The Works of the
Rev. John Wesley, M.A.
Transcriber’s Notes
The cover image was provided by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
Punctuation has been standardized.
Most of the non-common abbreviations used to save space in printing have been expanded to the non-abbreviated form for easier reading.
The author has used an asterisk (*) to indicate passages he considers most worthy of attention.
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This book was written in a period when many words had not become standardized in their spelling. Words may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent hyphenation in the text. These have been left unchanged unless indicated with a Transcriber’s Note.
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Footnotes are identified in the text with a superscript number and are shown immediately below the paragraph in which they appear.
Transcriber’s Notes are used when making corrections to the text or to provide additional information for the modern reader. These notes are identified by ♦♠♥♣ symbols in the text and are shown immediately below the paragraph in which they appear.
THE
WORKS
OF THE
Rev. JOHN WESLEY, M.A.
Late Fellow of Lincoln-College, Oxford.
Volume XIV.
BRISTOL:
Printed by WILLIAM PINE, in Wine-Street.
MDCCLXXII.
THE
CONTENTS
Of the Fourteenth Volume.
[⭘] Extract of Mrs. L****’s Letters (continued.)
[⭘] Meditations upon some texts of Scripture.
[⭘] Extracts from a Little Diary.
[⭘] Letters written by Jane Cooper.
[⭘] Some account of her life and death.
[⭘] Some account of the experience of E. J.
[⭘] An earnest Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion.
[⭘] A farther Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion. Part I.
An EXTRACT of
LETTERS
By Mrs. L****.
[Continued.]
To the Rev. Mr. ****.
Sunday Afternoon, October 13, 1754.
My dear Friend,
I WAS this morning (though unseen by you) present at your sermon on the public worship of God, and sat impatiently, expecting and longing to hear that name mentioned, by which alone cometh salvation. Surely, thought I, when all his heathen and moral motives are done, I shall at last hear him urge that best and most prevailing motive to our joining together in the praise of God, the exceeding riches of his mercy to us in Jesus Christ. But alas! How were my expectations frustrated? And how did my heart sink when the sermon was ended!—If there is any faith to be given, either to the words or behaviour of man, you are a Christian. But what did you say here, more than Socrates might have said? You will pardon my boldness; God knows the sincerity of my heart, when I protest, that it is only from a motive of love to your soul, and the souls of those which hear you, that I write with such freedom. Give me leave then to ask, Have you, for your own soul in particular, found redemption through the blood of Christ? I have all the reason imaginable, from your sweet conversation, to believe that you have. But how is it then that you could preach one such sermon as this? Oh search well into your own heart. Is there not some root of bitterness remaining, some evil shame, which renders you thus inconsistent? Had I not heard you myself, I could not have thought it possible, for you to have preached in this manner, after the glorious things you have said to me. You have called me friend. Take this letter as the highest proof of friendship I could possibly give you. Is it not so, for your sake to run the hazard of being thought bold and assuming? If you are offended, tell me so plainly, but at the same time freely forgive me; and believe me, with the sincerest wishes for your present usefulness and everlasting happiness,
Your ever obliged and affectionate Friend,
****
To the Rev. Mr. W****.
December 25, 1754.
Dear Sir,
*MAY this blessed day in which the sun of righteousness first arose on our dark world, bring a new accession of light, and peace, and joy to your precious soul! May the power of God accompany every word you utter, and give you this day to enlarge your conquests over the prince of darkness. Oh, give my full heart leave to expand itself in praying for you, in blessing you, and in thanking you, for your surprizing goodness to me. No, never shall you find me ungrateful; that God in whom alone I trust for strength, will preserve me from falling into this meanest of all crimes.—I shall not, I fear, have the delightful satisfaction of hearing you to-morrow, and therefore could not forbear writing to-day; besides, I am by illness prevented attending the public worship of God, so that I have need of this comfort. Every thing has succeeded here beyond my hopes, your presence has greatly dispelled every cloud of prejudice, and fear of man. In short, when I consider the goodness of God and my own absolute unworthiness, I am lost in astonishment: dear Sir, pray that I may make a proper improvement of all these blessings, and particularly of that exceeding great blessing, your friendship. Oh Sir! may I indeed say your friendship? The Lord Jesus bless and reward you! Expression fails me, when I would thank you as I ought, and tell how much I am,
Your ever obliged and affectionate,
****
Dear Sir,
YOUR answer to my question, on what is the proper foundation of our rejoicing in temporal blessings, is perfectly satisfactory, and I thank you for it. What you say of Mr. P.’s tract is just what I wanted: possibly some fit season may be given me to make a good use of it. One would imagine that if singleness of eye, and sincerity of heart were really found in all those of our ministers, who in a measure preach the gospel, there would scarce be room left even for the shadow of a dispute. But this is only imagination; for I cannot help observing of some, for whose sincerity I would answer with my life, that they are far from being consistent long together. I have lately been attacked with a mighty pretty distinction (and from my ignorance a new one to me) in respect of the doctrine of assurance of forgiveness of sin.—Mr. **** says, it is of the essence of faith; but most of the old Puritans, together with a heap of great names (of which I remember not one) say, it is of the fruits of faith.—A poor weak woman, who has not learnt logic, may be easily puzzled with the nicety of a logical distinction; but still I could plainly see, that let it be essence or fruits, there was a manifest necessity for enforcing the doctrine: because a tree which brings not forth its proper fruits, is a barren tree.—A faith which brings not forth its proper fruits, is a dead faith, and consequently unprofitable.—The answer is, “A tree may be alive, and yet not bring forth fruit immediately.”—Well, but this makes nothing against the necessity there is that it should bring forth fruit, in order to make it a profitable tree.—But then we have a homily to fly to:—“The homily on salvation says ‘nothing of assurance.’”—If the homily contradicts St. Paul, the homily is nothing to me.—“O, you won’t refer it to that, ‘because it makes against you.’”—I do not so much as know what is in it.—“It only ‘says a sure trust and confidence.’”—I think a sure confidence is nearly the same with assurance.—“No, they are very different.”—Now, Sir, you must be so good to furnish me with two or three of your strong arguments, to pull down this Babel tower, which our friends are building. I should also be glad, if you would tell me by what happy art you are always consistent in doctrine, as well as practice: for I can find no one else that is so.—Difference of opinion I regard not; I could enjoy fellowship of spirit with a truly sincere Predestinarian, Papist, or Quaker. Inconsistency is the thing alone which hurts me. When I find this in people whom I know to be in so much higher a state of grace than myself, and whom I love and honour, it disquiets me, I own, by far too much: and my soul, like Noah’s dove, flies solitary about, and finds no place of rest on the face of the whole earth: till at last with one olive-leaf, and only one, she returns joyful to the ark—Give me leave, Sir, to intreat of you (if you should have a little time to spare) that you will just point out to me, First, What are the probable causes of this inconsistency, in those who have truly sincerity of heart, and singleness of eye. Secondly, What is the most probable means of curing this distemper of the mind. And, Thirdly, How I may avoid falling into it myself, and keep my soul from being disquieted, when I find it in those whom I highly esteem.——I hope God continues to preserve to us your precious health, and that your long journies may be a means of strengthening and establishing it.—I doubt not but the work of the Lord prospers in your hands, and that you will have much reason to rejoice in the fruit of your labours. How happy are you to be always thus employed, in such eminent service for your Master? You live almost the life of an unembodied spirit; and I live nearly the life of a plant. But thank God, it is absolutely certain, that this immortal spirit of mine, which is thus pressed in on every side, and weighed down with matter, will some time burst its bonds, and break the bars of its prison; and then, how it will soar! Nothing sure can equal the life, the joy, the glorious liberty, which a spirit must feel, when first delivered from its heavy clog! Farewel! May our dear Redeemer continually watch over you, and bless you in every thought, word, and action!
I am, &c.
****
September 17.
Dear Sir,
HOW shall I find words to thank you for your sweet expressions of care and friendship for my soul? Ten thousand thousand blessings on your own for this kindness.——I hope I may in one sense say, that my soul prospers, because I desire nothing but that the will of God may be done in me and by me. But I have not at present those overflowings of joy I have at some times experienced: the cries of a sickly infant, which touch all the finest springs of human nature, cast a kind of heaviness over my soul: and the perpetual and strict watch I am obliged to keep over my heart, for fear the least murmuring or complaining thought should arise in it, (which I would rather die than suffer) seem rather to restrain my soul from the glorious freedom she once had, of losing herself in the heights and depths of divine love.—Oh blessed hours of abstraction from all creatures, and joyful communion with the fountain and centre of all happiness, when will ye return? When it is the will of my heavenly Father that you should return; and in that divine will I rest contented, willing, nay pleased, to suffer any thing, every thing, so I may be kept from sin. I have lately had inward temptations, buzzing about my mind, like insects in a summer’s day; but, by looking to Jesus, I as easily disperse them, as the waving hand disperses those little troublesome animals: and, thanks to my Redeemer’s boundless mercy, I still enjoy in my inmost soul, a peace, which I would not lose for millions of worlds. But I greatly want constant recollection, and a mortified humble spirit. You know the weight your words have with me; give me, I beg of you, some directions for obtaining this. I cannot take my leave, without thanking you again and again, for enquiring after my soul: Oh how dearly do I love you for this goodness; may the tender mercies of God be with you! May the eternal Comforter meet and bless you in every word of your tongue, and in every thought of your heart!
Your ever-grateful and affectionate,
****
February 28.
I SHALL not forget the great reason I had to be thankful both to God and you, for our last conversation. It seemed to me, that I had more liberty of speaking to you than usual, though a thousand things were yet left unsaid; and you led me to make many observations, which I hope will be of lasting benefit to my soul. You have taught me to see the amazing wisdom and loving kindness of God in several instances, which I should not else have thought of; and I am fully satisfied with all his disposals: knowing he orders all things well, I chearfully submit; and I trust that strength will be given me to walk on in the way set before me, “though sorrowful, yet (in one sense) always rejoicing.”—Is it not a great blessing that the thorns are mixed with roses? This is infinitely more than I deserve.—How true is it, that the higher satisfaction we have in any thing, besides God, the greater pain must necessarily attend it? I have often been taught this lesson, in various degrees, each rising above the other; and yet I have not learnt wisdom. And who shall teach me this wisdom? Why you yourself can lay down most excellent rules, but it is God alone who can give me power to practise them. I plainly see the necessity of having every thought brought into subjection to Christ: it must be thus, if I would attain settled peace and constant recollection.—In your extract from Molinos, the state of mind I am seeking, is well described in these words: “The soul that is entered into the heaven of peace, acknowledges itself full of God, and his supernatural gifts; because it lives grounded in pure love, receiving equal pleasure in light and darkness, in night and day, in affliction and consolation: through this holy and heavenly indifferency, it never loses its peace in adversity, nor its tranquility in tribulation, but sees itself full of unspeakable enjoyments.”——And again, “Though the valley of the lower faculties of the soul, is suffering tribulations, combats, martyrdoms, and suggestions, yet at the same time, on the lofty mountain of the higher part of the soul, the true sun casts its beams; it enflames and inlightens it, and so it becomes clear, peaceable, resplendent, quiet, serene, being a mere ocean of joy.”—But alas! you will say, “How far are you from this state!” True, I am far from it indeed. And yet I have sometimes experienced some little glimmerings of it, but they have been soon disturbed: and then I have fondly said to myself, Well, when this trial, when this temptation, or difficulty is over, I shall return to my sweet peace, and my soul will be wholly swallowed up in the love of God. Vain imagination! I think I have now experimentally learnt a truth, which before only floated in my brain, “That the peace of a Christian does not consist in being free from temptations and difficulties, but in stedfastly and calmly conquering them.”—Once more, the Lord preserve you! Could my prayers avail any thing, what blessings would you receive, in body, soul, and spirit! Oh farewel, farewel! And when your soul is most carried up to God, remember to pray for,
Your grateful and affectionate,
****
April 2.
Dear Sir,
I RETURN you many thanks for writing so soon, and particularly for filling two sides of your paper. My soul was as much enlivened by your letter, as the earth, the birds, and flowers, are by the rays of the sun, after a long and heavy rain. May your blessed Master reward you for all your goodness to me!
I thank God, I have in some measure learnt that grand lesson, “Not as I will, but as thou wilt;” and I continually pray that he may teach it me more and more. The present idle and half-dying life I am obliged to lead, greatly needs this temper of mind; and it is all owing to the free mercy of my Redeemer, that I can now say, his grace is sufficient for me.
In regard to temporal blessings, I have now and then a little dispute with some of my religious friends, and I want your authority to strengthen my arguments.—They say, Whatever temporal blessing God gives, you are to rejoice and take a pleasure in it, as his gift. And I say, Whatever temporal blessing God bestows, the motive for your rejoicing should be merely the will of God: for if you rejoice in the blessing, considered as a happiness in itself (though referring it to God with a thankful heart) you are building on the sand, and your happiness will be shaken, if not overturned, by the first storm that beats upon it. But if the will of God be the motive of your rejoicing, you build your happiness on a foundation which never can be moved. The present blessing, indeed, may vanish away, but your cause of rejoicing still remaineth sure and stedfast, in time and in eternity.—Some people think the way I am in at present a prodigious happiness, and the greatest of worldly blessings, and will ask me, “Are you not pleased?”—I answer, I am pleased with every thing which is the will of God; and the answer is thought an odd one: but I cannot help it, I dare not make any other.
*You want me to say something upon Christian love ripened in eternity. But this is a theme for angels; my soul is too low, too dull to attempt to write upon it; I can only wish and pray to be a partaker of it. Farewel; may the sweetest streams of redeeming love ever fill your soul.
I am unalterably your’s,
****
July 18.
*Dear Sir,
I CAN truly say, that I would with joy devote all I have, and all I am to God, and gladly spend every hour in his service, But the difficulties I find in the way are indeed insuperable to me, though not so I think to every one, at least if I may judge from some few instances I have seen since my acquaintance with you.—You yourself, even outwardly, appear to me to spend every hour to the glory of God; and for this reason I look upon you to be the happiest of mankind. When I see you spent with fatigue, your eyes half closed, and your outward man seeming to hasten to its dissolution, though I would freely give my own life and strength to increase yours, I almost envy you this glorious fatigue, and say to myself, How happy, how blessed is this man, thus to spend and be spent in the service of his Redeemer! Think me not presumptuous when I say, that I place you constantly before my mind, as my living example. Outwardly it certainly is impossible for me to follow you, but inwardly!—Oh, Sir, that I could in every faculty of my soul be a follower of you, even as you are of Christ!—You bid me love enough; and doubtless if I could love enough, I should (as you say) do enough, for perfect love is perfect liberty, liberty to conquer all sin, and attain to all holiness. This is the glorious privilege of the children of God; and this my soul pants after. But though I can sincerely say, that I love God above all things, yet it is very evident that I do not love enough, because the fruits of this perfect love are not produced in my soul. Sometimes my enemies seem intirely conquered, and my mind is smooth and calm, as were the waters after Christ had said to them, Peace, be still. But when I seem thus strong, I am (to my inexpressible shame and confusion) found to be weakness itself: some trifle, which perhaps had appeared too contemptible even to be thought of, will be the means of my inwardly falling. But thanks be to God I have this given me,
“Quick as the apple of an eye,
The slightest touch of sin to feel.”
To feel, and immediately to fly to that blood of sprinkling which alone can cleanse me from this pollution. But indeed, Sir, I find every day more and more the truth of your words, “that I have need to watch always.” I am set as it were in the midst of snares, both friends and enemies conspiring together to keep me from that humility, which is so necessary to one who wishes to be really a Christian. My enemies lead to pride, by railing at me for what is, and ought to be, in one sense, my glory; and my friends, by having too high an opinion of me. I think there is none, except yourself, who does not in some measure hurt me: and therefore, though I dare not call you my friend, as implying any particular attachment on your part, you are in fact, my truest and best friend. Praise I now dread as poison; and yet my temper is such as makes some encouragement necessary. Your behaviour to me is exactly fitted to preserve the balance of my mind even; a smile of approbation from you, is that praise which encourages without endangering. You will pardon my speaking so much of myself: a patient, you know, must fully lay open his case to his physician; and I have been emboldened even by you yourself, to increase the length of my letters. Oh may your blessed Master reward you for all your labours in his service, and for all your goodness to,
Your unworthy, though
ever-grateful and affectionate,
****
MEDITATIONS
Upon some TEXTS of SCRIPTURE.
The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.
O MY God, how fatally do I experience the truth of this assertion! My heart is indeed deceitful above all things. And how great is my sorrow on the melancholy reflection? Lord, I have by the deceitfulness and wickedness of my own heart, justly forfeited my title to the joys of eternity, incurred thy indignation, and made myself obnoxious to that dreadful sentence, Depart ye cursed! And how just is this sentence, after the crimes my deceitful heart has betrayed me into; after the many good resolutions I have broke; after the sins of ingratitude, presumption, and repining, with which I have defiled my soul! How often have I resolved, firmly resolved, to keep a strict watch over my eyes and heart in the house of God; and let no thought have entrance, which could prevent my addressing my Creator with the reverence I ought? But, merciful God! How contrary have I acted to all this! Have not my eyes been amused by vanity, and my heart so distracted by idle and ridiculous ideas, that I have not known the words my lips pronounced? Nay, have not even unclean and blasphemous thoughts attacked me at this sacred time, and, wretch that I am! been indulged, or but coldly rejected? Horrible proof, that my heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked! Lord, I abhor myself, for having thus often, and thus heinously offended thee! I am utterly ashamed and confounded, at my daring, my monstrous impiety! How shall I dare to hope for pardon of a sin so frequently repeated, and with such aggravations? When I consider the greatness of my guilt, my astonished soul is ready to sink in black despair. Blessed God! I sin against the clearest conviction, against the checks of my conscience, and the kind admonitions of thy holy Spirit; and, strange perverseness! against all the hopes I have of happiness; sin against that God, whom I love and adore from my soul, and whose favour I would this moment lay down my life to procure. The thoughts of immortality, and the surprising goodness of the Almighty, in the works of creation and redemption, fill my mind with gratitude and wonder; I am lost in admiration, and could dwell for ever on the delightful theme. And yet, inconsistent wretch that I am! I go on to offend this divine author of my being, by my careless, supine, and irreverent addresses; and my wicked and fantastic thoughts. My prayers are turned into sin: and now is it not presumption, the highest presumption, to hope for pardon? Or rather, would it not be a greater sin than I have yet committed, to despair of it? Is not mercy the darling attribute of God? It is; and I embrace and adore that mercy: that mercy which is so freely offered to the worst of sinners: that mercy which is made sure to us by the blood of a crucified Saviour. Oh my only refuge! my dearest hope and everlasting confidence! Teach me words to express the sentiments I have of thee, and the abhorrence I have of my guilt. I detest myself, hate my vile ingratitude, and am fully convinced of my own weakness, and the vanity of my best resolutions, without thy assisting grace. Oh grant me that, for the sake of my Redeemer; on that alone will I rely; never more will I trust to the strength of my own reason. I have found, by dear experience, that I am folly and inconstancy itself: without thy aid I am worse than nothing, but with the blessing I implore, I shall be more than conqueror. But is the sin I have now been lamenting, the only instance of the wickedness and deceitfulness of my heart? Alas! it is not: I have innumerable proofs of its treachery; every day, every hour brings some, and gives me new cause for grief and repentance. I resolve frequently, no more to repine at the misfortunes I lie under; no more to look back with discontent, or forwards with distrust. And these resolutions I strengthen, by reflections on the wisdom of God: how much better he knows to chuse for me, than I could for myself; and how unavailing impatience is under ills, I cannot prevent. Then I consider how small my punishment is, in comparison of what I deserve, and should suffer, was not the Almighty infinitely merciful; and what blessings afflictions are productive of, when received with humility and resignation. *And yet after all this, how often do I catch my deceitful heart breathing an impious sigh, and by this secret complaint accusing Providence! How often are my eyes lift up, with a “Lord! why am I thus miserable? Why, while I see all around me gay and prosperous, must I alone be unfortunate, and mourn, without finding one to pity me? What have I done to deserve the being disappointed in every thing I have set my affections on, and deceived by every friend I have trusted?”—With this surprising boldness have I dared to expostulate with my Maker; and yet his mercy still allows me life, and time for repentance. Oh thou adorable Being! may I never more offend thee by a discontented word or thought: but grant that every faculty of my soul, may be in perfect resignation to thy will; and by this resignation, acquire that tranquillity and peace, which all the delights of the earth are not able to give.
Again. I resolve every day to be perfectly easy under every little mortification I may meet in the common occurrences of life. How weak (I cry) is it to be affected by the folly or ill-nature of the world! Why should I regard the sneers of people, whose low sentiments are only deserving pity? Can the unreasonable, and unjust notions of another, rob me of any real merit? Can an envious, a malicious, or a detracting speech, do me any material injury, unless I give it force myself, by my impatience and want of temper? No certainly: nothing from without can hurt me, but by my own fault. A mind fortified with religion, is proof against the darts of senseless tattle, or ill-natured wit. Firm and collected within itself, it smiles superior, and looks down on the ignorant and the malicious with pity.—These reflections are just; and Oh that I could reduce them into practice! But here I miserably fail. *After my soul has plumed herself with these fine notions, and is ready to pronounce herself equal to every trial, she sinks in the most shameful manner. A word, a look, nay the very appearance of a slight, throws me into the greatest uneasiness and confusion; and though I can govern my temper enough to hide it from the world, my heart is ready to burst with indignation. Strange weakness!—But why do I call it strange? Am I not too well acquainted with the fatal cause of this, and almost every sin I am guilty of? ’Tis vanity, that intolerable vanity, which mixes itself with all I act, or speak, or think. When I look strictly into my deceitful and wicked heart, I find it so full of this abominable vice, that I regard myself with horror and amazement; and yet perhaps the next moment, indulge in airy schemes and self-complacency. Sure there is not in the whole universe, so vain and sinful a wretch as I am! What can I hope for? What can I expect? Will not eternal rejection from the presence of God be justly my portion? Oh, thought of unutterable horror! My God! My only hope! Can I think of being for ever cast out from the light of thy countenance, and live? Why does not the dreadful idea at once put an end to my being? All the torments of damnation are summed up in these shocking words—Eternal rejection from thy presence!—Oh gracious and adorable being! let me not be thus beyond imagination cursed. In the name of my blessed Saviour, I implore thy pity! Oh look with compassion on a soul which pants for grace and forgiveness! A soul sensible of her weak and [♦]polluted state, and entirely relying on thy mercy. O speak peace to this troubled sea, and all shall be calm! Give me strength to resist those temptations I so often sink under! But above all, change this wicked and deceitful heart, and give me a new heart and a new spirit. Mortify in me all proud thoughts and vain opinions of myself, and let not the blessings thou hast bestowed upon me increase my condemnation, by being made motives for pride and vainglory. Hear and grant my requests, Oh ever-merciful God, for the sake of Jesus Christ, our only Mediator and Redeemer. Amen.
1748.
[♦] “pollued” replaced with “polluted”
Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.
THESE, Oh compassionate Saviour, were thy words; this thy gracious call, and I obey it. I come unto thee, Oh thou light of the world! for rest, peace and everlasting refreshment. Wearied with treading the paths of folly and vanity; wearied with deceitful hopes and idle fears, and all the gay delusions of this world, I come to thee for peace, and with full assurance of obtaining it. Assurance founded on thy promises; those promises which are truth itself: merciful as thy own [♦]beneficent nature, and unalterable as thy being. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but thy word shall never fail. Encouraged by this word, I come: not even the reflection of my absolute unworthiness shall keep me from thee. ’Tis to sinners that this heavenly call is addressed; sinners that labour under the heavy burden of their offence; and such am I. The miserable wretch who is chained to the oar, is not more weary of his slavery, than I am of my sins: the sins which so easily beset me, and so often conquer my best resolutions. Every hour I have new reason to lament my weakness, and to confess that thy grace is my only refuge. O let that grace, which has kept me from all infamous crimes, be also my preservative against those sins of the mind, which, though hid from the short-sighted world, are all open to thee, and render my soul equally odious to the eye of heaven. Oh save me from myself! From my own proud thoughts and vain affections! I come to thee, blessed Jesus, that I may have rest: Oh give me that rest! Then shall all be perfect peace and harmony, and my soul shall feel no emotions but those of joy and gratitude, eternal gratitude to my gracious and Almighty Benefactor.
[♦] “beneficient” replaced with “beneficent”
This corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.
OH glorious and ever transporting thought! Sure and never failing remedy for all the troubles and disappointments of life!—Incorruption and immortality!—Let me dwell on the charming words: they carry peace and everlasting joy in the sound. And yet how little can my soul understand of their full import, clogged by the weight of flesh and blood? Darkened by this cloud of sin and error, what true idea can she form of incorruption? But if the faint shadow and distant prospect affords such delight, what will the full enjoyment give? Imagination is lost in the dazzling reflection! All the scenes of this lower world vanish as a mist before the sun: and my elevated soul wholly absorbed in contemplation of those mighty blessings seems to soar above the stars, and launch into the sea of eternity. My God! My everlasting hope! Great and adorable Creator of all things! Where shall I find words expressive of my wonder, my joy, and gratitude? Thy mercy, thy free, and boundless mercy, from nothing called me into being, and made that being capable of an endless duration: formed me for eternity! And what raises the benefit infinitely higher, for an eternity of happiness! Not the united power of men and devils can deprive me of this without my own consent: and if I am miserable I have no one to blame, except myself. O merciful God! I adore thee past all expression, and the notions I have of thy divine attributes inspire me with an unbounded confidence. Unworthy as I am of the least of all thy mercies, I cannot but hope for the greatest; and in the midst of my continual offences, I look up to thee, as my friend, my only refuge, and constant benefactor. When I grieve for my sins, ’tis not from fear of punishment, but from the cutting reflection of my black ingratitude, in offending my Creator and Preserver, the God in whom I live, and move, and have my being; the God to whom I owe infinitely more than I can conceive; to whom I owe the glorious, and the assured hopes of incorruption and immortality. And here again, O my soul, take wing, again lose thyself in the blissful prospect! Think on the joy thou wilt feel, when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption; when this companion (which in spite of the miseries it betrays thee into, is still dear and still too tenderly beloved) shall become (instead of a clog, or a prison) a vehicle pure and ethereal, perfectly fitted for all the purposes of thy enlarged faculties, and the completion of thy glory and happiness. O blessed and desirable re-union! State of permanent delight, and never fading joy! With what rapture does thy idea inspire my soul! Fired by thoughts like these, I rise far above the most glorious prospects, earth, with all her boasted varieties, can give. Pleasures, riches, honours, what are ye all? Emptiness and nothing.—At the least glimpse of eternal day, how ye vanish into soft air! Lost are all your shining toys; your painted glories intirely lost! And Oh may their deluding shadows never return to darken my soul! May the God whom I trust, preserve me from all their temptations; may his mercy ever protect and guide me, and bring me in the end to that state of incorruption and immortality, which I hope for through the merits and mediation of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.
Then Peter said, Now know I that God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation, he that feareth him and worketh righteousness, is accepted of him.
THIS text is so strong a proof of the unreasonableness and folly of national or religious prejudices, that one would imagine it should intirely banish those odious and pernicious principles, from the whole Christian world. But daily experience too plainly discovers the contrary; and the very people who would be thought to have the greatest zeal for the good of souls, are of all others the readiest to condemn those who dissent from them. ’Tis a common (though false assertion) of libertines, that priests of all religions are the same. But they might truly affirm, that bigots of all religions are the same, equally destructive of the peace of their fellow-creatures, and the laws of civil society. What wild havock, what horrid scenes of blood and slaughter, have been produced by mistaken zeal and blind prejudice? The histories of former times abound with shocking instances of this kind; and, strange inconsistency! the persecuted party have no sooner got the upper hand, but they have, with the power, assumed the spirit of their persecutors, and been guilty of the very acts of injustice they had so loudly exclaimed against. ’Tis true, the degrees and kinds of persecution differ, according to the particular notions of the sects, or the particular law of the states where it is practised. But persecution, in whatever shape or degree, is still persecution, and proceeds from that spirit of prejudice and bigotry, which make us look on God as a respecter of persons, and on all those who differ from us as his enemies, and consequently, deserving nothing at our hands but contempt and cruelty. Thus the furious Roman Catholic brands with the name of heretic, all who are without the pale of his church, pursues them with fire and sword in this world, and sentences them to eternal punishment in the next. And the staunch, sour Protestant devoutly expatiates on the crying sin of idolatry, never thinks of the Pope without joining with him antichrist and the devil, absolutely pronounces the church of Rome to be the whore of Babylon, and expects (with great Christian charity) that in a few ages more, she and all her members will be swallowed up in the bottomless pit, the lake of fire and brimstone. Nay, the bigots of (even) the little trifling sects into which the reformed religion is subdivided, all agree to damn each other, and wholly to appropriate to those of their own denomination, the title of God’s church, and God’s chosen.—Surprizing narrowness of soul! Worse than Jewish stupidity! They had some excuse for their arrogancy: the particular manner in which Providence had distinguished them from the rest of the world, seemed to be some foundation for their pride to build on. And ’tis not to be wondered, that the dark shadow of the law should obscure the principle of universal benevolence. But that people under the glorious dispensation of the gospel, men who pretend to be followers of that Jesus, whose whole life was a scene of moderation and charity, who laid down his life for his enemies, and prayed for his murderers: in a word, that Christians should despise, hate, and persecute their fellow Christians, is a consideration equally melancholly and amazing! *Mistaken men! Is then the great Creator of the universe, the Preserver of all his creatures, the God of mercy, who would not that any one should perish, is this adorable Being a respecter of persons? Is his justice to be biassed by your foolish distinctions? Or his mercy lessened by your uncharitable judgments? In vain you would make the Almighty a party in your quarrel, and pretend to be fighting his cause! He disclaims such furious champions; nor will true religion allow of defenders, who are destroying the most glorious part of her system, that principle of universal charity, which in the apostolical times was the distinguishing mark of Christianity. It was then said, See how these Christians love one another! But now (sad contrast!) see how these Christians hate one another! Oh blessed and ever-merciful God! look down with compassion on the deplorable state of the Christian world! See how thy church is laid waste and rent asunder, by the fraud, malice, or blind zeal of particular men: in one place, over-run by superstition; in another, undermined by scepticism: and every where robbed of her primitive peace and purity. Oh restore that purity! Restore that peace! Heal her breaches, reform her superstitions, and grant that we may, with one heart and one mind, with universal love and unbounded charity to our fellow-creatures, and a firm and lively faith in our blessed Redeemer, adore thee the only true God; and, after a life of piety and virtue, attain one of unalterable glory and happiness. Amen.
O God, thou art my God! Early will I seek thee.
WHEN we are deprived of all the joys of life, betrayed by those we trusted, forsaken by our friends, triumphed over by our enemies, and robbed of our dearest hopes, where and to whom must we go for relief? What comfort can be hoped in a condition so desperate.—Will reflection on the past give us ease?—Alas! it makes our wounds still deeper; and every remembrance of the treachery of our friends, or the malice of our enemies, draws a new sigh from the opprest and aching heart, and a fresh tear from the sinking eye.—Shall we look forwards?—All dark and gloomy is the prospect, and the mind, wearied with affliction, and wholly deprest by grief and disappointments, shudders at the thought of launching again into the sea of delusions, of again trusting, and being again deceived. In circumstances so deplorable, nothing can calm our grief, nothing afford us one moment’s peace, but seeking early after God. And happy! Thrice happy! That soul, which can say with the royal Psalmist, O God! thou art my God, my refuge in all my distresses, my only hope, and everlasting peace!—A man who can look up to the great Author of nature, with a confidence like this, who can seek after God with full assurance of finding him, and in him a sure relief for all the troubles and miseries of life, is superior to all events, and may be happy in the most terrible afflictions. Is he deprived of his estate, reduced to a despised and unrelieved poverty? He is still rich in the pleasing hopes, that his God will one day bestow on him a glorious and never-failing inheritance. Is he by death robbed of his dearest friends? His grief is immediately calmed, by the thoughts of that eternal state to which he is every moment approaching, and where he will meet those dear objects of his tenderness, never, never to be parted from them more. Is his reputation made a sacrifice to spite and calumny, and himself condemned, reviled, and hated, by his acquaintance? Still true to his principles, and firm in his trust on the Almighty, he braves the storm, and with joy he looks forward to that day, when his accusers shall be covered with shame and confusion, and his innocence declared in the sight of men and angels. *Is he betrayed by those he trusted with an unbounded confidence, by those who were dear to him as himself, and for whose life he would freely have paid his own? Even in this affliction (which is of all others grating to human nature) he is still the most master of himself, and possessing his soul in patience and resignation, looks up to that friend who will never deceive him, to that God who is truth itself. Convinced of the folly of placing his love and trust on creatures, he fixes it wholly on the eternal Creator, and acknowledges with sincerity the mercy of God, in thus graciously releasing his heart from those deluding ties, which had so often drawn him from the centre of true happiness, the end of his being. Thus blessed is he, who can say with faith, gratitude, and humility, O God, thou art my God!—Grant, Oh most adorable and omnipotent Being! Grant me this glorious privilege! I have nothing more to ask. That thou art my God, is a blessing infinitely greater than the whole creation can bestow; infinitely beyond all I can ask or conceive. Possessed of this, I can defy the combined malice of men and devils. Welcome distress, poverty, disappointment, and affliction of all kinds, even what I have most dreaded! Welcome all, if it is the will of heaven! What hurt are ye capable of doing me, while I can say to the rock of ages, “Thou art my God?” And certainly, Oh thou fountain of life, and author of all good, ’tis thy gracious will that I should thus address thee; else why this firm reliance on thee in all my afflictions? Why this entire confidence on thy mercy and goodness, in the midst of my sufferings? How often, when my heart has been sinking under a load of sorrow, have I found relief and comfort, by applying to thee? In troubles, which I have thought impossible to be endured, thou hast been my support; and when at any time I have been tempted to discontent, and dared to murmur and complain, how quickly has thy grace inspired me with remorse for my impiety; and enabled me to make a new act of resignation to thy Providence! Sure and infallible proofs, that thou art my God! And Oh may I never repay those instances of thy compassion and tender mercy with ingratitude! Never more distrust the power which has so often delivered me! But grant, Almighty Father, that in all the trials thou hast allotted me in this mortal state, I may seek thee early, and in seeking thee, find all the blessings thou hast promised, peace and perfect tranquillity in this life, and everlasting joy and happiness in the next! These favours, these blessings I implore in the name, and for the sake of my merciful Redeemer, Jesus Christ.
EXTRACT from a
LITTLE DIARY.
*JANUARY 5, 1754–5. Glory to the God of boundless mercy, who has this day, when sinking under great heaviness, both of soul and body, lifted up the light of his countenance upon me, and made me drink deep of his redeeming love.—Oh sweetest and most compassionate Jesus! How do thy tender mercies follow and support my soul! And still I am ungrateful, and still I am not as thou wouldst have me to be! Oh when wilt thou make a full end of sin, and bring in thy perfect righteousness? All things are possible to thee. And do I not know, do I not taste, that thou art gracious! O my sun, my shield, life of my life, look into my heart; I dare appeal to thine all-searching eye, that there is nothing so dear to it, but I would this moment part with it for thee! And why then, dearest Lord, wilt thou not form thy whole blessed image in my soul? My unworthiness I know is greater than that of any other creature in the universe; but this unworthiness will the more magnify thy mercy. I have only my unworthiness to plead; and I have no hope but in thy atoning blood: Oh let this blood, which has bought my peace, cleanse me also from every sin; and let that blessed Spirit, who has sealed and witnessed this peace to my soul, be now a spirit of burning, to consume all my dross, and to purify me even as—Oh glorious prospect, heart-enlivening hope, let me sink into the dust before thee! God of glory, God of purity, I am lost in self-abasement! But hast thou not promised? And wilt thou not fulfil thine own gracious word? O give me then perfect sanctification of body, soul, and spirit; and let this heavy cross, which seems now coming upon me, be, by thy all-powerful grace, turned into a means of forwarding thy blessed work in my soul. Let every bitter cup which thou permittest to be given me, be joyfully received, as serving in some degree to conform me to thy sufferings; and let me in all things, though ever so contrary to my corrupt nature, give thanks, and say continually, Lord, not my will, but thine be done. Amen.
LETTERS
Wrote by
JANE COOPER:
To which is prefixt
Some Account of her LIFE and DEATH.
The PREFACE.
1. THE good Armelle has been heard of far and wide. Her life has been written at large, containing several hundred pages, translated into various languages, and published almost in all parts of Europe, by persons of various persuasions. Her deep, solid, unaffected piety, has recommended her to those of all denominations, who regarded not mere opinions, but the genuine work of God; righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.
2. But it is impossible to give so full an account of this good young woman, whose station in life, was the same for some years. She had no such director of her conscience, who was informed (like those in the Roman church) of the minutest particulars, relating either to her internal or external walking with God. And she wrote no circumstantial account of herself. We have only some hints occasionally written, either for her own private use, or the satisfaction of her friends. And the greatest part even of her letters are lost: particularly those of which she took the most pains in writing. So that what follows are little more than fragments.
“But though they’re little, they are golden sands.”
In several respects not inferior to any thing in the life of Armelle Nicholas: in others greatly superior thereto. For first, All here is genuine; which I fear is not the case in the account given us of Armelle. For words are there put into her mouth, which I think she could not possibly utter. For instance. She is made to say, “I had always such a sense of my sins, that I never felt pride in my life.” Could any one born of a woman say this? Is it not an embellishment added by her historian?
3. Secondly, All here is strong, sterling sense, strictly agreeable to sound reason. Here are no extravagant flights, no mystic reveries, no unscriptural enthusiasm. The sentiments are all just and noble; the result of a fine natural understanding, cultivated by conversation, thinking, reading, and true Christian experience. At the same time they shew an heart as well improved as the understanding; truly devoted to God, and filled in a very uncommon degree, with the entire fruit of his Spirit.
4. Thirdly, This strong genuine sense is expressed in such a stile, as none would expect from a young servant maid: a stile simple and artless in the highest degree, but likewise clear, lively, proper: every phrase, every word being so well chosen, yea, and so well placed, that it is not easy to mend it. And such an inexpressible sweetness runs through the whole, as art would in vain strive to imitate.
So JANE COOPER wrote, and spoke, and lived! Thou that readest, go and do likewise!
SOME ACCOUNT
OF THE
LIFE AND DEATH
OF
JANE COOPER.
1. JANE COOPER was born at Hingham, in the county of Norfolk, in the year 1738. Her father died when she was very young, and some time after, her mother married again. She was a daughter of affliction from her childhood; her father-in-law meeting with many misfortunes: But rather than be burdensome to any, when she was about twenty years of age, she chose to go out to service. For this purpose she came to London, and undertook to do all work in a small family. What sweetened all her labour was, that she had frequent opportunities of hearing what she believed to be the pure gospel. But after some months, she judged it best to leave this place, though much against the desire of her master. She then lived with a gentlewoman in Pall-mall, who for a considerable time, used her more like a companion than a servant. Her mistress afterwards removing to Brentford, she remained with her till spring 1762, though exceedingly to the prejudice of her health, which continually decayed. When she quitted Brentford, finding her strength so entirely lost that she was no longer capable of service, she hired a lodging in London, by the advice of her friends, designing to work plain-work: but before she settled, she took a journey into Norfolk, to visit her friends and relations. Part of the time she was in the country was spent at Norwich, where she indeed “lived as an angel here below,” comforting the sick and afflicted, supporting the weak, lifting up the hands that hung down, confirming the wavering, and in every possible way ministering to the heirs of salvation.
2. Of her spiritual experience during this time, we have no account, but in some of her letters, and in her diary: part of which runs thus: (it is dated January 16, 1762.)
“I received peace in believing four years ago. For some time after, I felt no sin, and thought I never should any more. How far it was owing to my unfaithfulness, I cannot tell; but it was not long, before I found my inward parts were very wickedness. I was amazed to feel, that notwithstanding this, I loved him who died for me, that I still retained my confidence in God, and had the witness in myself, that I was a child of God. But with all I thought, I should always have a carnal mind, which would sometimes be at enmity with God.
“In this belief I continued, till about two years ago God brought me to hear the whole gospel. Not long after, those words were continually on my mind, Once have I heard, yea twice hath God spoken, that power belongeth unto God; and I was deeply convinced, that I had in effect denied his power. Even after I had tasted his love, I limitted the Holy One of Israel: and from this time I began to plead the promises of sanctification; but I still set them at a distance, supposing the accomplishment of them to be afar off.
“In March following I heard a letter read from one, who had entered into the rest of the people of God. It described a happiness in religion, which I was a stranger to: I was much stirred up to seek after it, and was determined to wrestle with God till I prevailed. One day in prayer, that promise was applied, The Lord whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple. From that time, I expected him in every means I used, to come and destroy the works of the devil. I was agonizing with God in family prayer, when he gave me power to venture upon Jesus, as of God made unto me wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption. He spoke into my heart, ‘The Lord, even the king of Israel, is in the midst of thee; and the enemies thou hast seen this day, thou shalt see them no more for ever.’ From this time I have rejoiced indeed, and yet loathed myself in my own sight. I feel no desire but to please him, and know of nothing in me that is not subjected to Jesus: I depend upon him every moment, as my advocate with the Father: I daily feel my coming short of what I would be, yet without any condemnation. The blood of sprinkling speaks me clean. Indeed if I could perform the obedience I desire, I should still be ashamed before him.”
3. In the midst of various outward trials, her soul was now kept as a watered garden. She was satisfied with the favour, and full blessing of the Lord: she enjoyed deep communion with God, and that without any interruption: she sought for and found direction from him in every circumstance of life. She truly proved him to be her counsellor, who instructed her by his small still voice. She walked continually in his presence, and felt her soul always approved of him. She used to say, “Would Jesus on this or the other occasion, have acted or spoken thus?” And this rule she steadily copied after, in all her life and conversation. She knew a little of what our Lord meant, when he said, The Father which dwelleth in me, he doth the works. To his will she was entirely given up, in sickness and health, ease and pain.
4. In the beginning of November, she seemed to have a foresight of what was coming upon her, and used frequently to sing these words:
“When pain o’er this weak flesh prevails,
With lamb-like patience arm my breast.”
And when she sent to let me know she was ill, she wrote in her note, “I suffer the will of Jesus. All he sends is sweetened by his love. I am as happy as if I heard a voice say,
For me my elder brethren stay,
And angels beckon me away,
And Jesus bids me come.”
5. Upon my telling her, “I can’t chuse life or death for you,” she said, “I asked the Lord, that if it was his will, I might die first; and he told me, you should survive me, and that you should close my eyes.” When we perceived it was the small-pox, I said to her, “My dear, you won’t be frighted, if we tell you what is your distemper.” She said, “I can’t be frighted at his will.”
6. The distemper soon was very heavy upon her: but so much the more was her faith strengthened. Tuesday, November 16. She said to me, “I have been worshipping with you before the throne in a glorious manner, my soul was so let into God.” I said, “Did the Lord give you any particular promise?” “No, replied she; it was all
That sacred awe that dares not move,
And all the silent heaven of love.”
7. Wednesday 17. Mrs. C. said to her, “Is there any thing you think me particularly deficient in?” She answered, “No, love. He will guide you by his eye, and be your only counsellor. All around you is God and heaven. You little know how dearly Jesus loves you.” To Mr. M. she said, “I thank God for your preaching. You must still preach simple faith. Man will despise you, but God will love you; and yourself must believe.” On Thursday, upon my asking, “What have you to say to me?” She said, “Nay, nothing but what you know already; God is love.” I asked, “Have you any particular promise?” She replied, “I don’t seem to want any. I can live without. I shall die a lump of deformity, but shall meet you all glorious; and mean time, I shall still have fellowship with your spirit.”
8. When Mr. M—— came again, he asked, “What she thought the most excellent way to walk in, and what were its chief hindrances?” She answered, “The greatest hindrance is generally from the natural constitution. It was mine, to be reserved, to be very quiet, to suffer much, and to say little. Some may think one way more excellent, and some another. But the thing is, to live in the will of God. For some months past, when I have been peculiarly devoted to this, I have felt such a guidance of his Spirit, and the unction which I have received from the Holy One, has so taught me of all things, that I needed not any man should teach me, save as this anointing teacheth.”
“When you speak upon acquaintance with Jesus, it is food to the soul. And when you preach of devotedness to God, and living to him, it is the joy of one’s heart.” He asked, “Have you any conviction you shall die?” She answered, “No: only from the disorder. But I feel his will so precious to me, that it is impossible for me to chuse.” He said, “We leave you in our Lord’s hands.” She said, “We shall meet above. I have no doubt of it.”
9. On Friday morning, she said, “I believe I shall die.” She then sat up in her bed, and said, “Lord, I bless thee, that thou art ever with me, and all thou hast is mine. Thy love is greater than my weakness, greater than my helplessness, greater than my unworthiness. Lord, thou sayest to corruption, thou art my sister! And glory be to thee, O Jesus, thou art my brother! Let me comprehend with all saints, the length, and breadth, and depth, and heighth of thy love! Bless these: (some that were present) Let them be every moment exercised in all things, as thou wouldst have them to be.”
10. Some hours after, it seemed as if the agonies of death were just coming upon her. But her face was full of smiles of triumph, and she clapped her hands for joy. Mrs. C. said, “My dear, you are more than conqueror, through the ‘blood of the lamb’.” She answered, “Yes, O yes, sweet Jesus. O death, where is thy sting?” She then lay as in a doze for some time. Afterwards she strove to speak, but could not. However she testified her love, by shaking hands with all in the room. Then she took Miss M——’s hand, with Mrs. C. and Mrs. D——’s, and put them to her heart.
11. The apothecary soon came in. She strove to speak to him, but had not utterance. One asked of the Lord, to give her power to speak; and in a few moments she spoke distinctly. Immediately she exhorted him to believe. He said, “I hope I do.” “Do you then, replied she earnestly, find in Christ all you want? You may. And I want you to be happy now. Why won’t you believe, when Christ has given all his divinity to save you?” He started, and said, “I hope I shall.” “Hope! said she, that is not the thing. The hope of the hypocrite shall perish. Indeed you are not an hypocrite. Yet unless you are on the rock, when the winds and floods come, your building will not stand.”
*12. Mr. W. then came. She said, “Sir, I did not know that I should live to see you. But I am glad the Lord has given me this opportunity, and likewise power to speak to you. I love you. You have always preached the strictest doctrine. And I loved to follow it. Do so still, whoever is pleased or displeased.” He asked, “Do you now believe you are saved from sin?” She said, “Yes. I have had no doubt of it for many months. That I ever had, was because I did not abide in the faith. I now feel, I have kept the faith: and perfect love casteth out all fear.” Mr. W. said, “Loving faith is all.” She answered, “Ah Sir, I never had a grain of faith but what brought love, and I never had any love but by faith. As to you, the Lord promised me, your latter works should exceed your former, though I do not live to see it.” He said, “Perhaps the Lord may restore you.” She said, “His will be done. I have been a great Enthusiast (as they term it) these six months; but never lived so near the heart of Christ in my life. You, Sir, desire to comfort the hearts of thousands. Comfort the hearts of hundreds, by following that simplicity your soul loves.”
13. To one who received the love of God under her prayer, she said, “I feel I have not followed a cunningly devised fable; for I am as happy as I can live. Do you press on, and stop not short of the mark.” To Miss M——s, she said, “Love Christ, he loves you. I believe I shall see you at the right hand of God. But as one star differs from another star in glory, so shall it be in the resurrection. I charge you, in the presence of God, meet me at that day all glorious within. Avoid all conformity to the world. You are robbed of many of your privileges. I know, I shall be found blameless. Do you labour to be found of him in peace, without spot.”
14. Saturday morning, she prayed nearly as follows. “I know, Lord, my life is prolonged, only to do thy will; and though I should never eat or drink more, (she had not swallowed any thing for near eight and twenty hours) thy will be done. I am willing to be kept so a twelve-month: Man liveth not by bread alone. I praise thee, that there is not a shadow of complaining in our streets. In that sense we know not what sickness means. Indeed, Lord, neither life, nor death, nor things present, nor things to come, no nor any creature shall separate us from thy love one moment. Bless these, that there may be no lack in their souls. I believe there shall not. I pray in faith.”
*On Sunday and Monday she was light-headed, but sensible at times. It then plainly appeared her heart was still in heaven. One said to her, “Jesus is your mark.” She replied, “I have but one mark. I am all spiritual.” Miss M. said to her, “You dwell in God.” She answered, “Altogether.” A person asked her, “Do you love me?” She said, “O, I love Christ: I love my Christ. Jesus is precious, very precious indeed.” She said to Miss M. “The Lord is very good. He keeps my soul above all.” For fifteen hours before she died, she was in strong convulsions. Her sufferings were extreme. One said, “You are made perfect through sufferings.” She said, “More and more so.” After lying quiet some time, she said, “Lord, thou art strong!” Then pausing a [♦]considerable space, she uttered her last words, “My Jesus is all in all to me: glory be to him through time and eternity.” After this she lay still for about half an hour, and then expired without a sigh or groan.
[♦] “conderable” replaced with “considerable”
LETTERS wrote by
JANE COOPER.
LETTERS to Mrs. M. M.
August 29, 1757.
I SINCERELY rejoice, to find you are convinced of a most important, but self-abasing truth, that you are yourself utterly unable to work out your own salvation, or to form so much as one good thought, or one desire towards it. Rest not in this conviction, but seek, ask, knock: and you shall assuredly obtain that faith which is the gift of God. Give me leave to repeat, that religion consists, first, in a true knowledge of our want of Christ: Secondly, in knowing him to be not only the Saviour of the world, but our Saviour in particular; in knowing him to have died for us, that we might live through him. There is a great difference between this scheme of religion, and that we form to ourselves when we begin to desire eternal happiness. I then thought I must refrain from evil works, and be constant at church. And I should doubtless go to heaven, though I walked not in a narrow, but much frequented way. I saw not that Christ alone was the way to heaven; but though I could not but see my works were insufficient, yet I hoped God would accept this patch-work obedience, and supply what was wanting. Beware of building your hopes on this sandy foundation. Seek, but seek forgiveness and acceptance with God, through him who is the rock of ages. Let him not go until he bless you. For there is no safety but in his friendship, and no peace but in his favour.
May every blessing attend my dear friend. Wherever her abode is, she has a place in my heart.
November 9.
*DON’T you think me cruel, that I can rejoice to see you under the cross? I believe both our souls would wither, did not the rough wind rise to blow away the dust from our branches. When this is done, how salutary is the rain of grace, how refreshing the beams of love! I am persuaded there is not one tree of the Lord’s planting, but must be purged, that it may bring forth much fruit. If you have been on the mount with Peter, James, and John, remember that was not the only proof our Lord gave them of his peculiar love: they, and they only were admitted to Gethsemane. Think on this, my dear friend, when you are under the cross, and wonder at the grace that calls, and that enables you to drink of that cup, and to have some fellowship with Christ in his sufferings. I believe your heart and mine have said,
“No cross, no suffering I decline:
Only let all my heart be thine.”
This was recorded in the courts above, and is answered as we are able to bear. Look not so much at the trial, as at the grace which keeps you from sinking under it. You may be greatly oppressed: but omnipotence shall undertake for you. The enemy may thrust sore at you that you may fall: but claim his help who can and will deliver you. The floods of temptation may seem ready to overflow your soul. But the Lord sitteth above the water-floods, and remaineth a King for ever. He shall give strength to his people; the Lord shall give his people the blessing of peace. Fear not then, thou worm in thine own eyes. Since thou hast been precious, being bought with blood, thou art fair in his sight, who yet is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity. Therefore he sits as a refiner’s fire, and as fuller’s soap, on the souls of his people.
I feel Jesus near: he is better to me than I could ask or think. May your spirit find him nigh at this hour, and to the end of your warfare!
London.
*YOUR letter came in an acceptable time: I feared you would not write so soon, and the thought pained me. I found such union of heart with you last week, as it is pleasing pain to experience. I looked upon your’s as an answer to prayer. The Lord generally causes me to ask for a letter before it comes: how shall I speak his praise? He is indeed Immanuel: and what can we ask more? That we may each moment feel his power in our hearts, and testify to all, that God is with us. But what are we, that God should dwell on earth! I am lost in the enquiry. And will God make a sinner happy? Or what is the same thing, will he make us holy? He will, our hearts cry out, he will! We shall be filled with the fulness of his love. He knows I pant, I thirst to prove this, to know more fully the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ: the Lord lets me drink of the brook in the way, before I reach the fountain-head. And I feel love to you, such love as only friendship knows, animated by the love of God.
I am better in body, but I believe the days of my appointed time are short. O blessed prospect beyond the grave! There I shall see him face to face! Help me by your prayers to keep the bright prize in view, that I may be ever running toward the mark. Jesus direct us to aim aright, and keep us from swerving aside into crooked paths!
Let me recommend much prayer to you: not only that praying frame of mind, which a Christian should continually possess, but frequent acts of secret prayer. And not only pray, but wait and expect the answer. I long, I love to hear, that you are sinking deeper in the knowledge of yourself, and rising higher in the love of God.
If I had time I should give you a week’s journal. Sunday se’nnight I received the sacrament from Mr. Madan. It was indeed the communion of the body and blood of Christ. His banner over me was love. I was constrained to say, How plentiful is thy goodness, which thou hast laid up for the sons of men!
I hear frequent mention of persons who have great grace; some of whom are called perfect. I do not much like the term: but I am persuaded, the only way to overcome sin, and to inherit all things, is by enjoying uninterrupted communion with our God. I found something of this on Monday, and was much refreshed with the presence of the Lord. But on Tuesday I found my heart ready to depart from the living God. Yet I had reason to wonder and adore the grace that would not let me go. On Thursday I heard Mr. Whitefield, and had cause to rejoice with reverence. On Friday night a watch was kept at the Foundery, and I found the promise literally fulfilled, They that trust in the Lord shall renew their strength. Indeed his mercies are so oft repeated, that if I had not the most ungrateful heart, I should be always praising him. But I often find such an inward contest with pride, self-will, impatience, and all the legion which is contrary to the mind of Christ, that I groan being burthened: Yet I am persuaded, he can save to the uttermost, and believe he will save even me. Even now my soul rejoices in hope. He will perfect what is lacking in either of our spirits. O trust him with all your heart! Lean not to your own understanding. Believe the Lord; so shall you prosper. Be vigilant in all things; so shall you disappoint our enemy, and bring glory to our everlasting friend. Unto his protection I commit you, until the day we meet to part no more.
May 6, 1760.
I AM glad you are so conscious of danger. It is necessary to be exceedingly afraid of our hearts departing from the living God; this never goes without correction: and though these chastisements are proofs of his love, yet beware you do not bring them upon yourself.
I look upon your being at that place, as a very particular providence; yet I feel for you. I know many of nature’s latent mazes will be discovered to you. Perhaps the cause and the effects will pain you. And what shall I say to comfort my friend? I cannot give the waters of consolation: such power belongs unto God only. O may he undertake for you in every hour of oppression! You may this moment find relief, by looking to an exalted Redeemer. I have been asking, that we might drink deep into the spirit of a crucified Saviour. Indeed I knew not the depth of what I asked: Lord, make us strong, to bear the answer of our request! Make us esteem it our greatest privilege, to taste that cup of which thou drankest so largely! Only saying with thee, If it may not pass from me, Father, thy will be done.
It is his absolute promise, From all your idols will I cleanse you; and your heart hath said, Amen! Do you now retract your petition? Do you not rather say still, in spite of nature’s struggle, “Let all my heart be thine?” Is your Isaac called for? Ascend the mount, bid all things contrary to resignation stay behind. Have you endeavoured to do this, and are you still interrupted by the birds of prey? Are you still molested, when you would offer the sacrifice which God requires? O watch and keep off those enemies to your peace! And he that is your peace shall give you power.
Yes, “when your all of strength doth fail,
You shall with the God-man prevail.”
He loves, he pities you, he requires your heart. And he is worthy to have it. O may he now reign therein, the Lord of every motion there!
Jesus has not left me comfortless. He still sustains me with his grace. May he bring us through this wilderness, to meet and part no more!
December 4.
I KNOW not whether the providence of God will ever permit me to see you again. But I can leave it to him, in sure hopes that I shall meet your happy spirit, in the realms of endless day. There we shall surely exult in a Redeemer’s presence. We shall see him as he is. And indeed when I have a view, though a transient one, of the glory which shall be revealed, I am almost impatient of delay. I am ready to cry out, Why are thy chariot wheels so long in coming? I want leave to go hence, and be no more seen as an inhabitant of the earth. This has been for some time past my habitual desire. I cannot help being glad at night, that one day more of my allotted portion is past, and eternity is nearer to me than when I first believed. Yet at the same time, I have reason to be ashamed before the Lord, that I do not live to his glory. I do not love him with all my heart and strength; so far from it, that I sometimes feel I never did one action with a single eye to his glory. My own will has mixed,
And “Pride, that busy sin,
Spoil’d all that I perform’d.”
’Tis well for me, that our high-priest bears the iniquity of my holy things. Indeed, if the altar did not sanctify the gift, I could not approach with one offering. O may he purify the sacrifice which I have often made, of all I have, or can, or am!
Watch! Stand stedfast, my dear friend, and be strong in the Lord! Remember, the God of peace shall shortly bruise Satan under your feet. May he give you every thing that will forward your growth in grace!
Norwich, May 11, 1762.
I AM but weak, but my soul is kept in peace. Who can express the blessing of feeling Christ our friend every moment? Indeed, I see no other way to profit my soul, but to come the present moment, as I am, to Jesus: He never sends me empty away. If I wish any thing, it is for more opportunity for private prayer. Between the sick, the afflicted, and those seeking the Lord, I have very little time to myself. However, I feel no desire, but to do and suffer his will. While I speak to you, I taste his goodness, above what words can describe. He knoweth, I desire to glorify him, to be altogether his, and to feel him all my own. I know of nothing in my soul, which is not given up to God. Pray him to examine and prove me, and to supply what is lacking.
To Mrs. J. C. M.
November 29, 1761.
I KNOW nothing of myself. But I know and feel, that God is love. I feel, I love him in a measure, and long for full conformity to Jesus. My soul is happy in him; and though I have not what I used to think was implied in the blessing which has been poured out upon many, yet I have (what I am not sufficiently thankful for) a deeper union with the source of blessedness, a constant sense of his unmerited love, and a knowledge that I am less than the least of all saints. I am persuaded, nothing shall separate me from the Lord Jesus. From him is my fruit found. In him are the springs of consolation, which revive and endue my soul with much strength. I trust in him, and know in whom I trust: therefore life or death is equal.
Labour still for all the Spirit’s peaceful fruit. Jesus will bless your attempts to glorify him. He will make you unblameable in love before men, and unreproveable before God. Know, that the eye of earth and heaven is upon you. Many wait for your halting: More, I trust, wish you success in the name of the Lord: I am sure I do, and therefore write without reserve. Take heed of your own understanding. Do not suffer yourself to think of it, but with abasement, that you have made no better use of it. Excuse this freedom: the motive is love unfeigned. I find the fruit of the cross even while I write. I sit under the shadow of my beloved, and feel him sustaining my soul. O Jesus, great is thy goodness! great is thy mercy! even toward the meanest, me! Bless, I pray thee, the sister of my spirit. Let her
“Antedate the joys above:
Ever feel her Saviour’s love.”
I feel my insufficiency to speak of the goodness of God. It is more than I can express. He deals tenderly with me; and if I follow the best pattern, I shall be patient towards all. I have felt much bodily weakness, but no power to chuse its removal or continuance. I seem to enjoy all I want, while I pursue what I have not attained. I am daily more sensible how little I am. I think never one soul so utterly wanted a complete Saviour.
*I have taken the first opportunity to write, in hopes of profiting by your answer. I want to know the most effectual way to grow in grace; how to improve by all things; how to make good use of the dulness which often creeps upon my mind, and makes my soul stupidly inactive. I want to be all attention to God; to have every faculty of my mind fixedly waiting upon him: but I find myself beat off of this by weariness or listlessness. I often seem to stand fast in the Lord, and am steddily looking unto him; but (I suppose, through unwatchfulness) often lose the deep consciousness, that, “God is here:” yet he does not condemn me; but I abhor myself, while I see the Saviour graciously near. My heart crieth without a voice, “Come and mould thy passive clay. Keep my attention rightly exercised every moment.” And while I call, my Jesus answers. O, did I pray without fainting, I should then be what I wish.
I praise the lover of your soul, that he delights to bless you. May you ever see his full sufficiency to save, and live in the fountain-head of bliss!
January 26, 1762.
BLESSED be God, I only seek his approbation, and am content with that alone. The night you wrote, the Lord spake to my heart, “All is your’s.” I feel it true, for Christ is mine. Indeed he is precious to me. My soul is satisfied with its portion. Yet “eager I ask and pant for more.” But my wants do not discourage me. I delight to feel them, for I am persuaded out of his fulness I shall receive a supply. Even while I am receiving from him, he makes me capable of more. I am amazed at his grace.
“I cannot praise him as I wou’d,
But he is merciful and good,”
and does not despise the day of small things.
I know I have been unfaithful to the grace of God; yet [♦]he pardons without upbraiding. O that every future moment may prove, I feel the time past sufficeth! When I consider you as a younger scholar, I am ashamed; yet I rejoice the Master loveth us both. And though he may justly say to me, “O, slow of heart to understand,” yet he teaches me, as I am able to receive, the lesson of his love. I often meet your spirit, when I go in secret before our Lord. He only knows, how much I desire you may increase, with all the increase of God. May you follow the Lamb in all things! I praise him, that he unites me to himself, and to all whose fellowship is with him: I thank him who gives us to drink into one spirit. My heart feels God continually nigh. My only wish is his will; my only desire his glory.
[♦] “ye” replaced with “he”
Good Friday.
*IT is given to you to suffer: and happy are you, if our Lord counts you meet to be his companion in the garden. I love his tempted followers above all: and his peculiar care is towards such as drink of his cup. I am thankful to him on behalf of your soul. Faithful is he that hath called you. He will establish your heart, and keep you from all evil, unto his heavenly kingdom.
I always find a fight before a conquest. I am generally warned of approaching trials, and when I am most filled with the consolations of God, I see how amiable it is to follow my Captain, who was made perfect through sufferings. He is daily teaching me the lesson of his cross. When it ceases to be necessary I shall suffer no more. I am often sensible, my own folly obliges him to put me to pain. I know he never willingly afflicts, but chastens in order to make us partakers of his holiness.
O praise our everlasting Friend, who never shews us a defect, but in order to amend it: my soul longeth to live to him. I feel his mercies new every morning. My spirit is so united to the Lord Jesus, that I am persuaded nothing shall separate me from his love. But I have no fruit of the Spirit, in the fulness I desire or expect. I am sensible my privileges are far higher than my attainments: and I want to be stirred up daily, to take the kingdom which is before me by violence.
Of late I have found private prayer the means which brought me nearest to God: but this he often varies, as his wisdom sees best. My soul is more simple than it was: I am learning to leave others to the care of our Shepherd, and desire only to hear and follow him. Let your soul delight itself in him: learn to know how he hath loved you. Be very active in his cause, and passive to his will. My spirit is all peace. May your’s be preserved in Christ Jesus, who hath called you to glory and immortality.
April 21.
PEACE be with your spirit! The Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought: thou shalt be like a watered garden; for the Lord Jesus is your well of salvation. With joy may you draw from his fulness, grace for every moment’s want. His design is still to do us good; his delight is with the sons of men.
*I find my fellowship with heaven is increased since I wrote last: the King of eternity makes me capable of communing with him, and though I tread but the outward borders of his sanctuary, he causes me to hear his voice, inviting me to come forward. He assures me, he will help me to overcome, and gives me to inherit all things. But at the same time, he shews me my works are not perfect; and that I must watch and strengthen the things that remain. I find my safety and happiness depend, upon my dependance on Jesus. I want every moment to begin afresh the life of faith; to forget all things else, and be (as you said) “a person of one business,” I have been much tempted lately, but I count it all joy, for it profiteth my soul. I have gained more self-contempt, and I love an empty spirit, because then there is room for Jesus.
“O what are all our sorrows here,
If, Lord, thou count us meet
With that inraptur’d host t’ appear,
And worship at thy feet?”
It will soon be our employ. O let us now live in eternity! Antedate the joys above, by bringing all you have and are, to his feet. Cast all you have before him, and ascribe salvation to him, who of a stone, hath made a daughter of Abraham.
I think the grace you want most is thankfulness. Stir me up to patience. Pray that I may be nothing,
“Mean and vile in my own eyes,
Only in his wisdom wise.”
Norwich, May 6.
THE Lord hath of late kept me much from reasoning myself into perplexity. When any thing occurs which I cannot understand, I carry it to him, who is a wonderful Counsellor: and he wipes away the tears from my eyes, by assuring me he is all my own. I feel a constant necessity of walking with the Lord, as I first received him: and I retain peace, as it was imparted, by simple faith. Who knows the value of faith? None but they who constantly exercise it, to their own profit, and the Redeemer’s glory.
*I think your fears of deceiving the people, are only the result of strong temptations. We cannot see clearly in the time of a storm. This is not a season to examine whether we be in the faith: neither is reason alone sufficient to determine in spiritual matters. One thing is needful in your present situation, even to cast yourself upon the Lord, just as you are. Now come to him who waiteth to be gracious; who saith concerning sin or infirmity, “I will cleanse the blood which I have not cleansed.” I fear, you have reasoned with the enemy, while you should have been looking unto Jesus; and by living a little beneath your privileges, have been ready to give up your claim to them. But Jesus was present, though your eyes were holden: And,
“Round you and beneath are spread
The everlasting arms.”
Sunday Night.
THE Lord who inclined your heart to write, will reward your labour of love. I find him faithful who hath promised, My grace is sufficient for thee. I feel a measure of that love, which shall overcome by enduring: all I have and am is but a small offering; but this I can give up to Jesus. Ever since I tasted his love, I have been led in the way of the cross. It is a royal way: the King of kings walked in it: and while I tread in his steps, I experience the rugged way is pleasantness, and the thorny path is peace. Since I have more than ever gone through evil report, I have found more increase of faith and love. I cannot sufficiently praise the friend who sticketh closer than a brother. His banner over me is love, and my soul confesses he doth all things well.
I praise him on your behalf also. He rejoices over you to do you good. O lean on your Beloved with all your weight; so shall you find a sure support. If storms rise and winds blow, they will only settle you on the rock which cannot be moved. Believe simply; believe constantly; so shall you love steddily and entirely. I know no other way for the just to live, but by faith; and as we exercise faith it grows, ’till we can say in all circumstances, This is the victory.
I bless my God, I feel no desire to vindicate my conduct. I know the light of heaven shone on my path, and I am content to be approved of God alone. I feel my heart is given up without reserve, and see fresh cause to be daily more devoted to him. Blessed be God for Jesus Christ! In him I enjoy all I want. Bear me on your heart before him, and ask him to lead me to the thing and place he chuseth.
July 22.
YOUR’s came in a seasonable time, as the return of prayer. I felt some pain because I did not hear from you sooner. But our God doth all things well; he shall supply all your wants, and make all grace to abound towards you. He delights to complete the work he begins, and happy is the soul that does not resist his will. He will call for the corn and will increase it, and will lay no famine upon you. Great is his faithfulness! Hearken diligently to the Shepherd’s voice. He will teach us to profit by the present cross, and keep us in the spirit of sacrifice.
I feel my need of patience. I am closely and constantly exercised, but his grace is sufficient even for me. He generally teaches me by applying his word to my heart, so that I have cause to esteem it more than fine gold. I was greatly oppressed some nights ago, and found immediate deliverance from these words, As birds flying, so will the Lord of hosts defend Jerusalem. Defending also he will deliver, and passing over he will preserve it. I find much union with you, and believe you bear my burdens, and abide in prayer for me. I cannot forget you, and our friend in heaven remembers you for good.
I can no longer refrain from saying, Be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. Let none beguile you of your simplicity, or the reward that attends it. I believe your light is shining out of obscurity, and will shine unto the perfect day. You are coming unto the light that your deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God. In his light you behold yourself of the circumcision, who worship God in the Spirit, rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh.
*They have great peace who love his law, and nothing shall offend them; he keeps us night and day. I pleaded this promise last night, and made it my own by believing. He did keep my imagination, while I slept, subject to himself. Since I returned into the country, I have been blest with peace, which temptation of various kinds did not ruffle. My determination to know nothing but Jesus crucified, is much strengthened. This moment I can give up all for him, and do all things through him strengthening me. I have a testimony that I please him, and count his dear reproach greater treasure than the wealth or praise of men.
Be faithful in all things; this is your privilege; live up to it this moment. You know the way, walk therein, and pray always for
Your affectionate sister,
And obliged friend.
REJOICE in the Lord always; again I say rejoice. For he is become your everlasting light, and the days of your mourning are ended. I believe your sun shall no more go down, but you shall dwell on high. Your place of defence is in the munition of rocks; bread of life is given you; your waters shall not fail. Your eyes see the King in his beauty, and he will cause you to know him who was from the beginning. I drink with you into one spirit. Help me to bless God for the consolation; it increases by being mutual. My soul seems lost in wonder, love and praise, and is melted into thankful tears. Every sensation of gratitude in earth or heaven is bought with thy blood, O precious Jesus! the power to feel my obligations to him, proceedeth from above, and when we reach the top-stone, we shall still shout “Grace, grace unto it.”
*I have all this day been in a disposition to cast my crown at his feet. I cannot express how much I choose to give all the glory to Christ my Lord. All within me acknowledges he is worthy to receive all glory. My love to Mrs. ——. Tell her, not one tittle shall fail of all the good things God hath spoken to her of. Only let her be strong, and not stagger at any of the promises. I believe, I need not say, pray always for
Your most affectionate sister in Jesus.
To Mrs. E. D.
My dear friend,
I Know you will rejoice to hear, God has gotten himself the victory, in the most stubborn heart, that ever submitted to Jesus.
He is my king, and makes me sit
In willing bonds beneath his feet.
Praise him, O my soul, praise him, O my sister, for still he is bringing lost sinners to God. Yea, he has brought me to God. I feel myself weak as helpless infancy; but Christ my strength is with me: at last I am a fool for his sake.
*When I left you on Friday, and had finished my business, I sat down alone and in misery. The Lord directed me to those words: be not affrighted: I know whom ye seek; Jesus of Nazareth: he is not here, he is risen, and lo he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall you see him. I believed I should, and came home in peaceful expectation. One who had seen his great salvation prayed, that he would bless me also: but my own wisdom opposed his coming, and the conflict was great. At length my vehement soul stood still, and the mountains flowed down at his presence. My heart was filled with holy shame and humble joy: I was a little child. I entered the kingdom; we praised our King till morning, and his praise is ever new and sweet. The Lord causes us to cease from our own works, and he is glorified. O pray for us! Pray for me, who every moment need the merit of his death. I can say no more, but I do love Christ, and I love you better than ever.
My dear friend,
TRULY God is loving unto Israel, even unto me: nevertheless my feet had well nigh slipt, for I was grieved at the wicked, and pained by the good. I have been more exercised in mind than ever I was before, and the last conflict always felt severest: but I begin to see that all these things work together for my good. I never was so much saved from trusting in any creature; Jesus was never more lovely in my eyes; I feel him only desirable; I cannot repeat his compassions, for they are endless. I proved them to be sufficient for me, when all besides failed me. I doubt not but I made my cross heavier than love intended, by my own folly: but the teacher of Israel rectifies mistakes with tenderness known only to himself. At present my desire is, to overcome by enduring. I want to think and act under the eye of him who loves me, and every moment to feel it upon me. My soul longs for nearer acquaintance with God. I know neither men nor devils need hinder my intercourse with Jesus. O that I were wise to improve what I receive, and faithful to retain what his mercy gives!
Use your interest for me at the throne of grace: and go on through your croud of difficulties, aiming at Jesus. He alone is worthy your pursuit!
We are forced to feel as well as see: God alone is our support. I have had much of his peaceful presence. He is indeed greater than our fears, and better than our hopes. I was much tried on Friday; but since that I have had no painful emotion. I feel for you in the tenderest manner my heart is capable. I see Jesus will vindicate his own, and claim all your heart for himself. He sees what wounds it, and will give medicine to heal all its sickness. I believe “all you feel is mercy.” But are you strong enough to support the weight? Why should his blessings be insupportable, through our softness of spirit? O that my friend were less susceptible of those impressions! O that a dull disciple might teach you to be in some matters more slow of understanding, of a more insensible spirit!
I see the commandment is exceeding broad, and this makes Christ exceeding precious. How valuable the advocate with the Father! My soul desires to know nothing but him crucified. May you feel life, abundant life in that knowledge! O how much my Saviour loves you? I feel a little of the sounding of his bowels toward you, and my heart cleaves to him, for his goodness to you. He counts you worthy to suffer. O be thankful for this special mark of his love!
*ALL this week I have been tried, but with intervals of rest. God is a jealous God, and will be loved alone: Jesus will convince us in time, that he alone is worthy of every power of the soul. I see a field of religion before me, which I want to walk in. I know I am called to make a perpetual offering of myself, and every enjoyment, to the will of God. I do long to be a Christian. My heart goeth out after this: when will it once be? That promise is now brought to my mind, They shalt grow as willows by the water-courses. ’Tis a mournful tree; I think we shall be weeping willows, ’till we are taken into the paradise of God. The peculiar privilege there is, all tears shall be wiped away from our eyes.
O how little do I know the meaning of Jesus? Surely ’tis mercy all. Even the minutest circumstance is by his order, and under his inspection. And he will suffer nothing to hurt the apple of his eye.
*I am to-day very weak in body. I feel the power of sympathizing with all in the house. All are tried. O Adam, what hast thou done? O Jesus, what hast thou suffered? How thou canst recover! Lord, let us know thy utmost power to save!
MY heart feels pure union with yours. I love you as disinterestedly as I think I can. Sure the Lord is pouring upon you the spirit of sacrificing all to him. I wish you good luck in his name! Go on, my dear friend. Life is a noble thing, while our employment is doing the will of God from the heart. May you clearly see what it is concerning you. I have at present, peace inward and outward. Pray, pray that I may
“Be thankful and humble,
But never stand still.”
*I WANT your prayers and advice. I feel myself daily weaker, and more foolish than ever. I am as a little child learning to walk, and cannot go alone. At present I am guided by Jesus, and feel his grace sufficient for me; but there are depths of the Deity I want to fathom. I long to be lost in the immensity of his love!
My soul enjoys peace, solid peace at bottom: but its surface is filled with fights and fears. I am afraid of being too outward; I want grace to deepen in my soul. Blessed be God, my every want shall be supplied, from his fulness who filleth all.
MY dear friend gave me another proof of her tenderness, by not upbraiding me with neglect. I think you ought to go to the meetings [on Fridays] by all means: pray for those who speak not according to the law and the testimony. You will feel more deeply the help that is done upon earth: the Lord doth it himself. What is man that he is mindful of him! What is God, that he can be gracious to us! O may our souls every moment know, by a nearer acquaintance with him, that he is love!
You are laid upon my heart to pray for: sure God is faithful to his word, he will hear and answer, and endue your soul with much strength.
“Suffering faith shall brighter grow,
As gold when in the furnace tried.”
*I am persuaded your Lord will be with you, and make your weakness more than conquer. He is wonderful in counsel; he has a way in the whirlwind: he cannot mean any thing but mercy to your soul: for he has given himself and all that he counted dear to you! What then would you with-hold from him? Methinks I hear you say, “Nothing. I would offer all I have or am to his will, when I know it is his.” And can you doubt this? Is there an evil in the city, and the Lord hath not done it? Can a sparrow fall, or Shimei curse David without permission? Nay, Satan himself can do nothing without leave. O my God, shine on thy servant’s heart, that she may see thy hand of love holds the cup. And if she is called
“To bear the full anguish,
The uttermost load,
Yet give her to languish
And suffer like God!”
My dear friend, what shall I say, to dissuade you from over much sorrow? I can only love you, and speak to Jesus, that he may order your conduct to his glory.
May, 1762. Norwich.
JOIN to praise the Lord, who still supports my feebleness of mind, carries all my burdens, and suffers me to desire nothing but his righteous, glorious will. I see infinite wisdom and unfathomable love, in all his dispensations towards me: I can now believe, that all things shall work together for good: I want words to tell you the sense I have of the goodness of God, far better felt than described: I find his consolations sufficient to support me under present difficulties, and am persuaded his grace will be equal to every future trial. I like your proposal, but dare scarce form one plan. May the Lord do with me as is good in his sight!
To the Reverend Mr. ——.
February 21, 1761.
YOUR obliging request lays me under a happy necessity, of calling to mind the past mercies of God. May every review of them bring trust for future blessings, and thankfulness for the present.
*Ever since I can remember, I was desirous of happiness; but I did not seek it in God. I thought if I was religious, I should go to heaven; but I knew not the nature of true religion, and I was unwilling to be under the restraint of that I did know: yet so great a stranger was I to myself, that I often thought, if I knew what God required, I would perform it. At sixteen I was confirmed, and made many resolutions; but they soon wore off. I had a strong impression on my mind, that I should die when I was four and twenty. I reflected on those who were put apprentice seven years to learn a trade, and thought I ought to use like application, to learn the business of eternity.
I went to the sacrament the day I was eighteen, and found uncommon satisfaction: I exhorted others to do the same, thinking I had now done all that was commanded me, and that if I continued in the same way, I should be a very profitable servant.
Soon after this I went to London, for eight weeks, where I heard Mr. Jones (of Southwark) preach, and was affected at hearing of the sufferings of Christ, much as I used to be at seeing or reading of a tragedy. I was afterwards asked to hear Mr. Romaine. I did so, but could not understand him. The night I left London, some persons were debating about the Millennium. One of them repeated part of the 20th chapter of the Revelation. I was struck at the awful words, and thought if Christ was then to come, I was not prepared to meet him. I went home very serious, and began to search the scriptures, and to be more strict than ever. I was often troubled, but knew not the cause, and was ashamed to confess my fears. My friends thought I had a fever on my spirits, and I thought so too; but as I read much, I began to fear, that with all my religion, I was not converted. I wanted to go to London, that I might hear Mr. Romaine. A year after I went to London with my father-in-law. At the inn where we lay, I saw Mr. Whitefield’s sermons. I read what I could, and determined to hear him. He was not in town; but I was much affected with Mr. Dyer’s preaching. Afterwards I not only went to St. Dunstan’s, but to all the methodist places of worship I knew, and one evening heard Mr. Walsh, at West-street. He preached the necessity of that holiness, without which none can see the Lord. His words were as arrows in my heart: I found all my former righteousness deficient: I knew this could not obtain mercy; but I did not feel I deserved hell. I wrote to Mr. Romaine to know, what I should do to be saved? He desired to see me, and told me, two things were necessary, to know my want of Christ, and my interest in him. I went home with the greatest reluctance; for I knew no Christians in the town where I lived. My former acquaintance thought me mad: my mother was greatly alarmed. Not long after I went to Norwich for a few days, and found out Mr. Mitchell. He spoke to me of the peace which faith brings to the conscience. I knew myself a stranger to this; but would willingly have suffered the rack, so I might attain it. I went home, and was, for five or six weeks, in a most unhappy situation. Before, I was not bad enough to come to Christ; now, I was too bad for him to receive; yet the Lord dealt tenderly with me, and at different times brought many encouraging scriptures to my mind. But still the stupidity and unbelief I felt caused me to mourn in secret. Still I was constrained to say,
“Scarce I begin my sad complaint,
When all my warmest wishes faint:
Hardly I lift my weeping eye,
When all my kindling ardors die:
Nor hopes nor fears my bosom move,
For still I cannot, cannot love!”
I could not rest thus, though I concluded, it would always be the case: I expected to be miserable all my life, and to perish at the last: I found it as easy to reach heaven with my hand, as to believe Jesus died for me. I felt, no one can come to Christ, except the Father draw him. Now I knew, it was the work of God, to believe on him whom he hath sent. I prayed he would work faith in me, but seemed as distant from God as hell from heaven: I was cut off from all self-dependence: I was a sinner stript of all.
I was on my knees striving to pray, when I heard inwardly a voice say, “Thy sins are forgiven thee.” I felt the truth of it in my heart, and in a moment prayer was lost in praise. I called upon the angels to join with me, in blessing him who died for me! He caused his goodness to pass before me, and I rejoiced with joy unspeakable.
Yet in a few hours after I began to fear I had deceived myself, and all was delusive. I was much distressed, and had recourse to prayer, and the Lord repeated his mercies, and impressed the same words on my mind, more strongly than before. I was more assured of his forgiving love, and enjoyed much peace in believing. I now thought, I never could sin more. My mind was taken up with God, and I conversed with him as a man would with his friend. My confidence in him was unshaken, and my hope full of immortality.
I wanted others to rejoice with me; but they were strangers to Jesus, and intermeddled not with my joy. I lamented being alone. My nearest friends thought I carried things too far. My mother was more alarmed; for I could not speak but on religious subjects. A neighbouring clergyman advised her to confine me, if I offered to hear the Methodists. This I did at all opportunities, though none was nearer than four miles off. Her tenderness gave me much pain. I was sorry to grieve her in any thing; and yet I did not dare to oblige her, by acting contrary to my conscience. I could not play at cards, nor join in trifling discourse, though my refusal was deemed preciseness.
I was near two years at home after this. Then the Lord fulfilled his promise: He gave me the bread of adversity and the water of affliction; but my eyes did see my teachers. I was now more desirous than ever, to be made conformable to the will of God: but I thought, to believe the doctrine of perfection, was derogating from the priestly office of Christ.
When I first saw you, Sir, at Norwich, notwithstanding my prejudice to your opinions, I found that reverence and esteem for you, which have increased ever since. My understanding was then better informed, and my desires more fervent for all the grace God had in store for me. I trust my soul is still alive to God, and athirst for righteousness. He has borne my manners in the wilderness, and sustains me in my utter helplessness. He continues to multiply his pardons, and heap his benefits upon me. Every trial is sent in mercy; every temptation is permitted for my good; every cross has proved a blessing in disguise. In his light I see this: I believe he is able to keep me from falling, and to make me perfect and entire, lacking nothing. My present situation requires more of every grace, than any I have been in before: but, I trust, he in whom all fulness dwells, will supply my every want.
I would not have troubled you with so long a letter, but indeed “I had not time to make it shorter.” And I am desirous to prove by every means, that I regard your advice, and on all occasions speak with freedom. I am, dear Sir,
Your obliged Servant,