Madeley, 21st Nov. 1817.
My dear Mary,
THE case of conscience with which your letter begins is such as would
puzzle a much more expert casuist than I ever expect to be; and,
therefore, after reading all that you have written upon the subject, as
explanatory of your views and feelings, I feel more disposed to commend
you in prayer to the teachings of God’s most Holy Spirit, than attempt to
darken counsel by words without knowledge. I am sensible, however, that
this may originate in an unwillingness to meet a difficulty from a
consciousness of the scantiness of my spiritual information, and from a
fear of the consequent poor opinion you might entertain of me for my want
of success, I will, therefore, hazard a few remarks. It has always
struck me that the creature occupies an improper place when we consider
it in any way essential to our good, when we fancy that there is any
absolute and positive necessity for the presence of any one thing in
order to constitute us happy. It was God’s declaration to Abraham, “I am
the Almighty [_the all-sufficient_] God; walk before me, and be thou
perfect.” And St. Paul so fully realized this, that he lived, as it
were, completely independent of the creature; he found his God an
all-sufficient portion, quite adequate of himself to satisfy the largest
desires of his soul. He could, therefore, _take pleasure_ in
infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, &c.; for he experimentally
found that, as his afflictions abounded, his consolations did much more
abound. In a word, he discovered in his God a happiness which was not
merely independent of the creature, but which flourished and abounded
under circumstances most likely to interrupt or destroy it. The fact is,
that the creature is only an _arbitrary channel_, the pipe, if I may so
speak, which a God of love has been pleased to choose, in order to convey
his benefits. The pipe is neither the benefit, nor the source; and, of
course, though it is conducive to our comfort, though it may in many
respects be _subservient_ to our welfare, yet it is by no means
_essentially necessary_, for God is the God of all consolation, whether
intermediately or immediately conveyed, and should He, on any occasion,
see fit to remove the medium, the same and even more abounding happiness
_may_ be received immediately from Himself; and since God is infinite in
his wisdom and in his love, this _will_ be so, provided it be for our
good. And if we need not the former quantum of happiness, if it would
prove injurious to us, is it not a mercy that it should be denied? But
perhaps you will ask, How are we to know whether we love the creature too
much or not? How is it to be ascertained whether we regard it as
essential to our good, or merely subservient to it? This may be
ascertained in two ways—1st, How do we feel when our channels are
removed? Does it seem as though our all were gone? If after a prop has
been removed from under us, we immediately fall, it is evident that our
_whole weight_ has been placed upon it; if we stagger and stumble, though
by dexterity we may recover ourselves, and not actually fall, yet we show
that _too much_ of our weight was resting on it; but if, after its
removal, we stand upright as before, it is manifest, as Archbishop
Leighton observes, that we have been leaning not on our prop, but on an
invisible arm for support. The application is easy. But I suggested
another means of ascertaining the same point. What are our feelings
under any probable expectations of the removal of our channel? This,
however, is so closely allied with the former that it needs no separate
enlargement or elucidation. It is evident that the man who is filled
with alarm at the bare idea of the removal of his gold, is too much in
love with it, and, more or less, is making it his god. And he who, with
more specious refinement of taste, dreads the interruption of his social
pleasures, or the removal of some of his wonted sources of good, follows
but too closely in the same steps. God must be owned and felt as our all
in all. He must be regarded, not merely as our _supreme_ good, but as
our only good, as that which is _alone_ necessary. In a word, all I have
to say is summed up in those two expressive lines in the Methodist
hymn-book,
“Lead me where I my heaven may find,
The heaven of loving Thee alone.”
* * * * *
About the end of the year 1817, Mr. Mortimer entertained serious thoughts
of going out to New Zealand as a missionary, and for this end
corresponded with the secretary of the “Church Missionary Society” on the
subject; and it so happened that about this time also two New Zealand
chiefs, Tooi and Teterree, arrived in England, and it was proposed that
they should abide for awhile at Madeley, which they accordingly did. The
providence of God, however, did not seem to open his way for removing to
a far-distant land, and he acquiesced in the result with his usual loving
submission to the will of God. The following letter to the writer gives
some account of the way by which he was led to contemplate the step
referred to:—
Madeley, Nov. 26th, 1817.
My dear Armstrong,
MANY incidents have occurred since it has pleased God to separate us, in
which I should have regarded it as an exceedingly great comfort to my
mind could I have consulted you, and obtained from you either your veto
or procedas; but I think that I never felt the want of it more than at
present. I hardly know whether I ought to puzzle you with a long detail,
pro and con., of what has of late been passing in my mind, or to wait
till I come to some conclusion. But as I feel that I should unbosom my
mind to you in the fullest freest manner, were you now sitting by my
side, I will use the same freedom, though you are at a distance. You
must know, then, that I have lately been exerting myself among my
parishioners on behalf of the Church Missionary Society, have read in my
different exposition-rooms the very interesting accounts published in
their quarterly papers and missionary registers, and, to make myself
somewhat master of the matters upon which I spoke, I began to go
regularly through the whole of the volumes which they have hitherto
published. A great sensation has been excited among my people. I
thought we should do exceedingly little; but God has opened the hearts of
my people, and I rejoice in the event. This, however, is not the only
effect which has been produced. My own heart has been so completely won
over to the missionary cause that I am inclined to think, I shall not
easily be persuaded to remain quietly and cozily at home, while so much
remains to be done abroad. The call to continue here must be much
stronger than it has hitherto been, or my struggling spirit will be found
to burst its ties and make its escape to more needed labours. I trust I
shall not force my way; this, under no circumstances, can be desirable,
but I think that hitherto my mind has leaned too much one way, and has
been too ready to interpret the suggestions of some, and the oppositions
of others, into providential intimations of its being the will of God, to
hesitate and eventually to abandon my object; but now I feel very
differently. In the spirit of sacrifice, with our lives in our hands,
and almost our all of earthly good at stake, we shall hold ourselves
ready to proceed whenever we can with any consistency make our escape.
You will ask, perhaps, what are our plans? I have often thought of
joining my very very dear friends at Honduras, but the unhealthiness of
the climate, and the stings of your musquitos quite deter my good wife,
and she shrinks from your shore with feelings which I dare not any
further attempt to correct. To speak honestly, I fear your climate would
soon bring her to her grave, and therefore I should not think myself at
all authorized to press the point further than I have already done. New
Zealand is the place which we have in our minds, and though the
inhabitants are cannibals, and though the ill treatment of the Europeans
has exasperated them to a degree of determined retaliation, which might
deter the mere worldly calculators from venturing to settle among them;
yet as we trust that the spirit of love and kindness will ever actuate us
in our intercourse with them, we trust likewise that our gracious God
will become a wall of fire round about us to keep them from injuring us.
A very amiable, interesting, and truly pious young man, who has lately
been through college, and is now waiting till he becomes of age for
orders, has fully made up his mind to join us so soon as his friends can
be persuaded to part with him. Ever since I have been in the parish the
Lord has been pleased to knit his heart to me in a very singular way.
His mind has been turned to New Zealand for nearly three years.
The whole circle of my friends, together with myself, feel much obliged
to you for your communications to Mr. Pratt, which he has published in
the last _Missionary Register_, October, 1817. They greatly interested
us, and we could not help rejoicing in all the good which the good Lord
is effecting through you. May all this be only the promise of a more
abundant shower.
* * * * *
Letters passed at sea some time about the beginning of this year, between
Mr. Mortimer and the editor, each asking, without knowing the intention
of the other, that his friend would become sponsor for his next-born
child—a circumstance which explains the allusions made to the subject, in
the three following extracts:—