no doubt feel anxious for the continuance of my tale; which, though not
half so interesting as many, yet, the truth being known, will give you
some satisfaction. After the affair of the trial I had, and gaining the
day, it was not to be supposed my master was very kind, but took every
opportunity of mortifying and grieving me. But I bore it with patience
till God delivered me from him. In the year 1799 I was led to
Tottenham-court Chapel, to hear the Rev. Mr. L. His preaching seemed to
strike me so forcibly, that I thought I could have followed him until
death—but, oh, I have since seen it is one thing to have the passions
moved, and another to experience the power of the Holy Ghost. Having
heard him a few times, as soon as he left London, I begged the Lord would
grant me the pleasure to hear him often the year following, when he
should return to London. God granted this, though by terrible things.
At last the news was brought me, this gentleman would preach on such a
Lord’s Day on his return to London. I could not keep secret what I had
been praying for, and it being whispered in the family, the night
previous to my hearing him, the master issued out a decree, that I was
not to go out of the house all day on Sunday, except in the afternoon.
Although I knew there was nothing to keep me at home, I fretted about
this sadly; and when eleven o’clock came on Sunday morning, the house
could no longer hold me; and, contrary to all orders, I fled like a
lapwing to Tottenham-court Chapel, when with joy I beheld my favorite
preacher, and with raptures heard him preach on his favorite theme,
_Phil._ iii. 8. I returned to dinner. The old woman, of whom I have
spoken before, observed, she had orders to go out that morning, and I was
to stay at home—to which I replied, it was nothing but a plan to mortify
me, as she made no preparation for going out, although it was past
church-time. She gave me a hint I should be well horse-whipped for it;
this made me desperate—and in the afternoon I went out again. In the
evening I went to the Tabernacle, Moorfields, and heard a most glorious
discourse on the first epistle of _Jude_, by my favorite preacher. My
rapturous joys were so great, I did not care what I suffered. I thought
it my duty to go where I did; although forbidden by man, it was better to
obey God than man. These were my thoughts at that time; and, as to my
joys, I believe they were scarcely any but the raptures of a way-side
hearer. However, the Lord had a hand in this affair. Nothing was said
to me that evening, and getting a little more native courage than I had
before, the foreman of the shop, by my wish, let me practise a little in
the business to which I was bound. This gave a fresh offence to my
master, who, having got some drink, sought for a quarrel with me. From
these two circumstances, I always made it a point to be civil to all, and
especially to my superiors; but I had been too easy for many years; I was
nearly 20 years of age, had served above nine years of my apprenticeship,
and had never been permitted to learn the business to which I was bound,
and by which alone I could get my bread. I was for the first time
enabled to tell my master these things, in a very polite and becoming
way, but he was so much exasperated at the moment, that he took up some
heavy wood and beat me in the most cruel manner imaginable, and
afterwards threw a large pan at my head, which hurt me, and of which I
felt the effects for some time. I was now roused to open my mind freely,
and I assured him, that as he had made me his slave for nine years, I
should make my complaint to the Committee of the Foundling Hospital, and
know why I was not allowed to learn the business to which I was bound. I
accordingly left him, but could not have any immediate access to them for
a fortnight; during which time the master made application to the sitting
magistrate at Bow-street for a hearing; when the magistrate considered it
was high time I was taken from such slavery: my indentures were of course
given up, and my master and I parted for ever. I was now, once more,
cast on the wide world, without a home, without a trade, without a
relation, without a friend, and but three bad halfpence in the world.
What to do I knew not. Where to go, or how to act, I could not tell—but
that Almighty angel who directed Hagar in the wilderness to a well of
water, when ready to expire with want, put me in mind of a young man who
was in very comfortable circumstances: to him I went, and requested him
to take care of my books; for, strange to tell, I really thought more of
my books than of a living at that time. The above person not only
promised to take care of them, but of me also, till I could get something
to do. I gladly accepted this offer, and had an opportunity of hearing
my favorite preacher the same evening, and continued hearing him till I
was fully engaged in public work myself. But my continuance in this
situation was very short, as the person who had been a flaming professor,
and just going into the ministry, had taken a singular turn, and joined
himself to the petty players at a little theatre. He was constantly
rehearsing speeches in plays, nor could I persuade him to attend the
gospel any more. He squandered away vast sums of money, and soon became
bankrupt. His parents had been pious people, and had lived very near, to
save a fortune for this son, who presently sent it to the four winds,
which is frequently the case. How foolish and mad are parents to labour;
toil, grudge, and half starve themselves, and all about them, to hoard up
money for some extravagant son to squander. “He heapeth up riches, and
cannot tell who shall gather them.” I wish some parents could read,
under the influence of the Spirit of God, the book at _Ecclesiastes_. I
was soon obliged to leave this place; but the hand of the Lord soon
appeared again, and raised me up a most invaluable friend, who is now in
glory; nor less friendly were her family, who are persons of good repute
in the world, and above all, in the church, worthily so. One of them is
pastor over a respectable congregation near London. This family, well
knowing what usage I had experienced, and being lovers of those who were
seeking the Lord, gave me great encouragement, kindly supplied many
wants, and at last took me into their business, having had some
acquaintance with it, during my apprenticeship. Here I continued, with
low wages, a weak body, and hard work, but a contented mind, and an
opportunity of hearing my favorite preacher, who was at this time in
London, 1799. It was at this period I first had the pleasure of getting
acquainted with the daughter of our good old friend, Mr. Elliott, who
brought me to visit you; and how strange the dealings of God with you
since; but hitherto hath the Lord helped you. My intimacy with this
pious young woman was increased, and continued till she became my wife.
Her father had been a most respectable opulent man, in Hampshire but,
through family afflictions, became reduced; he was a most pious,
God-fearing man, called to the knowledge of the truth under the ministry
of that apostle of the British empire, George Whitfield, whose memory was
so dear to the old gentleman, that nothing could please him better than
relating how God had blest his preaching; and, as he lived an humble
seeker, so he died in the triumph of precious faith, having been brought
into the full liberty of the gospel only a little before his dissolution;
and leaving behind him two affectionate daughters, who, with many tears,
deposited his remains in the burial-ground of Bunhill Fields, in the full
confidence of a joyful immortality and eternal life. You knew him well,
and highly esteemed him. About a year after this, his dear daughter and
myself were married—I am sure in much love, and in nothing but poverty in
prospect; but we always found the Lord a God at hand when we most needed
him. This you have been an eye and ear witness of many times; so that I
can testify, that _he_ is a prayer-hearing and prayer-answering God. To
him he glory.
Yours, truly, J. C.
LETTER VII.
“He that hath mercy on them shall lead them.”
To —
My dear Friend.—Many years have elapsed since you first knew me in the
Borough; and it was no doubt the hand of God which brought me there. In
my last letter to Mrs. W. I intimated I worked for a very worthy family
in Tottenham-court Road, but my frame of body was too weak to endure it.
I sought out another situation on the Surrey side of the bridge. Myself
and fellow apprentice had lived together amicably for some years, and
endured many conflicts daring our captivity. I heard he was in business,
and made application to him; he treated me with every mark of civility,
and took me into the business with him. This was a great pleasure to me,
as it gave me an opportunity of acquiring a greater knowledge of that
branch of the business I ought to have learnt before; but, although I had
an easier situation, and every kindness which circumstances would admit
of, I had another unpleasantly to cope with. I was daily exposed to
temptation, had frequent pressing invitations to places of amusement—and,
although I resisted them all, through grace, yet I feared daily I should
be overcome and led back into the world again. One day I accidentally
(as we call it) met with an old acquaintance who had been brought up in
the Hospital with me, who recited to me the various changes he had
experienced in his different situations; amongst the rest he had lived
with Mr. C. a most respectable tallow chandler, in the Borough. He told
me he was a most pious man, and a good master, but he had given him some
offence, and was justly dismissed. He believed that he was then in want
of a person in the shop, and to act as a porter. On this situation I set
my mind, and immediately made application for it; in fact, I begged of
the Lord to let me have it. I remember one evening I attempted to go and
speak to him (Mr. C.) about it, but I was struck almost speechless in the
attempt. This I took to be an omen that God did not approve of the place
for me. I felt rebellious, and being naturally self-willed, I was
determined to persevere. My mind frequently said in prayer, “Lord, if it
be thy will.” But my heart wickedly thought and said too, “whether it is
or not, I will have it.” O, the hypocrisy of the human heart! How often
is the Almighty mocked by thousands who use this expression in prayer,
“Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” and at the same time are
daily acting against the revealed will of God. How great is the
forbearance of God with guilty man. I was however indulged with this
situation, though I was no more fit for it than a child; it was to carry
heavy loads chiefly, yet my master was kind and patient with me, he saw
my weakness and accommodated me as well as circumstances would admit. It
was in this situation you first knew me, 20 years ago. My master, Mr. C.
was an excellent one, a godly, conscientious man, and happy should I have
been, had I been capacitated to have made myself useful to him. I was
much dejected and troubled in mind, low and thoughtful; and, in my
business, though all saw I was willing to do what I could, yet I was much
confused. Being a pious man, he kept up family prayer in his house, and
on several occasions he asked me to go to prayer, perceiving the Lord had
blest me with some gifts, and he hoped grace also, and that I acted in
all things unblamably. He once mentioned something to me respecting a
public ministry. He also employed a fellow-servant, who is a God-fearing
man, and who belonged to a prayer-meeting, to know my mind upon the
subject. I believe I gave him some distant hint, that my mind led a
little that way, but I did not consider that I had any suitable talent,
nor had I any connection that could introduce me to any means, nor could
I possibly see any opening in Providence; of course I could not see I was
called to such a work; for I did not believe any one was called to the
public ministry of the gospel, without the Lord had given him talents
suited to the work for which he intended him. I am now speaking of his
external call: the work of God on his soul, I intend to speak of
elsewhere. My master, however, recommended me to the manager of the
London Itinerant Society, who, after some conversation with me, requested
me to accompany a young man into one of the villages near London, to
teach children in a Sunday-school. Not knowing the nature of that work
till I had embarked in it, I went for some time to Norwood, and several
other places, but I was soon tired of this work. The long journies and
weak body, hard labour all the week, and an empty pocket, deprived of
seeing my lover for weeks together; these externals soon made me
relinquish that work: and above all the loss of that ministry I so much
esteemed, and those ordinances I so much enjoyed, made my chariot-wheels
drag heavily on a Sunday, so many miles to hear some dull country
children say their alphabet. Though this loss and trouble was sometimes
made up by the godly converse of the teachers between the several
services, and on the road home at night: this was a little reviving in my
bondage. After continuing some months with Mr. C. in the Borough, I had
still an inclination to return to my own business. Accordingly, I
communicated to my invaluable master, that I had a house to work at. We
parted, by mutual agreement; he gave me an excellent character, and has
ever spoken most respectfully of me, amidst all the clamour, bitterness,
lies, malice, and evil-speaking I have met with; and, I believe, would
have done me much good in restoring me to repute, and warding off the
blow of calumny, had it been possible. However, he spoke of me as he
found me, and it would be well if every one did the same. I now returned
to my old business of gilding, at a house in the Strand where, after I
had been a little while, I was married, at the New Church in the Strand,
the 22d of March, 1801, two years after I left my apprenticeship. I had
now an opportunity of hearing the Word again, of going into villages when
I was able, and of meeting the Itinerant Society, who met on Thursday
evenings in Shoe Lane, for mutual improvement, the exercise of gifts, and
the arrangements for the Lord’s Day. I did not continue long in the
Strand. The worthy family I have spoken of before in Tottenham-court
Road, had been misinformed that I was out of a situation; they kindly
sent for me, and gave me as good wages as the nature of their business
would admit, though they were but low. I went on very comfortably for
some years, and as I improved in my business, so I was advanced in wages.
My wife also took in work, and did all she could to render me happy; and
what was very remarkable, every child which we had, the Lord graciously
added some little advance to my wages. This often stopped the mouth of
unbelief, and made me contented. Never did, perhaps, a happier pair
exist for some years, than we were, till popularity and calumny spoiled
all. During my continuance with the above worthy family of the Jacksons,
I had three children born. We often had opportunities of watching the
hand of God, in his kind providence; we were frequently deeply affected
in reading good Mr. H’s. _Bank of Faith_, and we daily grew acquainted
with the Lord’s goodness, which _He_ caused to pass before us. I look
back on this time as the happiest of my days; though I had but 16
shillings a week for a time, yet this grew to 25 shillings; and, through
industry and regularity, we lived—without much care of the world—much
happier than those who are daily burdened with riches, or the toil of
great business. But the Lord saw fit to call me out to greater scenes;
and, having but little natural wisdom or prudence, depth or foresight, in
proportion to my growing popularity, I was made the dupe of intrigue,
artifice, hypocrisy, cruelty, and sorrow. Yet the Lord never withheld
his mercy and his grace, nor gave me up fully to the wishes of my
enemies, but by every thing he has instructed me. For all thy people
shall be taught of God.
Yours, in Him, J. C.
What thanks I owe thee, and what love;
A boundless endless store
Shall echo through the world above,
Till time shall be no more.
LETTER VIII.
“What man is he that feareth the Lord? Him shall he teach in the way
that he shall choose.”
To —
My dear Friend,—You well remember me, when an attendant on the society in
Tottenham-court Chapel. The Lord has called you out at times to be a
public witness to his truth in several schools and villages, in the
Itinerant Societies. This is an arduous but most delightful work; and if
it was the will of God, I would devote myself entirely to that sacred
employment—for though you return on Sunday evening with a tired body, yet
your mind is happy: not encumbered with the cares of a church, the
tempers, whims, and vexations of your hearers, nor the envy of your
brethren, which abounds, if you prosper—but every minister will see it
needful to abide in that work in which the Lord has called him; and, like
the stars, some are fixed, and some constantly moving round the sun—so it
is with us; but this pleasing thought cheers us—they that turn many to
righteousness, shall shine as the sun and the stars for ever and
ever.—_Dan._ xii. 9. What an honor conferred on such as us, to be
instrumental in turning any to the righteousness of Christ, and to walk
in his righteous ways! But to return to my tale. I had not the pleasure
of going out for the London Itinerant Society many months, or for the
Baptist Society—through weakness of body, the journies were too long for
me—and being returned to the family of the worthies, for so I must ever
denominate the Jacksons, by whom you know I was recommended to the
prayer-meeting, and Expounding Society at Tottenham-court Chapel, I
attended the early prayer-meeting on Sundays and Fridays. During this
time I only travelled occasionally for the Itinerant Society; but being
approved of among them, and engaging in prayer with them, I was appointed
to expound the Scriptures amongst them, one Thursday evening. As I had
never attempted to speak in public before, only in prayer, and some sort
of addresses to children in the school, this appointment laid very heavy
on my mind; a sense of unfitness, the fears of presumption, the dread of
rushing into the work uncalled, and the horrors of falling into sin, and
publicly exposing the cause, drove me at times to my wits ends. Yet, a
love for souls, a love of truth, and a most inveterate hatred of error;
the starving state of many pious souls of villages where I had been, and
the shyness of the preachers declaring the great truths of God. These
things weighed deeply on my mind, and impelled me to go forward; in the
mean time, I was enabled to be looking constantly to the Lord for his
approbation, his direction and blessing. The night arrived, the society
met; my name was called: I went with trembling knees, and once more
offering up a petition to the Lord for help, I opened the Bible, and
expounded the 1st chapter of the _Revelations_. The Lord opened my
mouth, and filled my lips with important matter: those who were present
were astonished, though some thought the doctrine was too high. This was
the first time I ever attempted to speak from the Holy Scriptures: I was
requested to speak again and again, but I only expounded the Word, as I
felt my mind most at liberty upon that subject. During this time it was
also proposed that I should speak from the Word of God, at Tottenham
Chapel Society, which I did several times; but there were a few of the
leaders of that society who disapproved of it, urging, the manner and
spirit of my exhortations were too much like Huntington’s. I accordingly
declined speaking, but was requested to continue among them in the
prayer-meeting, which I did till I was called elsewhere. I now began to
fear I had presumed, in attempting to take an office upon me so high and
so holy; begged the Lord to pardon me, and promised to offend no more. I
gave up the work for a season. During this time of silence, my mind ran
much upon the education of ignorant children; and I well remember, that,
on one May-day, I had occasion to call on a friend in Brook-street, New
Road: I saw a great crowd of children, of both sexes, around the dancing
sweeps; it then occurred to my mind how useful would be a Sunday-school
in this neighbourhood: I enquired if such an institution had ever been in
that place, or thereabouts, and, to my astonishment, I found none; and
even many old professors at Tottenham Chapel did not know what I meant.
The first thing necessary was a room, which I soon obtained, at the low
rent of 1s. 6d. per week; but, how I was to get even that, and some
needful books, I knew not; and, another obstacle was, whether the parents
in the low neighbourhood about there, would be willing to let their
children attend. I communicated my plan to one or two others, young men
who had travelled for the Itinerant Society; some of whom went abroad,
and became, I hope, useful missionaries, whom I have heard, are since
dead; two brothers, the Gordons, and Mr. Loveless, whose names often
occurred in the Evangelical Magazine: these assisted in the work, and one
young man, Mr. Dowling, who was the most active of all, and who made it
his study, day and night, to be useful to the rising generation—he is now
one of the most choice preachers of the age, settled at C. in Essex. We
opened the school one Sunday morning, and about seventeen children
attended; in the afternoon there came double that number; the following
Sunday came many more, so that we were soon obliged to seek a larger
place, which was obtained in Tottenham-Court Road, near the chapel: this
was also desirable, as it gave the children an opportunity of attending
the Word, and making the school known. This last place was also too
small. A large building was taken in Cleveland-street, and no school I
ever heard of, sprung up so quick, was attended so well, or became so
useful; this, by the blessing of God, was owing to the wise plan, and
great exertions of Mr. D. It still continues, I hear, in a very
flourishing state, and though the name of its founder is buried in
oblivion, yet many have cause to be thankful for the hint given me by the
Lord, on a May-day. It is now, I believe, called the Fitzroy Sabbath
School. {51} The Lord would not, however, let me be hid, and although I
ceased expounding Scripture for some time, yet the Lord called me out
again elsewhere. I became a subject of some conversation, and began to
be known. There was a little society, held at a Mr. Foxwell’s, in the
parish of St. Ann’s, Soho, denominated The Westminster Itinerant Society;
this was but new, and so little known, that they could scarcely send to
but one village. I went one evening, in company with a friend, to this
society, and found them much more lively, spiritual, and loving-hearted
than any other I had ever been in. Some one in the room hinted to the
manager, that I had been used to go out teaching in villages, and he
requested I would go out for them, if they were needy, to which I
consented, but had no immediate appointment at that time. This was on a
Tuesday; on the following Friday, two striking portions of Scripture came
into my mind very forcibly, and was opened in their meaning and
connexion; nor did I lose them all the day, though I could not tell why
they were thus sent. Late at night, before I went to rest, a person (a
preacher) called on me, and begged I would go, on the following Sunday,
into a village called the Hyde, near Edgeware, to preach, afternoon and
evening; this struck me so powerfully, I knew not how to answer him; and
before I could begin my long string of objections; these words came with
power: “As thy day is, _so_ shall thy strength be.” I did not like to
give my consent, in the presence of my wife and her sister, as she was a
conscientious, woman, and dreaded my rushing into the ministry, without a
Divine call, as much as I did; but, after much conversation, I consented
to go. When I arose on (Saturday morning) the words, which came with
power, still abode with me, and the two texts, which had dwelt on my
mind, still opened to me. On the Lord’s day I went, lifting up my heart
to God, that _He_ would be with me. I ascended the desk, and, after
reading and prayer, I took one of the two texts, which had been on my
mind the two days previous—one of which was, “For ye are dead, and your
life is hid with Christ, in God;” and the other was 1 _Peter_, i. 3, 7,
which I preached on in the evening. I told no one, till the close of the
evening service, that it was the first time I ever attempted to preach;
and they, with me, gave God the glory, that I had found him true to his
word, in giving me light, comfort, utterance and consistency, just as I
needed it. It was at this time I became acquainted with our mutual
friend, good Mr. Roth and family. This was the beginning of my public
ministry. Oh, that I had adorned it better, and brought forth more fruit
to the glory of Christ.
Yours truly, in Him, J. C.
Thus far the Lord has led me on,
Thus far his power prolong’d my days,
And every grand display of love
Adds fresh memorials of his grace.
LETTER IX.
“A City, set on a hill, which cannot be hid.”
TO THE SAME.