by him.”  Reader, what
mercy to be _better_ taught!

{169}  One quotation more from the old “Whole Duty of Man.”  That blind
author tells us, “Christ came to enable, or give us strength to _do_ what
God requires of us; this he doth by taking off from the hardness of the
law given to Adam (which was never to commit the least sin, on pain of
damnation) and requiring of us only an _honest_ and hearty endeavour to
_do_ what we are able, and where we _fail_, to accept of _sincere_
repentance.”

How directly contrary to the gospel method of salvation, as laid down in
the Holy Scriptures, and clearly stated in the Prayer Book of the Church
of England, is the above statement of the grand errand of Christ?  “From
all blindness of heart, from all false doctrine, and contempt of thy
Word—Good Lord deliver us.”

{200}  The printer lost count of the letter numbering here and this and
the following are all out but as in the book.—DP.

{229}  Mr. Toplady.

{239}  He that listens, the listener.

{270}  In the book this page is clearly numbered 297, and has page 269 on
the reverse.  It has therefore been renumbered to 270 in this
transcription.—DP.




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