Madeley, Feb. 5, 1824.
My dear Thomas,
*******
Matters proceed among us pretty much as usual. My people are kind, our
congregations good, classes very fair, and attendance on the weekly
expositions pleasingly increasing. As to myself, I can say but little;
sometimes I am enabled to live in the spirit of the petition,
“Each moment draw from earth away
My heart, which lowly waits thy call;”
and then my peace flows smooth and tranquil as a river; then all my
affections take their proper channel, and are directed to a holy
spiritual end. But, alas! too generally I find my feelings and conduct
better characterized by complaint than exultation, and have too much
reason to say,
“Yet hind’rances strew all the way;
I aim at thee, yet from thee stray.”
But I still keep fixing my eye upon the beauteous light, even when
furthest from it, and most ardently do I sigh after its most blessed
repose. Well, perhaps, after all my failures, I may still become
habitually possessed of it; and indeed without it, I feel that I shall
never enjoy anything like true and substantial rest. A minister without
the inward grace, and that also in a more than usual measure, is of all
others a character most to be pitied—I mean of all other Christians; for
in order to instruct others, he must of course be more advanced in
knowledge, and consequently will be called to a far stricter account.
Besides, the whole routine of his employments, carrying with them the
exterior of sanctity, are apt to impress, not only others, but himself
also, with fallacious hopes respecting the safety of his state. The
constant repetition also of his duties has a strong tendency to render
the spiritual impression on himself less and less vivid, till at length
the pious feeling, in many instances, is entirely absent, and he detects
himself half hypocritically acting or performing a part, attempting to
raise emotion in others to which he is so much a stranger himself.
These, my dear brother, are our snares—at least they are mine; but I hope
I not only perceive them, but am watching against them. And my comfort
is, that amidst all my consciousness of weakness, it is still my
privilege to rely on an all-sufficient Saviour.
You kindly speak in your letter of your being able to assist me in my
editorial labours, by furnishing me with accounts connected with the
different societies. I fear, however, that the work will not proceed
beyond the present volume. Its sale, I am thankful to state, has
increased since it was placed in my hands, and is still increasing; but
it will not cover the attendant expenditure—at least not so much so, as
to make it worth the publisher’s while to continue. Its discontinuance,
however, will prove no great loss to me. I edit the numbers of the
present volume for £2. 10s. a number, and, when my monthly expenses are
deducted, I have only about £1 each remaining. My object, however, is
not gain, but a desire of being in some way useful; and as a work of the
kind seems desirable, I shall feel a little regret that it should cease.
But perhaps, after it stops, some London bookseller will venture upon
something of a similar kind, and, if so, it will then, in all
probability, succeed. * * * * * We all unite in sincerest love to
yourself, Mrs. T. M., and my dear niece, and