Madeley, Salop. Aug. 5, 1816.
My dear Armstrong,
* * * * *
YOUR two or three last letters, but more particularly the last of all,
seem written under a degree of depression which I am greatly concerned to
observe. While engaged in doing a great work, while filling an important
post, and that with no small measure of patient perseverance, you suffer
yourself to suppose that you are doing almost nothing. While your
friends which you have left behind you are admiring the zeal and the love
which have enabled you to tear yourself from the comforts of civilized
and refined society, and thus to forget, as it were, your own people and
your father’s house, while they are thankful for the grace of God within
you, you are so discouragingly comparing yourself with a Schwartz and a
Van der Kemp, as to request of your unworthy friend that he would pray
for you, lest, after all, you should prove a castaway. Now, my dear
Armstrong, what must I say to such feelings and requests? Must I
sympathise with my dear desponding friend? I do so from my heart; but I
must also chide with him: you overlook the tender mercies of God towards
you; you keep your eye not on the bright side, but on that which is dark,
gloomy, and foreboding; and thus faith and confidence in your loving and
omnipotent Redeemer seem dormant and inactive principles. But what is
the language of the Saviour under such circumstances of discouragement?
It is that which he addressed to Martha at the grave of Lazarus: “Said I
not unto thee, that if thou wouldst believe, thou shouldst see the glory
of God?” It is that also which he used towards the afflicted father, who
with tears requested that, if he could do anything, he would have
compassion on him, and help him: “If thou canst believe, all things are
possible to him that believeth.” Believe then, my dear friend, through
all your difficulties and discouragements, and your temporary darkness
will be succeeded by glorious and abiding light. The clouds which for a
season overspread your horizon will be dispelled, and your glistening eye
will be cheered with a bright and resplendent day. Perhaps, however, you
may tell me, that faith is the gift of God, and that we must wait till
this hinging blessing be bestowed. But are not all the gifts of God to
be obtained upon the simple condition of asking? and were you to ask for
this gift, or for its increase, would the blessed God deny it? I have
often found it exceedingly useful to my own mind, after having fallen
upon my knees to pray to that God who has promised to give to us all that
we ask in faith,—I have found it profitable to ask previously, that the
Lord would give me faith to believe, that the petitions which I should
present before his throne of grace, would be answered by him, and, as a
consequence, my faith has been strengthened far beyond its usual
exercise. And with regard to discouraging circumstances, my constant
prayer has been that my faith might not fail. Since I came into this
parish, I have had difficulties to encounter, such as some of my dearest
friends and fellow-labourers have confessed that they should not have
dared to meet, and I must acknowledge, that, at times, I have sighed, and
wept, and groaned, being burdened; and have had many a thought of leaving
my arduous post to some more intrepid and persevering spirit. But
something seemed continually to be whispering to my dejected mind, “only
believe,” “let not your faith fail you,” and I blessed God that through
all I was enabled, in some sort, to believe, though not without many a
tremulous assertion, and equally trembling prayer, “Lord, I believe, help
thou mine unbelief.” And it is with unfeigned gratitude towards the
blessed God, that I feel it my duty to add, that all my storms have, for
the present at least, completely blown over, and that success has been
vouchsafed to my poor mean insignificant labours, such as my most
sanguine expectations could in no wise have imagined. Should I not say,
then, to my dear friend, as an experimental result “from believing verily
to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living,”—“O tarry thou
the Lord’s leisure, be strong, and he shall comfort thine heart;” “Wait,
I say, on the Lord”? But here I feel, as usual, that I must check
myself. I forget to whom I am writing, and likewise what I am inditing:
I forget that I am addressing one who has that anointing from above which
teacheth all things, and that I am not composing a sermon, but scribbling
a letter.
I know not whether you were acquainted with S—, of our college, and B—,
of Trinity. The former I used occasionally to meet, and was accustomed
to consider him as one of the very holiest men at college. Since my last
letter, however, he, B—, and two others, have left the Church, because
they could not read the ten commandments, and are now preaching all the
heights and depths of eternal election, eternal justification, and
eternal sanctification: they have likewise begun to ordain others, and R—
K—, the member for L—, has vacated his seat, and received ordination from
them. The moderate Calvinists are endeavouring to stop the growing evil,
but I am sorry to say, that among many it is sadly spreading. It has had
one good effect, however; it has made many of the high men, as they are
termed, much more guarded and circumspect. * * * *
Mary and my brother unite with me in very kindest love to yourself, and
most respectful and affectionate remembrances to Mrs. A., and I may
likewise add, in very best wishes and earnest prayers for your dear
children.