LETTERS of J. C. Philpot (1849)
February 23, 1849
My dear friend, Thomas Godwin—It is a mercy amid all one's
coldness, deadness, and hardness sometimes to feel a little revival, and to
be blessed in speaking of the Lord's people. It encourages us to go on in
spite of all opposition within and without. I think more of the value and
blessedness of the preached gospel than I once did. It often stirs up
prayer, shows where we have been wandering, revives the soul, points to
Jesus and His precious blood, and encourages us to believe that where sin
did and does abound, there grace does much more abound. And, I believe,
where the preached gospel is little valued, it arises from deadness and
carnality. It is, I believe, a great mercy when the heart of the preacher is
enlarged and his mouth opened to set forth the truth as it is in Jesus, and
the ear and heart of the people enlarged and opened to receive and feel it.
It will detect many snares, make the soul cry at times, "Search me, O Lord,
and try me," and give now and then a little strength to fight against
besetting sins and temptations, as well as lead the poor soul at times to
the fountain once opened for all sin and uncleanness. I once thought I
really would get better before I died; more holy and pure, and strong and
spiritual. But I find that these things are only at times and seasons, as
the Lord is pleased to work in the soul to will and to do of His good
pleasure; and that left to ourselves we are, and ever shall be, sinners
of the deepest and blackest dye.
But religion and experience, and all that regards the
work of grace in the soul will ever be a mystery; and we not only can know
only just as much as we are divinely taught, but seem only then to know it
when under the feelings and influences. I can recollect having seen and felt
such and such things, and may, perhaps, be able to describe them; but how
different this is from being under their power and influence. Then they seem
to be really known, and only really then. . .
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
March 8, 1849
My dear friend, Joseph Parry—You will be very sorry to hear that our
poor friend M'Kenzie is dangerously ill. He broke a blood vessel on Saturday
last, and brought up much blood, and had a return of the same on Monday. The
doctor says it is from the lungs, which makes it all the more dangerous. He
may not be immediately removed; but I would greatly fear the ultimate event,
as such attacks generally terminate in consumption even when not quickly
fatal. The Lord, however, mercifully blessed his soul, after the first
attack, with His presence, and that, after all, is everything. Our time here
in this world must at the very longest be short; and what is the longest or
most prosperous life without the Lord's blessing? When we feel what vile
sinners and dreadful backsliders we are, and have been, it almost makes us
despair of a blessing. Indeed, we could not entertain the least hope of one
were it not for free and sovereign grace—but this opens a door of hope for
the vilest and worst. How valuable, how indispensable a blessing seems to be
when sickness makes death stare us, as it were, in the face! How empty
and worthless really are all human cares and anxieties, as well as all human
hopes and pleasures, when viewed in the light of a vast and endless
eternity!
I have not been very well of late, having suffered from
my old complaint, cold on the chest. I generally suffer from it every
spring, especially when the winds are cold and searching. It much confines
me to the house at present; but I still go on preaching as usual. I never
have been attended better since I was settled here, and especially since the
weather has been dry and fine. We have many country hearers, and short days,
bad weather, and dirty roads are hindrances to their attendance.
I do not see any probability of my being able to be at
Allington more than the first three Lord's-days in May. Poor M'Kenzie's
illness will make a sad gap in the supplies. He was to be at Leicester in
April, and to follow me at Eden Street chapel in August. What they will do
at the latter place, I know not. I would not be surprised if they should
wish me to stay another Lord's-day, and then it will be, perhaps, a question
with me whether I ought not to stay in preference to coming down to
Allington. When I dropped hint of coming to Allington on my way to Abingdon
for August 12, I, of course, could not contemplate such an event as
M'Kenzie's illness. Ministers have to consider not merely their own feelings
and wishes, but the good of the churches.
Mr. Harrison has already applied for me to help them at
Leicester, and I would like to do so, if I could see my way, or procure an
acceptable supply here. I find it more difficult now to leave home than
ever, there being a greater unwillingness among the people that I should go
from home. Churches, like individuals, are selfish, and rarely consider or
consult each other's profit and convenience.
How our friends and acquaintances seem continually
falling around us! R. Dredge lies in Allington graveyard, and J. M'Kenzie
may soon be numbered among the departed. Such things have a voice, could we
but hear it, and be stirred up by it. It seems to say, "you, be also ready."
But what can we do to prepare ourselves for the solemn hour? Nothing. The
God of all grace can alone, then and there, by appearing to us, and for us,
enable us to say, "Come, Lord Jesus!" But it is a mercy when deep and
solemn considerations about death and eternity have some effect in loosening
the strong bands of sin and the world, and lead on to that
spiritual-mindedness which is life and peace.
I doubt not that the low price of corn, conjoined with
the bad yield, sometimes tries your mind. But you will have enough of "the
thick clay," doubtless, to carry you honorably through. And why need you
covet more? We shall always have enough for needs, but never for
covetousness.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
March 26, 1849
My dear Tiptaft—I consider poor Mrs. C.'s case a
very trying one, and one very difficult indeed to pronounce any decided
opinion upon. Say, for instance, that we gave it as our decided advice that
she should stay away from chapel; that would seem shunning the cross. Say,
that we advised her still to go, and she should lose her life in
consequence, painful reflections might be cast upon us. Such dreadful
brutality we rarely hear of—indeed, I might say, such murderous proceedings.
I think, however, there is a decided difference between doing evil and
forbearing to do well. Thus, I think, she might resolutely deny to go to
church, whatever the consequence. There, I think, my mind is pretty
clear. But whether she might not abstain for a season, during his present
dreadful madness, I might call it, from going to chapel, is another matter.
Christians, when persecuted in one place, might flee to another. Here was an
allowed declining persecution by flight; but, on the other hand, God, we
know, can make a way of escape even by people persevering to go. Look at D—,
how her husband stood with a knife at the door the morning she was to be
baptized, to stab her, and how she crept out at the window, was baptized,
and how all was overruled, as we hope, for his eventual good.
A note which fell into my hands this morning gives an
account of a poor woman much in Mrs. C.'s situation. I think much must
depend on the state of her mind; what she feels led to do, what promises the
Lord has applied to her soul, what faith and strength she has in exercise,
how her own conscience is exercised in the matter. It is so hard to lay down
rules of action in these matters, for what one can do another cannot. Peter,
who once denied his Master, could afterwards be crucified with his head
downwards. Nicodemus comes first by night, and afterwards goes boldly into
Pilate's presence. Elijah flees before Jezebel, and then meets Ahab in
Naboth's vineyard. David kills Goliath, and then flees before Absalom. Thus,
good men act differently as faith is weak or strong; and we would not
counsel any man to walk on the waves unless we knew he had Peter's Master
near, and Peter's faith in exercise. Thus I feel slow to offer advice, or
give counsel in this painful and difficult matter. We feel, however,
encouraged to hope the Lord will appear for her from the promise He has
given her.
We had a church meeting here yesterday. Two candidates
were fully received, Miss B, and Mrs. L. They were both well received, but
the latter particularly. Oh, with what sweetness and power did she speak! I
never myself was so melted with hearing an experience, and I am sure there
was not a dry eye among us. I did not know I had such a hearer. She has
been, and is, a most deeply-tried woman; bodily pain, until lately, deep
poverty, and soul trouble have sunk her very low; but lately she has been so
much blessed in her soul, especially yesterday fortnight and the following
Tuesday. Besides this lately, she was much blessed in her soul some years
ago. I do not think we ever had a candidate before the church so much in the
present savor of things. Others may have as good an experience, but they did
not come before the church in the savor, blessedness, and power of it. It
seemed quite to encourage me in the work; she could speak of what she had
felt under this and that preaching, and how it abode with her and what it
did for her, so clearly and sweetly. She has great trials about coming to
chapel, having opposition at home, and an afflicted body. She has been a
hearer eight or nine years.
R. S. has been blessed again in her soul. She thought she
was dying, but had no fear. She has a great desire to see you. Some of the
friends, I think J. C. among them, have seen, and think well of her.
Mrs. L.'s testimony has much encouraged us all. I felt I
would not care for the speeches of a hundred enemies if the Lord would
condescend so to bless the word.
If spared, I hope to baptize the three candidates (D.V.)
April 8. Mrs. L. spoke of how she heard you on baptism. What a power there
is in true religion, and what can be compared to it! but how it is got at
only through trials and exercises! My heart cleaves more and more to the
power. All without is worthless—a mere tithing of mint, anise, and cummin.
Mrs. B. speaks highly of Mrs. L.'s consistency.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
April 24, 1849
My dear friend, Thomas Godwin—We were
well attended at Leicester. Many, I am told, could not get into the chapel
in the evening. I hope it was a good day, as I had a spirit of prayer on the
Saturday, and a text came with some sweetness to my mind; and I had some
liberty and sweetness in speaking. There is quite a spirit of hearing there.
I baptized here the Lord's-day previous, and the
candidates were, I hear, much blessed in their souls. One was so blessed in
her soul that she could not sleep that night, and could do nothing but bless
and praise God for two or three days. So that we have some little evidence
that the Lord has not forsaken us, whatever men may say or surmise. Indeed,
it matters little what men may say or think for or against us. If God is
for us, it matters not who is against us; and if God is against us, it
matters not who is for us. My mind is much more here than it used to be.
Everything cries aloud, "Cease from man," who cannot make one of his own
hairs, nor ours, black nor white. How much better is it, instead of seeking
man's smile, or fearing man's frown, to be committing our way to the Lord,
to be seeking His presence and smiles, to desire to know and do His will,
and live and walk in His fear! What support under trial, deliverance from
temptation, comfort in affliction, submission in sickness, or peace in
death, can man give us? What blind unbelieving fools, then, to be looking so
much to the creature and so little to the Creator!
We have a poor girl dying in this town, and it is,
indeed, marvelous to see what a work God has done for her soul. I saw her in
her trouble and distress, and have seen her since the Lord blessed her soul,
which He has repeatedly done. All fear of death is gone, and her soul seems
filled with peace. She has had convictions for years, and been a constant
hearer, but nothing decided until lately. What a wonderful thing grace
is, both in its Fountain and streams! Well may we contend for nothing else,
for what else can save, suit, or bless a poor guilty, fallen sinner?
I am much as usual, sometimes feeling very poorly, and
then again a little better. Our poor clay tabernacle, what a burden it is
to us from sickness and sin!
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
June 2, 1849
My dear friend, Joseph Parry—I
reached home safely, through mercy, on the Friday, to dinner, and found my
dear wife and little family pretty well.
I preached at Wellingborough Thursday evening, 24th. If
"like priest like people," be a true saying, I would fear there was not much
life, power, or feeling in the congregation; and I felt but little in my own
soul. My words seemed to rebound upon me almost as if I were throwing balls
against a brick wall. Good, however, might still be done, as our feelings
are in these matters by no means infallible marks. I would be sorry to set
up my feelings as a tribunal from which there is no appeal; though we cannot
help being to a certain extent guided and influenced by them. I consider
this a nice and difficult point. I have generally found that when I have
gone contrary to my feelings as regards men and things, I have erred, and
more or less suffered in consequence. We may be thus slighting the secret
leadings and impressions of the Holy Spirit. But, again, we may be under
wrong impressions which a subsequent experience may correct. In this, as in
all other matters, wisdom is profitable to direct. In all our movements
and actings we need grace to teach, guide and direct; and without it we are
sure to err.
My visit to Allington seems now almost like a dream. I
would hope, however, that all the effects have not so passed away. A
minister should leave a sweet savor of heavenly things wherever he goes.
If he does not he will make the people worse instead of better. When the
Holy Spirit makes our bodies His temple He will cast forth some rays
of His indwelling presence. Christians will either spiritualize or carnalize
each other; will stir up one another to good or evil. When we are
ourselves a little spiritual, we are grieved to see the children of God, and
especially those whom we love, worldly and carnal. This makes us get away
from them, and in solitude seek the Lord, feeling no pleasure nor rest
outside of Him. Time and experience correct many errors, and especially in
religion. I am daily more and more convinced that it is a secret work
carried on in private between God and the soul. The conscience is the grand
battlefield where the conflict is fought. Condemnation and justification in
all their various branches and workings are there felt and known. And unless
we live much alone, and are more or less continually engaged with this
inward communion of heart, our religion withers away. "Commune with your own
heart on your bed, and be still." I only wish I could live a more
separate life, and have eyes, ears, and heart more separate from the world
lying in wickedness.
The friends here consider me looking better than when I
left; and, indeed, I feel so myself. It always suits me best when I can get
air and exercise. But I often find when I am, as it were, congratulating
myself with being better, and so forgetting to die daily, I get a pull-back;
and so now some of my old pains and sensations admonish me not to be
high-minded, but fear. Like escaped greyhounds, how madly and eagerly we
rush afield when the hand that checks seems a little to slacken its hold!
But evening comes, and the old collar is slipped over our necks; and perhaps
a beating is added for our wild roamings.
A head-ache or a sinking market, or a sense of guilt and
bondage, or a solemn view of eternity, or a remembrance of past backslidings
and sins, or a slip with the tongue or feet, or some unaccountable
depression of spirits—each or any or all put the feet in the stocks. I am
well persuaded that without exercises the soul cannot be kept alive; that
is, in a healthy or spiritual sense. He who began must carry on; He who
kindled must keep alive; He who is the Author must also be the Finisher of
faith. This we are well persuaded of in our judgment; but we have to learn
it in daily experience. And, I believe, it is often to us a cause of
inward condemnation that we are what we are; that we have not more life
and feeling, more prayerfulness and watchfulness, more knowledge of and
communion with the blessed Jesus. We condemn graceless professors, and would
rather open our lips no more upon religion than speak like them; and yet how
much we really resemble them! Indeed, we differ from them only as far as our
souls are kept alive by exercises and gracious influences and operations.
All things that we see and hear, the very necessary business of life, and
all our relationships in the world, only tend to deaden and harden our
souls. And though we can leave neither our families nor the world, and
must continue in the calling where God has placed us, yet we shall ever find
it our wisdom and mercy to live much alone as regards our souls.
In this point you are much favored. You have fields and
downs, quiet meadows and isolated walks, where you may think, meditate, and
pray. And as these fields have formerly witnessed your sighs and tears, so
may they witness your blessings and praises until the green sod covers your
body in that little spot which many gracious feet have trod, and where sleep
our friends, R. Dredge, poor farmer Wild, and others, that we have been
united to in life, and from whom we hope death will not separate us.
We may have worldly troubles and worldly mercies, and our
hearts may be often depressed by the one, and carried away by the other;
but, after all, there is nothing really enduring and satisfying but grace in
its Fountain and in its streams.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
June 7, 1849
My dear friend, Thomas Godwin—It seems that troubles and trials still
await me, and what is to be their end or outcome, I know not. I was thinking
the other day that either Satan must hate me very much, or that there must
be something in me very wrong, for many seem to rise up against me.
And having so much besides in me which causes
condemnation and fear, and the Comforter who would relieve my soul being far
from me, makes me wonder how the scene will end. What adds to the trial is
my public situation as a minister and editor of the Gospel Standard.
Were I obscure and unknown, like many private Christians whom I envy, how
many trials should I be free from! But so many eyes are fixed upon me, some
for good and some for evil. I have so many enemies as well as friends; and I
find it so difficult, either by pen or tongue, to express myself so as to be
free from misunderstanding, misrepresentation, or cavil, that my way seems
completely hedged up. But in the midst of all these trials I trust there are
some mercies. The Lord has not withheld that spirit of prayer and
supplication which I trust He first gave me more than twenty years ago, and
to His throne of grace He from time to time draws me.
I have still encouraging testimonies that the work is
going on at Oakham. A woman came to see me on Tuesday afternoon who has been
a hearer ever since the chapel was opened. The Lord quickened and blessed
her soul many years ago, but for the last seven or eight years she has been
in a lukewarm profession, with only just enough life to keep her out of the
world, and burdened with its cares and anxieties. But within these last few
months the Lord has set to His hand the second time, and wrought very
powerfully and blessedly in her soul, first bringing her to the deepest
self-abasement and sorrow for her long state of backsliding, and then
manifesting His mercy and love to her soul. She could hardly speak for tears
and blessing the Lord for His mercies. It was not altogether under the word,
though she said she has heard with new ears the last few months; but it
seems that the work was helped on by the word. She will (D.V.) come before
the church at our next meeting, when I doubt not she will be well received,
and I hope to baptize her on my last Lord's-day at Oakham.
I am, you know, slow to receive what are called
"blessings," especially when said to have been under my preaching; but these
cases at Oakham have been so clear, and there has been that savor and power
attending the testimony which the friends have given, that I could not but
believe them, they have come with such weight to my conscience.
Amid all this, when I look within I feel much to condemn
me. My past backslidings rise up to my view, with many sins and temptations,
besides my continual propensity to carnality and folly. And then, when these
attacks come from without, it makes me sink, as if the Lord had a strong
controversy with me, and that after all my enemies might be right and I
might be fearfully and perhaps wholly wrong. Why have I so many opponents?
Other ministers pass along untouched, but book after book comes out against
me, as if they would sink me outright. If this be the price paid for many
hearers such as at Allington and elsewhere, methinks it is very dear.
When, after hearing Mrs. L.'s testimony at the
church-meeting at Oakham, I was walking from the upper vestry, I think, to
the pulpit, I felt and said to myself, "If the Lord bless so my word to the
people, let me go on preaching, I shall not mind a hundred —s." But, alas!
how soon the heart sinks again when trouble arises, and I could not help
wishing I had lived and died in the Church of England. I thought I might
have been quiet there, and need not have preached at all. I was struck last
evening with Psalm 11. I cannot say that either was applied to my soul, or
that I would or did call my adversaries wicked. But the drift of the Psalm
struck me as peculiarly forcible. We must be tried if we are the Lord's, and
when our trials bring us to His feet, we may hope they may do us good. I do
not wish, however, to burden you with my trials, though I know and feel you
are and always have been a kind and sympathizing friend.
I hope the Lord may be with you at Allington this time,
and bless you in your own soul and in the ministry of the word to the hearts
of the people.
I think (D.V.) of going to Lakenheath for Lord's-day,
August 12. You know how desirous they have been for me to go there, and
having that day to spare, I seemed led to spend it in that way.
I had a pleasant and I hope a profitable visit at
Allington this time. But if I had my encouragements there, and many hearers
and friends, I have had since and have now my ballast. . .
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
June 19, 1849
My dear friend, Thomas Godwin—We had a church-meeting here, on
Lord's-day, and received two candidates for baptism. They were both well
received, being well known to the friends and hearers almost ever since I
came to Oakham; but one gave a blessed testimony, being now in the sweet
enjoyment of the love of God, so that she could speak of the Lord having
blessed her soul not once or twice, but again and again even to last
Tuesday. She has been a backslider in heart many years, though a most
consistent woman; but with what self-abhorrence does she now speak, and did,
at the church-meeting, with the tears of sorrow and love mingled together.
I went to K— yesterday, and saw both her and the woman
whom I baptized last, who so melted us all at the church-meeting before I
left home. I found also two other gracious people there—constant hearers at
the chapel—one a woman whose soul the Lord wonderfully blessed some years
ago in a severe illness, but now much tried and harassed. Since the Lord has
revived the work here I have seen more of the friends, and believe when you
come here you do not preach to stocks and stones. Amid all our darkness and
bondage there is, I believe, life and feeling in the souls of some, and I am
sure, that next to feeling life in his own soul, there is nothing so
encouraging and so drawing, as it were, life out of a preacher, as seeing
there is life in the hearers.
I certainly felt some life and power when in Wilts, but
since then seem to have well-near lost it all. On Lord's-day morning I
really could not find one grain of grace in my soul, and I think
sometimes I am one of the greatest hypocrites that ever walked, and all I
feel and talk about is but pretense. Sometimes my mind is filled with
infidelity, as if the Bible and religion were all an invention; then again
with unbelief as to my own state and standing, and then with all manner of
hypocrisy and falsehood. So that when one's poor soul gets a little respite
from the devil's snares in one way—lust and filthiness—there are snares and
temptations on the other. There is either filthiness of the flesh, or
filthiness of spirit, and we hardly know which is the worse.
But these things we must know experimentally, that we may
dive into people's hearts and penetrate beneath that crust of
self-righteousness and ignorance which hides so many from themselves. Men's
motives, and thoughts, and feelings, are laid bare to us by knowing
ourselves, and we are sure there is nothing really good in any, but what God
Himself puts there by His grace; and thus while we value at its due worth
all human pretensions, we put a great price upon everything commended to our
conscience as really of grace; and thus by these exercises we can not only
draw a clearer line between people in a congregation, but also more sift and
separate the hearts of God's people and speak more to their comfort and
encouragement.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
July 17, 1849
My dear friend, Thomas Godwin—I never came to London more
unwillingly. I left Oakham very poorly, and weak in body and tried in mind,
and called myself a thousand fools to have made the engagement. But hitherto
the Lord has helped me, and I hope the poor and the needy may have reaped
some little benefit from my trials and exercises. I hope the Lord was with
me on Lord's-day, and I was enabled to speak pretty plainly upon the
difference between exercised and unexercised persons, whether ministers,
deacons, or hearers. I see this—that we must give up all idea of being what
is called generally useful. There are very few children of God anywhere,
and of these very few who are really tried and exercised, and know what they
hear. There are but few who are really panting after heavenly blessings, or
know the difference between the letter and the power. A 'doctrinal' sermon
about Jesus Christ will suit them far better than a real experimental one
fetched out of the furnace. However, all we can do is to deliver our
conscience, and speak what we know and feel to be true, and leave it in the
hands of the Lord, who has promised that His word shall not return to Him
void. There may be a few poor needy souls to whom it may be blessed, and
that is all our reward and comfort as regards the ministry.
I think I have not felt so strong in speaking for months,
I might almost say years, as I felt on Lord's-day. Though the place was very
full, my voice seemed to ring through it like a bell. The preceding
Lord's-day it seemed like speaking through water. But I had some life and
feeling on Sunday; and that, you know, makes a wonderful difference even
with our natural voice. What poor creatures we are without the Lord! And
with Him we seem able to thresh the mountains! It seemed to raise up a
little gratitude that the Lord had so far restored my health and enabled me
to speak.
I hope you have found the Lord with you at Oakham and
Stamford. I hope there is a work going on at Oakham, and that we shall have
more come forward to declare what God has done for their souls; but it will
be sure to make Satan rage, and stir up new trials and temptations.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
July 24, 1849
My dear friend, Thomas Godwin—I believe on the main points of
experimental truth and vital godliness we see eye to eye, and feel heart to
heart, and this makes us cleave to each other in affection and esteem. I am
quite sick of the generality of Calvinistic professors, and I believe we may
read their charter in Ezekiel 34—especially the ministers. But I leave them.
Time and circumstances will make many things clear which now are dark and
mysterious, and I wish neither their company, nor their standing, nor their
spirit. When Osbourn's letter came out against me, these words were almost
continually in my lips, "O Lord, fight my battles, and bring me off more
than conqueror." All their strife and bitterness only give me more errands
to a throne of grace and stir up my soul, which is so sadly prone to rest on
its lees. Osbourn's scurrility, pride, and bitterness seem to excite general
disgust. Are these the fruits of gospel liberty, and such manifestations as
few have been favored with since the times of the apostles? Judge such men
by their fruits; and what is their religion really worth? The blessed Lord
did not speak in vain, "By their fruits you shall know them." Men may come
in sheep's clothing, while inwardly they are ravening wolves. "Not every one
who says, Lord, Lord," etc.
I am glad you saw Mrs. —; she is a choice and well taught
woman, and I think I never call upon her without seeing the grace of God
shining forth in her; and I think I could show you some who attend the
chapel at Oakham who can give as good an account of themselves as she,
particularly some who have joined the church lately.
It is a consolation and encouragement to me to believe
and feel that the Lord has a people at Stamford and Oakham to whom, from
time to time, He blesses the word. Men may rage and storm, and try to crush
me as a worm under their feet, but if the Lord blesses His word through me,
what more, as a minister, can I desire?
I am well attended here. I think I never saw the chapel
fuller than on Lord's-day evening. They were standing wherever they could,
in the aisles and about the doors. But it was not a good day with me either
time, and I seemed to have neither life and feeling in my soul, nor a door
of utterance with my lips.
I believe your remarks about the real hearers are quite
true. It is not the great body of seat-holders, but the unknown in holes and
corners. Our hire, like Jacob's must be "the speckled and spotted," "the
brown and the ring-straked;" all the snowy fleeced are Laban's.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
August 31, 1849
My dear friend, Thomas Godwin—I was so poorly on Saturday night, and
coughed so much during the night, that I almost despaired of being able to
preach at all. I was sharply tried, for as I seemed to see the Lord's hand
so plainly in my going to Lakenheath, it would have been very trying and
mysterious if I could not preach, and I knew it would not only be a
disappointment to the congregation, but would open the mouth of my enemies.
I got up, however, and when soon after breakfast the gigs and vehicles came
pouring in, I felt I must preach, or at least make the attempt, come what
would. I think if ever I looked to the Lord alone for strength and help, I
did that morning. When I went up to the chapel it was so crowded I could
scarcely get through to the pulpit. I read and prayed very short, and my
cough kept interrupting me, so that I quite dreaded the sermon; but when I
came to preach I found my voice strengthened, and I was mercifully helped
through, beyond my expectation in every sense of the word.
There were people there from twenty miles' distance, and
the number of the vehicles very far exceeded that at Allington. I preached
again in the afternoon, and my voice seemed clearer and stronger than in the
morning. The people were standing back nearly as far as the trees, and yet
my voice seemed able to reach them. On Tuesday evening I preached again to a
full chapel. I came home on Wednesday. Tiptaft preached for me on Thursday,
but I was so unwell I could not go out to hear him. I preached, however, on
Lord's-day here twice, and had so good a congregation that I thought there
was some mistake, and that there was an impression Tiptaft was to preach.
I hope I may one day see clearly why many painful things
have been permitted. I think, indeed, I am getting more light upon them.
The Lord has delivered me from some very trying temptations, and seems of
late to be drawing me nearer to Himself. When we are under guilt and
condemnation, all things seem against us, and there is a fleeing when none
pursues. All things in providence and in grace have a veil over them, and
we see nothing clearly. But as the Lord draws us out of these feelings
by drawing us nearer to Himself as the God of all grace, light begins to
dawn upon the soul, and many perplexities are cleared up. It is a blessed
thing to be drawn out of the world and things hateful and evil, by tasting
that the Lord is gracious. It is the power of sin which needs breaking, and
this can be only by being brought under the power of grace.
I have had many trials, afflictions, persecutions, and
temptations; and I hope these have all worked together for my soul's profit.
It is not often at the time that we see the good of our trials and
afflictions. But what poor useless beings we would be without them—a burden
and a nuisance to the children of God! I was thinking the other day that
there were only two things really worth living for; to be blessed ourselves,
and be made a blessing to others. Without this, what is life? To eat
so many pounds of bread and meat, drink so many tumblers of water, sleep so
many hours—is this life? But to be blessed and made a blessing, to have the
hope of immortality in one's bosom, and for some of God's children to bless
the Lord that we ever lived—this is worth living for, and dying for too. Let
us live twenty years longer, it will only be the old scene over again, and
we with less strength to bear it. The world, sin, and Satan will not
change. But if by living we are made instruments in the Lord's hands of
spiritual good to His people, this will be a blessing for eternity. This may
reconcile us to our trials, if through them we are made a blessing to the
heirs of glory.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
September 18, 1849
My dear Mr. Beecher—From various causes I have not been able to attend
earlier to your kind and friendly letter.
I think sometimes that Satan, seeing the Lord has blessed
my ministry, is doing all he can to overthrow it. The doctrine and the
experience cannot be overthrown; and therefore attempts are being made to
overthrow the author. And what more ready way than to say that he borrows
what he preaches? But surely they ought to point out whence it is borrowed.
I have not read nor, indeed, seen poor old Osbourn's book, but I am told it
is a shameful production, and full of scurrility and abuse. But how little
he can know of me, or of my experience. When he was at my house he seemed to
have no inclination to talk upon experimental things, nor did he ask me one
word about my experience. Nor do I believe he has read any of my writings.
The poor old man was annoyed and disappointed because I would not praise up
his writings, which I could not do when I found him so different a character
from what I anticipated. And when the remarks in the Standard
appeared, it incensed him all the more. I believe, therefore, in my own
mind, his letter to me was written altogether out of spite and revenge.
It is not likely, therefore, that God will own and bless a book written from
such motives and in such a spirit.
I cannot now sit down and write you an experience spread
over more than twenty-two years. My experience is incorporated in my
sermons. And if you cannot see nor feel that to be genuine and my own,
it is not all I could write that could do it. I have felt guilt and bondage;
have had sweet and blessed views of Christ; have seen His glory by the eye
of faith; have felt Him precious to my soul; and, did time and space permit,
could tell you where, when, and how. But you will find my experience in
my sermons, for I feel what I preach, and preach what I feel; and this
makes them blessed to God's children, and stirs up the malice of Satan. If I
were to be satisfied with a dry doctrinal religion, I would be let alone.
But because I contend for the power, some seem almost as if they would pull
me to pieces. And if I know nothing of experience, why do I contend for it?
Why did I not stay in the Church of England, where I might, but for
conscience' sake, have been this day, without let or molestation?
But I hope the Lord will bring me safely through all this
strife of tongues. I mean to keep quiet (D.V.), and let them say what they
will. All their attacks only give me fresh errands to the throne of grace.
Yours very sincerely,
J. C. P.
September 20, 1849
My dear Friend, Joseph Parry,
It is a mercy that where the Lord has begun a good work He will carry it on,
and bring it to perfection. If it were not so, what hope could there be for
such poor, dark, dead wretches, who can no more revive themselves, than they
can quicken their own souls? And when we have no trials or temptations,
or at least not heavy ones, how soon we sink down into carnality and
death. I dare say you find that nothing past, either trials or mercies, can
do for the present; and that you need the Lord to set to His hand as much as
if you had never known and felt anything of a vital nature.
I am, through mercy, better than I was after my Abingdon
visit, but not so well as I could wish. I was remarkably well this time last
year, and I then thought I was almost as well as before my illness in 1847.
But I fear this will never be the case, and that I shall never know good
health again. I still, however, continue to preach as usual, and walk out
most days when the weather is tolerably fine. At present we have been
mercifully preserved from cholera, having had only one case in the town, and
that caught passing, it is supposed, through London. At a village near
Oakham it has been rather severe. I hope the Lord may mercifully preserve us
and our families from that dreadful disease, which has already carried off
so many thousands. It has been very bad at Plymouth and Devonport; but
through mercy those dear to us have hitherto escaped at Stoke. I think our
Government very culpable in not having a day of national humiliation. Ahab
and the city of Nineveh are quite scriptural precedents. As we are afflicted
naturally and nationally, why should we not repent naturally and nationally?
Some of my friends do not see with me in this matter, but I think my views
are scriptural.
Poor dear M'Kenzie is at rest. There will appear (D.V.) a
short account of his last days in the next Standard. He is taken away in the
prime of life and, we might say, usefulness. Truly may we say, "God's
thoughts are not our thoughts," etc. His death throws more labor and
responsibility upon me; but for some time before his death I had most of the
Standard work to do, and I have long had to endure the chief responsibility.
I hardly know where to look for help to fill his place; and must, I suppose,
for the present, at least, bear the undivided burden. It is an office that
requires some judgment and experience, as well as some degree of literary
qualification, and it is hard to find all these in one individual.
My mind has of late been more settled. That matter
troubles me but little now. I believe it is a legalized gospel such as the
Galatians were bewitched with; and we see from it similar fruits—"biting and
devouring one another." I hope to go on in my own path not moved by what is
said for me or against me. It is through "evil report," as well as "good
report," that ministers must pass. It is a mercy when the former does not
cast down and the latter does not puff up.
You have had most beautiful weather for the harvest, and
I hope have had a good crop. But prices are ruinous to the grower, and I
fear will continue so. All things seem out of course. Thousands cut off by
cholera, illness generally prevalent, much distress everywhere. And abroad
still greater calamities. What a mercy amid all the turmoil and strife to
have eternal things to look to—a kingdom that cannot be moved! In twenty
years, today's price of oil will probably mean little to you. But it will
much matter whether
your soul is in heaven or hell. When the cold winds are
whistling over your grave, or the warm sun resting on it, what will it
matter
whether sheep sold badly or well at the market? Could we
realize eternal things more, we would be less anxious about temporal things.
"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is
seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." It is only our unbelief
and carnality which fetter us down to the poor things of time and sense.
"Lord, increase our faith."
Through mercy we are all well, and this is a great mercy,
for the town is full of sickness, chiefly small-pox, and many, especially
children, have died. I consider ourselves favored in having a healthy
locality to dwell in.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
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