Madeley, Dec. 27, 1820.
My dear Friend,
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I WAS very glad to hear, through my sister, of your servant Lucy, who
came over for Mrs. A— —, whom she saw at Mrs. W. A.—’s; she spoke of you
in the most affectionate terms, and described, in her simple but strong
manner, the change which had been effected in the settlement through your
ministry among them. “Before massa came, many very bad; now, good, and
love great Massa,” and so on. Oh, my dear friend, amidst all the
discouraging feelings arising from your not being able to do all you
would, you should not forget what has already been done. We are most of
us too sanguine in our expectations, not suspecting that what exceeds the
cool and sober calculation of tried and well-disciplined faith has too
much to do with self, arises from self-confidence, and ends in
self-humiliation. We are too apt, in imagination, to seize the magic
wand of Harlequin, and suppose that every touch will effect wonders; but,
to change the wilderness into the garden of the Lord, requires the
enduring spirit of the toilsome labourer, the stones must be cleared, and
the soil must again and again be turned: and even when the precious seed
is safely deposited, the patience of our hope must succeed to the labour
of our love. How long does it usually lie beneath the surface, and when
the tender blade appears, how much longer the interval before the
perfection of the fruit! so long, that my endeared friend may never live
to see it in his own case: though he may sow, yet others may enter into
his labours; yet will both he that sows and they that reap, rejoice
together in that glorious and eternal harvest.
Since I began my letter, I have had a visit from our mutual friend, Mr.
Cox. Since his residence in Shropshire, I have frequently had
opportunities of seeing him, and it is with unfeigned pleasure that I
have seen him evidently advancing in the best of things. I think,
however, that I never saw him to so great advantage as now—the truly
Christian minister and the warm and steady friend. He still continues at
Bridgenorth, and has apparently lived through all the hostility and
prejudice which his preaching and residence among them once excited. He
begins also to see some important fruits of his labours. How cheering is
all this! Well, my dear friend, let us catch the animating glow, and
strive to live more for our loving Saviour and the great glory of his
name.
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_Kind faithfulness_ towards our friends is a truly Christian grace—this
grace the subject of this memoir eminently possessed, of which the
following letter is a proof:—