After all that God hath done for you, have you not cause, as well as me,
to take shame and confusion of face to yourself? On this account God
resented the idolatry of that people. Invaded by the Assyrians, and at
last led away captive to Babylon. This last was an awful blow to them:
yet they were commanded to submit to the stroke; and those who did not,
were to perish in some awful way, which they did, as related in the
prophecy of _Jeremiah_. But those that escaped the sword were ordered to
go and submit to God’s sentence, by bowing to the king of Babylon’s yoke.
The Lord promised to be a little sanctuary to them, even in their
captivity; and hence, although they suffered such privations, the Lord
was with them; supported, kept, preserved, and blest them _there_.
Surely I discover the analogy; I have been dealt with in a similar way.
I mention it to my own shame and the glory of Divine goodness, which I
have experienced all my days; and especially in my captivity. Although
my troubles were small, considering my situation, yet my mind was very
frequently racked with my affairs without. Some only came to visit me
out of mere curiosity; others to mortify my feelings; quite forgetting
the Divine prohibition—“Oppress not the poor, nor the afflicted in the
gate.”
Some of the preachers who occupied the pulpit were very treacherous; and
one poor creature had the daring impudence to declare the Lord had often
told him, that I should never return to preach in that pulpit again—but
it is evident he was a lying prophet, as I have preached in that pulpit
and place above 1200 times in less than four years since. We had many
such prophets and prophetesses, but, as they ran without being sent, they
soon ran themselves out of breath.
Fearing I should die, I set my house in the best order I could. To those
of whom I was obliged to borrow money in trouble, I sent or willed an
equivalent, which eased my mind, and gave them satisfaction. My family
was also disposed of; my eldest daughter was with her mother-in-law,
assisting her, and receiving education and domestic improvement. My
youngest was in the care of the very dear and kind friends, who had
brought her up free of expence to me; which is friendship indeed—the most
pure and disinterested, perhaps, to be found in this lower world. My
eldest son was at boarding-school, comfortably maintained; and my dear
afflicted boy, well known to you, and beloved by all that knew him was
principally in the care of our old and faithful servant, at home.
I remember reading of good Mr. Bunyan, while in prison; how his poor mind
was at times troubled about his family, especially his dear blind
daughter; but the Lord supported them all, till his deliverance. Thus
the Lord dealt kindly with me, in this instance, although I shed
thousands of tears about them.
Some severe trials came on me shortly after my incarceration in this
valley of Achor. The recognizances had not been withdrawn from the
court; and, as I was paying the debt of the law, no acquaintance of mine
knew any thing about such an affair—and as my solicitor, I should
suppose, must have known the rules of the Court of King’s Bench, I was
grieved he did not attend to this essential point, as I gave him ten
pounds, only two days before my confinement, to settle all matters in the
court, which he neglected to do; the consequence was, the gentlemen who
were bail for me, were troubled for the money: this really hurt my
feelings worse than all the troubles I had met with—but an able attorney
made application to the court, and settled it with very little expence.
I judge it expedient that I should mention this, to give information to
any that may fall into like circumstances; for I really knew no more of
law than the servant of the prophet knew of botany, when he gathered his
lap full of wild gourds, and had nearly poisoned the whole school. 2
_Kings_, iv. 39. Soon after this, another trouble arose amongst the
congregation, about the place of worship; and here were many contentions.
My sincere friends, fearing some persons were laying plans to get it out
of my hands, and, for want of understanding each other, a great deal of
warmth was manifested on both sides. These things being daily brought to
me, exceedingly troubled my spirit; but, after praying, these words came
with power to my soul—“They shall not build, and another inhabit.” And,
as the subject was much on my mind in the day, it was not to be wondered
at that it should affect me in the night; as I one night dreamed of a
chariot, which I had often dreamt of before—as it passed by me, I saw, on
the back of it, in very large letters, “Immanuel! God with us!” When I
awoke, I felt a holy confidence all would be well upon that business, and
so if proved the night before, but I knew it not till next day at noon.
What a mercy to be enabled to call on the Lord in every time of trouble,
and to watch his good hand. But I was no sooner released from this
anxiety, than a fresh trouble arose. A gentleman who had been, till this
time, almost a stranger to myself and the church, was raised up of God,
in this hour of need, to look after my outward affairs, and this he did
freely and kindly; he was truly assiduous, nor did he spare any pains,
time, trouble, or money to do me good; and, though God had been pleased
to remove others, on whom I depended, he mercifully raised up one to act
as a friend, whom I hardly knew. Like Nicodemus, who could not, or dare
not, scarcely own the Saviour in his life, yet paid him honours at his
death.
“A friend in need is a friend indeed.” This old, but just adage, reminds
me of what school-boys are taught—
“Tell me, ye knowing and discerning few,
Where I may find the friend that’s firm and true;
Who dare stand by me, when in deep distress,
And then his love and friendship most express.”
This friend, in the height of his praise-worthy conduct, was very
shamefully imposed upon by an artful villain, who professed to have great
influence with the higher powers—and by this means he, at different
times, obtained a large sum of money of him, under the specious pretext
of obtaining my liberation. This was carried on for some months, till
Mr. D. began to suspect there was some villainy in it; and, upon enquiry
at the Secretary of State’s Office, found it as he feared. The base
character was apprehended, and justly imprisoned for it. This was
another severe blow to me, taking all the circumstances into the account;
yet the pleasing hopes of liberty wore away many tedious months, till
patience received strength.
I was, at times, amazed at the health of body the Lord favoured me with;
but the winter came on, at first, very severe, though it did not last
long.—This was to me very dreadful; it was the gloomy month of November.
Another trial came. A person, in real kindness, at my request, brought
me a very small portion of liquor, on one of those days in which we may
truly say we have pleasure—foggy, cold, damp, and miserable. I knew,
indeed, it was contrary to the laws of the place, but urgent necessity
compelled me to send for it. This being discovered, my poor friend was
brought into trouble, and a heavy fine was levied. You may be sure this
made a fresh stir in the public papers, with many additions, though not
one true statement of the fact was made; but that passed away like a
cloud. That which most distressed me was the solemn and awful times of
execution; but those, however, were very few, two of which I have given
an account of in the 1st volume of “The Voice of Faith.”
Yours, J. C.
LETTER XXVIII.
“And the king said unto Zadok, carry back the ark of God into the
city. If I shall find favour in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring
me again, and shew we both it and his habitation.”
To —
It is a truth, easily proved, that every believer has more mercies to be
thankful for, than he has either sins to regret, or troubles to bear: it
is of the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed. This I call to mind,
therefore I have hope. They are new every morning. Great is thy
faithfulness. That same faithful God which preserved Israel in Egypt,
Moses in Midian, David in Gath, the three worthies in the furnace, Daniel
in the den, the disciples in Jerusalem, and the church in Babylon,
preserved me in this place. I cannot look back upon my many mercies but
with gratitude. But where will the growing numbers end? This subject
would fill a vast volume; but, in brief, I mention only a few:—the
attention and kindness of the governor and officers; and, although every
returning Sabbath afflicted my mind severely, the very sound of the
church-going bells, brought a thousand pangs to my heart: yet I was
relieved by hearing the real gospel preached nearly every Sunday, once a
day, by the excellent chaplain, the rev. Mr. Mann. Oh, that every
college was as much blessed with such preaching. This was no small
mercy. All within the walls were submissive and attentive to me. I had
an opportunity of conversing with many on the best of subjects, and was
well furnished with ability to alleviate many a distressed mind, and to
relieve some hundreds in their temporal calamities; for it is to little
purpose talking about religion to worldlings, without acts of
benevolence.
Numerous friends daily visited me, and never failed me, during the long
period of seven hundred and thirty days. My health was re-established,
and I had much time for reading, prayer, self-examination, and study.
Here I received many tokens of love from the Lord, bearing witness, with
my spirit, that I was interested in his love. Here I wrote a vast many
letters to the church and to my friends. I wrote also my “Farewell
Sermon;” “Antinomianism Refuted;” “The Voice of Faith,” 2 vols.; “A
Treatise on part of the Book of Proverbs,” the greatest part of my own
Memoirs, and other subjects, which I hope, one day, to publish.
The dear friends who came to see me, I constantly bore in mind, and
thanked them in a few gingling rhymes, as I am destitute of a talent for
writing poetry: I hope they will forgive me inserting their names; nor
need they fear persecution on this account, because so many individuals
are to be found bearing the same name.
I employed as much time as circumstances would admit, in reading to the
prisoners the Scriptures, which I at times endeavoured to explain,
particularly on Sundays. I read part of the church service, and other
good books, especially some tracts by Mr. Smith, of Penzance—his “Bob and
James,”—there being many sailors present. In this act I copied the
example of Dr. Primrose, in the Vicar of Wakefield, although I had a
little better place, company, behaviour, and attention. I must insert a
quotation from it. The old gentleman says, after some conversation with
his family—
“I left them, and descended to the common prison, where I found the
prisoners very merry, expecting my arrival; and each prepared with
some gaol trick to play upon the doctor. Thus, as I was going to
begin, one turned my wig awry, as if by accident, and then asked my
pardon. A second, who stood at a distance, had a knack of spitting
through his teeth, which fell in showers upon my book; a third would
cry ‘amen,’ in such an affected tone, as gave the others great
delight. A fourth had slily picked my pocket of my spectacles: but
there was one whose tricks gave more universal pleasure than all the
rest; for, observing the manner in which I had disposed my books on
the table before me, he very dexterously displaced one of them, and
put an obscene jest-book of his own in the place. However, I took no
notice of all that this mischievous group of little beings could do,
but went on, perfectly sensible that what was ridiculous in my
attempt would excite mirth only the first or second time, while what
was serious would be permanent. My design succeeded; and, in less
than six days, some were penitent, and all attentive.”
Thus my time rolled away, and appeared, as our lives do in the
retrospect, but as a tale that is told every moment, and every
circumstance being told out in eternity for us.
The period arrived for me to quit my solitary mansion, and make my
appearance again in public. This was dreaded by me, on some accounts,
but, by others, much desired. Every thing was well arranged, and the
morning came; a part of my family and a few friends came to meet me;
every thing around appeared at first very strange. When I arrived at my
house, I bent my knees in thanksgiving to that gracious God who had
restored me.
In the evening I preached to nearly one thousand hearers, who were very
quiet, attentive, and gratified. All united, with one heart and voice,
in singing
“Crown him Lord of all.”
I preached on, “But God meant it unto good.” The sermon was afterwards
printed. I commenced my regular labours the Sunday following, where
without cessation, I have continued them six times a week. Curiosity
has, doubtless, drawn forth the attention of thousands, since then, to
hear and see the strange being: many have heard to profit, and are
satisfied. Some said, he is a good man; others, he is a devil. I say he
is both, and I can prove it. Some say, he is a guilty man; others, that
he is innocent—but I say he is both, and the reader will say the same, if
he knows his own heart, and his acceptance in Christ.
Beloved, if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our hearts, and
knoweth all things; but, if our heart condemn us not, then have we
confidence towards God.
Yours, J. C.
LETTER XXIX.
“For better is a neighbour that is near, than a brother that is far off.”
To —
It is a good remark I have somewhere met with—that friendship is a plant
of too delicate a nature to grow with any great degree of luxuriancy and
fruitfulness in the soil of the human heart; but I ever wish to prize its
buds, its blossoms, its fruit, its very leaves; but, above all, its
divine root. We may find many profess much kindness in the warmth of
prosperity; but these summer insects, like butterflies, disappear when
the cold blasts of adversity and reproach strike off a few of our outward
comforts. But while this is to be lamented, yet God has often raised up
those who have been sincere in their professions of attachment to his
people, in all ages, and who have firmly stood by them, and gave them all
the assistance they were able, in the depth of their afflictions; nor
have they been unrewarded, at least, many of them, even in this world—nor
shall they be forgotten of the Lord in the last day.—_Matt._ xxv. and
close.
Abraham had three faithful friends, Aner, Eschol, and Mamre. The Lord
raised up a friend for Joseph in trouble, and for David in his deep
affliction, and for the great apostle for whom he prays—that he,
Onesiphorus, may find mercy in that day, for he hath oft refreshed me,
and was not ashamed of my chain. Such friends are the gift of the Friend
of Sinners, and such friendship is a part of conformity to his image;
praying for one another in secret; reproving with meekness, but fidelity,
when permitted to err; speaking well of each other, when absent, and
helping each other in trouble, are the genuine fruits of divine love in
the heart; and such I have found many: and, although opposed for their
candour, affection, and liberality; yet, considering they had a just
right to form an opinion of their own, so they had as much right to
maintain the same. Narrow minds who form opinions by bare report, are
easily biassed, and generally bigotted; of course, such mean souls must
persecute all who differ from them. This is the case in the professing
world, at present; and it is much to be lamented. However, I have made
free to inform you of some of those who have acted in a Christ-like
manner to me in trouble, and have too much good sense to view me either
as a perfect angel, or an incarnate devil; and to you I send these
gingling rhymes:—
REAL FRIENDSHIP.
_From Achor Vale_.—1818.
ON the subject of friendship I beg leave to write,
’Tis the joy of my heart, and my daily delight;
Though but little is found, that is true and sincere,
I think, in my case, an exception is clear.
The God of all grace, on whom I depend,
Has blessed his servant, with many a friend,
Who have not been afraid, or ever asham’d,
To esteem and to own him in sorrow and pain.
One half of the faithful and firm I’ve forgot,
And many besides, whose names I know not;
Yet _those_ who occur this moment to mind,
My God will reward in their being so kind;
And more so they’d be, if it laid in their pow’r,
To soften my woes in this trying hour.
May the love of the Lord, which _he_ bears to _his_ saints,
Encourage their hearts, when ready to faint
With the cares, and the burdens, and griefs of the way,
And acknowledge them all in the last trying day.
See this promise so sweetly and clearly reveal’d
By the Head of the Church, in the great gospel field;
Particularly in _Matthew_, the Saviour rehearses
In 25th chapter, and some excellent verses.
I must tell you of _Hairbys_, and _Elbro’s_ and _Park_,
With a _Knawler_, a _Duke_, a _Smith_, and a _Clarke_;
A _Fossett_, a _Grumuat_, and a kind-hearted _Trail_,
Whose care and concern, like the Lord’s, never fail.
Nor can I forget my friend, Mr. _Denny_,
Who stood up for my good as undaunted as any.
Our worthy clerk, _Shelton_, has oft stood the fire,
When many in envy and rage did conspire.
I feel much indebted to dear brother _Gray_,
And all those beside, who preach and who pray;
And fill up my place, that there might be no lack
Of the gospel of grace, till God brings me back.
With all those dear friends, who supply all my needs,
Kind _Miller_, her mother, and two worthy _Meads_;
An _Osborne_, a _Davis_, a _Harris_ and _Gower_,
Who on me and on mine their gifts often pour;
A _Harbro_, a _Sweetland_, and _Allen_, and _King_,
Who sometimes send favours, and sometimes they bring;
And many also, who have well stood the brunt,
A _Pattison_, _Puddicombe_, _Hutchins_, and _Hunt_;
Nor do I forget our friend _Hutchinson_,
As well as kind _Kings_, some old and some young;
And _Westbrook_, and _Knapp_, who have oft took my part,
And _Williams_, a _Farley_, and _London_, and _Smart_;
A _Boro_, a _Blake_, and dear father _Bevan_,
With their partners in life, who are going to heaven;
And _Goodmans_, and _Roberts_, some _Hills_, and a _Bell_,
And _Thornton_, and _Mansion_, and _Edwards_, and _Dale_.
I remember, likewise, a _Houghton_, and _Field_,
With a firm _friend_ of their’s, who never would yield
To the fabulous stuff, and ridiculous story,
But remained as firm as the faithful _M. Morey_.
The names of a _Jones_, and a _Chadsby_ are dear,
And _Salter_, and _Lewis_, and _Frimbley_ sincere;
A _Brook_, and a _Bradley_, a _Buhle_, and a _Wise_,
A much-esteem’d _Farmer_, who ne’er has despis’d;
A _Hedgecock_, and _Lamb_, who are both very kind,
As such permanent friendship we seldom can find;
And dear father _Elstub_, and _Shires_, and _Booth_,
Who often endeavour my sorrows to soothe.
I must mention some more, as they are so good,
A _Ward_, and a _Whitear_, who undaunted have stood;
A _Paynter_, a _Waters_, and _Carpenter_ too,
With his _Brother_, and _Fuller_, and _Jennison_ true;
More _Watkins_, and _Smiths_, who have well stood the fires,
And old daddy _Foyer_, and two good _Marias_;
A _Parnicutt_, and _Archer_, who have stood many rubbings,
And _Barrett_, and _Steggall_, and _Shephard_, and _Stubbings_
An _Atkins_, a _Pollet_, and _Farrers_, and _Thorn_,
And as faithful a _Watts_ as ever was born;
A _Bayles_, _a Dennage_ a _Bates_, and a _Brown_,
Who are grieved to see my sad casting down;
A _Paton_, a _Chambers_, a _Juden_, and _Pytches_,
An _Orchard_, and _Hunter_, who are seeking true riches;
A _Joseph_, a _Jolliffe_, a _Druce_, and a _Manger_,
A very kind _Mackie_, and _Perrins_, and _Granger_;
And _Wilkins_, and _Eaton_, and _Faro_, and _North_,
Who are lov’d by the Lord, and redeemed from wrath;
With _Millingtons_, _Boltons_, and dear Mrs. _Round_,
And the much belov’d _Hans_, whose care still abounds;
The exercis’d _Robinson_, _Ward_, _Nelson_, and _Ford_,
And _Marshal_ and _Lucas_, who’re trusting the Lord;
With poor _Jenny Powell_, and _Martin_, and _Fishers_,
And _Darby_, and _Wilson_, my very good wishers;
And _Foster_, and _Court_, and _Davies_, and _Dee_,
And _Mary_, her friend, and kind _Barbary_;
And _Chapman_, and _Calow_, and _Davies_, and _Reeds_,
And some very good _Lawsons_, who supply many needs;
A dear friendly _Groom_, and _Napier_, and _Swindle_,
A _Tomlins_, and _Marshal_, whose care does not dwindle;
A much-esteem’d _Walton_, and _neice_, so sincere,
And many besides, to my mind who are dear;
A _Wright_, and a _Pearson_, and _Hepworth_, and _Mott_,
Thus you see, my dear friends, I am not quite forgot;
And _Leonard_, and _Wallace_, and _Masland_, and Pain,
Who are praying, and waiting to hear me again;
With _Freeman_, and _Wilkins_, and _Cornish_, and _Sherman_,
Who love much to hear a real gospel sermon;
And _Dibley_, and _Dudley_, and _Tungate_, and _Fleet_,
And _Candler_, and _Knox_, whom I long much to meet;
The very dear friends, whose names are call’d _Cross_,
Whom God has sustained in every loss;
And _Williams_, and _Eves_, whose hearts are kept single,
And _Upstill_, and _Miles_, a _Cook_, and an _Ingle_;
With a _March_, and a _Beat_, and exercis’d _Green_,
Who often in sorrow and grief have me seen;
And good Mrs. _Butcher_, and _Baker_, beside.
Who have firmly stood for me, whatever betide;
And _Fairfleet_, and _Tye_, and _Woodhouse_, and _Long_,
And _Goodly_, his _brother_, and kind _Esther Young_;
And _Claytons_, and _Jackson_, and _Lewis_, and _Rose_,
And _Thornton_, and _Miland_, a _Burnham_, and _Hose_;
And _Drewet_, and _Mars_, and _Reardon_, and _Aikin_,
Who have seen me cast down, but never forsaken;
And _Woodward_, and _Youngs_, and _Venning_, and _Horner_,
Another friend _Brown_, and the tried Mrs. _Warner_;
A _Winch_, and a _Hone_, a _Turner_, and _Pool_,
The tried _Underdown_, who is in the same school;
The sincere Mrs. _Grant_, and _Missen_, and _Leigman_,
The Paddington _Friends_, and old mammy _Bridgman_;
Good old Mrs. _Clark_, and _Thompson_, and _Cowen_,
A very kind _Johnson_, and _Whitehead_, and _Owen_;
The kind Mr. _Wilson_, and firm Mrs. _Baily_,
And _Poulter_, and _Barns_, who esteem’d me sincerely;
But ’tis time I conclude this gingling writing,
Not forgetting dad _Round_, and the sweet-temper’d _Whiting_;
With a hundred besides, whose names I’ve forgot,
But in the last day will stand in their lot.
Do not you think, in a few years time, I shall be as apt a poet, as good
old Bunyan?
Please to regularly regulate these irregular irregularities.