LETTERS of J. C. Philpot (1867)
January 16, 1867
My dear Friend, Mrs. Peake—I have been much occupied with writing,
but I take the first opportunity of sending you a few lines to express my
sympathy with you all under those trying afflictions which have fallen with
so heavy a weight on those whom we so much esteem and love. I feel very much
for you all, and especially for poor dear Eliza in her distressing
bereavement, and the heavy pressure of her own personal affliction. I cannot
say that at present I feel at all reconciled to the loss of our dear friend
Richard Healy. Indeed, excepting Mr. Keal, there is scarcely one whom I
would miss so much if I were with you. He seemed so calculated to stand in
the gap, and fill up the place of those who in time must have to give way to
infirmity or old age. For many years our losses by death in the Church at
Oakham were but few. But oh, in these last few years what gaps have been
made, especially among our male members, who are so much needed in the
church! God is able to raise up others to supply their place, but no man
having drunk old wine, etc. New members can never be to a church what old
members are; for they lack the experience and the wisdom which the dealings
of God bring about, in an exercised conscience and a matured judgment.
You will much miss our departed friend's prayers on the
reading days, for I have frequently heard how honest he was in his
confessions, and how earnest and sincere in his petitions. He was possessed
also of a good experience, and for the most part pretty sound in judgment,
with a right apprehension of living realities and a desire to glorify God by
his life and conduct. I have had much conversation with him at different
times, and I believe we always met and parted in sincere friendship and
affection. We could communicate very freely in divine matters, and well
understood each other's minds in those points of exercise and temptation,
where hints are sufficient, and to go beyond which is to venture on unsafe
grounds. He always treated me with great respect and affection, and if he
did not agree with me on all points, would not make it a matter of dispute.
When I have seen him looking so strong and healthy, I little thought that I
would be the survivor. How often have I looked from my window on a winter
afternoon, on my return from chapel, and seen him and his poor wife hurrying
off through the cold air to go home amid the dark night, when I was glad to
keep close to the fire. It grieves me to hear that his poor widow is worse.
Daily do I beseech the Lord that He would comfort her heart, give her faith
and patience, and sanctify to her soul's good every stroke of His afflicting
hand. Nor do I forget to ask the Lord that He would sanctify the stroke to
her aged parents, who have had so many family trials of late years. I hope
the Lord will abundantly bless Mr. Knill's ministry to the sorrowing church,
as well as to the friends and relatives of the deceased.
I quite approve of the purchase of the ground at the
cemetery. It is an odd word to make use of, but I have often said—"How very
comfortable it is to have a cemetery where the people of God can be buried
by their own minister, and lie together until the resurrection morn." You
would more deeply prize the spot where you have placed a monument to your
late dear husband, were his remains beneath it.
I was much interested in the account you gave of the
funeral. I thought much of you all that day, the snow lying so deep, and the
weather so cold. It must have been a very solemn and affecting scene; and
the numbers who attended it showed what great respect they had for his
memory. I do hope the solemn event may be blessed and sanctified to the
church and congregation. Such heavy strokes seem sometimes to stir up the
soil, and fit it for the reception of the Word. "You received the Word in
much affliction, with joy of the Holy Spirit." Deep affliction and the joy
of the Holy Spirit going together, make the Word received, not as the word
of man, but as it is in truth, the Word of God, which effectually works in
those who believe.
I am always glad to get a few lines from you, as I have
scarcely any other means of obtaining any news, either temporal or
spiritual, of what is going on among you at Oakham; and you may be sure that
having been among you for so many years, you all still live in my affections
and remembrance. I feel a great comfort in my own mind that, amid all the
trials which have befallen you, Mr. Knill is with you to comfort your hearts
by the word of life; for I hardly know what you would have done had the
pulpit been vacant, and you left merely to Supplies.
We unite in love, &c.; and please assure the church for
me that I still bear it in my heart, and desire that the blessing of God may
abundantly rest upon it.
I am, my dear friend,
Yours very affectionately in the Lord,
J. C. P.
January 24, 1867
My dear Mr. Copcutt—The United States is a wonderful country, and
possesses in the largest abundance every natural gift of heaven. But unless
God shows great mercy in the gifts of His grace, and raises up a people in
your midst to fear His great name, all your wealth and power, and all the
capabilities so largely possessed of furnishing everything in the shape of
wealth and abundance, may only prove sources of sin and eventual misery.
Amid so widespread a profession, one would hope that God has, here and
there, some whose hearts He has touched by His grace; but there is a sad
lack of a preached Gospel, and of ministers who take forth the precious from
the vile, and so are as God's mouth. As the editor of the Gospel
Standard, I get letters sometimes from various parts of the United
States, and in almost all of them I find the same complaints of the lack of
a sound experimental Gospel ministry. Gracious people also, who have
emigrated, send back the same report; so that I am forced to come to a
conclusion that the truth as it is in Jesus is but little held and little
preached.
I have the pleasure since I have lived here of sitting
under a very sound, experimental, and much-favored servant of God, Mr.
Francis Covell. During, indeed, the severe weather, I have been much
confined to the house, but greatly prize his ministry, as his soul is much
alive in the things of God. In prayer especially he is most warm and
fervent, with great sincerity and simplicity of petition, much humble
confession of sin, and great earnestness in wrestling for heavenly
blessings. In his preaching also, though not what is called eloquent, yet
his sermons are sound in doctrine, clear and savory in experience, and
strictly practical in all fruits of Christian obedience.
Your various journeys, both at home and abroad, must
bring to your mind many pleasant reminiscences, as well as striking
contrasts. You have seen the palms and tropical vegetation of Cuba, the pine
forests of Canada, the glaciers of Switzerland, and the green fields and
well-cultivated lands of Bucks, besides, no doubt, a large acquaintance with
the scenery of your adopted country. The face of nature thus affords many
pleasant recollections; but how man has ruined everything and every place
which he has touched! What sin, misery, and wretchedness meet the eye
and grieve the heart on every side! Violence, injustice, cruelty to man and
beast, oppression, falsehood, selfishness, and disregard of everything but
the cravings of aspiring ambition, show themselves everywhere; not to
mention those grosser evils in which man seems to sink to a lower level than
the beasts.
There is one feature in this country which is especially
admirable—the supremacy of law. No one, from the richest peer to the most
abject pauper, can set himself against the law; and as our judges are men of
great ability and sterling integrity, and are upheld and supported by all
the power of public opinion, their decisions are final. Law is our grand
protection, without which neither property nor person would be safe; and
where there is in a nation a respect for law, liberty flourishes under its
shade. . . .
Yours very sincerely,
J. C. P.
January 25, 1867
My dear Friend, Joseph Parry—We can hardly expect to pass through
life, and especially the latter stages of it, without trials and
afflictions; for if they do not come in one shape, they will come in
another. The Lord means to make us sick and weary of everything but
Himself; and I believe that most of His people are made willing to
depart before the final stroke comes. It is the lack of sweet manifestations
of His love and mercy, the sense of what we have been, and what a wreck and
ruin sin has made of us, with the various exercises of mind that spring out
of it, which so often make the prospect gloomy. But this stirs up many an
earnest sigh and cry for the Lord to appear and to speak a word with power
to the soul, that we may enjoy a blessed testimony to our acceptance in the
Beloved. How much one is led to see and feel of the dreadful evil of sin!
How loathsome it is in the sight of a holy God! What vile wretches we are in
ourselves! And what a mighty work the gracious Lord had to do to save us
from death and hell! I never saw so much of the evil of sin, and of my own
evil case as a sinner, as I have seen and felt of late; and I do beg of the
Lord, not only to manifest and reveal Himself with power to my soul, but to
give me godly sorrow for sin, with a broken heart, a contrite spirit, and a
humble mind.
These things many overlook, and some despise, but they
are choice gifts of God, and highly prized by those who know their value.
Seclusion and solitude give time and opportunity to look over the past;
and I am sure the reflection is anything but comfortable. Oh what heaps of
sins are brought to view, and how little we seem to have lived in the fear
of God, to have sought His will, or been fruitful branches in the only True
Vine! Men speak sometimes of looking back upon a well-spent life, but I
cannot; I have to cast myself wholly upon the superabounding grace of God.
No doubt advancing life and frequent indisposition make us see things in a
very different light from that in which they are viewed by the young and
healthy. But the question after all is, Which is the right view? Is the
world a happy or a miserable one? Is life to be lived to self, spent in
carnality and ease, or should we seek to live unto God? David could
say—"Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I have kept Your word."
It will be our mercy if afflictions have taught us the same lesson. But I
must not sermonize, though I have no doubt that in these points we see and
feel alike.
Allington must have presented but a cold and chilling
appearance during the late frost and snow; and I can readily believe that
the north-east winds, which were felt keenly here, must have swept from off
your Downs with terrible force. But the snow must have been a great
protection to the young wheat, and thus we can see mercy in that severe
snowstorm which was so widely prevalent. I spent two winters at Allington,
1835-1836 and 1837-1838, and my reminiscences of it are of great cold
without, whatever warmth and cordiality there was within, especially when
the big blocks sent a roaring fire up the drawing-room chimney, aided by the
draught of the middle door, left open by the present master of the house,
then a little pale-faced boy. We have seen great changes since then; but I
believe we may say that our mutual friendship and affection have not
changed, but rather expanded, as the little boy into the stout well-grown
man.
Many friends have we seen removed since June, 1835; and
the list of ministers who have stood in your pulpit since the chapel was
opened, who have been removed by death, forms quite a long catalogue. Poor
old Mr. S. is another added to the number. As my life is thus far spared,
I desire that what still remains of it may be spent in the fear of God, and
for the good of His people. I did not think, when I first knew you, that
I would have written so much or been so widely known; but I have been led
on, step by step, seeking neither praise nor popularity, but content to do
what lay in my path, and what I felt called upon from time to time to
execute. The Gospel Standard and the sermons take up much of my time,
and it is sometimes a weariness to the flesh; but they occupy my thoughts
and exercise my mind upon divine things, which is better than indolence or
distraction. I can hardly however get time to attend to the memoir of our
late dear friend William Tiptaft, as the press, like the two daughters of
the horseleech, is ever crying "Give, give." . .
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
January 26, 1867
My dear Friend, Mrs. Clowes—I desire sincerely to sympathize with you
in your present deep trial and heavy affliction, and I wish that I could
offer you some consolation, or at least some hope, under the weight of your
trouble. But I know well that none can give you any support or consolation
but the Lord Himself. And oh that He would kindly and graciously speak a
word with power to the soul of your poor afflicted husband, and that he
might be blessed with a feeling sense of the Lord's love to his soul! We do
not doubt but that he is all right for eternity. We know, and he cannot
deny, that the Lord in times past has been very gracious unto him, and has
manifested His love and mercy to his soul. But he wants to hear again His
blessed voice, and to feel the certainty of His pardoning love, through the
application of His atoning blood to his conscience. Oh that it might please
the Lord to give him one sweet smile, to break in upon his soul, and say, "I
am your salvation", break all his bonds asunder, and reveal peace with power
to his heart! But even should this be withheld, the Lord has already
mercifully taken away his fear of death; and thus it may not please His
gracious Majesty to grant him the blessing which he desires, and we also
desire for him. The Scripture says but little of the dying experience of
God's saints; and sometimes we look too much for what the Lord has not
especially promised—that is, any great manifestations of His love and mercy.
He has promised to make their bed in all their sickness, never to leave them
or forsake them, and that He would love them to the end. And all this He
will fulfill in and for our dear friend. . . .
Yours most affectionately,
J. C. P.
February 14, 1867
My dear Afflicted and Widowed Friend, Mrs. Tanner—But for much
occupation I would have written to you immediately that I received the
tidings of your late beloved husband's departure, that I might sympathize
with you in your troubles and sorrows. I had heard of his illness, but was
not aware until the day before he died that it was of so serious a nature.
But now, poor dear man, he is released from all his sufferings, both of
body and mind, and is in the fruition of that perfect happiness to which he
so often looked forward during the latter stages of his pilgrimage here.
Having so sweet an assurance of his eternal happiness, and knowing what a
life of suffering his was, it would indeed be selfish and cruel to wish him
back. You well know what he had to suffer with his many trials from so many
quarters, and though you may deeply miss him, and weep at the thought that
you will never more in this life see his face nor hear his voice, yet I am
sure that you have every reason to rejoice, rather than mourn. Still, nature
will have its course, and it is often a great relief when the tears can
freely flow, and grief find its appointed vent. It was a great mercy also
that you and your daughters were able to minister to his needs and comforts
in his last illness, and to have the sweet satisfaction of witnessing the
sweet peace that he enjoyed in his soul. What an infinite mercy it also is,
that the Lord has blessed you with the consolations of His spirit at various
times; and I do hope that as your afflictions abound, so also may your
consolations.
I believe you know that we were much united both in heart
and judgment. Indeed, I had great esteem and affection for him; and I am
sure he always treated me with the greatest kindness and affection. I would
be glad if you could put together some little obituary of him, as he was so
much esteemed and respected by all who knew him, that there might be some
record of him in the Gospel Standard.
With our united kind love to yourself and Mrs. W., I am,
Yours affectionately in the Lord,
J. C. P.
February 16, 1867
My dear Friend, Joseph Parry—And so our dear and esteemed friend
Joseph Tanner is entered into his eternal rest. For him there is no more
pain or suffering, but an eternity of bliss and blessedness in the presence
of God and the Lamb. We shall miss him greatly, especially you, who have
lost in him, not only a valued and affectionate friend, but a choice and
acceptable Supply. We shall never see his face or hear his voice upon earth
any more. He was younger than both of us, but from his many bodily
afflictions, more advanced in constitution than in age. He has left a good
name behind him, which is a wonderful mercy, considering the snares and
temptations to which he, in common with others, was exposed. Even his own
family could scarcely have wished him to live, when they saw him so
continually racked with pain and suffering. It must have been a satisfaction
to him to see his eldest daughter comfortably settled in life before he was
taken away. Thus he could sing both of mercy and judgment, and the
combination of these two makes, in divine things, the most harmonious music.
I believe he had a very sincere and warm esteem and affection for you, and
had a good union with the friends generally at Allington. How one after
another is passing away, and if our dear friend William Tiptaft had been
alive, he would have been reckoning up how many ministers, who had occupied
the Allington pulpit, had been removed by death. I have no doubt that many
thoughts have crossed your mind in connection with the removal of our
esteemed friend, and many desires and petitions have gone upward that, when
your time shall come, you may find the Lord to be the strength of your
heart, and your portion forever. I have no doubt your prayers will be
abundantly answered. . . .
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
February 25, 1867
My dear Afflicted and Widowed Friend,
Mrs. Clowes—I would have written to you before this to express my deep
and affectionate sympathy with you under your distressing bereavement, if I
had not thought it best to wait a little until the first gush of your sorrow
had found vent. When sorrow is so very recent and so pressing, there is no
room in the heart to receive any word from a friend—and none but the Lord
Himself can either console or support the troubled spirit. Knowing how
all your affections, and almost your life, were bound up with my dear
departed friend, I am sure that your grief must be very great. But I do hope
that the Lord may not only impart some sweet consolation to your troubled
heart, but give you also some submission and resignation to His holy will.
I would be glad if you could bear in mind how many
mercies have been mingled with your bereavement. He was spared to you for
many years, and was permitted to live to a good old age, possessing all his
faculties both of body and mind to a remarkable degree. Was not this a mercy
for you both? The Lord also took his earthly tabernacle gently down, and
thus gradually prepared your mind for his final removal. Was not this a
mercy? How much more deeply you would have felt it if he had been taken away
suddenly! How united also you both were, both in natural and spiritual love;
and what a kind, tender, and affectionate husband you always found him to
be. The recollection of this, I know, only increases your grief, for you
keep thinking upon all that you have lost in him. But is it not a great
mercy that you can look back upon the years of your married life with
satisfaction, and without any regretful recollection? You were also enabled
to nurse him tenderly and affectionately to the last, and do everything for
him which his illness and infirmities required. Was not this a mercy, that
sufficient health and strength were given you to do this?
But the mercy of mercies is that you have so good a
testimony that he is gone to his eternal rest. It pleased the Lord indeed,
for His own wise purposes, to keep him for many months in a low place. Poor
dear man! He was so afraid of presumption, vain confidence, and hypocrisy,
that he almost misjudged his own state and standing. Having been blessed in
days gone by with clear manifestations of the Lord's love to his soul, he
could not rest satisfied unless they were renewed. I never doubted him,
though he often doubted himself; for not only his past experience, but his
life, conduct, tenderness of conscience, godly fear, true humility of mind,
separation from the world, and Christian spirit, clearly manifested his
possession of the grace of God. In all my long communion with him, I never
received from him anything but the greatest kindness and affection. A man of
more tender spirit I never knew, or one who boasted less of himself, or in
any way put himself forward. I much feel his loss, and shall always think of
him as long as I live with the highest esteem and affection.
I much regret that my health did not allow me to come up
and see him, and to comply with your wish that I should pay the last tribute
of affection to his remains. I was glad to learn that the Lord shone upon
his soul before He took him hence, though, had it even not been so, I would
not have been shaken in the least as to his eternal happiness.
And now, my dear friend, I do hope that you will not
abandon yourself too much to your great sorrow. You cannot recall him; nor
would you in your right mind wish so to do. Resignation and submission to
the will of God are very desirable for you; and when you can say, "Your will
be done", it will bring you relief. May the Lord sweetly shine upon your
soul, and give you a word to comfort your heart. I endeavor to pray to the
Lord that He would give you resignation to His holy will, comfort your
heart, and grant you faith and patience. If you could drop me a line just to
let me know how you are, and especially anything about the last days of my
dear departed friend, I would esteem it a favor.
Please present my kindest regards to Mr. Lavell; I feel
for him as well as for you. He has lost, indeed, a most kind and
affectionate father.
My dear wife unites with me in kind love and sympathy.
Yours most affectionately,
J. C. P.
March 6, 1867
My dear and esteemed Friend, Mrs. Peake—I am not surprised that our
friend O. should feel as he does towards our dear departed brother Richard
Healy, or wishes to put on permanent record those traits of Christian
uprightness which he has mentioned. I will think over the subject, and as
far as space admits, either in the next issue or at some other opportunity,
will endeavor to record them in the G. S. The simple fact is, that
being pressed for space, we can only allot a certain portion for the
obituary, and are therefore obliged sometimes to divide, and at others to
curtail, the accounts that are sent us. But I am sure that in this day we
need testimonies to vital godliness and real, powerful, practical religion;
for this is that in which there is, and I suppose always has been, so great
a defect in the church of God. I have often thought of, and sometimes
quoted, the words of Bunyan where, speaking of Talkative, Christian says,
"The soul of religion is the practical part", meaning doubtless that where
there is no practice, religion is but a lifeless corpse. But nothing
commends it more to the consciences of all men, whether natural or
spiritual, than to see the fruits of godliness made manifest, especially
when they are directly opposed to self-seeking and self-interest.
The providence which removed him is indeed mysterious. We
seem to understand, and be reconciled to the removal of the aged and infirm,
especially of those who bore the heat and burden of the day, like the two
Coopers and other members of your church—but to see the young, like Richard
Healy and your own dear husband, taken away, whose lives seemed so valuable
both to the church and their families, makes us sometimes wonder at the
Lord's dealings. And yet we know how many sorrows and sufferings they have
been spared, and the very circumstance that they were taken away in the very
prime of life and usefulness, casts round their memory a more tender and
sacred halo. I believe that the obituaries in the G. S. are generally
very acceptable and very profitable. Mr. —, of Nottingham, has frequently
mentioned to me how good he has found the obituaries, and we find sometimes
how people on their death-beds have spoken of the encouragement which they
have met with in reading them. In a sense, we may say of the departed saint
whose experience and words are thus recorded—"By it, he being dead, yet
speaks".
We are deeply grieved to hear of poor Eliza's sufferings.
Seeing nothing before her but pain and suffering, and having, we hope, a
good testimony of her eternal safety, it will be almost a relief if the Lord
would give her a parting smile and take her to Himself. When I left Oakham
in 1864, I left them both, as it appeared, in the full enjoyment of health
and strength, and now one is gone, and the other fast following. I pray
the Lord to sanctify the affliction to her aged parents, that they may see
in it the frailty and uncertainty of all things here below, seek more
earnestly to know and live unto the Lord of Life and Glory, and submit with
resignation to His holy will. My daily prayer for poor Eliza is that the
Lord would comfort her heart, alleviate her pain, give her faith and
patience, with submission to His will. Poor Richard is spared the suffering
of seeing her suffer, which he could ill have borne, and all those anxious
cares which would have been entailed upon him by her illness. We know not
from how much evil death saves us from, and still less what bounty it gives.
Could we see with the eye of God, we would see wisdom and goodness marked
upon every movement of His hand.
You probably know that my dear friend Mr. Clowes is gone
to his eternal rest. He was very much tried through the whole of his
illness, and sank very low, fearing at times that he was lost—but about two
hours before he died, the Lord broke most gloriously in upon his soul. I
will endeavor to let you see Mrs. Clowes's letter. She is indeed a mourning
widow, for I think I scarce ever saw a woman whose almost every thought
seemed to be to and for her husband. He was indeed a most kind and
affectionate partner, and as a Christian, blessed with a good experience,
with great tenderness of conscience, and much circumspectness of life. We
were much attached to each other, as I have known him for more than thirty
years, and being with him every summer since 1855, of course I have seen a
good deal of him. He was a man of very tender feeling, and never parted from
me without shedding tears of true affection. I shall much miss him when I go
again to London, if spared to fulfill my engagement at Gower Street Chapel.
Yours affectionately in the truth,
J. C. P.
March 27, 1867
My dear Friend, Joseph Parry—I have no doubt that you were shocked,
though perhaps not surprised, at the tidings of poor Mrs. Healy's death. The
case indeed was hopeless from the first, and nothing could be looked for but
a long suffering illness, of which death would be the close. At last she
sank away, passing off quietly, and the last few days scarcely able to speak
audibly or intelligibly. But we have every good ground of hope that her soul
was saved in the Lord with an everlasting salvation, as she had had at
various times many sweet promises applied to her heart, and many encouraging
words spoken with power. Her religion was indeed not so deep and clear as
her poor husband's—but there was great sincerity and sweetness stamped upon
what she said. It will be ten years on the thirtieth of next month since I
married them. Looking at them then, there was every promise of their life
being long—but how mysterious are the ways of the Lord! They now lie
side by side in the Oakham cemetery; yet could the question be put to them,
they would not change their present state of happiness and peace with any
others who might be named as enjoying everything which this world can
give—and were you their father, I believe you would look at their grave with
a sweeter satisfaction than if, in the full enjoyment of life and health,
they were walking after the course of this world.
I was much united in heart and spirit to poor Richard. As
far as he had opportunity, when I was at Oakham, he would often come up to
my sitting-room for the sake of a little undisturbed spiritual conversation,
and very sweetly would he speak of the things of God and His dealings with
him. I have often envied his health and strength, as he was a stout, strong
young man, caring little for wind or weather, though there was something in
his countenance which at times betrayed a native delicacy of constitution.
But here I am still in the wilderness, having survived
him and many others whose prospects of life, humanly speaking, were much
greater than my own. We think of bringing out a little memoir of him, which
will, I believe, be found interesting and edifying. He was a man who
carried out his religion into practice. Some instances will be named in
the memoir; but I will just mention one now. One day during the cattle
plague he was struck with the fact that his beasts had been preserved.
"Well", he said, "Your poor people, Lord, shall reap the benefit", so he
sent Mr. Keal £20 to be distributed among the poor members of the church and
others who feared God in the congregation. I much doubt whether many
professing farmers whose herds were spared have acted in a similar way.
With you and me, dear friend, the bloom of life is
utterly gone, and we may almost say, "We would not live always." There is
nothing for us, as regards us personally, to look forward to but increasing
years and infirmities, until we are brought down to our native dust. Our
chief desire and the longing of our heart is to be favored with some sweet
manifestations of the Lord's love and mercy, and no doubt your heart, like
mine, often goes up to His blessed Majesty that He would take pity on us in
our low estate, compassionate us, and speak a word of peace and consolation
to our inmost soul. He has taught us, we trust, to fear, revere, and adore
His great, and glorious, and holy name, and to believe in His dear Son,
looking to Him alone as all our salvation and all our desire. We have seen
and felt a little of the evil of sin, and desire to repent of it with
real godly sorrow, brokenness of spirit, contrition of heart, and true
humility of mind.
We would desire also to be more separated from the
world in heart, spirit, and affection, to be spiritually-minded which is
life and peace, and to know more of that holiness without which no man shall
see the Lord. And though we find sin still working in us, and sometimes as
bad as ever, yet our desire is to have it subdued in its power, as well as
purged away in its guilt and filth. We have lived to see what the world can
do for us, and found it can only entangle; and what sin can do, which
is to please for a moment and then bite like an adder. And we have seen also
a little of the Person and work, blood and righteousness, grace and glory,
blessedness and suitability of the Son of God; and He has won our
heart and affections, so as at times to be the chief among ten thousand and
the altogether lovely One.
But with all this, we desire more clear visitations of
His gracious presence, more precious words from those lips into which grace
is poured, and more sensible discoveries of Himself in the light of His own
countenance and the words of His own application. Am I an interpreter? Do I
read some of the desires and feelings of my friend's inmost soul, and
express the breathings of his heart toward the Lord at various seasons by
day and night? I tell my friend Covell sometimes that I want "realities",
and that if he did not preach them, I could not sit to hear him. How I
see men deluded and put off with a vain show, and how few there are, whether
ministers or people, who seem to know anything of the transforming efficacy
of real religion and vital godliness. Here I have been about forty
years, for it is just now forty years since eternal realities were first
laid upon my mind, groping and feeling as it were my way to the true light
and to the true life, to the vital power and divine reality of the kingdom
of God. And yet after all my thousands of prayers, looking and crying to the
Lord for His teaching and blessing, and all my reading, writing, preaching,
and professing, how little do I seem to know of the kingdom of heaven as set
up in the heart by the Holy Spirit! Only just enough to show me what and
where I am, what I want, and the miserable state of all who are destitute of
the life and power of God in the soul.
I hope what I am writing from Ephesians 1 may be made a
blessing. I have seen much in that wondrous chapter, and if I can but a
little lay bare its glorious riches, it may comfort and encourage some of
the dear family of God. Thus I may hope to preach from my study, if not from
the pulpit.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
April 1, 1867
My dear Friend, Thomas Godwin—I understand that you and Mrs. Godwin
saw poor Mrs. Healy on your way to Leicester, and found her much altered.
When we received the tidings of her death—though in some sense it
came as a shock, as such tidings always do, yet I felt it to be a
merciful release. There was nothing before her in this life but
suffering and pain; and as one had a good hope of her eternal safety, no one
who loved her could wish her to continue in her house of weakness and
suffering. It was a kind providence that she had her father's house in which
to spend the last days of her widowhood, and so kind and attentive a nurse
in her sister Emma, who has much risen in my estimation from her unwearied
devotedness to her suffering sister.
Mr. and Mrs. Keal would doubtless feel the stroke; but I
have often observed that, in old persons, the natural feelings are a good
deal blunted, and that they bear the loss of relatives with much less sorrow
than those who are younger. My desire and prayer for them both is, that the
Lord would sanctify the affliction to their souls' good. They must shortly
follow; and it will be their mercy if the Lord would brighten their
evidences, and manifest Himself more clearly unto them, before He calls them
hence. We know their great kindness, liberality, and hospitality to the
Lord's saints and servants; and how they have borne the heat and burden of
the day, and stood by the Cause with unabated firmness for so many years.
Now if the Lord would but shine into their souls in their latter days, what
a strength and comfort it would be, both to the people and to those like us,
who have received from them so many proofs of kindness and affection.
We think of bringing out a little memoir of poor Richard,
as a little memento of him; and I think it will be well received. It will
contain his experience, which appeared in The Gospel Standard last
year, and the letters to his wife, which our friend Mrs. Peake has put
together, and which have appeared, and will appear also in the G. S.
He was a man well taught in the things of God, tender in conscience, liberal
in heart, and circumspect in life. We have at various times had a good deal
of conversation upon spiritual things; for he would come up to me in my
little study at Oakham, and there we would often compare notes upon the
precious things of God. We saw much eye to eye in the precious truth, and if
we did not meet on every point, we never jarred nor disputed, as he always
treated me with great respect and affection, and knew well how much I was
attached to him. He had a great esteem and affection for you, as your
ministry had at various times been blessed to his soul—and when he was first
brought under deep spiritual trouble, he felt as if he must come and see
you, that you might give him some encouragement.
He was also very fond of our friend the late William
Tiptaft, and in many points much resembled him. I little thought, when I
made him my executor, that I would survive either him or his wife. But oh
how many heartier and stronger men have I seen removed from this vain scene;
and I am still spared, who have held my life in my hand, as it were, so many
years, and known so much of bodily affliction! My desire is to live
to the Lord all the days that still remain to me in this lower world, to
walk more in His fear, enjoy more of His presence, and be more
spiritually-minded, which I know from experience is life and peace. My
chief trouble is the recollection that I have not walked more in the
fear of God, but have been so often entangled in the snares spread for my
feet. I do earnestly desire to know more of a broken heart, a contrite
spirit, a tender conscience, and a humble mind, with sweet visitations of
the Lord's love, and the rich manifestations of his superabounding grace. It
is my mercy that I am not settled upon my lees, or at ease in Zion; but find
my soul for the most part kept alive in the things of God in prayer and
supplication, in reading His holy Word with sweetness and savor, and passing
my time much alone in the exercise of it on divine realities. . . .
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
April 2, 1867
[Mr. King having sent Mr. Philpot an extract from a publication
entitled "Predestination, Calmly Considered from Principles of Reason,"—Mr.
Philpot sent the following reply.]
Dear Mr. King—I am sorry that you should take the
trouble of reading such books as that from which you have sent me an
extract; especially as you acknowledge that the reading of it produced much
hardness, barrenness, coldness, and deadness in your soul. Indeed to my mind
the title of the book is itself sufficient to condemn it. Predestination as
a divine truth is not to be calmly considered from principles of reason,
being in a Christian point of view wholly a matter of divine revelation. The
great Apostle of the Gentiles who has laid it down so clearly and fully
(Rom. 9), does not attempt to reason about it; but, in answer to one who
does, says, "No but, O man, who are you that replies against God?" and in
Romans 11:33, shuts the whole matter up in the words "O the depth of the
riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!"
I do not feel disposed, therefore, to examine the extract
which you have sent me; though, as far as I have looked at it, it seems to
me both erroneous and sophistical. Thus he speaks of the existence of sin
being in consequence of the sovereign appointment of God. Now I do not
believe that this is Scripture doctrine, nor do I know a single passage even
bearing that way. I fully believe that the entrance of sin into the world,
and of death by sin, was according to the permissive will of God, for
without it it could not have entered; but not appointed by Him in the same
way as what is good, for such an assertion, reason how we may, would make
God the Author of sin. I think, also, that all his reasonings about sin
being a creature and such metaphysical subtleties are mere sophisms. Two
things are very evident; first, that sin is a most dreadful evil, hateful to
God, and calling down His displeasure and righteous punishment; and
secondly, that there is no remedy for this dreadful evil, except through the
incarnation and blood shedding of the Son of God. Here I rest, not being
willing to trouble my mind with daring reasonings of men destitute of
godliness, and here I advise you to rest too.
Yours very sincerely, for truth's sake,
J. C. P.
April 16, 1867
My dear Friend in the Lord, Mrs. Peake—I am very glad that the memoir
of our late dear friend, William Tiptaft, so far as written, has given
satisfaction to yourself and my Oakham friends. I have had to steer a kind
of middle course, which is always very difficult to maintain. On the one
hand I wish to write an interesting biography, and on the other to make it
as far as I could spiritual and profitable. I think readers generally, and I
may include among them spiritual readers, take much interest in the
narrative of circumstances which, if providential, have yet a bearing on
what is spiritual; for generally speaking, the dealings of God with us in
providence and in grace are so connected that they cannot be separated.
Take, for instance, the way in which you and your dear sister were brought
to —. What an influence it has had upon your subsequent life, and I may
truly add, has been made a blessing to others as well as yourselves. So my
connection with William Tiptaft, through our meeting together at the
clerical meeting, has had an influence on all my subsequent life. It was for
this reason therefore, that I thought it well to give so much place to mere
narrative. I did not wish even to name myself, beyond a passing notice; but
I felt almost compelled to do so by the circumstances of the narrative, and
I am glad you think I have not said too much.
William Tiptaft, in his later days, was much more
reserved about himself than when I first knew him. This, I think, arose from
his great cautiousness, lest he should in any way commit himself. But the
effect has been much to diminish the narrative part of the memoir; and if my
memory were not in some things rather tenacious, I could not have gathered
up what I have written upon the early days of our friendship. But his
letters, however good, needed a little relief as well as explanation, as it
is somewhat wearisome to read a series of letters, and unless explained they
are often obscure. I hope, as far as I may be favored with help from on
high, I may go on with the memoir, but The Gospel Standard takes up
so much of my time, and when that is finished my sermon for the Gospel
Pulpit, that I have only a few days at the end of the month to attend to the
memoir. I may also add that I have not now the strength of body and mind
which I once possessed, so that I soon get weary and flag, which makes
writing not only a burden, but what I write heavy and dull. Still I must go
on, I suppose, like the ox laboring in the furrow until worn out with toil,
and if my labors are blessed of God, it is my best reward.
Dear Richard's letters to his poor afflicted wife have
been read, I understand, with much feeling and interest. There is heart in
them. Like Paul's, in a sense, they were written out of much affliction and
tears. The dear man knew what he wanted for himself and her, pressed after
and at times enjoyed divine realities, and cast aside, in the earnestness
and almost agony of his spirit, the rags and wraps of a wordy profession.
There is also great tenderness of spirit and strong affection in them
towards his poor suffering partner.
I do hope that his memoir, when it comes out, may be
profitable to the church of Christ, and if spared, I shall hope to write a
little Preface to it, and to insert what would otherwise have appeared in
The Gospel Standard. . . .
Yours very affectionately in the Lord,
J. C. P.
April 18, 1867
Dear Friend in the Truth, Mr. James Davis—Your handsome
rug and the two muffs came safely to hand on the second of this month, and
we beg to express our thanks for them; one of the muffs I have given to my
dear wife, and my daughter begs to thank you very kindly for thinking of her
and for sending her so pretty a present.
Your last kind letter came to hand this morning. I am
always sorry that anything should appear in the Gospel Standard which
can stumble any mind or hurt the feelings of any child of God, especially
when it has any reference to the glorious Person of our adorable Lord. There
certainly is no evidence that the blessed Lord ever actually wrought with
His own hands, nor is it implied in the expression, "Is not this the
carpenter's son?" which was but the expression of scorn and contempt in the
mouth of the ungodly; and I am sure anything that in the least degree
touches upon the holy humanity of our gracious Lord makes one who loves His
name to shrink, and, as you say, shudder lest anything should be said
derogatory to Him.
I am fond myself of Berridge's "Hymns," but there are
many expressions in them, as in his other writings, of which I by no means
approve. When, therefore, I edited, in 1842, his "Songs of Zion," though I
did not feel warranted to alter much, yet I struck out some expressions or
omitted some verses of which I could not altogether approve. But, dear
friend, where shall we find anything like perfection in the creature? or any
writer in whom there will not be expressions that we cannot approve of? I am
very sure that I have written things, especially in times past, or rather
dropped expressions, which I would not do now; and I dare say sometimes when
you think of expressions that you yourself have made use of, you have had to
wish that you could recall them. Indeed James tells us that "if any man
offend not in word the same is a perfect man," which, I am sure, neither you
nor I ever profess or expect to be.
I am glad that the Lord does at times encourage you still
to go on speaking in His name. He accepts what a man has, and does not look
for great gifts in setting forth His truth. A few broken words, which He
is pleased to apply to the soul with a divine power, will be made a lasting
blessing when all wordy eloquence falls to the ground like water spilt.
The great thing is to have a single eye to the glory of God, a love to His
dear people, and to know experimentally the things contended for. All the
saints of God have to a certain extent the same teaching, the same
experience, and the same feelings. Some indeed are more blessed and favored,
but all in their measure are led into the same precious truth in the same
blessed way. When, therefore, they hear a servant of God contending for
those divine realities of which they have felt the life and power, it often
sweetly revives the work of grace upon their heart, and encourages them to
hope and believe that they are rightly led and taught. But you justly
observe that the chief thing is to have the inward witness, and I am well
satisfied that there is no real satisfaction without it. The lack of this
makes many a poor child of God sigh and cry, and when he gets it makes him
rejoice.
I am sorry to find from your last letter that you are
complaining of your chest. I thought that in your beautiful climate you had
not those illnesses in the chest which we have in this damp, foggy country.
I am sorry to hear Mrs. C. is not well; please give her
my love. How is Aquila? I wish the Lord would send you a real servant of
His, but I have little hope of it. We are fast losing our best men here, and
none are raised up to take their place. What a world it is of sin and
sorrow! Oh to be saved from it and out of it with an everlasting salvation!
Yours affectionately, in the Truth,
J. C. P.
May 18, 1867
My dear Friend, Joseph Parry. . . As regards myself, you have been
rightly informed, for I have had an attack of my old illness, from which I
am but slowly recovering. Mr. Gadsby expressed a great wish for me to marry
his daughter at Gower Street Chapel; and as I had known her from an infant,
I did not like to refuse. I took however the precaution of having a brougham
to take and bring me back, hoping I would in that way escape cold. But it
was a remarkably cold day, the wind being in the east, and when I went into
the vestry there was no fire there, and I seemed struck with a sudden chill.
There was a large congregation to witness the ceremony, and I must say that
I was much helped in conducting the service, and the whole was carried on in
a very proper and becoming manner. I took the opportunity of showing at some
length that marriage was a divine institution; and in giving an address to
the newly-married pair, I took the opportunity of showing what were the
mutual duties of husband and wife, addressing myself as much to the married
in the congregation as to the bride and bridegroom. My wife and elder
daughter were with me; we lunched with a friend, and came home directly
afterwards. Unhappily however, I took cold, and it has been rather a severe
attack, so that I have been obliged to defer my visit to Gower Street for
two or three Lord's days, and indeed have had great fears whether I would
not be obliged to give up all my engagements for the summer, and yours among
them. But I am, through mercy, slowly recovering, and hope that it may
please the Lord so far to restore me, that I may not wholly disappoint the
friends.
How on every side we see the strides which death is
making. In March, 1860, I was very ill, and as I was slowly recovering,
a letter came one morning announcing the decease of our friend Isbell. About
the middle of the same day our dear friend William Tiptaft, who was
supplying for me, came to see me. He had not been long seated, before in
came Mr. Grace of Brighton, bringing with him his friend Mr. Pickering.
While we were conversing together on the best things, Mr. Brown of
Godmanchester, who was then staying in Stamford, also came in. Mr. Grace was
struck with the circumstance, and said in a very solemn manner—"We four
ministers will never meet again together in one room. Let us, before we
part, read and pray together." This was of course done. William Tiptaft
read, and Mr. Grace prayed. It was a solemn season with us all, and when we
parted it was, I believe, in love and affection. Now since that date William
Tiptaft, Mr. Grace, and Mr. Pickering have entered into their rest, and I
heard yesterday, from good authority, that Mr. Brown is not expected to
live. What a voice these dispensations have, and how they all say—"you also
be ready!" How they call upon us to be as men whose loins are girt and lamps
burning, and to be waiting for the Lord's coming. My desire is to have every
stroke of affliction sanctified and blessed, and to hear the voice of God
speaking in every dispensation, especially those which are trying and
afflictive.
I hope that the Lord may bless Mr. Hazlerigg's visit,
both publicly and privately, and that much of the presence and power of the
Lord may attend his testimony. You will give him my love, and my prayers and
desires for the blessing of God upon his visit.
We unite in love and sympathy with your family circle.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
July 30, 1867
My dear Friend, Mr. Surin—I can only write you a few lines; but I
know you will be glad to hear that I have thus far been brought through my
London labors. I never before came to London so weak, both in body and in
soul; but have found the Lord's strength made perfect in my weakness. You
know that I cannot take up with, and rest upon, such evidences and
testimonies as many men seem satisfied with. I must have something
special, or to me it is nothing. All the vain applause of mortals,
and all that is called popularity, I think little of. It leaves an aching
void, and often a guilty conscience. The blessing of the Lord makes rich,
and all else is poverty, rags, and shame. I am thankful to be helped
through, and to feel a little life and liberty in my soul. If the word be
blessed to any, the Lord shall have all the praise.
I have been very comfortable here, although I much miss
my dear old friend. The quietness of the house suits me well—no street
noises as at —; so that I get better nights. Mrs. C. is quite nicely, and
most kind and attentive. Of course we often talk of her beloved husband, and
it seems to soothe and relieve her.
The memoir of Tiptaft is selling well. I had 3,000 copies
printed, and about 1,600 are already gone. The dead man's letters speak for
themselves, and remind many of his ministry. Beyond advertising it in the
G. S., I have left it to sink or swim, as it best deserved, and have no
wish either to puff or push it. Not he who commends himself is approved, but
whom the Lord commends. And as with men, so with books. God's smile, not
man's, is the only smile worth having.
I am not at all surprised about the Bedford services. If
you were not to go there, it would soon drop to nothing. Mr. H. is a good
man and a good preacher, but his ministry lacks that power and authority
which are needful to bring together the Lord's people, far and near. He has
been spoken of as a pastor for Zoar; but I believe he would not keep a
London congregation together for a permanency.
We are all fast fading away, and must soon lie among the
clods of the valley. May our last days be our best days, and our death
the death of the righteous. . . .
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
October 17, 1867
My dear Friend, Mrs. Peake—. . . I feel thankful to have
returned to my own home in peace and safety, and to have been preserved
during my absence as well as favored with a sufficient measure of health and
strength to fulfill all my engagements and to preach for fourteen
Lord's-days continuously. I hope also that I may say without presumption
that the Lord helped me in soul as well as in body, and enabled me to set
forth His truth as I have received it. I was glad to see my old friends, and
to speak to them once more in the name of the Lord; and I hope there were
those among them who felt the power and savor of the word of truth which I
was enabled to bring before them.
No one I believe is more convinced than I am that nothing
but the power of God accompanying His word can make it effectual either to
kill or make alive, to wound or to heal, to pull down or build up. And from
whomsoever's mouth words of grace and truth drop, whether educated or
uneducated, whether learned or unlearned, the power is the same. Some
despise learning and some despise the lack of it; but the people of God know
what power is when they feel it to accompany the word; and those who know
not what that power is are no judges of the matter. It is a day of small
things well-near everywhere, and those who have life seem much overborne by
darkness and the death that is in their carnal mind.
I had a pleasant and I hope profitable visit to
Nottingham. The room was very full, and on the Tuesday evening we had quite
a large congregation. Some young clergyman sat close to the pulpit. What
he thought of my discourse I can hardly conjecture, but he seemed to listen
very attentively. One does not know what good is done on such occasions, or
how it may please the Lord to bring His word home with power to some
thoughtless sinner's heart. I never saw Mr. — in better health, and we
had some short but very sweet conversation upon the things of God. He is
truly a spiritually minded man, and to be made and kept spiritually minded
our dear friend W. Tiptaft used to say was one of the greatest blessings
which we could have. The Memoir [of William Tiptaft] is nearly sold out, but
I hope the second edition which is passing through the press will shortly
appear. It seems to have been generally very well received, and the letters
highly prized. By them, he being dead, yet speaks; for I hear it often
remarked, "How vividly they recall the man."
My visit to Oakham seems almost like a dream, and you
perhaps feel the same. It came and went; but I hope, unlike a dream, it has
left some traces of its real existence.
Yours very affectionately,
J. C. P.
December 14, 1867
My dear afflicted and widowed Friend,
Mrs. Brown—I desire sincerely to sympathize with you under your
most distressing bereavement. It has indeed not come upon you unexpectedly,
and thus your mind must have been in some good measure prepared for this
desolating stroke. You have also the unspeakable consolation of knowing that
your dear husband has passed away from this world of sin and sorrow to be
forever with that dear Lord whom he so sincerely loved and faithfully served
when here below. Still, with these sources of consolation, when such a
bereavement comes, though they alleviate the shock, yet nature must ever
feel the pain and grief of the loss; and, therefore, there is no use in
friends trying to make a burden light, which cannot but be from its nature
heavy.
Under such circumstances no one but the Lord Himself can
administer support and comfort; and His way often is to allow the stroke to
be deeply felt, giving just sufficient support under it, that it may do its
appointed work. You may, therefore, not at present receive that strength and
consolation for which you might look; but if the Lord grants you faith and
patience, He will in due time appear for you and fulfill every promise which
He has given to the widow, and to her especially who is desolate, and a
widow indeed.
Few men have died more in the esteem and affection of
God's saints and servants than your late dear husband. His great sincerity
and uprightness of character, boldness and faithfulness in the declaration
of truth, and the sweet spirit which more especially of late years
accompanied his ministry, much endeared him to all who knew him, especially
to those who sat under his ministry. I always found him a sincere and
affectionate friend, and could only regret that for the few last years I
have seen so little personally of him. But I most highly esteemed him for
his work's sake.
The Lord support and comfort you in your affliction.
Yours affectionately in the Lord,
J. C. P.
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