desire in this instance, but I got leanness in my soul; my home was too
much deserted, and the souls of my new flock neglected; my study
forsaken; my vanity fed; and though poor as a church mouse, I was as
proud as the devil: this did not appear in my general deportment, but
wise men saw it. A very elegant suit of canonical robes were made a
present to me, and in these, I had the vanity to strut through the town
on Sunday, three times a day, to the chapel, admired by those who were as
vain as myself. Oh! what folly and vanity I see in these things _now_;
but, I wanted to look as much like the church as I could; and what for,
but merely to escape persecution, and that the offence of the cross might
cease. Flying from persecution, I met with ten thousand times worse
disgrace, and my case was a little like those persons of whom the Prophet
speaks; _Amos_, iii. 19—“I fled from a lion and a bear met me, I went
into the house, and leaned on the wall, and a serpent bit me.” About the
month of March, 1808, I thought of the kindness of an old and mutual
friend, Mr. Alexander, who was a deacon of Mr. G’s.; I sent him a letter,
and begged to hear from him; the consequence of this was, a letter came
from Mr. G. in friendly terms, to which I gave as friendly an answer. A
proposition was soon sent down, to exchange pulpits with Mr. G. for a
month; and, as I longed to get to town, I was glad of the opportunity.
Some of the friends at B— had seen a book of Mr. G’s.; and they, being
much pleased with it, consented to my going to town. I came, and
preached on Good Friday, and the following Sunday the chapel was
thronged. I became much known and beloved. I had many pressing
invitations to stay in town, and have since regretted I did not accept
them; but, my heart felt for the flock left behind me; many letters
passed to and fro between myself and friends, especially those who had
advised me not to have any thing to do with Mr. G. nor to preach for him
in town; I did not know who were his friends or his enemies, till they
came about me like bees, and laid many things to his change. When I
found this, I felt more anxious to return, and wrote to these very
professed friends accordingly, stating that I was sorry I had not taken
their advice. These friends, during my absence, had been in company with
Mr. G. and had altered their minds; of course, made Mr. G. acquainted
with the contents of my letters. Mr. G. let no opportunity slip of
speaking disrespectfully of me. I however returned, and found, to my
surprise, some of the most respectable of the congregation would not
speak to me; this hurt my feelings not a little, but the poor of the
flock still cleaved to me. My visit in London did me much good, and the
hand of the Lord was in it. I felt, however, determined to abide in this
place; till the Lord turned me out; for, I having so little native
wisdom, prudence, or foresight, I knew not what to wish or do for the
best. I once more visited my villages, Bodicott, Kingham, Hook, Nortan,
Middleton, Cheny, Chalcomb, Sulgrave, and many other places. In the
month of June, I received a pressing invitation to Birmingham, Warwick,
Bedworth, and Coventry, which I could not accept till my wife, who was
near her time, was delivered; as that was a time I perpetually dreaded,
so I could not, would not leave home. But, on the 8th of July, 1808, it
being our lecture night, my wife was taken bad, and safely delivered of a
daughter: my mind had been uneasy all the day, nor could I find a text in
the whole Bible, to preach on in the evening; I was obligated to go to
chapel without one, and after prayer could find no other text than this
one word—“Farewell.” On this I preached for some time. Many thought,
after my departure, that I never intended to return, from the singularity
of my text; but, I fully intended it, nor had I the least idea of leaving
them, only for a fortnight, to visit the places to which I had been
invited: I proposed returning, but the Lord did not intend I should. The
next evening I preached at a village, on “These are they that came
through much tribulation.” I conversed freely, on divine subjects, with
my friends, and was particularly happy in soul, as, in fact, I had been
from the time I left town; yet I never dreamed of the storm at hand; but
this I have known, often before a storm I have found an universal
stillness; and, at times, great spirituality, nearness to God, and a
brightening up of every evidence. I mention this to the honour of God’s
grace, which has been so often experienced by me. The next morning I
took leave of my family, to go my journey, and just as I was going out, a
letter was brought to me, from a person, containing some very distressing
charges. I had not time to stay to clear that matter up, as I had no
means of sending to the places to which I was going, to contradict, or
rather postpone my visit. I left it in the hands of a person I supposed
my friend, till I returned to the town; but to that town I never did
return. I went on my journey with a heavy heart, and the most dreadful
and inconceivable anguish of spirit. The Lord enabled me to preach that
evening at Kineton, and, the next day I walked ten miles further—arrived
at Warwick, and preached there on Friday evening. Ah! little did the
crowded congregation think what I felt. The next day I went further, and
preached at Bedworth on Sunday three times; one of which was a charity
sermon for a school. On Monday I arrived at Coventry; on Tuesday I
travelled on to Birmingham, where I was kindly received; I preached there
on the Tuesday, Thursday, and the following Sunday. While in the pulpit
I was in some measure happy; but, when in company, I was wretched:
solitude suited my distressed heart. I was invited to Wolverhampton,
Bilston, and Briarley-hill, and so on. All these places I visited, and
the word was well received; but, oh, my sorrows! I cannot paint them. I
continued at Birmingham a month, or nearly so; the amiable, kind, and
spiritual people I was with, saw my distress, and being invited far into
the country, I felt resolved to go. But just as I made up my mind for
the journey, I received a pressing invitation to London; a chapel having
been provided for me, if I would come; with which I complied immediately.
During the time I was at Birmingham many letters passed between myself
and the managers at B—. The deacons intreated my return upon certain
conditions, to which I consented; but the trustees objected to it: it was
amidst this pro and con that I received this letter to come to London.
My most invaluable friend in Birmingham, at whose house I was, appointed
a place to meet my accusers, in company with a godly minister, and some
others. We met at a place called Chapel-house, near Chipping Norton, in
Oxfordshire, and in some measure gained a satisfaction. I returned to
Birmingham, preached that night, and on the Sunday following; took my
leave on Tuesday, and proceeded to London on Wednesday. The meeting in
the Borough was opened for me, and crowds soon attended. My family came
to town, and all my debts were paid in B— shortly after. I was much
grieved for the cause in B—, as there are many pious persons there, who
love the truth. Peace be with them all. Mr. G. now received an
invitation to the place, but his time was but a few weeks there. The
Lord often deals in a way of retaliation, even with his own people; but,
I forbear. I was no sooner settled at Chapel-court, but I had frequent
invitations to other places: the congregation was unsettled at
Grub-street: here I preached several times, for each party. If persons
fall out it is nothing to me; I have but one subject, Christ; and if that
will not unite parties, nothing will. The people behaved very kind to
me; and if I could have given them satisfaction, on a certain point, no
doubt I should have settled among them: but I shrunk from investigation,
because I was conscious of having acted imprudently—and, as I knew: I
could not be comfortable among them, nor be much credit to them, I
silently evaded them all, and left my case with the great Head of the
Church, who had pardoned my soul, but told me—from henceforth thou shalt
have wars.—While I thus preached for them, they all acted very kind to
me, especially a Mrs. Mc. I shall meet some of them in glory, although
prejudice will not let them even speak to me on earth. This reflection
as pleasant and painful, but I justify them in it. No man upon earth so
prone as I am to idolize the creature, or to lean on his puny arm; this,
this is the cause of the long contention, and all my disgrace, grief, and
woe. No one could look upon my trials, but most ask—is there not a
cause?
I continued at Chapel-court for some months, and preached at other
places; also Bunhill-row, Glass-house Yard, and you can well remember the
Lord’s-day at Waltham Abbey. I preached at Westminster, and near
Leicester-square. My enemies were busy, but all of no avail: the Lord
still led me on, though not without some trials. In this year I was
called to endure a new affliction, the loss of a darling daughter, about
five or six years of age: these were feelings the most painful, but can
never be described. Having no relations in the world, I knew not what it
was to lose them by death, and having so little fortitude, I was almost
inconsolable. My feelings, when seeing her depart, were such as I had
been a stranger to before then. I had seen saint and sinner depart, and
had long wept with those that wept, but now it was personal. I had
preached at a friend’s house, at Camberwell, occasionally; and the
evening before her death, my mind was forcibly struck with, and I
preached from, Psalm cxxvi. last verse. When I concluded, and on my road
home, it appeared to me as if the text was like leaven working in my
mind; it was applied to me. The Lord knew what I should feel that night,
and the next day I found my dear girl worse. The nurse called me about
half-past three; it was not quite light, the eastern sky became
enlightened; a solemn stillness pervaded all nature; I stood by her
bed-side, and saw her breathe her last. I trust the morning of her
better, her eternal day begun. Happy Mary, that thy Lord called thee
home so soon! and never, whilst memory holds her seat, shall I forget thy
little voice, the day of thy departure—“Mary will die, and go to see the
Lord.” But this is my hope; I close these remarks on my dear girl.—
This lovely bud, so young and fair,
Call’d hence by early doom;
Just came to shew how sweet a flower
In Paradise would bloom.
That same evening I was obliged to preach; and no other text could I get
but this—“He has done all things well.” May I not say so now? Another
calamity came soon after: a young woman, who had lived with us at B—, as
a companion to my wife, and who was exceedingly kind to her in my
troubles there, had a desire to see London, and spend some time with us.
We sent for her, and she continued for about two months. She seemed to
be pious, and to understand the gospel. She was suddenly taken ill; the
faculty did not exactly understand the nature of her complaint, and
although she was poorly, she expressed a desire to hear me as long as she
could, and to go to the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper. She came, but
was so ill she could not attend to any thing. She grew worse, and her
head was dreadfully affected. She at times became raving mad; but at one
time she was very sensible; and while she slept, as we all thought, my
wife, myself, and some other friends, were talking about the things of
God, she spoke very sensibly and slowly, and suddenly uttered, “O what a
mercy to be beloved of Jesus!” I was just going to enter into
conversation with her; but she grew worse, and shortly after slept in
Jesus. Glad would her dear parents have been, had they attended her; but
they were near 100 miles off. Yet we got her, perhaps, much better
attendance than she could have had at home. On account of the distance
from the family, with much regret we deposited her remains in the
burial-ground of Tottenham-Court Road, but in hopes of a blissful
resurrection; and this blessing is sure to all who are quickened by the
gracious in-dwelling of the Holy Spirit. As it is written, _Rom._ viii.
“But if the Spirit of Him who raised up Jesus from the dead, dwell in
you, _He_ that raised up Christ from the dead, shall also quicken your
mortal bodies, by His Spirit, that dwelleth in you.”—Grace and peace be
with you.
I remain, yours, J. C.
For love like; this, ye saints arise
Superior to all earthly ties;
Proclaim the Saviour’s precious blood,
And magnify a Tri-une God!
LETTER XIV.
“Yet thou, O Lord, art in the midst of us.”
To —
I have often admired the gracious conduct of Divine Providence in
bringing me acquainted with your family: I have found you faithful in
gospel bonds, faithful in reproving, admonishing, instructing, and
praying for me. You was well acquainted with the cause of my leaving
Chapel-court Meeting, as I could not get it as my own. I prayed to have
a place of my own, if it was an old barn; but, no doubt, this is another
proof of my pride. I have seen the sorrows of real good men, who have
been turned out of their situations, and reduced to abject poverty,
merely to please some bashaw deacon, or conceited trustee; and as I did
not like to wear a muzzle, I chose to get a humble place of my own. Your
friendship in exerting yourself for my good, and the accommodation of the
people, well succeeded, and our wishes were accomplished. A place was to
let, near the obelisk, which would contain 800 people: but, alas! we had
no seats, or pulpit. I opened it, just as it was, with a temporary
stage, on which I stood. The place was crowded; I was enabled to preach
in the afternoon on “He brought me to his banqueting house, and his
banner over me was love:” and in the evening, “I beseech thee shew me thy
glory.” I continued at Chapel-court some parts of the week, and Sundays,
till the Obelisk Chapel was quite ready; when I gave up the former
entirely, and occupied the latter. Many a blessed season we experienced
there, and the Lord confirmed the Word with signs following. With
pleasure you saw this, and fondly hoped to have seen a regular church
formed, upon the Baptist order; but, perhaps, I have been culpably
negligent upon that subject. However, your desire was in a great measure
fulfilled: the presence of the Lord filled the place, the Word ran, and
Christ and free-grace was glorified. Many remember the spot with
pleasure, and others have gone from thence to glory. I need not
apologise for reminding you of your remarkable dream on _Ezra_, vii. 27,
28, “Blessed be the Lord God of our fathers, which hath put such a thing
into the king’s heart, to beautify the house of the Lord, which is at
Jerusalem.” And I was strengthened, as the hand of the Lord was upon me.
The Lord be with you, while I remain,
Yours, in Him, J. C.
He never said to Jacob’s seed,
Seek ye my face in vain;
No; he delights our souls to feed,
That we with him may reign.
LETTER XV.
“Son of Man, shew the house to the house of Israel.”
To —
After I had been with the present congregation for some time, I thought
it expedient to endeavour to bring the church into some form, and gospel
order, upon the Baptist plan; but this I found a very difficult task.
The majority of hearers, were averse to the ordinances of believer’s
baptism, not one of the managers did see into the nature and design of
the ordinance; yet I was enabled to preach frequently on the subject, and
many were soon after convinced it was their duty and privilege to submit
to baptism, as well as attend the Lord’s Supper. Some, who saw more
clearly into it, waited till they were baptized, before they sat down to
the Supper, knowing this was the most scriptural plan: others, who had
been baptized previous to their hearing with us, desired to unite with
us, but did not choose to do that till the church was more regularly
formed. And now, having a convenient place for that purpose, many came
forward to be baptized; the day was appointed, and eighteen came, who I
had good reason to believe were called by grace. I preached my sermon at
Horselydown, from this question of our dear Lord—“_The baptism of John_,
_was it from heaven_, _or of men_?” I found liberty and freedom in a
scriptural statement of the nature and design of believers’ baptism. I
had nothing new to advance, but what many men of God had observed on that
subject, and endeavoured to back every argument with scripture proof.
The evening arrived, and the candidates met; I conversed once more with
them all, separately, in the vestry. A good man preached the sermon, and
fully confirmed what I had previously advanced. At the close of the
sermon, I gave a short address at the water. After prayer and singing, I
descended into the baptistry, for the first time, with trembling steps,
yet dependent on the faithfulness of the Great Head of the Church, to his
own promise—“Lo! I am with you _always_.” I then led each into the
water, myself, and spoke something suited to the case of every one, as we
went into the water together. I considered it most scriptural to go down
_with_ the candidates, which had a very pleasing effect upon the
spectators, gave great encouragement to the candidate, and diversified
the solemn scene. This was the plan of the Rev. Mr. Burnham, which I
always adopted. In two month’s time, about thirty-five more came
forward; and for the first four or five succeeding years, I had the
honour to baptise upwards of fifty persons. At one time I had
forty-eight, which was very fatiguing to me. After I had left
Horselydown, we went to baptise at Worship-street. This only occurred
once, and there were near forty persons at that time. Soon after the
Lord raised me up a place of my own, and we built an excellent baptistry
there, in which many have been baptised, some of whom are now in glory,
many are growing in grace, and continue amongst us, while others are gone
to other places, that other ministers might fill up their cup of
consolation. I have heard but of very few that have gone back into the
world, and _they_ are not out of the reach of mercy, unless any of them
have sinned “the sin unto death.” But, notwithstanding so many were
baptised, I had not power to form the church after the particular Baptist
plan, but was obligated to admit those of God’s dear children, who could
not yet see it right to be baptized. As these persons gave every
evidence that they belonged to God, I saw no impropriety in sitting down
with such at the Lord’s table. I am well aware that it was not so in the
apostolic age; _then_, the church was of one heart, and one soul, but it
is not so now, in external matters; and as the Saviour admits them to
communion with himself, I see no reason why we should exclude them,
because they do not see exactly with us into this ordinance: I wish all
the church throughout the world did see it exactly as the scriptures have
laid it down; but that they will not do, till the Holy Spirit is again
poured out in the latter-day glory, of which happy time the apostolic age
was a prelude. There was a period when I did not see the order of the
church to be of that importance I now do. My whole attention, out of the
pulpit, was to manage that business as well as I could, assisted by men
of faith, prayer, and wisdom. We have since formed the church, the
articles of which are printed in the first volume of the “Voice of
Faith.” The Lord keeps us walking in his own appointed way, adorning the
doctrine of God our Saviour in all things.
Yours, J. C.
Make me obsequious to thy will,
While journeying hence to Zion’s hill;
Within thine arms, O let me be,
For ever folded near to thee.
LETTER XVI.
“Arise and thresh, O daughter of Zion.”
To —
As through grace you have been an eye and ear witness to the Lord’s
dealings with me, and to the testimony which he has borne to the word of
his grace (however weak the instrument) in town, so you have heard of
some success I have had in the country. Various have been my journies,
and scarcely have I ever heard of one in vain. Soon alter the death of
my dear girl, I was invited to take a journey to Sheerness. When I
arrived, some who had heard me preach in town, and others who had beard
of me, came to solicit me to preach in that place. The minister was
requested the use of his pulpit, but he denied it at first, which threw a
general damp upon them all. However, I was impressed that the Lord had
intended me to preach there, and when I got alone, I begged of the Lord
to shew me his mind, which he did in his Word, by this text, which I
opened upon—“I will give thee the opening of the mouth unto them.” When
my friends assembled around me again, each giving their various opinions,
I told them I should surely preach to them. The next day I wrote a
polite note to the minister myself, and in the evening he as politely
came to invite me. The Lord opened my mouth, and the dew descended on
the barn floor. This was an enlivening and a quickening time. Many, and
especially the Baptists, were stirred up, and shortly built a small place
for themselves, in which I shortly after preached. I believe a church is
since formed in the place, and godly Baptist ministers supply it. The
Lord also opened the meeting at Strood, and enabled me to proclaim the
unsearchable riches of Christ to the joy of some good old-established
Christians, who had long sat under the truth, and were blessed with that
charity that rejoiceth not in error, but rejoiceth in the truth. Many
remember those visits, and although I shall never see them more in this
world, yet I trust that truth that has made us free will bring us home to
the enjoyment of the God of truth. In the year 1811, I opened a
Monday-evening lecture at Horselydown, and another at the Welsh meeting
at Lambeth, where I continued some years, till Providence altered the
circumstances of these places; also at Little Providence Chapel, in
Holborn, where the Lord met many precious souls, and highly honoured me,
to bring in some of his people: as it is written, _Isaiah_ lxvi. “And
they shall bring in your brethren for an offering unto the Lord, out of
all nations, upon horses and in chariots, and in litters, and upon mules,
and upon swift beasts, to my holy mountain, saith the Lord.”
Yours, J. C.
P.S. I was very partial to travelling from place to place, but the Lord
has cured me of that roving fit, and I have scarcely a desire left me of
ever leaving my own place: for, sometimes it is found true what Solomon
says—“As a bird that leaveth his nest, so is a man that wandereth from
his place.”
May God the Spirit free impart
Fresh life and vigour to the heart;
And with a living coal inflame,
To speak the honours of his name.
LETTER XVII.
“The Lord is my helper and my deliverer.”
To —