PUBLICATION OF HIS WIFE'S MEMORIALS.

147

MY DEAR SARAH,

Gloucester, Jan. 22, 1823.

SINCE my last, I have often been going to write you, and now I have no time for more than a mere note. Indeed I have no inclination for writing, as my feelings retain their melancholy tendency; and my faith in God, though I would not part with it for a restoration of all that I have lost, is yet often much tried in my present distressing state of bereavement. What have I left of the very great happiness which I lately enjoyed, but its indistinct recollection, the consciousness of present pain which seems as if it had mixed itself with the springs of life, and the heavy-heavy pressure of debts which I know not how to pay? Oh! what am I now? I scarcely myself know how I came here,-what I feel,-why I feel,-when I shall cease to feel. I am sometimes astonished at my cheerfulness, and even levity, of manner and appearance. Alas! alas! Is this your Brother William ? He who so lately was so different? Well; he is in the hands of the Lord, who will now assuredly perfect that which concerns him. Help him by increasing prayers, that He may find a balm for those wounds which the world, and the medicines of creation can never, never heal.

А сору of my dear Love's Memorials I have assigned to you, and

another to Priscilla. O that God may give his blessing, and sanctify every copy, as it is distributed, wherever it goes! I could almost consent, aye, I think, I could quite rejoice to have suffered all this for the sake of the salvation of one soul. Follow the distribution with

your fervent prayers.

Your afflicted,

Widowed Brother,

WILLIAM.

The following is addressed to the young Lady to whom allusion has been already made. See

page 116.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

Gloucester, Feb. 3, 1823.

I WOULD not have you suppose, that I act upon the impulse of an unwelcome compulsion in writing to you, for to say the truth I have felt, in reference to you, great regret that I should

have apparently neglected your affectionate and judicious epistle, which came like a word fitly spoken in the midst of my overbearing sorrows. I acknowledge, however, that I have often felt regret of this kind, but alas! with me no evil is readily conquered; however small, it is inveterate when once it seizes me, and it often gives me pleasure mingled with unaffected distress to think, that the hearts of others are not so deeply depraved as mine. I do not mean, that others by nature are not wholly sinful, and entirely children of wrath, but that they are sinful without such tenacious obstinacy of sinfulness as mine, and polluted without being so invincibly polluted as I am; they conquer evils so much more easily than I can, and triumph in the redemption of Christ Jesus with a delight and a fulness, at which I gaze with astonishment and pleasure. It is indeed a painful view to take of myself, that if there be any superiority in me to others, it lies all on the side of evil. If ever I am so happy as to be where our adorable Redeemer is, and where in humble and rapturous adoration my glorified Anne casts the tokens of her eternal triumphs at his feet, my case will offer an interesting question,-whether divine grace is most glorified by a difficult, or an easy, conquest. It often diminishes the worth of an attainment in human estimation, that it has cost too much, and it is certain that a willing, and a ready, and an unbroken obedience is more according to the will of God, and the duty of a creature, than a constrained, and hesitating, and imperfect submission. Yet where sin hath abounded, grace doth much more abound,' and grace abounding to the chief of sinners,' are favourite topics in earth and heaven. Illustrations of the forbearance of God, of the persevering efforts of His grace, of the long, and ultimately successful, struggle of the Spirit of Jesus over the Spirit that dwelleth in us lusting to envy,' must be valuable to all eternity.

The causes, which drew forth your interesting letter, still continue to operate very painfully on my heart. I will guard myself now from writing freely, much less fully, on this subject, because by so doing I should be only repeating what I have too often said and written. My heavenly Father has been righteously angry with me, for the state of mind in which I have passed much of the seven last years of my life; and He has chastised me very sorely indeed. To him I have not lived in any degree comparable to that which was due from me, a sinner redeemed and borne with almost beyond example. The selfrighteousness, the selfishness, and the deep hypocrisy to myself of my deluded and carnal heart, of which I have been lately convicted in the most painful manner, have utterly amazed, and nearly overwhelmed I had no imagination that my heart could have been so base, as the scrutiny of the light of God has represented it to me. If the experience of others tally with mine, how little-how very little is the

me.

NEW DISCOVERIES OF SIN IN THE HEART.

149

real evil of sin understood and felt! and then, how often is it, in some degree, felt without a hatred deep enough to be always decisive in its avoidance! As to the conquest of it, I fear that I must reproach myself for having often conquered sin, or rather for having avoided its commission, from some selfish principle, either the fear of judgment, or the apprehension of some temporal evil, rather than from a truly spiritual abhorrence of its nature. It is a mercy to have access to the people of God, the followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, in order to acknowledge those hideous faults, which almost destroy faith, and which quite impair the integrity of serving God. I lament, my friend, that the dispositions hitherto produced in me are far from being the most amiable. Should I confess to you, that I am disappointed in my expectations from the results of my dearest Anne's judicial removal from me? I had expected that the Lord would treat me far otherwise. I had anticipated that my lovely, affectionate Anne being gone-torn violently from me, and all the benefits of her society and counsel being broken up, the Redeemer would open for me abundant consolations in himself, and support me with the most sensible supplies of His heavenly grace. Alas! I have never felt my heart more dry, and barren, and rebellious than since that time. My soul has had to sink under the double terrors of my irreparable loss, together with many heavy subsequent afflictions, and the horrors of discovering such hitherto concealed atheism and turpitude of soul as I had not in the least suspected. I have not had that assistance in prayer, or that refuge in the strength of God which, if my condition had been different, I might have enjoyed. I have had only just help enough to keep me free from utter despair, and the apostacy of denying the faith. Oh! shall I, even in heaven, be able to look back upon these dreadful months without trembling at the recollection? Had my Anne known what her William was about to endure, how much more terrifying would her tears have been for her poor husband!'

6

However, let nothing which I have written discourage you, my Friend; had I known myself better, I should not have been so surprised as I have. Live near to God, and use-oh! use the world as not abusing it.' Accept the accompanying copy of my dearest Anne's Memorials; these are all that I have left to represent her, who was so lately my almost all. I commend to your earnest prayers

Your very afflicted Friend,
WILLIAM BARBER.

To his elder Brother.

MY VERY DEAR BROTHER A.

Gloucester, Feb. 3, 1823.

I RECEIVED your affectionate letter this morning, and because I will neither keep you any longer in suspense about my dearest Anne's Memorials, nor precipitately reply to your enquiries, I will write you a note and despatch the parcel at once, and then in a few days I will send you a letter. Neither my afflictions, nor my sorrows, are at an end. I am still in the midst of fiery trials both within and without.- -I am perplexed and distressed almost out of my life. In almost every possible way I have been disappointed and distracted. I have scarcely any relief, except that from an eternal world. As a minister, as a Christian, and as a sojourner upon earth, I suffer very, very greatly. My soul groans incessantly to God, and is sometimes relieved and sometimes blest; but I am generally answered as by consuming fire, which tears my heart to pieces, and reveals to me such depths of almost invincible depravity, as sink me stripped, and wounded, and half dead with terror to the earth. What will be the end of these fearful revelations ? I sympathise deeply with Job, and sometimes almost wish that I had never been born. I often long for death, which, however, I fear that I am not prepared to meet. Meantime I give myself into the hands of Him, who has thus torn me in pieces; and I sincerely entreat Him not to spare me, till He has fulfilled in me all the good pleasure of His goodness, and the work of faith with power.' I depend on you for your affectionate, unwearying prayers for

Your abased, and

Sorrowing Brother,
WILLIAM.

CHAPTER VI.

Remarks on Preaching-Consoles his afflicted Mother-Her peaceful DeathComforts his widowed Father-Leaves Gloucester-Review of afflictive Dispensations-Remarks on Friendship-Opens a Day-School at Bristol-The Maxims and Spirit of the World frequently the Cause of Spiritual Declension-On the Trials of the Ministry-On the Employments of the Blessed-On the fatal Errors of Unitarianism.

MY DEAR AQUILA,

To his elder Brother.

Gloucester, Feb. 21, 1823.

WITHOUT knowing when I shall finish it, or what I shall write in it, or whether what I do write will be worth transporting to you at such a distance, I take this large sheet of paper, determined at least to have room enough to convince you, that I feel interested in your labours, and concerned for your comfort in discharging them. I do not at all think it a circumstance which you will have reason to regret in future life, and much less in eternity, that you are so situated as to be compelled to apply so diligently to your studies, as is necessary to meet the frequent demands of the same people; but I think it matter of real joy, and of hearty congratulation, that you cannot be contented to meet the wishes of the indolent and inapt around you, by talking to them in a way that shall give them no trouble to think. There is a wide difference between talking so as to render it impossible to be understood, and talking so as to be easily comprehended by any that will take the trouble to put thoughts together, or even to attend to one at a time, in order to mentally digest it, as it is laid before them. And I have no doubt left upon my mind, that one of the grand causes of the low piety of many who profess religion, as well as of the plain self-deception and danger of many who make no profession at all, is that wretched indolence of mind by which they will not take the least trouble to investigate the truth, either as it is in themselves, or as it is in Jesus. But here it is that the question pro