AFFECTING CASE OF DISTRESS.

95.

would have been too true; for I do not feel perfectly at one with the dispensation which makes it burdensome to live, and which places me as a weight, a useless piece of lumber, upon the attention and care of Friends. Yet do not understand that I feel rebellion in the form of murmuring and repining; from this the grace of God preserves me; but never did life appear arrayed in such attractions as now, never did time seem so valuable, or a little more of it so desirable for the purposes of devotion to God and usefulness to men. Alas! he who has been so long a trifler in religion as to confirm the habit of trifling with it, will scarcely have that habit broken by any measures which shall leave it possible for him to trifle again; and whatever causes human reasoning may assign for my present afflictions, I am fully persuaded that this is the true one.

But I am ashamed to think and talk so much about my affliction; the privation of full health, and the visibly premature approach of death, are the only circumstances of importance which can denominate what I have to bear, an affliction. By comparison with the sufferings of others, what I feel thwarting my inclinations dwindles into absolute insignificance. Last night a truly good man, a member of Mr. C.'s class, fell in my way; his head was bound up, and his meagre countenance, rendered more distressing by the sallow complexion which it bore, gave a certain indication of his being the subject of complicated bodily and mental suffering. He had rented of a Clergyman, who has property in the village, a small tenement in which himself, wife, and family, had resided for a considerable time; and he had supported himself with credit from the profits of his daily labour. Many months ago personal disease was permitted to seize him, and he was disabled from working, his only means of support therefore became the parish allowance and the donations of charity. His rent of course ran behind; and a few weeks since his inhuman landlord, neither fearing God nor regarding man,' distrained his goods, and wrested from him every thing. I was,' said the poor man, and at the same time a smile of forgiveness and of resignation, which infallibly proved him to be a follower of Christ, sat beaming on his pale but placid brow, I was lying down upon my poor bed, ill as I was, and they came and took it from under me, and sold it; afterwards I sat upon an old chair by the little fire, and then they came and took that from under me, and sold that too; and yet,' added he, 'I did find that the Lord enabled me to bear it all without anger or murmuring.' Oh, my God! is it possible that such vile miscreants can be men? surely they must be devils incarnate. It is however right to say that the Clergyman is ci-devant, having long since renounced all pretensions to religion. But, with such a spectacle before me, I could not avoid slipping a piece of your money into the poor man's hand. And oh, that it had been twenty times

as much! had it been my own and my last, it should have gone with gratitude to God for the favour of such an opportunity.

Continue your prayers, along with those of my kind, attentive friends here, for

Your affectionate Son

WILLIAM.

To his eldest Sister.

MY VERY DEAR SARAH,

Chew-Magna, June 23, 1820.

How swiftly do the minutes and days roll away! and this, if we knew all its importance, would be an occasion of drawing tears of deep contrition and regret from our eyes, because there is not a corresponding succession of improving strokes put to the features of our moral character, toward producing in us the mind and the image of Christ. Sarah, we are nearer, much nearer, than when we saw each other last, to the most important crisis in our existence, of which we have any knowledge. Dying has something in it which belongs neither to Eternity, nor to Judgment, considered abstractedly, for it puts the seal of finished probation on the character of our souls, it fixes an impression that must be exhibited at the Judgment, and will be worn through Eternity. It is truly amazing that this impresses our minds so little. How is it possible, I frequently ask myself, that even while I desired to tell all I that I knew, with faithfulness, to my hearers, these inconceivably weighty subjects scarcely at all impressed my own mind, and that often in the very act of preaching? Surely, considering the little thoughts which even professors have of them, it is a wonder that any, rather than so few, obtain salvation; especially taking into the account the cares of this world, the deceitfulness of riches, the infatuating pleasures of sin, and the indescribable activity of our spiritual enemies. On the other hand, looking at man as a rational, immortal, instructed, and in many cases enlightened, creature, it is most wonderful that the momentous interests of his present and future state of existence do not effectually wean him from the contemptible trifles which commonly engross his attention. Alas! my Sarah, how strangely dreadful is the depravity of our nature! Even we, who are led by the grace of God to cultivate in some degree the convictions which would direct us to a fit preparation for death, are greatly under the power of a worldly spirit. Is not Eternity thrown with us into the back-ground? And do not its concerns occupy only the distance of our prospect? And diminished in appearance by the very remoteness in which we occasionally view those concerns, have they not ceased to possess our minds and our feelings correspondently with their immense relative importance? Among all the causes which operate against our progress in piety, there is not a more for

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midable or detestable obstacle than the worldly spirit which occasions this disproportionate and criminal devotion of our thoughts and affections to things present. Oh! my Sarah, we are not free from this hideous, disguised foe. Even I, attended as I am by disease, the shadow of death, and pointed as I am by my weakness and uselessness to the future, which seems to have advanced very near me,— even I have to lament daily over the injury which it does my spirit. I often come off not more than conqueror from fierce contentions and temptations that astonish and distress me by their power and violence. And should I eventually recover my health, and mingle with the living in the engagements of the world, there is no other probability of my being at all more devoted to God than I have hitherto been, than that which is founded on the operation of the grace which accompanies afflictive providences to render them spiritual benefits. So great are the deceitfulness and corruption of human nature, that he who trusts in his own heart is a fool.' It cannot be a small mercy to be saved from such a dependence.

You may be desirous of knowing the state of my mind under the present aspect of providential dealings with me; well, you have it before you, for the reflections I have put down on paper for you in the form of a letter are the impressions made on my mind at the time of writing; they would have passed off in thought perhaps less distinct, though really existing, but for the occasion which offered itself to put them on paper. Every thing around me wears a shaded and sombre appearance. I feel toward every thing as though it does not really belong to me. I have not the interest of possession and enjoyment that used to mix with every occurrence, in which I felt myself an actor; but every thing about me seems by Him, whose tender mercy is over me, charged to remind me of the rapid advance which I am making toward an unchangeable state. Really, Sarah, there is more truth than I ever imagined in those representations of human life which describe men, and especially the people of God, as strangers and pilgrims; they are indeed sojourners in a strange land.

You will naturally suppose my mind easily led through such subjects of thought to the only hope set before me' in the Gospel; it is thus only that such contemplations become solidly useful, for there can be but little benefit in those philosophical speculations in which some indulge whenever the recollections of Death and Eternity force themselves upon their minds, and which stop short of the deep inward feeling of the absolutely indispensable need of Jesus Christ, that great, that only Saviour. I assure you that I feel the little I know of Him and of His power to save, to be of infinitely greater value to me than a thousand worlds could be; though these are a mere trifle, for there can be no comparison made. It is only this little that I know of Christ which keeps me from the most awful despair. It is only

H

So.

this which keeps me from feeling a hell already begun in the consciousness of unfitness to be with God, and of a consequent alienation from Him. The mercy of God without this, would afford me but little solid consolation. I am sure that if it were announced in a general way, and not distinctly directed to the condition and the wants of fallen sinners, I could not trust it in any satisfactory manner; because, while I am assured that in any possible scheme of salvation for sinners God must positively be just while He is the justifier of the ungodly,' I can by no means conceive how it can be accomplished, except as they are believers in Jesus, and rely on His all-atoning blood and mediation. Nor in reply to the query, Shall I be happy with God for ever?' could I feel any substantial satisfaction, if I could not perceive a certainty of being made perfectly fit for such a state; because all the wretchedness that I feel arising from other causes is as nothing when compared with that of reflecting that I am not holy, and that I am very far from being The truth of this assertion, respecting the superior greatness of pain arising from a sense of unholiness, is confirmed by the experience of every day. I do lament it before God, and often have power to pray for such a manifestation of his power to save as shall realise to me what the Prophet saw in a vision, see Zech. iii. 4, And he answered and spake unto those that stood before him, saying, "Take away the filthy garments from him." And unto him he said, "Behold! I have caused thine iniquity to pass from thee, and I will clothe thee with change of raiment."" And while it is frequently the source of much bitter regret that I have not lived and walked in the glorious liberty of the Gospel, which its copious dispensation of the Holy Spirit would bestow on any humble, praying, believing, patient soul, yet I cannot help hoping that I shall hear the powerful word, 'I will; be thou clean!' and then, feeling the blessed result, that I shall be enabled before I go hence, and be no more seen,' to testify of it to the Redeemer's glory. I know not how to account for it, unless as the consequence and the punishment of my great versatility and unfaithfulness, that so little of the confidence and joy that seem to have marked the closing experience of most Christians has been my happiness. All the consolation to me flowing even from hope in Jehovah, as a Covenant-God, faithful to His word, is only received after fierce struggles and conflicts of mind, nor is it kept but at the expense of contending and the vigilance of watching. I may, it is true, have formed notions too frivolous and too light of the deeply momentous work which God must effect in the soul. I in the ardour of a faith untried, and hitherto assaulted by comparatively mere shadows, have founded expectations too cheaply and too triflingly elevated of the Christian's superiority, and security of success and triumph over his spiritual adversaries, especially that of his own deeply-depraved

may,

moral nature.

SECOND VISIT TO GLOUCESTER.

99

And I think it is most likely that this has been the case; but, oh! that I should have enjoyed so little sensible support from that Jesus, of whom I have spoken so confidently to others as a Friend in need, has greatly alarmed and distressed me. Yet observe, I impeach not His faithfulness; on the contrary, I confirm it; for as I have often said in connexion with this subject,-greatly as He loves the Christian's soul, He must and He will cause an unfaithful follower to bitterly lament his instability, by making him smart under a painful conviction of it during some period of distress. But after all how unspeakably merciful are the measures pursued with respect to me! God has not abandoned me. I do still feel myself connected with Jesus, surely therefore I am saved by Him, for I cast my guilty, trembling soul on His precious atonement. And in the work of the Holy Spirit, which I am still sensible is carrying on, I feel the pledge of that blessing after which I long: faithful is He that calleth me, who also will do it.' And now observe,-I am thus particular in relating my feelings, not to gratify your curiosity, my dear Sarah, but to give you warning and encouragement.

Your affectionate Brother

WILLIAM.

It was now easy to perceive that the delicacy of William's constitution was such as to preclude all hope of his being, for a length of time to come, employed in the regular work of the Ministry. Indeed it was the decided opinion of his medical friends, that in the event of his entire recovery from the dangerous disease under which he had been so long labouring, such would be the susceptibility of his lungs and the general weakness of his frame, that there was but little hope of his being fit to undertake the fatigues of a Methodist Travelling Preacher before he should be 30 years of age; though at the same time they expressed their conviction that should he be permitted to reach that period of life, there was a high probability of his becoming a stout and healthy man.

These circumstances ultimately decided him, after much prayer to God and converse with his friends, to look about him for some sphere of action in which he might be usefully employed. But as nothing satisfactory occurred for some time, it may be well to fill up this chasm in his history with his epistolary correspondence. His health continued gradually, though slowly, improving, till about the middle of September in this year, when being pressed to spend some further time with his friends at Gloucester, he readily accepted their kind invitation. During his absence from home the following Letters among others were received from him. For the great length of the first perhaps no other apology will be thought necessary than the importance of its

contents.