Madeley, Nov. 20th, 1815.
My dear Mary,
MRS. D. WHITMORE has offered to enclose a letter for me to yourself in
her frank. I have availed myself of the opportunity thus afforded me,
and have the comfort of reflecting that for once, at least, my poor
scrawl will not cost more than its worth.
Mrs. D. and Miss Whitmore have lately been spending a few days with us,
and they have left us with a pleasing and powerful conviction of the
blessedness resulting from the society of those who live near to God. We
felt, in the first instance, somewhat of reluctance in inviting them;
but, being persuaded that the law of love required that we should seek
our pleasure in the endeavour to communicate pleasure to others, we
thought it right to break through our cozy habits of retirement, and to
welcome them under our roof. I need not tell you that we have been
abundantly repaid. Christian intercourse, when sought and conducted on
Christian principles, must be productive of good, and I would gratefully
adore the goodness of the Lord for all the refreshment of spirit, and the
improvement of mind, which have been conveyed to me through them as
channels. How clearly, my dear Mary, would the Lord be teaching us,
provided that we would learn of him that the faithful taking up of the
cross, even in those matters which appear but trivial and insignificant,
is the most effectual way of procuring present peace and future
blessedness. In short, that the spirit of surrender is the one thing
needful, the grand preparative for happiness and holiness here, and for
eternal glory hereafter. I do not know how you feel on this point; but I
must, with humiliation, confess to you, that this yoke of Christ does not
sit so gracefully and so easily upon me as it ought. I would, however,
be thankful that I am endeavouring to bear it. I am comforted with the
thought, and I may say with the experience, that the effort to
accommodate it to my stubborn neck is the most effectual way of making it
natural and easy. I have been much helped to this endeavour by a
persuasion that the bearing of the cross is not the end, but the way;
that humiliations, mortifications, trials, and so on, are only so many
means which God is obliged to have recourse to in order to communicate
blessings; that he does not wish to harass, pain, and mortify us, but to
promote our comfort, and that the moment we are ready to take up the
cross, and begin to submit to the only terms on which it is safe in God
to bless us, then he cheerfully avails himself of the opportunity of
conveying to us, not the pain which we anticipated, but some gracious
token of his love. “For the Lord taketh pleasure in the prosperity of
his servants.” His name, His nature, is love. In my last, I think, I
stated to you that matters were going on pretty comfortably in my parish.
I did not, however, enlarge, lest I should be conveying to you a more
favourable idea than contingent circumstances would authorize. I now
feel that gratitude towards God ought to lead me to speak to his praise.
Many persons in the place have, to say the least, been very favourably
impressed, both among the higher, as well as the lower orders, and show a
considerable change in the whole of their demeanour. The congregation in
the church, both morning and evening, continues to increase; and the
expositions, both in the town and the outskirts of the parish, are fully
attended. If there is one thing more than another which seems to
encourage me, it is that of witnessing on all occasions, that the Lord
has graciously given to me what I have all along been led more
particularly to pray for—the heart and affections of my dear people.
They not only tolerate—they evidently love me. I seem to myself the same
poor blundering stutterer as ever, and yet they meet me with pleasure,
and go from my ministrations with profit. The Lord make and keep me
humble and thankful! I sometimes think that all this is too good to
last, that the peaceful calm is but the harbinger of the treacherous
storm; I feel, however, that this is no necessary conclusion. Could
humility and gratitude be the predominating feeling of our mind, we then
might be safely trusted with success. But this is the grand
difficulty—pride and self-congratulation are ever apt to insinuate
themselves into our minds, and then adversity is necessary. “It is
difficult,” as the pious Leighton observes, “to carry a full cup even.”
Pray for me, my dear sister, that all the will of the Lord may be done in
me, and by me, and that no evils on my part may put any impediment to the
free course and glorification of God’s blessed word.
* * * * *
The following letter to his friend, Mr., now the Rev. John Cooper, will
show how much Mr. Mortimer was in advance of the time in which he wrote
on the subject of lay-agency—a kind of help which, at that time, was
considered of very questionable propriety; but which has now come to be
admitted very generally, as expedient to meet the pressing wants of a
rapidly increasing population. These wants, indeed, the editor believes
can never be effectually supplied by any means less than an extensive
augmentation of the number of _clerical_ labourers. To supply these
means, he regrets much that the Lord Primate, together with the Episcopal
Bench, should not see it to be their duty to admit to deacon’s orders
upon a lower standard of literary attainments than is now required;
keeping persons so ordained, if it be thought good, in that order, until
they possess the usual portion of literary and theological knowledge, as
well as the ordinary title for priest’s orders. On this subject also, as
will be seen from the same letter, Mr. Mortimer appears to have been
equally in advance of his brethren; for, at that time, the notion of such
an augmentation of the number of the clergy was little thought of, and
would have been in most quarters, as it is still in many, very generally
condemned. His opinion is, I think, a just one—viz. that the _stability
and true respectability_ of the church is more effectually promoted by
sound piety, than by a certain portion of Latin and Greek. “The union of
sound learning with genuine piety, is what every one must admire and
desire in a Christian pastor; but a man may do immense good with nothing
more than an unlearned familiarity with the Scriptures, with sound
practical sense and activity, taking part in all the business of the
parish, and devoting himself to intercourse with men rather than with
books. I honour such men in the highest degree, and think that they are
among the most valuable ministers that the church possesses.” {69} In
the meantime, however, until the clergy shall hear some proportion to the
population, we must have recourse to lay-assistants to supply, in some
small measure, the much to be deplored deficiency. “For myself, I will
openly declare, that I see not how we can dare for any of those small
professional objections, which may be urged, if they are sought for,
against every comprehensive scheme of good, to refuse such aid in this
our great necessity. It might be well enough for men, sitting calmly in
their closets, and forgetting all these mighty issues, to cavil and to
speculate, to raise difficulties as to the exact mission of the
lay-reader, and to wish (as which of us does not wish?) that bands of
zealous, well-timed, devoted deacons ministered instead among these
crowds; but it will not do for us, my reverend brethren, who know that
souls are thus perishing around us, to bring upon ourselves the guilt of
their blood; to let them be unwarned, and drag us with them into their
destruction, because, through blinding prejudice, or the widely
comprehensive sin of omission, we have, for a whole generation, shut out
of a parish the light which might have streamed into it.” {70}
Madeley, Dec. 4th, 1815.
My dear Friend,
ON the evening previous to my receiving your very kind and truly
acceptable letter, I had been speaking in the town from those words of
our Lord, “Pray ye, therefore, the Lord of the harvest, that he would
send [or rather _thrust_] forth labourers into his harvest;” and we all
seemed to find it a profitable season, especially when, in conclusion, we
were praying that this important blessing might be realized. When your
kind favour arrived, I saw more than ever, the propriety of beseeching
God to “_thrust_” _them out_; for surely nothing but main force can
compel _desirable_ labourers. Others come at a moment’s bidding—no
useful employments detain them—no endeared relatives or friends hang
about them, conscientiously and feelingly pressing their continuance
among them. But when a prepared labourer, one whom “the Lord of the
harvest” has previously been fitting for his ministerial work; when such
a one is fixed on, none but the Lord himself can bring him out. I have,
therefore, only one resource, and that is prayer; this, however, I am
privileged to use, and this I must still hope will eventually prevail. I
assure you it would prove a source of no small joy to myself to welcome
you among us for your initiatory work; for, independent of the personal
gratification and profit which I must promise myself, your help in
various ways would be exceedingly acceptable to the people. The most
populous parts of the parish greatly want help, and most gladly avail
themselves of the little which I and T— are able to give them. At
present I feel as though I could do but little more: I have, indeed,
_one_ leisure evening during the week; but even this they have been
asking from me, and I fear to deny them. My good friend need not,
therefore, be afraid of eating the bread of idleness, by secluding
himself for a short season among us; and with regard to his future
employment, a single month’s actual residence in a place tolerably
populous will fully convince him how much work of the highest importance
will call for his daily and even hourly attention. And are there not
hundreds of places of this description opening to our wishes? “Truly the
harvest is plenteous,” but with pain I must still add, that “the
labourers are few.”
I felt very thankful to hear of the determination of your friend B—,
relative to entering into orders, and of the kind and judicious conduct
of the bishop—a conduct, however, but seldom adopted. The determination
of many on the bench to admit those only into orders who have previously
been at college, is, indeed, calculated to secure a certain portion of
Latin and Greek in the Establishment; but, at the same time, to exclude
from it, in many instances, that which it more needs and which would more
effectually conduce to its stability and true respectability; I mean,
vital, genuine piety. What a mercy it is, however, that their
determination has been in so many cases made void, and that there is not
an instance to be found in which a pious young man has eventually been
excluded. I think, I hinted to you, when you kindly visited us in the
summer, that I am too sensible of the dismal forebodings of kind friends
to let slip an opportunity of putting you again in remembrance. But, my
dear friend, with all our zeal for the progress of the Lord’s work around
us, we must not forget its progress _within_ us. I know not how you may
feel, but, with regard to myself, I am constrained to acknowledge, that
while I am endeavouring to mind the vineyards of others, I too frequently
neglect my own. I get more and more of the habit of thinking
spiritually—speaking spiritually—and even acting spiritually; but there
seems in my own experience a great deficiency in point of _feeling_.
Spiritual things are not brought home to my own mind by an immediate and
constant self-application. I seem like a spiritual purveyor who is
convinced that nothing but spirituality will do, and, therefore, my
constant endeavour is to convey, and to exhibit it. But still, I fear,
at times, lest all this is more in reference to others than to myself. I
hope, however, that the act of conveying and exhibiting it, is not
altogether unattended with good to myself; for the channel imbibes some
of the water which passes through it; and, as Leighton observes, “The
boxes in which our perfumes are kept for garments and other uses, are
themselves perfumed by keeping them.”
* * * * * * * *
What a world of instruction is conveyed to us in that beautiful passage
of the prophet, “In returning and in rest ye shall be saved!” Now when I
fail, or when I wander, too often, instead of quietly returning and
resuming my endeavours, I am apt to sink into myself, and be discouraged.
In short, I seem rather to brood over my failures than to get pardon for
them, and to set about their amendment. My paper tells me that I cannot
enlarge; I must, therefore, conclude, with the assurance that the best
wishes of Mrs. M. and myself continue to attend yourself and all your
circle.