Madeley, Oct. 4, 1819.
MY last informed you of the seeming health of our dear little Basil: on
Monday last, we availed ourselves of a favourable opportunity of having
him christened, and we all thought that, though a little fallen away, he
was looking very well. On Wednesday, however, he was attacked with
infantine cholera morbus, and on the morning of yesterday his happy
spirit burst its way to God. To us, indeed, the scene was very
affecting; it was the first inroad death had been permitted to make among
us, and his entrance spread a degree of awe upon our minds such as we had
not known before. The strong feelings of affection likewise, and
numerous endearing recollections, kept making us weep till, like David
and his men, we seemed to have no more power to weep, and even all the
grateful expressions which kept bursting from our thankful hearts, could
only be uttered amidst our quickly flowing tears. These stronger
feelings, however, have now somewhat subsided, and a holy calm of
gratitude has regained its seats within our breasts: our dear little one
has, indeed, fled from among us, but he has fled to a far happier
place—fled to the arms and bosom of his ever-to-be-adored Redeemer; and
oh! how quick, as well as blessed, the transition!
“We scarce can say he’s gone,
Before his happy spirit takes
Its station near the throne.”
To-morrow, we think of committing his dear remains to the silent tomb. I
have been selecting and marking out a suitable spot to be employed,
should we continue here, for the successive members of our family, as
they may be called from among us, and my prayer has been ascending to my
blessed Redeemer that we may every one of us leave as firm a persuasion
behind us of the safety of our eternal state, as our dear little Basil
has. And, indeed, his removal has given me an increased confidence that
this will be the case; for our united prayers for our dear children have
ever been, that they might either live a holy life, or die an early
death. My dear wife, though weak, is very mercifully supported in the
season of our trial; she feels, and that at times very sensibly, but
peaceful gratitude is still her constant companion: I say gratitude; for
it is not mere submission, it is the peaceful grateful adoration of that
gracious God who is too wise to err, too good to be unkind; and I am very
thankful for all the support and consolation which our kind Saviour so
mercifully affords her. I think of having a small head stone for my
little boy, mentioning his name, the day of his death and his age, and,
underneath, the following lines which I put down in my pocket book when
you and I were at Enfield, little, indeed, imagining at the time that I
should ever have a dear child of my own over whose grave they would be
inscribed:—
“On Life’s wide Ocean sorrowful and pained,
How many Voyagers their course perform;
This little bark a kinder fate obtained,
It reached the Haven ere it met the storm.”
* * * * *
Mr. Mortimer very kindly received the writer’s son William (now a
clergyman, and British chaplain at Valparaiso, in South America) into his
family, to be educated with his own children, and it is to this child
that allusion is made in the following letter addressed to him.
Madeley, February 28, 1820.
My dear Armstrong,
I HAVE entered into these details, conceiving that no communication can
be more interesting to a father than those which concern an endeared
child; and happy shall I be if all my future communications be equally
pleasing. Of this, however, I have but little expectations. Many and
very painful fluctuations have I witnessed in my own children, and have
heard of the children of others, and therefore my dear friend must not be
surprised if my little charge should at times disappoint our expectations
or our wishes. Oh what lovely, what heavenly blossoms have I sometimes
delightfully discovered in my eldest little boy! He has seemed even
ripening for glory, and that also so rapidly, that we have almost
imagined that his stay would not be long among us. Tears of gratitude
have stood in our eyes while we have seen the gracious evidences, or
while we have been relating them to each other. In a few weeks, however,
the blossoms and the fruit have almost totally disappeared, and have left
us to sorrow in temporary disappointment, or to find comfort only in the
cheering exhilaration of hope. Then, again, the winter has passed, and
lovely spring has once more appeared. But it is all well; the harvest of
none of our labours is to be expected here; it is in that blessed world
above that we shall reap, provided that we faint not; and what greater
stimulus can we need to keep urging us forward even in the midst of every
species of discouragement?
William told me a few evenings ago that Mrs. Armstrong had received a
letter from you, which kept her in doubt as to whether you would join
her, or she you. I know so little of what would be for the best, that I
would not attempt to influence you in one way or other. The greatest
benefit which I can confer on my endeared friend is, to bring him and his
concerns to One who loves him infinitely more than I can do, and whose
infallible direction is promised in his holy word to the inquiring soul.
It was the prayer of my kind friends, I am persuaded, which kept me in
England when I had felt it my duty to take even most decided measures for
leaving it. When they objected to my step, I almost invariably requested
them to pray for providential hindrances, if my intentions were not in
the divine order; and I told them, if I knew anything of myself, I should
not attempt either to break through the hedge, or to overleap the wall.
The kind Saviour heard their prayer, and I have never been so fully
persuaded of anything as of this, that my being detained in England was
completely of the Lord. Should my dear Armstrong be projecting that
which is not in the will and order of his God, may the same merciful
Saviour hedge up his way, and plant the piercing thorn at every step, to
render his progress painful, and eventually to deter him! But should his
removal be from God, then may all difficulties and impediments vanish
completely from before him!
Mary joins me in kind love to yourself and Mr. Ditcher, and I remain,
My ever dear Friend,
Yours very affectionately,
G. MORTIMER.