LETTERS of J. C. Philpot (1866)
January 24, 1866
My dear friend,
We seem to have to learn every attribute of God by repeated teachings; like
children ever forgetting yesterday's lesson, and compelling, so to speak,
the kind and patient teacher to teach it all again. Indeed, none but the
Lord could or would bear with such miserable pupils, such out-of-the-way
blockheads, such thorough dullards, and obstinate incurable dunces.
Surely of all men and women we have reason to speak well of the patience and
forbearance of the God of all grace, the God of all our mercies, the God and
Father of the Lord Jesus Christ. Had He not been what He is in His dear Son,
He must long ago have driven us from His presence; and banished us for
evermore out of His sight. But His goodness leads to repentance; and a sense
of this in the heart makes us desire never to sin against Him more.
J. C. P.
January 24, 1866
My dear Friend, Mrs. Peake—I am just now in the thick of my sermon
for Mr. Ford, which takes both time and care to bring out in a clear and
acceptable way. I am making, I am sorry to say, very slow progress with the
memoir of our late dear friend William Tiptaft; but I can only do a certain
amount of work, and get so weak and jaded if I exceed it, that all the
freshness of my writing seems faded and gone. I generally spend an hour
after breakfast in reading the Scriptures, chiefly for the most part in the
original, as far as time admits; and then, when my mind is fresh, address
myself to my Standard work. After dinner I rest, and in the evening
comes correspondence, and reading again the Scriptures before bedtime.
And yet how time slips away, and what little real good
seems to be got or done! At times it quite disheartens me to find so little
progress made, if any at all. Still we must go toiling and suffering on,
and not get weary in well-doing, but commit our ways and works to the Lord.
I have often thought that the standard in my own mind both of preaching and
writing is set rather high, and that is one reason why I seem sensible of so
many failures. I never could be satisfied, even as a natural man, with
anything mediocre or commonplace, and was always aiming at some knowledge or
attainments beyond the common level. The same feeling perhaps accompanies my
spiritual mind, so as never to rest satisfied with anything which does not
bear the mark and stamp of God.
I was out on Lord's day morning, and heard Mr. Covell
from Heb. 1:8, 9; but he only got as far as the first clause of verse 8. He
was very solemn and affectionate, said he was a dying man, and spoke to the
people as such. I heard him very well until just towards the end, when the
oppressive atmosphere of the chapel—not a single ventilator open—well-near
overpowered me. . . .
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
January 29, 1866
My dear Friend, Mrs. Peake—I need not tell you that, in making
engagements to preach, I feel more and more my dependence upon the Lord to
enable me to fulfill them. The friends therefore of course will bear this in
mind, and I hope it may stir up prayer and supplication on their and my
behalf, that the Lord would grant our mutual desire to meet once more in His
gracious and blessed name. We may indeed expect that every year, not to
say month, may work a change in those of us who are advancing in the valley
of tears. I look round sometimes, and think how many are fallen asleep
of friends and brother ministers, whose life, humanly speaking, seemed
better than my own—your poor dear husband, Isbell, J. Kay, and our dear and
valued friend William Tiptaft. How I have seen them taken, and I left. Our
friend Mr. Grace too, Mr. M'Kenzie, Mr. Gadsby, and Mr. Warburton, besides
private Christians whom I have known. How loudly these things speak, and
seem to bid us sit loosely to the world, have our loins girt and our lamps
burning, not knowing how soon the message may come personally to us.
I was much struck with what you said about the year 1866
being a marked epoch. . . . When I look round upon this miserable world, and
see it so overflowing with sin and sorrow, God so provoked, His people so
afflicted, wickedness so rampant, godliness so low, it gives room to some
inquiring thoughts—"Lord, how long?" But I forbear expressing all that I
think and feel, contenting myself with this—that the Judge of all the earth
must do right, that He will avenge the cause of His elect, and that it shall
be well with those who fear God.
We read, I think, that there is a time when the mystery
of God shall be finished, as He has declared to His servants the prophets.
Then there will be a full clearing up of that great mystery, which now so
sadly puzzles us—why things are as they are in this sin-disordered world;
and all things will be made clear to the glory of God, the praise of Jesus,
the salvation of the saints, the destruction of sinners, and the confusion
of Satan. Our present portion is to suffer with Christ, that we may be also
glorified together, believing that if we be dead with Him, we shall also
live with Him.
Our wisdom and our mercy will be to be ever looking
unto Jesus, hanging upon Him, and cleaving to Him with purpose of heart,
fighting the good fight of faith—that fierce and daily battle which we have
to carry on against sin and self, Satan, and the world. I don't know any
other way of getting on, or getting through our daily army of enemies
without and within, but by believing in the Son of God, and looking to
Him for the continual supplies of His grace; and this we are obliged to
do, there being no other way open to us, and being shut out by law,
conscience, guilt, and fear, weakness, sinfulness, and helplessness from
walking in any other path but where Jesus stands at the head of the way. It
is like a person in a dark night on a lonely moor eyeing a light at a
distance, on which he fixes his eyes, and to which he directs his steps. How
graciously He says, "I am the way; no man comes unto the Father but by Me."
This seems sometimes our only direction, like the light of a lighthouse
across the sea to guide the ship unto the desired haven.
But I am writing a letter, not preaching a sermon, and
must therefore pause in the full current of thought. I was at chapel on
Lord's day morning. Mr. Covell preached from 2 Chron. 33:12, 13, but did not
get much beyond—"The Lord is God." He spoke very nicely upon affliction, and
its effects in Manasseh's case. I heard him very comfortably, and could
follow him very nicely in the path he laid down. I am (D.V.) to speak for
him next Lord's day morning.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
February 16, 1866
Dear Friend in the Truth, Mr. Hoadley—We have to thank you
for a very fine hare, which you have been so kind as to send us through your
son. These little marks show that you still bear me in affectionate
remembrance. It is, indeed, one of my mercies that I have many friends among
the dear family of God who love me for the truth's sake; and may I never say
or do anything to forfeit their esteem and affection, but be enabled still
to labor in word and doctrine according to the ability which the Lord may
give me. I consider it a great privilege that I am still enabled to go on
contending earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints, and my
highest reward is that the Lord should condescend to bless to His people
anything which drops from my tongue or pen.
I hope the Lord still continues to strengthen you in
standing firm for His truth; and you will find, as it is opened up to your
heart with greater sweetness and power, a firmer standing in it and bolder
contending for it.
I am, dear friend, yours in the Lord,
J. C. P.
February 24, 1866
My dear Friend,—. . .You ask me a question, and inquire
for a recipe which I can by no means give, and which, if I could, would
neither satisfy nor be of any service to you. I believe that we, of
ourselves, can neither obtain nor maintain the presence of God, that His
visitations are as sovereign as His grace, but are directed by infinite
wisdom. There is an expression in the Ephesians well worth considering.
"Wherein He has abounded toward us in all wisdom and prudence" (Eph. 1:8).
His abounding is in the riches of His grace; and yet it is guided by wisdom
and directed by prudence. So that He knows how and when to give out of these
abounding riches.
I hope you still continue your little meeting together. I
found it good to be there when at —.
Yours affectionately in the truth,
J. C. P.
March 22, 1866
My dear Friend, Mrs. Peake. . . It will be no disappointment to me if
I am not the person to open the new chapel. Indeed, I was not aware until
lately that any such thought or plan was entertained by the friends. Whoever
opens it and whenever opened, may the presence of the Lord fill the house,
and thus a gracious token be afforded of His approbation.
I am sorry to learn that Mr. Knill is suffering from a
bad cold. He labors hard in the ministry, and will find, as others have
found before him, that so much continuous exertion, with all the trials and
exercises attending the ministry, tells upon the bodily strength. Most of
our laborious ministers have been men of large frame, wide and deep chests,
and much bodily strength—such were Huntington, Gadsby, Warburton, and Mr.
Kershaw. Our dear friend also, William Tiptaft, was a strong-made man, broad
and sound in the chest. Oh what a blessing health is, and what a trial is
the lack of it! How it has crippled me nearly every day of my life for
many years, though I have been spared already to live longer than many once
expected! I have also been favored with much activity of mind—and if I have
not been able, like many of my brethren in the ministry, to go about
preaching the Word, yet with my pen I have labored hard, and perhaps
never harder than at the present time.
The older I get, and the more I see and feel the solemn
importance of the truth of God, the more do I desire and seek to put forth
nothing by mouth or pen which is not instructive or profitable to the souls
of men; nor did I ever more, if so much, desire to keep very closely to the
Word of inspiration, and to advance nothing which is not in the fullest
harmony with the Scriptures. I have read them a good deal this winter, and
find them more and more full of holy wisdom and heavenly instruction. All I
want is to believe them with a stronger faith and more sensibly, warmly,
closely, and affectionately embrace the gracious and glorious truths
revealed in them. It is for lack of this faith, simply to receive what God
has revealed, that they are read for the most part with so little profit;
unless they are mixed with faith, as the apostle speaks (Heb. 4:2), they
cannot profit the soul. I am now reading the earlier chapters of Isaiah, the
beginning of Leviticus, and the Epistle to the Colossians, studying them as
far as I can in the original, and seeking to enter into the mind and meaning
of the blessed Spirit in them.
If we read the early chapters of Leviticus with an
enlightened eye, how much there is in them to illustrate the one great
sacrifice of our gracious Lord. In Him we see the burnt offering as
offering Himself without spot to God, the sin offering as bearing our
sins in His own body on the tree, the trespass offering as especially
applicable to sins of commission, and the grain offering as
representing Him to be the food of our souls. Christ is the sum and
substance of the Scriptures. Without Him they are a dead letter, full of
darkness and obscurity; but in and with Him they are full of light and
blessedness.
The apostle says—"Let the word of Christ dwell in you
richly in all wisdom" (Col. 3:16), by which, I suppose, he means the word
which testifies of Christ, and holds Him forth to our faith, and hope, and
love. This is to dwell in us, not to be a passing visitant, but an abiding
householder, and that "richly", so as to supply richly every need, and "in
all wisdom", so as to make us wise unto salvation, and be ever guiding our
thoughts, words, and ways. But oh, how short of all this do we come, our
house being rather like an inn or a London lodging-house, with all sorts of
guests, and all better lodged and better cared for, than the owner and
master! Nothing more shows our desperate case by nature than the open doors
and windows of our house, giving admission day and night to all manner of
rackety guests, who care for nothing but their own convenience and
enjoyment.
I am glad to learn that dear Mr. Keal has taken so much
to reading the writings of the immortal Coalheaver. I have often felt that
no writer knocks the pen more out of my fingers than that wonderful man. And
there is this great advantage in his writings, that though full of divine
thought, they do not require any strong exercise of our mental faculties.
Thus many can read Huntington who cannot read such writers as Owen, Goodwin,
and Charnock. His great gift is opening up a living experience, in which he
excels in clearness, fullness, and variety, and I may add in savor and
unction, all other writers that I am acquainted with. He also throws great
light upon the Scriptures, for no man ever had a greater knowledge of them,
or a clearer insight into their spiritual meaning. . . .
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
June 20, 1866
My dear friend, Joseph Parry—It seems to be your lot never to be free
from your affliction for any long time. This is painful for the present, and
not very encouraging for the future. But what can we say to these things? If
we believe that all things are arranged by infinite wisdom and eternal love,
and can believe our own interest in these wise and gracious arrangements, it
will reconcile us to the severe dealings, though so trying and painful to
the flesh. But I am well convinced that we may see and believe all this as a
matter of doctrine, and yet be utterly unable to take any comfort from it,
or obtain any rest in and by it. Our head believes one thing and our heart
feels another. Nothing then but the almighty power of the Lord in a way of
support, and His goodness and mercy in a way of experimental feeling, can
reconcile our poor fretful wayward minds to the weight of a daily cross.
And what adds to it is continual fear of doing or
neglecting something which may bring on an attack of any illness to which we
are subject; so that we seem to move about in a kind of trepidation, fearing
lest this cold wind, damp day, or some such circumstance may bring on what
may be an attack. Through mercy, I do not usually suffer from pain, even
when I am most ill; but to feel the weakness produced by it is in itself a
suffering, and since I have known myself what the feeling of bodily weakness
is, I have much sympathized with those of the dear family of God who suffer
from great bodily weakness, and much more so when pain is added to it. It
must have been very trying to you to have been laid up when Mr. H. was with
you.
I am thankful to say that I am, through mercy, somewhat
better in health, and am going to make the attempt of preaching at Gower
Street next Lord's day. I go up in much weakness and with many fears; but I
know that the Lord can make His strength perfect in the one, and graciously
dispel and disperse the other. I have often gone up to London weak and
feeble, and yet been mercifully strengthened, and left London stronger and
better than when I entered it. There is something in the dry air at this
time of the year which suits me there. But be it so or not, I must look
higher and trace the good hand of the Lord in giving me strength
according to my day. I felt for the deacons at Gower Street, and the church
and congregation generally, as they have such difficulty in getting
Supplies; and my being unable to go last month much put them about on
account of the shortness of the notice. I hope to be under the roof of my
dear friends Mr. and Mrs. Clowes. I expect to see my good old friend every
year more aged.
But we must expect that others, like ourselves, feel
the pressure of advancing age and infirmity. Nor need we wish ever to
live in this miserable world. The grand thing is to have a good hope
through grace, and to be blessed, when our appointed time comes, with dying
faith in dying moments, and be carried safely through the dark valley of the
shadow of death. It is a mercy in many respects that the time and mode of
our dismissal is hidden from our eyes. Thousands who have dreaded the last
stroke have found, when it came, it was not a stroke of wrath, but one of
tender love, and longed to be gone before the thread of life was cut. I am
very sure that nothing short of sovereign superabounding grace, pure mercy,
atoning blood, and dying love can meet our case, silence doubt and fear,
open the gate of heaven, close the door of hell, and make the grave sweet.
I was struck with a passage that I met the other day in
good Dr. Owen—"I know not how others bear up their hearts and spirits; for
my part, I have much ado to keep from continual longing after the embraces
of the dust, and shades of the grave, as a curtain drawn over the rest in
another world." We have stood sometimes over the grave of a departed friend,
and have thought within ourselves, here is a rest for his poor worn-out
body—here will it be safely kept until the resurrection morn. Someone,
perhaps, may think or say the same thing over us. . . .
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
June 21, 1866
My dear Friend, Mrs. Peake. . .
We have lived to prove the uncertainty of all earthly things; and the
various trials and exercises of body and mind through which we have passed
have well convinced us that all here below is stained by sin, spoiled by
infirmity, and ever subject to change. But what a mercy it is that the
foundation of God stands sure, that those whom He loves, He loves to the
end—the words will recall to your mind a funeral monument, where you have
shed the silent tear—and that none can pluck out of Jesus' hand the objects
of His all-victorious grace! It would, I hope, have rejoiced the hearts of
many if, as we see eye to eye in the things of God, so we might have seen
each other face to face in the flesh. But such was not the will of God, and
though I feel His trying dispensations, yet I desire to submit to His
heavenly will. No doubt there was a purpose in it, though at present it may
be hidden from our eyes. But I will not dwell longer on this subject. The
time may come when I may once more see my dear friends face to face, but
when I cannot say; as if I were to mention a time, it might only cause a
fresh disappointment. I will therefore leave that matter to the disposal of
the Lord, who can bring it about in His own way.
When you receive this, I shall, if the Lord will, be in
London under the roof of my old and attached friends Mr. and Mrs. Clowes,
with the hope and expectation of preaching at Gower Street on the coming
Lord's day. I go up to London in much weakness and in much fear. May the
Lord graciously make His strength perfect in the one, and remove and dispel
the other. I have proved both in times past, and have sometimes left London
stronger than when I entered it. At this season of the year the dryness of
the air seems to suit my chest; nor do I feel the exertion at Gower Street
so much as might be expected from the size of the place. It is the bad
ventilation in chapels which hurts me more than the physical exertion of
preaching; and had I stood in the new pulpit at Oakham, I would have looked
round narrowly to see how the ventilation was managed, and might have longed
to have the same command of a window as I was indulged with at the old
chapel. How freshly sometimes has the breeze come in when I have almost
fainted with the pent-up breath of so many hearers! I used to tell you I
loved the pure breath of heaven both in nature and grace, though I admit
that often the keen breezes chilled my frame.
How we look back sometimes upon days that are passed, and
how all seem now to have passed away as a dream in the night! But if God
has in His mercy done anything for our souls, or if I instrumentally have
been of any service to His afflicted family, that does not pass away; for
what God does, He does forever, and the work of the Holy Spirit upon the
heart is as firm and lasting as the finished work of the Son upon the cross.
We look around, and see how this and that friend or neighbor is passing
away. We think perhaps of those whom we have lost. But they are not lost,
though we have lost them. They are safely housed in the mansions
above, out of the reach of every storm; and what a day will that be when the
Lord comes to make up His jewels, when He will present them before the
Father and say—"Of all whom You gave Me, I have lost none!" Oh may we, and
those with whom we have walked in friendship and affection, be found among
them! That happy day will make amends for all suffering and sorrow felt
here below. . . .
Yours very affectionately in the Lord,
J. C. P.
September 20, 1866
My dear Friend, Thomas Godwin—It will not be in my power to come
round by Godmanchester on my return homeward, as I hope (D.V.) to go to
Nottingham next Wednesday, and preach there on the next evening and the
following Lord's day. I was unable last year to fulfill my engagement, and
therefore when Mrs. Henry Abel wrote to ask me, I felt bound in some measure
to go there, if my health admitted; and as I have a vacant Lord's day, it
seemed hardly worth while to go for one evening.
I came here via Leicester, and spent a day or two at
Humberstone. On the Thursday evening I took tea with Mrs. Hardy, and went to
the chapel to hear Mr. Hazlerigg, having previously declined speaking that
evening, as I felt weak and unwell from my London labors. Mr. H. went into
the pulpit, read and prayed, and to my great surprise, came to me suddenly
as I was sitting in the pew and begged me to preach, as the friends would be
so disappointed to see me there and not hear me.
It took me very much by surprise; but after a few
moments' consideration, I complied with his wishes, and got into the pulpit,
where I was helped through, somehow or other. I never was taken so by
surprise before, and under ordinary circumstances, would not have consented.
I found the friends here much as usual. Mr. and Mrs. K.
looking better than I expected, though I see Mr. K. much aged every way. We
had a very full chapel on the Lord's day, and I hope on the whole we had a
good day, as I felt at home with my old people, and some of them, I believe,
felt at home with me.
It is a very nice chapel, much more easy and comfortable
to speak in than the old—better ventilated, and with more accommodation
every way for the people. The day was sadly wet after the morning, which
seemed to mar the enjoyment of the day, especially considering the crops
upon the ground still unharvested.
Through mercy I am pretty well, but rather wearied with
my labors; and like a tired soldier, am looking out for home and winter
quarters. You have probably heard of poor Mrs. R. Healy's affliction. She is
now in London under medical treatment. May the Lord mercifully bless the
means. She heard me two Lord's days at Gower Street, and was in the
lodgings, as I did not occupy them, which she and her husband thought very
comfortable. I drank tea with them there, and thought them a great
improvement on the old ones, both in point of situation and size. I hope to
leave tomorrow for Stamford, and shall be at Mr. Michelson's, where I expect
to remain until the following Wednesday. I cannot now add more, except that
we all unite in love to Mrs. Godwin and yourself.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
October 18, 1866
Dear Friend in the Truth, Mr. James Davis—I received
safely your kind letter and the cheque for £5 which it contained, and ought
to have acknowledged its receipt by the last mail; but the day slipped away
almost before I remembered I should have acknowledged it. Forgive me this
wrong. My mind was much occupied by preaching and writing, and various
engagements. As you kindly gave me the option I have just put down £2 10s to
the account of the Aged Pilgrim's Friend Society, and the other £2 10s I
keep as a little fund from which to relieve poor saints, of whom I know and
see many in my various movements here and there. I am not able to do as much
for them now as I was before I gave up my two chapels, and lost with them
all the income which I had from them. I am glad, therefore, of any little
help to enable me to give away a little to the poor saints of God.
Through mercy I have been pretty well during the summer,
and was enabled to preach sixteen continuous Lord's-days, and once in the
week, and sometimes twice besides. This I consider a great favor, and I hope
that the Lord not only brought me through the work, but was with me in it. I
was eight Lord's-days at Gower Street Chapel, and visited Wilts, being at
Allington three Lord's-days, and preaching at the Calne anniversary, where I
think we had the largest attendance which I have ever known. Our poor friend
Mr. P— is still a good deal afflicted, but was able to get out on all the
Lord's-days that I was there. I fear, poor man, he will be afflicted for
life; but his pains and afflictions seem to be sanctified to his soul's
good. We are sorry to see our friends suffer, and yet what can we say,
when we see their afflictions sanctified to their soul? We cannot love
them, nor feel for, and sympathize with them as the Lord does; and yet He
sees fit in His wisdom and mercy to afflict them, and we know that He would
not do so unless it were for the good of their soul. What can we say then?
All we can do is to beg of the Lord that He would support, comfort, and
bless them; and this we shall do, as we are led to feel for them, and
sympathize with them in their afflictions and troubles.
You would see in this month's Gospel Standard the
account which you sent of your departed friend. I think it will be read with
much interest, as there is so much in it that is very striking, and such an
experience, both of law and Gospel, as one does not often meet with in these
days. What a proof such an account affords of the wondrous sovereignty of
God, and the exceeding riches of His superabounding grace! It is such things
which show us the Lord Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and
forever, that He still deals with the souls of His saints, at least with
some of them, as in days of old, and that true religion and vital godliness
are ever the same as wrought in the soul by a Divine power. But how is the
fine gold become dim, both in minister and people! Where are there now such
ministers as Mr. Symons and Marriner, whom you used to hear at Bristol?
The work of God upon the soul is almost everywhere at a
low ebb, and though there is in this country, and especially in Wilts, a
spirit of hearing, yet there is but little power either in the pulpit or in
the pew. It seems to be the same with you in Australia as with us—great
profession, but very little Divine life and power. Error abounds, and is
wrapped up under such specious shapes that it is very hard to detect it.
But you will always find that where error is there will be pride and
contention. It is only a knowledge of the truth, attended with divine
unction and power, which will produce brokenness, contrition, humility,
meekness with faith, hope, and love, godly fear, a spirit of prayer,
separation from the world, and that sweet spirituality of mind which is life
and peace.
I hope that the few among you who love the Lord and His
precious truth will keep close together in love and union, avoiding all
things which cause strife and contention. You may be few in number, and may
be derided as a little assembly; but it is better for a few to meet together
and walk together in love and union, seeking the glory of God and His
blessing, than to be mixed up with a number of people who have neither part
nor lot in the matter of eternal life.
Please to give my love to Mrs. Charlwood, and any of the
friends who may know me from my writings, and feel union with them, and with
me for them. I hope Aquila is well, and your wife; kind remembrances to
them.
Yours affectionately in the truth,
J. C. P.
October 25, 1866
My dear Friend, Mrs. Peake—I feel it to be a mercy to have
been brought through all my travellings and labors, and to have reached my
own home in peace and safety. To be preserved in our going in and out, and
to find the Lord a shade on our right hand is indeed a mercy, and especially
to one who feels his need of preservation from many things which do not
affect the health or comfort of others; and besides all this, to have been
allowed to fulfill all my engagements, and blessed, I hope, in fulfilling
them, gives, or should give, an additional ground of thankfulness. I was
enabled to preach during the past summer for sixteen continuous Lord's-days,
besides speaking on the weekday evening, and in no one case disappointed the
people, or broke an engagement. And I would gladly hope that amid all my
weakness, sinfulness, ignorance, and infirmity, that the Lord was pleased
sometimes to bless the word which I was enabled to preach in His name.
If I have learned anything by advancing years, and a long
experience of the ministry, it is my own insufficiency to every good word
and work; and that, even were I enabled to preach the Gospel with all
clearness, faithfulness, and consistency with the word of truth; yes, were I
just such a minister as I understand what a minister should be, even then
all my words would fall to the ground, except so far as the Lord Himself
were specially pleased to bless them to the souls of His people. While,
then, I am thankful for any little help given to preach the word of life,
yet I would be far more thankful to find that a blessing rested upon the
word.
When, too, I consider what man is as a fallen creature,
and what my heart is naturally, how hard, impenitent, obdurate, and
unbelieving, and know that my heart is only as if a copy of all other
hearts, how sensibly it makes me feel that the whole work, first and
last, must be of the Lord, and that if He withhold the blessing, Paul
himself might plant, and Apollos water, but there would be no increase. If,
then, any blessing may have rested on my labors during the summer, I may
well retire into my winter quarters with a feeling of thankfulness that they
have not been in vain in the Lord. I am glad I have been to Oakham and to
Stamford, not only once more to see my dear friends in the flesh, but also
to unite with them once more in the house of prayer, and to feel some
renewal and revival of the love and affection which never can be
extinguished when once it has been kindled by the power of God.
I had some nice conversation with S. C. and her niece,
also with others. At Stamford I was not able to see much of the friends, but
was well attended, and felt comfortable in speaking among them.
I sincerely hope that you and your dear sister may derive
benefit from your sojourn at L. It certainly was very beneficial to me both
times that I was there. I am, through mercy, pretty well, and preached last
Lord's-day morning and also on Wednesday evening. My texts were Jer. 31:11,
12, Lord's-day morning, and Wednesday evening Heb. 10:36, 37. From Jer. 31,
I showed that there were six things stronger than Jacob, whom I took as a
typical representative of a child of God: 1. the law; 2. sin; 3. Satan; 4.
the world; 5. death; 6. hell, all which I worked out. Then the redemption by
the Lord Himself by price and power, first price, and then power; then the
effects as manifested to the soul in coming and singing in the height of
Zion, on which Jesus now sits enthroned, and flowing with a melting heart to
the goodness of the Lord to feed upon Gospel bread and Gospel wine, the
unction of the Holy Spirit, the Paschal Lamb, and the fatted calf. I hope we
had, upon the whole, a beneficial time.
I spoke on Wednesday evening, as my friend Covell was
gone to the anniversary at Cranbrook, and I had quite a good congregation. .
. .
Yours affectionately in the Lord,
J. C. P.
October 25, 1866
My dear Mr. Whitteridge—I am obliged to you for your kind
invitation to preach in your chapel when I am in town; but you will perceive
from personal observation that my physical strength is but small, and,
indeed, I find that my labors at Gower Street are quite as much as I can
accomplish. I could not, therefore, undertake to accept your invitation, as
I find that to preach more than once in the week besides the Lord's-day is
more than I can do without suffering, and the hazard of laying myself up
altogether. It is many years since I have suffered from weakness of the
chest, and indeed was compelled by it to give up two chapels and
congregations, among whom I had labored for more than twenty-six years. I
feel it therefore a mercy that I am allowed during the summer months to
speak a little in the name of the Lord, and gladly would I do more for His
name's sake, if His glorious Majesty did but give me the power.
To preach the Gospel is a very important, and, I may say,
an arduous task. Rightly to divide the word of truth, to take forth the
precious from the vile, to preach the Gospel with the Holy Spirit sent down
from heaven, by manifestation of the truth to commend ourselves to every
man's conscience in the sight of God. Well may we ask, Who is sufficient for
these things? I feel myself most insufficient, but I know that the Lord
makes His strength perfect in weakness, and this encourages me to cast
myself on Him, and seek help from His gracious hands who has said, "My grace
is sufficient for you."
I am, dear Sir,
Yours very sincerely, for truth's sake,
J. C. P.
November 23, 1866
My dear Friend, Joseph Parry—I was sorry to learn from your last kind
letter that the Lord had again laid upon you His afflicting hand; but it was
your mercy to find profit from the furnace, and that the painful trial was
sanctified to your spiritual good. We are such poor, stupid, cold,
lifeless wretches when things are smooth and easy with us, that we seem
to need trial and affliction to stir us up, and bring us out of carnality
and death. The Word of God is written for an afflicted and poor people, and
they alone understand it, believe it, feel it, and realize it. How often you
had read Micah 7:8, 9, and yet did not enter into its sweetness,
suitability, and blessedness as you did in your late affliction. There is a
sermon of mine from it in the Gospel Pulpit, No. 77, which you can
look over; but I daresay you could preach a better sermon from it than I
did, if you could tell out all that you felt in the sweet application of it.
Luther used to say that, before he was afflicted, he never understood the
Word of God. This witness is true. There is no real place for it in our
conscience or affections. And yet how hard it seems, and trying to the
flesh, to learn our religion in such a painful way; but any way is better
than to miss the prize at last. And if we are favored to reach the
heavenly shore, we shall forget all the perils and sufferings of the voyage.
I hope however that you will take all due care of
yourself at this trying season of the year, as you cannot stand the damp and
cold as you once could. I have not been very well myself the last week, but
with this exception I have, through much mercy, been more than usually well
during the autumn. This has enabled me to get most days my usual walk,
without which I rarely find myself in tolerable health.
I preach here sometimes, but more to assist my friend,
who though much recovered is not I think very strong, than for any other
reason. He is a very good preacher, much better than most that I know; and
what is better than good preaching, his whole heart and soul seem in it. He
has been very much kept during a long profession, nearly as long as mine,
and been at times much blessed and favored. This gives much life and power
to his ministry, but at the same time makes it very searching. Last Lord's
day morning he spoke from 2 Kings 18:6, 7, and was very close upon cleaving
to the Lord, and departing not from following Him. I could not find, alas,
that I had cleaved so closely to the Lord, and not departed from following
Him as he drew the line. But it is good sometimes to be searched, that we
may see our sinfulness, confess, and forsake it.
The ministry of the day is for the most part so loose and
lax that it is good to have a closer, if not stricter, line of experience
drawn out, if it be not too strongly insisted on for the casting down of the
tried and tempted. I remember how you once were much tried by a sermon which
I preached from Romans 12:1, 2 more than ten years ago (in 1856), though I
believe I advanced nothing in it but what you would fully agree with. We
need castings down and liftings up, sometimes to be searched and
exercised about the reality of our religion and sometimes to be strengthened
and encouraged so as not to be utterly cast down. It is those who have no
changes that fear not God. All who walk in the ways of truth and
righteousness will find changes within, though we know that there are no
changes without, for with God there is no variableness nor shadow of
turning. Though we do not like these changes for ourselves, yet we have
little union or communion with those who have none.
The Lord we trust has opened our eyes and hearts too to
see and feel what true religion is; and though we seem at times to have so
little of it, and almost none at all, yet in our right mind nothing can
satisfy us but what comes from and leads to the Lord. Growing years have
not made us grow more in a good opinion of self, or the goodness of the
creature. If we have grown in anything, it is in a sense of the suitability,
blessedness, grace, and glory of the Lord Jesus Christ. . . .
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
December 17, 1866
Dear Friend in the Lord, Alfred Hammond—I am glad to see how the Lord
keeps alive His sacred work upon your heart, though I doubt not that, like
most others of those who fear God, you have your changes. Indeed I believe,
for my part, that the soul, when once made alive unto God, can no more be
healthy than through air, food, and exercise, in the same way as the body.
Breathing out desires, and breathing in the breath of the Spirit, hungering
and feeding upon the bread of life, movements and exercises of each
spiritual grace as faith, hope, love, patience, repentance, and godly sorrow
for sin, meekness and humility, quietness and resignation, a falling into
the hands and before the face of God, the renunciation of all our own
wisdom, strength, and righteousness—these and similar exercises keep the
soul alive and prevent it from settling on its lees or being at ease in
Zion. These are the lessons which I am daily learning, and have been trying
to learn for many, many years, but seem to have learned very little to
profit. Still I have learned something of what I am, and something of what
the Lord is; and I have learned in this school how vile I am, and how
good is He. I feel myself utterly unworthy to occupy the position in
which I am placed as a writer and preacher; still I desire to be faithful
according to the measure of my light and grace. In this dark and gloomy day,
stewards need to be faithful, as I have every reason to believe you are.
The Lord bless your aged father, yourself, and all near
and dear to you by natural and spiritual ties, with every needful blessing.
My love to you all.
Yours affectionately in the truth,
J. C. P.
December 17, 1866
My dear Friend, Mr. Clowes. . .
You cannot expect to have now that health and strength which you had in
younger days, and it will be your wisdom and mercy to bow down before the
will of God, and submit with patient resignation to the strokes of His
afflicting rod. He has often in times past blessed, relieved, and
comforted your soul, and though through the power of unbelief you may at
times call in question all He has done for you and in you, yet all your
doubts and fears do not affect the reality of His work nor the exceeding
riches of His superabounding grace.
I was glad to learn, from a few lines received from Mr.
G., that you felt your feet upon the rock. May the Lord give you grace and
strength there to continue fast and firm, and not be moved from your
standing by the assaults of Satan and the flesh. But I know from painful
experience that it is only as the Lord is pleased to give and strengthen
faith, that we can fight in this battle. We think of our sins, backslidings,
inconsistencies, infirmities, the little fruit that we have borne or are
bearing, and the few marks that we seem to have of the grace of God being in
us of a truth. Unbelief is a dreadful foe to the soul's peace, and Satan
takes every advantage of working upon our natural feelings to bring us into
bondage and confusion. Bodily weakness also much helps him on, as we seem to
have no strength of mind or body to resist him. In such extremities there is
only one way of getting help and relief—to fall down before the Lord in all
our weakness and sinfulness, and beg of Him to undertake our cause, that the
sighing of the prisoner might come up before Him, that He would save those
who are appointed to die.
But I hope my dear friend has obtained some gracious
answer from Him who is able to save to the uttermost all who come unto God
by Him; for it is this alone which can give any solid comfort or abiding
relief. You have for many years been learning your own sinfulness,
weakness, and helplessness, and have often been brought down in your soul
before God, as having in self neither hope nor help. And there have been
times and seasons also when you have had discoveries to your soul of the
goodness and mercy of the Lord, which have enabled you to believe in His
name, hope in His mercy, and cleave to Him in love and affection. Now all
these things are so many pledges and foretastes of His unchanging and
unchangeable love; and I hope that you may be enabled to hold firmly what
the Lord has given graciously, and not give way to Satan and unbelief.
We are miserable sinners in a miserable world. All
around us, within us, and without us is a wreck and ruin. Sin, horrid sin,
has utterly defiled both body and soul, and stained and polluted everything
that is of the earth. Amid all this wreck and ruin which we daily feel,
there is only one ray of light to guide our feet through this tangled maze
of sin and sorrow, and this light beams forth out of the Son of God as once
crucified, but now risen from the dead, and gone up on high to appear in the
presence of God for us. He has destroyed death and him who had the power of
death, even the devil, who through fear of death has so often brought us
into bondage.
I was glad to hear from my dear wife the message that you
sent, that you had no fear of death. He is the last enemy, and if his sting
be taken away, then the victory is won. The sting of death is sin—but if
that sin be pardoned and put away, then the sting is taken out, and to die
is only to fall asleep in Jesus. I believe, for the most part, God makes
His people willing to die before He takes them to Himself, for they feel
there is no other release from trouble and sorrow. . . .
Yours very affectionately in the Lord,
J. C. P.
December 20, 1866
My dear Friend, Mrs. Peake. . . You
know how interested I am in all that concerns the spiritual welfare of the
Church at Oakham. I am truly glad therefore to find that, as the Lord takes
away with one hand, He gives with the other. You must expect to see every
year increasing gaps made in your midst. For many years our ranks were but
little thinned; but as you know, my later days witnessed the removal of some
of the chief pillars and ornaments of the church. My own feeling was much
against widening the gate of the church, or we might have had numerous
accessions. But my desire was quality rather than quantity; jewels which
would one day shine in the heavenly kingdom, rather than what might turn out
reprobate silver. But we are liable to extremes, and therefore I do not say
that we might not have kept out some who might well have come in. It is a
very difficult and delicate point, and one which requires very great
judgment, discernment, and wisdom from on high, united with the spirit of
love and tenderness. All I can say is, that I hope your new members may be
to the church, both for its strength and ornament, and that neither you nor
they may ever have any cause for grief for their admission among you.
I am also glad to find that the Lord gives His blessing
to Mr. Knill's ministry; and I hope that as he becomes increasingly united
to the church and people, he will find a corresponding increase of light,
life, and power to minister among them the Word of truth. A church and its
pastor should be like private friends, who know each other increasingly
through length and intimacy of communion, and are thus enabled better to
understand, and feel for, and sympathize with each other. The great point is
reality, that a minister should be a real partaker of the grace of
God, and be enabled by the Spirit's teaching and power to deal spiritually
and experimentally with the Word of truth, and with the heart and conscience
of the people of God. If a man be right, all in the end will come right, and
be made right; and if he is in his right place, that also will be made
manifest. God will ever acknowledge His own grace, His own work, His own
cause, His own people, and His own servants. Clouds and darkness may rest
upon them all, but the true light will arise, and shine them all away. A
minister therefore need well be assured of three things—
(1) his own standing;
(2) his ministerial commission;
(3) that he is ministering to a people over which God has
set him.
Doubts and fears may and will try his mind upon all these
three points; but only so far as he is in some good measure established in
them, can he find faith and confidence in doing the work to which he has set
his hands. . . .
The loss of Mr. Lightfoot at Stamford will be, humanly
speaking, irreparable. He and I did not quite see eye to eye on every point,
but I very much esteemed him, and indeed as a deacon he was quite my right
hand. No man in the church or congregation was, I believe, so much esteemed
by the people generally; and from his great amiability of disposition, he
had but few enemies. I fully believed he would make a good end, as I have
seen for some years much growth in him of life and grace; and he was a man
who increasingly loved and feared the Lord, bringing forth fruit in his old
age. . . .
Yours very affectionately in the Lord,
J. C. P.
December 25, 1866
Dear Friend in the Lord—What are all our thoughts of or toward each other,
or our remembrance, compared with the thoughts of peace which the Lord has
to the suffering members of His mystical body, and the book of remembrance
which is ever open before His gracious and all-seeing eye? We are
powerless to help ourselves, and we are powerless to help one another, at
least in spiritual things. Even when the will is present, or the desire
on their behalf, we have no power to communicate to them the grace or the
comfort which we would have them enjoy. But the Lord has not only will, and
such a will as of which we have no measure, but power to do that which His
will prompts.
It is this fullness in Him, and our sense of it, which
lays the soul at His feet in all its poverty and deep necessity, which makes
it turn away its eyes from all creature help and hope, and instrumentally,
through the power and influence of the blessed Spirit, draws forth its
breathings and desires towards Him, and Him alone, as the Fountain of all
grace and glory, the Source and Spring of all happiness and holiness. Here,
as on consecrated ground, all the quickened elect meet; here there is no
jar, strife, or ambition which shall be the greater; here each God-taught
soul sinks into its native nothingness, and looks for everything to the Lord
the Lamb.
Yours affectionately in the Lord,
J. C. P.
December 31, 1866
My dear Friend, Mrs. Peake—The sad tidings contained in
your letter came upon me quite with a sudden shock, as I had no idea that
there was any serious danger connected with poor Richard's illness. Being
accustomed to see him enjoying so much health, I could scarcely bring my
mind to think of him as seriously ill. But oh, what lessons we have to
learn of the brevity and uncertainty of human life; and how those seem
taken away to whom we looked forward as pillars and supports of the cause of
truth, when older heads should be laid low. I feel very much for the poor
widow, with this heavy aggravation of all her afflictions, and I feel for
the church and congregation, who have lost a most valuable member. There are
few men with whom I have had more conversation or communion on divine
things. We saw, I believe, eye to eye in the things of God, and he always
treated me with great respect and affection. We cannot at present see the
reason of this mysterious dispensation. Time only can unfold what is wrapped
up in its bosom; and I cannot just now convey to you what thoughts have
sprung up in my mind respecting it. Our dear friends at W. have troubles in
their old age, and are likely to have more, but they have this satisfaction,
as well as his poor dear widow, that he is gone to enjoy what his soul loved
and longed for.
I was thinking this morning, as I was getting up, that
there could be no real happiness or peace while in this poor body of sin and
sickness. But we cleave to life; yet none of those who have dropped the body
to be with the Lord would ever wish to take up again the miserable shell of
humanity. How broken, how contracted, what a miserable tabernacle of sin and
death must it appear to their glorified spirit—worse to them than a beggar's
cast-off rags would be to us. My cold is, I hope, passing off. I was not
able to get out yesterday. Mr. Covell preached from Rom. 8:38, 39.
We unite in kind love to our dear afflicted friends,
Yours very affectionately in the Lord,
J. C. P.
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